FTA Hacker
New member
It smells like fresh-cut lumber in Joplin, Missouri. It's the telephone poles, snapped like matchsticks.
We are taking cover in our live truck after the heavens opened up. There's a leak in the roof, but it's mostly dry.
As lightning pops and thunder booms, you can see the locals flinch. It's likely too close for comfort after they lost 89 neighbors to a half-mile wide twister.
The beating rain will wash away some of the dirt kicked up, but it won't unbend the basketball backboard that went from vertical to horizontal during the tornado.
I still can't figure out how the wicker chair got under the car that's under the snapped telephone pole.
