Cave Drawings

Butt Numbing

2009-03-23T12:34:00.001-05:00

For nine months I lived in Teresina, the capital of the state of Piauí, in the northern part of Brazil. Located just 5° south of the equator in high desert geography there wasn’t much sightseeing nearby. Every day you could count on 95°+ weather and humidity as high as 90%. But it rarely rained. In the eleven months I lived in Brazil it rained only twice in Teresina. Somehow this rainfall was enough to sustain the local mango trees and the cashew plantation that my first host family owned.

Being an American in a remote-ish part of Brazil afforded me opportunity to meet a lot of people your run of the mill Brazilian would not. For example, the governor of Piauí, Hugo Napoleon, was born in the US when his father was the Brazilian ambassador to the US. I met him at a party at his house. He, in turn, introduced me to one of Piauí’s senators. The senator was your stereotypical politician who kept himself busy drinking, shaking hands, drinking, telling jokes, drinking, and generally making an ass of himself. The senator shook my hand, slapped me on the back, handed me his business card and told me to look him up if I was ever in Brasilia (Brazil’s Capital).

I didn’t think of the senator again until a few months later when I was getting antsy to see some of the rest of Brazil. So I called the senator and told him I was coming to Brasilia. He welcomed me to stay in his apartment. My trip plans had begun.

Out of a sense of adventure and frugality I decided I’d take a bus from Teresina to Brasilia, some 1100 miles away. So early one April evening I climbed into a rough looking bus to start my exploration of other parts of Brazil. Although none of the passengers were carrying livestock with them this was no motorcoach: thinly padded seats that didn’t recline, no air conditioning, and no restroom. I took my seat and tried my best to get comfortable for the long ride.

For the first couple of hours out of Teresina the roads were smooth and in good condition. As the night wore on the paved roads worsened and eventually we were driving on improved dirt roads. Sometime during the night I was able to fall asleep.

I woke up around 3 the next morning when the bus stopped for fuel and a driver change. I was too groggy to acknowledge that we had been driving nonstop for 8 hours and would likely be going another 8 hours before the next stop. It didn’t dawn on me that I wouldn’t be able relieve myself some time. It really wouldn’t matter much in the end though since I didn’t think to get myself something to eat or drink either. The bus resumed its journey and I drifted back to sleep.

When I woke up next the sun had already been up for hours. The air was hot and dry. I was still slumped down in my seat when I opened my eyes and saw only sky outside. As I worked myself to a more upright position I continued to see only sky out my window; no trees, hills, or other vehicles. It was only when I looked out the window and DOWN did I realize that we were driving on a path along the edge of a “gorge” hundreds of feet deep. This man-made gorge was to become part of the highway that connects the northeast of Brazil to the capital region.

The path (yes, I do mean path) that we were on was only slightly wider than the bus. I have no idea what would have happened if we encountered oncoming traffic. I’m really not good with heights so I closed my eyes and pretended that I was somewhere else.

A few hours later we made our second stop on our journey. There was a clearing in the jungle (not really a jungle but not the rainforest either) that was maybe an acre in size where two buildings sat. One was the gas station/restaurant and the other, presumably, was the shack that the owner lived in. The gas station/restaurant consisted of a framework of salvaged boards and timber covered by mismatched pieces of sheetmetal. But they did have electricity there as well as food and cold beverages. We barely had enough time to get something to eat before we were called to reboard the bus.

We came to a stop a couple of hours later at the edge of a river. We had made a couple of “river crossings” earlier where we simply drove across the shallow river in our path. This river, on the other hand, was much wider and faster. It also had a small ferry at the bank. I use the term “ferry” generously since it was really just a wooden raft a couple of feet wider than the bus and barely as long. It was propelled across the river by two men and a rope. The driver positioned the bus on the ferry but the ferry wouldn’t budge. It had been very dry recently and the water level was low. The driver decided to lighten the load and had us get off the bus (and ferry). It still wouldn’t budge.

I had no idea how we were going to get across. As far as I knew we were over 16 hours from civilization (our earlier stopping points did not count as civilization) on this side of the river. I watched the driver and the two ferry operators try to figure out a solution until the driver ultimately shrugged his shoulders, got into the bus and backed it off the ferry. Great, I’m thinking we’re going to have to backtrack and find another route if there was one. Then I notice that the driver is still backing up; a lot farther than necessary to get turned around to head back. He stops about 50 yards from the ferry, shifts back to drive, and guns it. What the hell?!?

