Let's do the time warp again
You can have your Anaheim, Californias, and your Orlando, Floridas. Me, I'll take Minden, Nebraska. What's in Minden, Nebraska, you ask? Oh, nothing. Only the largest private collection of Americana anywhere. That's right -- if you're not interested in checking out the authentic Americana of Harold Warp Pioneer Village for your next vacation, perhaps you'd prefer to go to the Afghanistan/Pakistan border and get your picture taken with Osama bin Laden.
I really should be writing their advertising. However, let's see how they did on their own:
"Dear Friend," begins the letter sent to Ruddy Ruddy from the pioneer village (although not from Harold Warp himself; it's not explicitly stated that he's deceased, but given that he was born in 1903 and that his son now runs the place, it's a good bet). "Thank you for interest [sic] in the HAROLD WARP PIONEER VILLAGE." I don't actually recall requesting any information on the subject, but I suppose my interest was great enough that I opened the envelope and read the first line of the letter, rather than throwing it away, so I'll admit that there haven't been any false claims here. Considering how many people claim Ruddy Ruddy begged them to bombard him with junk mail, that's somewhat refreshing.
And happily, the place does seem kind of interesting. Considering that the village has adjoining campgrounds, and that it's a mere 1654 km from Toronto to Minden, Nebraska (as the crow flies), I'm about ready to load up the Ruddy Ruddy RV and set off on the twenty-odd hour trip.
"STROLL LESS THAN A MILE DOWN MEMORY LANE," entices the map. (That's what I call a short memory.) The village covers 20 acres of land and 175 years of history, and contains more than 50,000 items from every field of human endeavor in 28 buildings. These include "extinct cars", Abe Lincoln's sugar bowl, and the oldest merry-go-round in the U.S., which is steam-powered and costs only a nickel to ride. "See Buffalo Bill's saddle in a glass case," beckons the pamphlet, ambiguously. Is the saddle going to be in the glass case, or are you? You'll never know unless you go see for yourself!
I really should be writing their advertising. However, let's see how they did on their own:
"Dear Friend," begins the letter sent to Ruddy Ruddy from the pioneer village (although not from Harold Warp himself; it's not explicitly stated that he's deceased, but given that he was born in 1903 and that his son now runs the place, it's a good bet). "Thank you for interest [sic] in the HAROLD WARP PIONEER VILLAGE." I don't actually recall requesting any information on the subject, but I suppose my interest was great enough that I opened the envelope and read the first line of the letter, rather than throwing it away, so I'll admit that there haven't been any false claims here. Considering how many people claim Ruddy Ruddy begged them to bombard him with junk mail, that's somewhat refreshing.
And happily, the place does seem kind of interesting. Considering that the village has adjoining campgrounds, and that it's a mere 1654 km from Toronto to Minden, Nebraska (as the crow flies), I'm about ready to load up the Ruddy Ruddy RV and set off on the twenty-odd hour trip.
"STROLL LESS THAN A MILE DOWN MEMORY LANE," entices the map. (That's what I call a short memory.) The village covers 20 acres of land and 175 years of history, and contains more than 50,000 items from every field of human endeavor in 28 buildings. These include "extinct cars", Abe Lincoln's sugar bowl, and the oldest merry-go-round in the U.S., which is steam-powered and costs only a nickel to ride. "See Buffalo Bill's saddle in a glass case," beckons the pamphlet, ambiguously. Is the saddle going to be in the glass case, or are you? You'll never know unless you go see for yourself!
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