Tornado watch, Smokey and the Bandit, country music and the Web.
 

Stream of consciousness.

Just curious how many people function that way, and how the Internet has enabled that type of thought (and other things).

Reading the tornado watch thread, Bob Dole noticed the 1978 TA photo, which got him to thinking about the large number of 1977 TA's Bob Dole got to check out at the 2012 Bandit Run, which for some reason doesn't start in Texarkana every year.

Wanting to verify that it was indeed a 1977 (though it was apparently a 1976 with a 1977 nose), Bob Dole turned to the web, and read through the Wikipedia article. Which then, for some reason, got Bob Dole off on a Dick Feller tangent. (Bob Dole's father went to school with Dick.)

And that sent Bob Dole off to looking at Dick's bio, which sent Bob Dole to the impressive list of songs (and artists who performed them) in Dick's catalog. Which got Bob Dole to thinking about church and the chicken restaurant Feller's family ran for years, until Bob Dole thought, Didn't Dick Feller write "The Ballad of Jericho Springs"?

Which took Bob Dole back to memories of the drive to see Stockton Lake as is was planned and executed, and an Airmail mailbox up on a 20 foot pole.

Do other people do this shit, or is Bob Dole descending in to madness?

(Of course, those two things are not necessarily mutually exclusive. )

:toast:

ya drunk bastard

If only...

I'm on day 4 but calling it quits for now,have a good week senator

All I know for sure is that these storms are east bound and down.

I've been trying to teach my grandparents how to get the most out of the internet. They basically just have their homepage set to ****ing Yahoo, and only read crap on there. They don't realize the stuff you can watch or listen to or read about. Even if they just wanna watch Jimmy Stewart or Patsy Cline shit, it's all there for them. I mean I had to teach them about the magic of youtube...

When I think of Smokey and the Bandit, I immediately switch over to Cannonball Run, which then makes me think about Adrienne Barbeau with all the cleavage in that Lamborghini, which then pretty much stops all subsequent thinking.