In a split second I realize what he’s trying to do and can only imagine a disastrous outcome. He’s going to try to dislodge the ferry by jamming on the brakes just as he gets on. More likely he will hit the brakes too late and end up in the river or he will hit the brakes too soon and end up partially dislodging the ferry with the front tires on the floating ferry and the back tires on dry ground. Either way we’re screwed.

The driver, of course, nailed it. He stops on the ferry (remember it’s only a couple of feet longer than the bus) and successfully frees it. His momentum carried the ferry nearly across the river. On the other side of the river the bus drove off the ferry and the ferry headed back for us “pedestrians”. When we reboarded the bus on the other side the driver acted like he did this all the time (maybe he did). We continued on without incident.

We stopped one more time for fuel and a driver change. Then, 33 hours after I boarded the bus in Teresina, we arrived at the bus station in Brasilia. I was in dire need of food, sleep, and a shower.

Next time: Brasilia and Beyond

I'm not locked up in here with you. You're locked up in here with me!

2009-03-09T12:47:00.002-05:00

Who Watches the Watchmen?

On Saturday I went to see the Watchmen. I’ve been looking forward to a number of movies this year; Star Trek (because I grew up with it), the next Harry Potter (because my kids grew up with the books), Angels & Demons (I like Dan Brown’s books), Public Enemies (no explanation needed), and the Watchmen. A friend of mine introduced me to the comic/graphic novel the movie was based on. Knowing that there was a movie in the works I kept thinking how difficult it would be to translate the story to the big screen. Apparently I wasn’t the only one.

The original comic was published in 1986 (if I recall correctly) and republished as a graphic novel some years later. I’d read that as early as about 1987 work had begun on turning it into a feature film. For the next twenty-odd years Watchmen projects have had their fits and starts with none ever actually making to the filming stage. Until now.

The film stayed faithful to the original story as best it could. Time was probably the biggest reason for changes and omissions; as it was the movie was 2 hours 40+ minutes. I’m sure there are plenty of “purists” out there that will object to the “new” ending but I think it worked. In some ways better than the original. The film stayed with its dark comic roots. THIS IS NOT A KID’S SUPERHERO MOVIE!!! Even several adults walked out during the showing. They obviously weren’t informed movie-goers.

Even though I had read the comic I struggled at times with some of the brutal and bloody violence, the “over the top” characters and dialogue, the drawn out sex scene, and the “clever” choices of music. I had to keep reminding myself that all this (except the music of course) was the Watchmen I had read. It was unnerving to see this wonderfully disturbing comic translated to film so well.

Big kudos go out to whoever did the casting. The casting of Rorschach and the Comedian (no small task for either) were perfect in my opinion. As far as the rest of the cast I couldn’t find any faults there either.

This caveman gives the Watchmen an A-.

Strike a pose.

2009-01-27T22:45:00.017-06:00

The "official" blog of Rianna's New York modeling trip.

On December 10, 2008 Rianna won the online voting in a contest to win a chance to be the cover model on Carol Alt's newest novel, “Model, Inc”, to be published by Harper Collins. As the winner, Rianna won a trip to New York.

Rianna was joined on her trip by her mother, Kristen, and her grandmother, Sabra. The adventure began with frigid early-morning trip to the airport. Their direct flight from Madison to La Guardia went as planned and they were met at the airport by driver who took them to the hotel. Harper Collins had put them up in the Omni Berkshire, a 4-star hotel in Manhattan near Rockefeller Plaza, St. Patrick's Cathedral, and Times Square.

After they got their things settled in their room they took off for a late lunch. They found Mars 2112, a space themed restaurant. The restaurant touts “Mars 2112 is a spectacular mingling of fantasy and reality, a 35,000-square-foot, bi-level, multi-dimensional, immersive environment that catapults travelers to a completely new world.” They enjoyed a few appetizers and rubbed elbows with the aliens.

