Here we sit at 9:20 in the morning in St. Joe, Missouri. We slept in this morning because of the sound of truck traffic all night--rucks whizzing by about twelve feet from the trailer. Turned on the TV to catch the news at the end of the "Today Show", switched over to ABC and there was Regis Philbin. I must make a comment in that area, as if we've exercised any restraint on this blog. Can we start some sort of campaign to get Regis Philbin, Willard Scott, and Martha Stewart off the air? There is a time and season for everyone. Theirs came and went about a decade ago. The three of those birds are enough to gag a maggot off a gutwagon. And while we're at it, this clown Mike Rowe, who went from "Dirty Jobs" to Ford pitchman, is about as funny as that poor iron lung man hauled out of our campground awhile back. Mike Rowe, Rachel Ray, Maury Povitch, Kelly Ripa (egads). Others on the list: O'Reilly, Beck, the Lou Costello-look alike, un-American Hannity I think his name is, Olbermann, Palin, and that Blitzer feller on CNN. Oh, and Larry King. Is he still breathing? Paul knew when his time had come and gone. He wisely took the money and ran. And got the hell out of California. What a mess. Unlike some over-the-hill on-camera/producer people, Paul didn't dye his hair, get a facelift, lie about his age and engage in subterfuge to keep his job (this is me talking).
Have you seen Bruce Jenner lately? Lordy.
Now, enough about clowns, how 'bout clouds? Traveling through the upper Midwest this time of year, while Paul is driving and ogling chicks passing by, I'm doing the important work of keeping my eye on the sky. We are in tornado country. We hit one last year in Alabama and don't really want a repeat. And speaking of Pete, wonder how that dude's doing in Memphis. It has suffered under a 120-degree heat index for the past several weeks. Paul says "Yo Pete. What up?"
Okay, back to the matter at hand. When you see clouds like these, it means a storm's a-comin'.
Storms mean humidity and that makes my hair stand out like a fright wig. If this were Halloween it would be a plus. In July and August it's just a fright wig and very scary.
But the upside to that is the possibility of a tornado or two and while a bit frightening like my hair, it's damn exciting.
Pulled into a campground connected to a casino in Hinckley, Minnesota. Turned on the TV to see the weather report and violent storm warnings and
...a tornado is blasting across the screen. We had little concern because when was the last time you heard about a tornado hitting a trailer park? Or wait a minute...oh well...
Here come da storm.
Batten down the tin box. What you soon realize is that there is nowhere to go. We were told when we checked in that if the warning sirens go off that we must evacuate to the nearby casino, a safer place to be than in the RV.
Here come da storm. Golf ball-size hail and it sounded like Gene Krupa and Buddy Rich doing a battle of the bands on the tin roof. Wind is howling, Debris is being blown around the park. The warning sirens are blaring...
...And I started to make a quick run to the casino, was outside for no more than ten seconds, was soaked to the bone...
And here comes park security ordering an evacuation to the casino. We figured the whole thing was a scheme on the part of the Ein-jine casino owner to get us inside to scalp us financially.
The casino. In the storm. Ain't goin' there.
Paul's attitude was that since we used all our quarters for the laundry, he grabbed a glass of wine and Daisy and said, "Dear Lord, if it's my time, please take me. But I ain't dyin' in no casino." 
The storm blew over, as they usually do. A tornado did hit north of us but caused little damage. But speaking of damage, like the town of Hinckley isn't one big wreck to begin with, this is a monument to a disaster that occured here in the late 1800s. Half the town's population, as many as 800-plus people, were killed when fire swept through this old lumber camp community. This is no joke. The buildings were all made of tinder-dry wood. Wood chips littered the street. Bone-dry forests surrounded the town. A drought had set in and fire erupted. You think of disasters on this scale happening in China, Pakistan, or Central America, but we had massive disasters with great loss of life in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Does anyone have an update on that asteroid that's supposed to impact earth in the 2020s? The astrophysicist Stephen Hawking says it's on its way. And we're worried about Al Qaidah waging jihad (that's Arab talk for "holy war"). (Al Qaidah is also publishing a new online manifesto/magazine called "Inspire". As in "inspire the base", which is what Al Qaidah means. Look it up. Oh boy.)
Okay, back to the matter at hand. When you see clouds like these, it means a storm's a-comin'.
Storms mean humidity and that makes my hair stand out like a fright wig. If this were Halloween it would be a plus. In July and August it's just a fright wig and very scary.
But the upside to that is the possibility of a tornado or two and while a bit frightening like my hair, it's damn exciting.
Pulled into a campground connected to a casino in Hinckley, Minnesota. Turned on the TV to see the weather report and violent storm warnings and
...a tornado is blasting across the screen. We had little concern because when was the last time you heard about a tornado hitting a trailer park? Or wait a minute...oh well...
Here come da storm.
Batten down the tin box. What you soon realize is that there is nowhere to go. We were told when we checked in that if the warning sirens go off that we must evacuate to the nearby casino, a safer place to be than in the RV.
Here come da storm. Golf ball-size hail and it sounded like Gene Krupa and Buddy Rich doing a battle of the bands on the tin roof. Wind is howling, Debris is being blown around the park. The warning sirens are blaring...
...And I started to make a quick run to the casino, was outside for no more than ten seconds, was soaked to the bone... And here comes park security ordering an evacuation to the casino. We figured the whole thing was a scheme on the part of the Ein-jine casino owner to get us inside to scalp us financially.
The casino. In the storm. Ain't goin' there.
Paul's attitude was that since we used all our quarters for the laundry, he grabbed a glass of wine and Daisy and said, "Dear Lord, if it's my time, please take me. But I ain't dyin' in no casino." 
The storm blew over, as they usually do. A tornado did hit north of us but caused little damage. But speaking of damage, like the town of Hinckley isn't one big wreck to begin with, this is a monument to a disaster that occured here in the late 1800s. Half the town's population, as many as 800-plus people, were killed when fire swept through this old lumber camp community. This is no joke. The buildings were all made of tinder-dry wood. Wood chips littered the street. Bone-dry forests surrounded the town. A drought had set in and fire erupted. You think of disasters on this scale happening in China, Pakistan, or Central America, but we had massive disasters with great loss of life in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Does anyone have an update on that asteroid that's supposed to impact earth in the 2020s? The astrophysicist Stephen Hawking says it's on its way. And we're worried about Al Qaidah waging jihad (that's Arab talk for "holy war"). (Al Qaidah is also publishing a new online manifesto/magazine called "Inspire". As in "inspire the base", which is what Al Qaidah means. Look it up. Oh boy.) Next, we're off to the land of the cheeseheads and beautiful Lac de Flambeau. Daisy says "hey".
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