WILMA!!!!!

Cletus Was down to the Wal*Mart t'other mornin' and I seen one o' them New York Lib'rals.
Jethro How could ya tell?
Cletus He washed his hands after pissin'. So I ask LuAnne what he's doin' here in Petersburg, and she tells me he was visitin' the Creation Museum.
Jethro The Creation Museum! But that ain't open yet!
Cletus That's what I tells LuAnne. She heard he's writin' a story 'bout it for the New York Times. (they both spit)
Jethro It'll be a buncha New York Lib'ral lies. Here. Help me skin this possum. I gotta hankerin' for some stew.

Sure enough, Edward Rothstein's piece in the Times is filled with lies and insults to true believers.

Two prehistoric children play near a burbling waterfall, thoroughly at home in the natural world. Dinosaurs cavort nearby, their animatronic mechanisms turning them into alluring companions, their gaping mouths seeming not threatening, but almost welcoming, as an Apatosaurus munches on leaves a few yards away.

Prehistoric? Ain't nothin' prehistoric about it. It's all in the good book, right from Day 1 of Creation.

I could write more realistic dialog, with better visual dialect cues, but why? Educated at Oxford, or in Oxford, Mississippi, a creationist is still no smarter than pocket lint. She might speak more eloquently or get elected to school boards, but is still a deluded, simple fool. Here's a link to their fellow travelers.