After their meal they headed to Lord & Taylor for some shopping. Lord & Taylor was the secondary sponsor (Harper Collins Publishing was the primary) of the contest and had awarded a $500 gift certificate for their store as one of the prizes. Lord & Taylor is a fairly high-end clothing store so it would have been very easy to blow through the $500 and then some. But Rianna showed surprising restraint and not only did she not end up spending any her own money she didn't even spend all of the certificate. They ordered a pizza and called it an early night.

The only thing on the schedule for their second day in NYC was a “meet and greet” at the Ford Modeling Agency who claims to be “the leading management company for models and hair and make-up artists globally”. The “meet and greet” was brief but Rianna did have some additional photos taken of her and her measurement were taken and recorded.

The three travelers returned to the hotel to prepare for their afternoon/evening. They walked past the concierge desks to the elevators. They got in one of the elevators and pushed the button for the 12th floor. The doors closed and then...... nothing. They waited briefly before determining that the elevator was stuck. They looked for a phone in the elevator but the little door which normally conceals the phone was locked. They tried the alarm, the frequency and duration of the attempts increased as time passed. They tried pounding on the doors as well. They were stuck on the first floor with one of the concierge desks only about 5 feet away from the elevator but somehow no one hear the buzzing, pounding, and yelling.

They were unable to get cell reception in the elevator but they discovered that text messages were working. Rianna texted a friend in Williams Bay (near Lake Geneva) explaining the situation and asking him to call the front desk. He relayed the message to the front desk clerk who then informed hotel security. The security guard did not physically check the elevator instead deciding to rely on a control panel that showed the elevator status as “normal”.

Another 30 minutes of buzzing, pounding, and yelling was followed by another text message to Williams Bay and another phone call to the front desk. This time, however, the call was transferred directly to security. The security guard listened with skepticism and explained that the panel said that the elevator was working OK. The guard clearly thought the calls were hoaxes.

After more buzzing, pounding, and yelling someone on the second floor heard talking in the elevator and contacted security. So for nearly an hour and a half they ignored calls and no one (including the concierge stationed about 5 feet from the elevator) noticed that one of the elevator's doors had opened. When security finally came to the elevator's doors and yelled in they were surprised when they got a response. They then quickly opened the doors and discovered their screw-up. The hotel manager was quick to the scene and offered a very sincere apology. He made it clear that he wanted to make things right for the three ladies (“in waiting”?). They enjoyed a dinner of Kobe steak and lobster on the house that night.

The third and last day in New York was photo shoot day. The driver picked them up at about 9:30 to head to Jan Cobb's studio. Jan Cobb (“Is not and never was a woman” according to his website) is a well known fashion and beauty photographer. Rianna was joined at the studio by a host of Harper Collins (and one Lord & Taylor) employees. This was the first time that Harper Collins had conducted a cover model contest so it was going to be a new experience for everyone. Preparing Rianna for the photo shoot were Esi (editor), Wendy (publicist), Tanya (fashion stylist), Mumtaz (art director), Rhona (hair and make-up). Lord & Taylor provided all the clothes, shoes, and accessories.

The photo shoot had almost a party atmosphere thanks in part to Jan Cobb's high energy level. Rianna went through 5 costume changes during the 6 hour shoot. Some of the women from HarperCollins had fun trying on some of the shoes that had been selected for Rianna to possibly wear, and everyone was drooling over the table full of accessories.

As the day wore on some of the Harper Collins employees that were there mainly out of curiosity reluctantly returned to their real jobs. Overall the consensus was that the photo shoot was a success.

Unfortunately Carol Alt was not available for the photo shoot but she did call and leave very nice heartfelt messages on Kris' voicemail and e-mail. And she also left a signed copy of her current book for Rianna, her mom, and grandma. She sent Rianna some of her personal skin care line to her dorm in Madison, and has scheduled a phone call with Rianna when Carol is back in New York. It was an amazing experience for all, but especially for Rianna.

Now it's just a waiting game to see the cover results of Carol Alt's new book. Their was talk of inviting Rianna back to New York for the Release Party.

Adult Entertainment Expo

2009-01-15T18:36:00.013-06:00

Also known as the "Porn Show", the Adult Entertainment Expo was going on at the same time as the Consumer Electronics Show (CES) in Las Vegas last week. I know this because I was there. At the electronics show of course.

We stayed at Trump, which was nice, but I didn't see Donald. His loss.

