More

Ok, I posted some pix from the conference yesterday. We were at the Hilton. I knew it was gonna be mediocre when I saw that the room number was written on the room plaque in the hallway in magic marker! Pure class. And as usual, the key card didn't work. The Master Carp and I were sharing a room, and he was already there to let me in anyway. We each had been given two key cards, but I thought that mine should work as well, so I stopped down at the desk on my next trip, got my cards re-encoded, and now Brad's didn't work! So I just gave him one of mine. He said, "well, we won't be giving our room cards to any women this trip, my girlfriend and your wife would disapprove of that." To which I replied, "Yeah, and the only hot women I'm going to be hooking up with are gay!"

We got the display set up that evening, and then waited for our two profs, who had been planning to fly down, with me driving the equipment down, were forced to drive anyway because of the weather (Houston airport was closed, as well as several interstates, because of the rain!). We also had the whole next day to finish set-up since the expo floor didn't open until the following day (which was good since the convention people screwed up our reservation and didnt' give us carpeting or table or chairs, only power.)

To cut it short, the expo floor was amazing.

All kinds of products and demonstrations all the time. Anything remotely Technical Theatre related was there and being showcased in technicolor hues.

There were a LOT of cool class sessions. Some of them were dull and elementary, but I tried to avoid those. Once I got the knack of reading between the lines as to what level they were being taught at, I could target my sessions accordingly.

Of course, I also met up with some old friends. N (remember her? She abandoned us way back when from Rockford to go on to better and brighter things.) was there scoping out some new teaching techniques and toys to incorporate into her repertoire. I met up with an ex-stage manager who I had the hots for when we worked together briefly a while back. And a long-time acquaintance from Michigan, then Illinois, who is now working at the college in Beloit that I worked at last summer. (wow, was that only last summer?)

Really good to see all of them again. I hope to be able to do it again, though Wife seems dead set against it. However, it coincides with our Spring Break again next year, in Cincinnati...

The hand of Krishna

I had my first experience at a major business convention. I’ll post some of my feelings and experiences. And more than a few pictures.

First off, The Trip. Worst driving ever. It started raining before I even left the house, and there was the obligatory lake outside my front step, as water doesn’t drain well from the parking lot. It rained pretty heavily for the first hour and a half, but then lightened up to a drizzle. At least I could put the wipers on intermittant. I put in one of my favorite driving tapes (yes, my car doesn’t even have a CD player!), Chant And Be Happy, a collection of Hindu chant and repeat songs that Krishna Vas has since become famous for. After about half an hour the rain started up again, coming down pretty hard. I didn’t care, I was singing Hare Krishna. However, I did still have to start concentrating more on my driving since it was a bit slick. Sure enough, without any real warning, I was hydroplaning in a circle from the left lane of the highway. I didn’t strike the left guard rail. I didn’t get hit by any cars behind me. There was a gradual grassy slope down to the service drive, and the ground was pretty well soaked by the days rain. So, when I hit the verge, I went down, and didn’t flip, and the tires simply made deep furrows instead of being torqued and bent. There was no traffic on the service drive and I ended up on it, facing the same way I had been going. I first thought I’d done at least a 360, but now I wonder if I hadn’t started spinning in one direction, and then, over-corrected and spun back the way I came. I really don’t remember. I turned off the car. Sat for a minute, and got out to survey the dammage. My first fear was for the radiator, then the tires. It wasn’t smoking, and the tires were all there and appearing straight. The only obvious result of the adventure was mud and grass clods in all the wheel wells, and the gascap door had popped open. The car restarted fine, and seemed to run ok. There was even a re-entrance to the freeway a quarter mile along. But something like that makes you think and you’ve got to wonder. I was singing, technically, hymns praising Krishna. Over my passenger visor, I have hanging a Buddhist charm for safe travel that a friend brought back from Japan. Or was is some other guardian angel, Kami, ghost, or deity? All in all I was most thankfull that Wife was not with me, and that she would never find out about it. The constant rain even erased the grass and mud from every part of the car.
But the trip got worse.

