Dear Gerald LK Smith,
Oops. As soon as I wrote that, My boy, Republican Jesus, got all teary-eyed and reminded Me that you’re dead as a dinosaur. Which I’d say is a good thing, since My boys are Jewmenian and you would have never let a couple of filthy Jews into your theme park. Why RJ, who’s mother is Jewish, would be upset over your demise is beyond Me – but then, Republicans are complex.
So, I guess this postcard should go to whomever is running the place these days.
My boys and I just came from a day at your theme park and, first off, We think you should probably change the name. If there’s anything We weren’t today, it was passionate. Unless you count My wrath at spending $150 to get the three of us in the gate. I know it’s all going toward My vacation fund, but Me-Damn! Or, (and I probably should have seen this coming), the slight breakdown Hippie Jesus had when you nailed that guy onto that cross. It’s true that He was never much good at taking jokes, but really, have some respect for the boy’s feelings.
We started the day at the Museum of Earth History. Now, Me-forbid I should kill your cash-cow or anything, but I’ve been around for 6,000 years and I’ve never seen a dinosaur. So I think maybe South Florida Bible College did your Dr. Sharp, (See the irony there?), a disservice when they gave him a science degree.
From there, We went downstairs to the Bible Museum. This kicked My wrath up into high gear. I’ve been pretty clear, I think, on My position about this unauthorized biography. You know how Hollywood makes movies “Based on a true story”, then they put sexy nurses in the Alamo and rocket-propelled ninjas at the battle of Thermopylae? Now imagine that Davy Crocket and Leonidas could see those movies. How do you think they’d feel? Well, multiply that feeling by a jillion. That’s Me in your Museum To Lost Royalties. Expect a letter from My lawyers.
After that, I didn’t much feel like seeing anything else but I wanted to get My money’s worth out of it, so We hit the all-you-can-eat buffet. On the way there the boys got into an argument about which of Them was the inspiration for your giant “Christ of the Ozarks” statue. I mentioned that it’s the biggest Jesus in North America and then, when the argument crescendoed, remarked that no one says the biggest what. That shut Them up.
On the way out We got lost and somehow ended up at the Berlin Wall. So maybe you ought to put up some signs or something. Berlin isn’t on My vacation schedule for months. Luckily, We were able to backtrack our way to the gift shop, where We got the requisite postcards and a bobble-head Christ of the Ozarks for the rental car.
From there We headed directly for the parking lot… and We almost made it. Just yards from the gate your people started in with the hammer and nails. I warned Hippie Jesus not to look back, but you know what My track record is with that command. Now He’s “resting” with 750 mg of methaqualone and I’m not sure how We’re going to get Him on the plane. Thanks a bunch.
Wish You Were Here,