I've been to Vegas a few times before but this was my first time at CES. CES is one of the largest shows in the world. The show covered approximately 29 acres housed in the Las Vegas Convention Center (LVCC), the Hilton, the Venetian, and half of the Sands Expo and Convention Center.

Shows like these are usually showcases for companies trying to one-up the competition : biggest, smallest, lightest, fastest, thinnest, brightest, well you get the picture. Panasonic showed a 150" plasma TV. Samsung had and AMOLED (active matrix organic light emitting diode) TV that was only .85mm thick (that's about 1/32" or about at thick as a crdit card). Perhaps one of the most impressive items on display was LG's cell phone watch with Bluetooth. Not quite Dick Tracy yet but still impressive.

Despite all the new "toys" we saw, ultimately we were very disappointed with the show. We didn't go to see the things that would be in retailers showrooms later this year. We were looking for technology we could apply to our products in the future. I don't know if the economy affected what we saw or if our expectations were out of whack. Normally about 130,000 attend the show. We heard this year attendance was down 30%.

I'd mentioned earlier that CES occupied half of the Sands Expo and Convention Center. The other half we found out contained the aforementioned AEE. The entrance to the Center was an odd mix of AEE and CES banners and visitors. It was interest to watch some of the “talent” go into the AEE. We were surprised to see what we thought was AEE talent going into CES and presumed CES visitors going to AEE. I'm quite sure that the timing and location of AEE with respect to CES is not coincidental. Your typical CES geek is probably very familiar with adult entertainment industry. But in their defense there was probably a lot of interesting technology there. Some of the virtual devices I'm sure have high-tech sensors and feedback systems.

If we had a little more time and the registration wasn't so expensive I would have gone in. Come on, how often do you get the opportunity to go to the Porn Show? At least for me I'm guessing this was my only chance. But we had other things we wanted to do and $80 seemed a little steep so we passed. I'll probably regret it.

We ended up heading to Freemont Street for the rest of the afternoon/evening. As much as I dislike the Strip, I kind of like Freemont Street. It kind of reminds me of State Street in Madison. To me the Strip is phony and screams excess and waste. If I never get back to the Strip again I don't think I'll be disappointed.

The guy I was traveling with had never been Downtown Las Vegas so the whole Freemont Street Experience was new to him. We watched the overhead light/music show as well as three, yes three, motorcycles in the Sphere of Death.

As always, spelling and grammatical errors are intentional.

That's all.

My daughter, wife, and MIL are coming back today from their adventure in NYC. Hopefully they will let me tell their tales in my next post.

Smart-ass or Dumb-ass?

2008-12-30T08:03:00.004-06:00

In my previous blog I explained how I came to live in Brazil. As the new year approaches I’m reminded of the New Year’s party I attended while living in Brazil.

As the holidays approached I had been in Brazil for about 4 months. My Portuguese had come along nicely, I’d met a lot of interesting people, and I had started to really get the feel for the place. Many of my friends and I were invited to a New Year’s Eve party at a local hotel. The party was for late teens and young adults (16-21) and was a semi-swanky sort of affair. We occupied the top floor pool area of the hotel.

The dress code was “Black and White” meaning you could only wear black and/or white. I brought no clothes with me that would be appropriate for the party but luckily a friend of mine was clothing designer and she enthusiastically volunteered to design and make clothes for me to wear. She was a very talented designer and seamstress but unfortunately she had never designed or made any men’s clothing. Her design came out cool but the fit was, well, kinda odd. But for one night I could endure ill-fitting clothes as long as they made me look studly. Which they did.

The party itself is pretty much what you’d expect for a New Year’s Eve party with that crowd. Lots of music, dancing, food and drinks. There is no “drinking age” in Brazil but the culture (at least where I was) frowned on abuse much more than in the States. Within my group of friends there was strong peer pressure against drunkenness.

Late in the evening (morning?) my buddy and I headed off to the restroom which was somewhat removed from the party area. I took care of business, washed my hands, and was drying when a third person came into the bathroom. I didn’t recognize him and he wasn’t conforming to the “dress code”. But he was in our party’s age group (early twenties) so I didn’t think anything of him until he pulled out a pistol. It wasn’t until then that I noticed that he looked like he just got out of bed and had a strange look on his face. He wasn’t all there. He was either mentally ill or on drugs. Either way not a good thing.

