A full-size replica of Noah's Ark is being constructed in the American heartland, and you are being invited to pay for it. After numerous fruitless expeditions and archaeological digs in and around Mt. Ararat, rumored to be the resting place of the original Ark, faithful Christians have apparently given up on finding it and opted to build a new one.
The new Ark will be located, as the project's publicists coyly phrase it, "in the greater Cincinnati area." By this they mean Kentucky. It will be part of the Creation Museum, a place that already exists and where the visitor can see animatronic cavemen riding on giant fiberglass dinosaurs, if he or she wishes to seek out that kind of entertainment.
The dinosaurs perished in the Great Flood, according to the curator at the Creation Museum, which is why we can't ride them today, in spite of the fact that in the the original account God commanded Noah to load up two of every animal on the Ark. The part where God said "Except the dinosaurs. You can just ride horses when things dry up," was left out of the story, but that is no reason to doubt it. Obviously, the Almighty gave many instructions that were too mundane to be included in the transcript, like the part where He told Noah what exactly a cubit was, and the part where He instructed Noah to have the giraffes sticking their necks out of the top of the boat at all times, for dramatic and artistic effect. That must have been laid down from On High, because anytime you see an artist's rendition of the Ark, there are those damn giraffes.
LIVE UPDATE: I was being implored to do something useful around the house by my Significant Other while I was intent on composing this report. Not wishing to be torn away from the project, I noted that she was watching a reality show called "Say Yes to the Dress" which was going to be followed by a show called "What Not to Wear." I suggested these entertainments should be renamed "Say No to the Show" and "What Not to Watch," thereby guaranteeing she will not be interrupting me, or possibly even talking to me, for at least the rest of the day.
The Ark's web page has links to fascinating sub-topics such as "Noah—the Super Prepper," and a comments section devoted to debunking skeptics of the project. One smarmy sarcasticist noted that the Ark shouldn't be rebuilt unless a 900-year old man could be located to direct the project. The spokesman for the pro-Ark forces rebuked him soundly by noting that the Bible tells us that while Noah lived to be 900, he was still a spry 600-year-old when he built the Ark. Also this defender of the faith notes that the Bible predicts that some people are not going to believe in it, which leads him to argue that people thinking the Bible is a crock is the ultimate proof that it is infallibly correct. This is a leap of logic as breathtaking as that rainbow that appeared when Noah's forty days of rain were up. From now on, consider it applied to this column. Whenever I write something which you think is of doubtful veracity, the fact of your skepticism proves that I am telling the truth. Amen.
But the most important thing about the new Ark is that it is going to cost some serious cheese. Noah built the original just by coaxing his family into nailing it together and herding up some occupants for it, which, unfortunately for the dinosaurs, turned out to be predominantly birds and mammals. They may have had cubits then, but they didn't have shekels. This modern-day American Ark is going to set us back 24.5 million dollars. For a hundred bucks you can buy a peg for it, for a thousand a plank, and for 5 thou a beam. What, you're surprised that lumber prices have gone up over the last 4300 years? Many of my non-religious friends have pointed out that the Ark, as described in the Bible, is as transparently fictional and miraculous as Santa Claus's sleigh. You're not getting that for just a few million,
An individual lifetime pass to the Ark, when it is completed, will cost $2000. I'm thinking of buying one, just in case. And I'm giving them my credit card number today.
You know the price is going up if it starts raining.
The new Ark will be located, as the project's publicists coyly phrase it, "in the greater Cincinnati area." By this they mean Kentucky. It will be part of the Creation Museum, a place that already exists and where the visitor can see animatronic cavemen riding on giant fiberglass dinosaurs, if he or she wishes to seek out that kind of entertainment.
The dinosaurs perished in the Great Flood, according to the curator at the Creation Museum, which is why we can't ride them today, in spite of the fact that in the the original account God commanded Noah to load up two of every animal on the Ark. The part where God said "Except the dinosaurs. You can just ride horses when things dry up," was left out of the story, but that is no reason to doubt it. Obviously, the Almighty gave many instructions that were too mundane to be included in the transcript, like the part where He told Noah what exactly a cubit was, and the part where He instructed Noah to have the giraffes sticking their necks out of the top of the boat at all times, for dramatic and artistic effect. That must have been laid down from On High, because anytime you see an artist's rendition of the Ark, there are those damn giraffes.
LIVE UPDATE: I was being implored to do something useful around the house by my Significant Other while I was intent on composing this report. Not wishing to be torn away from the project, I noted that she was watching a reality show called "Say Yes to the Dress" which was going to be followed by a show called "What Not to Wear." I suggested these entertainments should be renamed "Say No to the Show" and "What Not to Watch," thereby guaranteeing she will not be interrupting me, or possibly even talking to me, for at least the rest of the day.
The Ark's web page has links to fascinating sub-topics such as "Noah—the Super Prepper," and a comments section devoted to debunking skeptics of the project. One smarmy sarcasticist noted that the Ark shouldn't be rebuilt unless a 900-year old man could be located to direct the project. The spokesman for the pro-Ark forces rebuked him soundly by noting that the Bible tells us that while Noah lived to be 900, he was still a spry 600-year-old when he built the Ark. Also this defender of the faith notes that the Bible predicts that some people are not going to believe in it, which leads him to argue that people thinking the Bible is a crock is the ultimate proof that it is infallibly correct. This is a leap of logic as breathtaking as that rainbow that appeared when Noah's forty days of rain were up. From now on, consider it applied to this column. Whenever I write something which you think is of doubtful veracity, the fact of your skepticism proves that I am telling the truth. Amen.
But the most important thing about the new Ark is that it is going to cost some serious cheese. Noah built the original just by coaxing his family into nailing it together and herding up some occupants for it, which, unfortunately for the dinosaurs, turned out to be predominantly birds and mammals. They may have had cubits then, but they didn't have shekels. This modern-day American Ark is going to set us back 24.5 million dollars. For a hundred bucks you can buy a peg for it, for a thousand a plank, and for 5 thou a beam. What, you're surprised that lumber prices have gone up over the last 4300 years? Many of my non-religious friends have pointed out that the Ark, as described in the Bible, is as transparently fictional and miraculous as Santa Claus's sleigh. You're not getting that for just a few million,
An individual lifetime pass to the Ark, when it is completed, will cost $2000. I'm thinking of buying one, just in case. And I'm giving them my credit card number today.
You know the price is going up if it starts raining.
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