Almost to Dallas, not long after the spin-out, as bad as the rain had been, it got worse. The sky turned dark as night. It looked like 8pm instead of Noon. I couldn’t see 20 yards down the freeway, even if the wipers could keep up with the water. I’d been in rain this hard or harder, but it was in rural Tenn., on familiar highway. This was new terrain, and in heavy traffic, with me paranoid about hydroplaning again (still a problem I was dealing with, and being more conscious of).
There were a couple of places I felt sure that I’d missed my turnoff. The first from the interstate to the ring around Dallas, the 635(First time thru, I decided to take the easy route, and not the fastest). But I figured that if I missed it, well, I’d just be taking the more complex route thru the city center, so I just kept on, but eventually came to my exit after I’d given up hope of seeing it; it was just further along than I’d thought. The next was on the ring (which, while I knew was longer and a bit out of the way, took FOREVER when you’re crawling along at 35mph and can’t see the exit signs from all the rain and road spray). I was on I-635, and was looking for 45 down to Houston. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a sign that looks like it says that I’m on I-20! Ok, either I read that wrong, or I missed a turn-off and am now going ‘somewhere else’. So I’m franticly looking for another sign to tell me where I am. But sure, enough, the next sign is the exit for I-45 next right. I’m fine (on the way back, I realize that I-635 becomes I-20 for that little stretch. Thank you Texas). After the Hell that was Dallas, the rain again lightened up to a mere downpour, I could turn my wipers down to the Low setting. I was somewhat surprised by the Texas I found going down to Houston. The stretch from Dallas was very similar to central Illinois. Flat, rolling, somewhat green, occasionally tree lined, very boring to drive thru. However, on towards Houston, the landscape changed and became quite a bit like northern Michigan (northern lower Michigan, not the U.P.), very forested, and hilly. I could almost find myself liking it, if it weren’t Texas. By the time I got to Houston, the rain had lightened up enough to turn the wipers to intermittant, so I was able to find the directions to the Hotel and Convention center easily (despite some missing street signs. Ya wanna look into that, Houston?)

But over the whole trip, I noticed that cars and trucks kicked up a LOT more spray than up north, in rainier climes. I suppose it could have been just the sheer volume of water, but I personally don’t think that the highways are sloped right, or whatever, to slough off the water from the surface. That’s my working theory, and I’m sticking with it.

It’s easier to believe in than divine intervention.

Go Go BIFFLE

A frog in a backyard pond, a very confused frog, was captured for posterity attempting to get amorous with a certain well-known rubber ducky, known by many as Biffle. The surprised look on Biffle's face was evidence enough that the amorous advance was unprovoked, but not entirely unappreciated. Biffle later commented, "I take it as a compliment, but he could have at least bought me a drink first! Call me!" The frog was unavailable for comment.

ANOTHER reason to move to Baltimore

The Article

Absinth lovers assembled yesterday at a Baltimore restaurant, Ixia, for a taste of the notorious drink -- an invitation-only affair organized by one of the three major brands now approved for U.S. distribution.

...Then he took another sip. "I mean it's fine, but where are the hallucinations? I haven't seen anything except the fairy models floating around." -- in short skirts, pink wings, green body paint and little else. (That alone would make the trip worthwhile! )

Oscar Wilde, on Absinth: "After the first glass you see things as you wish they were. After the second you see things as they are not. Finally you see things as they really are, and that is the most horrible thing in the world."