He told us to back away as the door closed behind him. He backed up until his back was against the door. With us backed up against the sinks we were only about 5 feet away from him. We asked him what he wanted but he said he didn’t want anything. Now I’m starting to get nervous. If I hadn’t already relieved myself I probably would have, right then and there. Since he didn’t want anything from us we suggested that he just let us go. Not only did he decline but he started waving the gun in our faces telling us to stay where we were.

We tried to find out what was going on with him and told him that he was making us very nervous. His reply was that we shouldn’t be scared because the gun was broken. All the more reason to let us go we said but once again he started pointing the gun towards us.

He seems bewildered that we were afraid. He asked us why we were afraid. We told him that we were afraid because he was keeping us in the bathroom at gunpoint. Once again he replied that the gun was broken but also added that the gun was not loaded. Apparently to emphasize this he said “would I do this if it was loaded?” and proceeded to open his mouth and stick the barrel inside.

I once read that the definition of tact is knowing when to shut your mouth before someone does it for you. I must have read this after this incident.

So my response to “would I do this if it was loaded?” was “I know I sure wouldn’t”.

Brilliant.

He quickly removed the gun from his mouth and placed the muzzle on my forehead. “You’re a real smart-ass aren’t you?” he said but surprisingly there was no anger in his voice. I fumbled out a quick apology.

The muzzle of the gun remained on my forehead for only a few seconds more before he seemed to become bored with the situation. Without a word he lowered the gun, turned, and walked out the door.

My buddy and I stayed in the bathroom for a bit to calm our nerves and to make sure we didn’t startle him on the outside. When we left the bathroom I headed off towards the party while my friend went to contact security. In less than five minutes security had the man pinned to the ground. He was still hanging around the bathroom area.

I arrived just as security was disarming him. I watched the guard eject a full clip from the pistol. It was loaded and, no doubt, functional. He was quickly carried away.

Months passed before I replayed the incident in my mind and realized that I had not been contacted by the authorities. At all. No questioning, no statement taken, nothing. I thought that maybe they wanted to keep it low key because an American was involved. The more I thought about it it was more likely that the police were never contacted and young man didn’t survive the night.

Happy New Year.

Blame it on Rio

2008-12-18T16:19:00.002-06:00

Part way through my junior year in high school I kind of realized that I somehow just didn’t belong there. It’s not that I didn’t have friends. I got along with just about everyone: the nerds, the jocks, the dirtballs. Grades were good. I was a varsity wrestler and football player. I even had a lead in the school musical. Still, it never felt right to me. I wanted out. I wanted more.

I really wasn’t looking forward to my senior year. I had worked hard to earn enough credits to graduate at the end of my junior year. What I hadn’t done was to check all the requirements for graduation. Like the requirement that you have to complete 8 semesters. The guidance counselor and principal informed me that not only did I have to complete 2 more semesters I still needed to carry a minimum credit load as well. I had already taken most of the classes that would prepare me for college (Chemistry, Physics, Calculus, etc.). What was left for me to take at my small-town school were classes like Foods and Nutrition, Chorus, and Comparative Religions, which are all fine classes but the prospect of me filling up a year with them would have been a living hell.

I certainly wasn’t going to drop out.

I’m not sure where I got the idea but I started thinking about being an exchange student. I could go away for a year, ostensibly to further and broaden my education, and have a bit of an adventure to boot. Problem solved. So I decided to apply. My biggest obstacle would be in the interviews with the selection board. I had to convince them that my motivation was for academic and cultural exchange reasons. Not entirely untrue but I did have other motives.

Apparently the bar was set really low for acceptance because I passed with flying colors. I remember filling out a questionnaire regarding country preference. I don’t remember specific countries that I was interested in but I do remember the gist of my priorities.

I didn’t want to learn a new alphabet so all the Asian countries (and others) were out.

I struggled with middle-school Spanish (and English for that matter!) so I wanted a country where English was common as a second language.

I’m not a fish eater so I was guessing the Scandinavian countries would be out as well.

And it wouldn’t hurt if the girls were good looking too!

In the end I was offered the chance to go to Brazil. This was somewhat fortunate because we had a Brazilian exchange student in our school the year before and she left a very positive impression of Brazil.

So, shortly after my 17th birthday I boarded a plane to leave my Wisconsin home for almost a year. I was heading to a country where I didn’t know the language (I learned “window” and “aisle” on the plane) and I would be living with people I’d never met. The city where I was headed, Teresina, was located about 5° south of the Equator and was about as far away, climate-wise, as you can get from Wisconsin. I arrived in Brazil in the middle of their winter. It was 95° outside.

There was a big welcome party for me at my host family’s house. And almost no one spoke English. This may be a long year I thought.

More of my Brazilian adventure in the future…..

Press "1" for English...

2008-12-12T15:51:00.002-06:00

What ever happened to service?

I went to our company Christmas party last night. My plan was to arrive late and leave early. I really like the company I work for; I just don’t have a whole lot of interest in socializing with people that I choose not to socialize with normally.

One of the strengths of my company has been its customer service. If you call us with a problem you will get a person, not an automated attendant, on the phone 24 hours a day, 365 days out of the year. Occasionally we’ll have customers show up at our corporate headquarters with questions. I am on the short list of people called to assist in these situations.

On rare occasions I am called upon to help out our customer service reps. We have 3 levels of reps, the highest levels has a tremendous amount of experience and product knowledge. They also have to deal with our most difficult customers. Our customers typically are in the top 2% income-wise and are prone to remind you of that.

One of the things I’ve discovered over the last couple of years is that most engineers aren’t nearly as helpful to our customer service reps as I am. As a result I end up getting calls for products that I had no involvement in the design. These calls can end up really disrupting the day but I figure if one of these guys is calling me they must really be stuck.

So, getting back to the party, I walk around all the rooms to make sure I’m “seen” and can avoid the ‘anti-social’ label. I’m anxious to leave but I decide to stop into one of the kitchens to grab a handful of cheese for the ride home. As I’m starting to leave the kitchen someone grabs me by the arm. I turn around but I don’t recognize the young man standing in front of me. “You’re Terry, right?” he asks. “My name is Jeff, I work in customer service. I heard you were here and I thought I recognized you from the company directory. You really bailed me out a couple of times when we couldn’t figure out a problem. I just couldn’t let you go without thanking you.”

I shook Jeff’s hand, wished him a Merry Christmas and left.

Next year the plan is to arrive early and leave late.

"Start spreading the news,....."

2008-12-10T18:05:00.004-06:00

Thanks to our extensive network of friends, family, and co-workers and all their friends, family, and co-workers for voting for my daughter in Avon's "Next Year's Model" contest.

She was selected by Carol Alt and the editors as one of 4 finalists. And after 17 days of online voting I am happy to announce that she won!

She will fly to NYC and stay at a 4-Star hotel, receive a shopping certificate at Lord & Taylor, have a 'meet and greet' with a New York modeling agency, and have a professional photo shoot. Her photo will be considered for the cover of Carol Alt's new novel "Models, Inc!".

Here's the winning photo:

A HUGE thank-you goes out to RJ's uncle. He took the picture we submitted.

Until next time....

Left-hand Louie

Now What?

2008-12-04T09:24:00.004-06:00

So, now I have my own blog.

Now what?

I was talked into writing this by my first wife and a friend who think I have something to say. I find this somewhat amusing since I usually have very little to say. I normally like to observe from the sidelines and only add my 2¢ at strategic opportunities. Or when it would be the most humorous.

I’ve read a number of blogs since I read my first blog this spring. I have to say that I’ve found more that I dislike than those I like. Some contain, almost in their entirety, information cut from other sources. Others will have a clear political/ideological leaning and proclaim that they are open-minded and support the First Amendment but only if you agree with the author. Some bloggers self-inflate the importance of their blog. It’s just a blog, dammit, if your ideas were that insightful and/or your writing was that good you wouldn’t be doing it for free. Still others feel like they have to blog about everything they do short of bowel movements (and sometimes even include that).

To anyone that reads this blog I promise to avoid the above. I will welcome criticism and contrasting viewpoints. I will not tolerate abuse. And a word of warning: I am not a writer by any stretch of the imagination.

So who is this Caveman?

I’m more like a caveman than most people realize:

I’m a simple guy.

I invented the wheel. Really. You can check it out. (OK, I invented a wheel, but that still counts, right?)

I can use simple tools.

I could live off the land.

I don’t shave on weekends.

More about the Caveman next time.