Venus

I saw the movie Venus on cable last night, and I couldn't help but see myself in it. Peter O'Toole plays an aged, reknowned actor of stage and screen, reduced to doing bad movies and cameo TV appearances (now THAT's a stretch of his acting abilities). He meets and develops a friendship with a brash young girl (late teens or early 20s) who uses him primarily as a sugar daddy, doling out personal liberties such as "you may smell my neck" or "you may kiss my shoulder, three times, no more!" to the physically neglected old man. You begin to wonder who's using who, when they each get something that they desperately need from the other. He gets a glimpse of the long-gone days of giving pleasure to a woman, and she gets friendship from somebody who shows her a glimpse of what she could become (along with new clothes and jewelry).
So how do we decide who's whoring out for who? He, who desperately wants the physical intimacy with a woman, and will pay his whole paycheck on wardrobe and jewels, only to have her run out for a night clubbing with friends, or she, who will dole out physical contact with various parts of her anatomy to get the swag, not admitting any fondness or attachment to the old man. I suppose it comes down to who you can relate to most. Me, I'm at the point in my life where I can readily identify with the old man. He is only looking to give a young lady a glimpse of a finer life than what she currently experiences, and, with both of them knowing that he is incapable of culminating a sexual relationship, she goes along with his enlightening excursions, doling out intimacies, knowing that that's the coin he wants in exchange for her indulgence.
How long do any of us have before we're old and alone, looking for any coin with which to barter some tenderness?

Paris 1900

So a couple weekends ago Wife and I decide to go up... no, wait. She hates "big cities". I decide, and force her to go along, up to THE CITY for a special exhibit at the Museum of Art up there. We'd heard about it on NPR and in various newspapers around. I thought that it'd be something that she'd really enjoy, being enamoured with all things French, though not specificly this era. And hey, it's enlightening, dammit.
So we pick a weekend and I force her to go. Yes, it's a bit pricy, but what isn't these days. I know roughly where it is, and I'd gone up to the city for an ETC demo the previous week, so I knew the general area. However I'm trusting my city map inset of 'downtown' for specifics. It works and we get there like I knew where it was. We even splurge on one of those narrated tour gizmos with pre-recorded commentary on selected items in the exhibit.
The exhibit was kinda cool. There were a LOT of artists that I'd never heard of, but that's not a bad thing. It was all "fin de siecle" stuff that was the transition from the romantic and naturalistic movements of the late 19th century, but before the structure of the Deco period. They had a lot of Alphonse Mucha, who did the famous Sarah Bernhardt JOB cigarette paper ads (no, not Sandra Bernhardt. Sarah's beautiful.). Of course the climax of the exhibit was a whole room of original posters from Cheret and Toulouse-Lautrec. Those guys I'd heard of :o)
So a fun time was had by all, even though Wife was spent, and in quite a bit of pain, by the end of the day from all the walking and standing.
We also drove past the Oklahoma City Memorial, the one from the Murrah Federal Building bombing. The one with the chairs. We didn't stop and visit, but it is on my To Do list, though not Wifes ("I don't need another excuse to start crying my eyes out!").
I also want to do the Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum. But, again, Wife has no interest in that. But I've heard it's great, with a lot of original Remington sculptures.

Euphemism on the death of Gary Gygax

Gary Gygax wasn't the father of Dungeons and Dragons. He was the weird uncle that lived in the basement, painted lead miniatures, and could expound on the twelve different types of polearm weapons. So it's understandable that gamers might have trouble talking about it openly. Instead, here are some ways to refer to Gygax's untimely passing…you know, without really saying it:

When referring to Gygax's death, you can say he:

1) Started a new character sheet.
2) Is looking for a ninth-level cleric.
3) Failed his save vs. death magic.
4) Is food for purple worms.
5) Immediately became an NPC.
6) Finished the Doritos.
7) Has gone pips up.
8) Is pushing up shriekers.
9) Cashed in his gold pieces.
10) Took the first step to lichdom.
11) Went ethereal.
12) Kicked on the end of a spear.
13) Didn't make his system shock roll.
14) Bought the farm in Hommlet.
15) Is taking a dice nap.
16) Has gone to meet Zagyg.
17) Rolled his last natural 20.
18) Went against the giants.
19) Joined the gaming table invisible.
20) Is sleeping with the sahuagin.
21) Drew the Void.
22) Ended the campaign.
23) Kicked the dice bag.
24) Retired Mordenkainen.
25) Got screwed by the DM.

--Teague Bohlen

Yes, I was an avid D&D player from way back; High School on thru College. It broadened my mind, and sparked my interest in the middle ages. I was the proud owner of a first edition D&D boxed set, as well as the obligatory 3 AD&D rule books (back when there were ONLY 3 rule books). I met lots of great people and more than a few incurable geeks (no, I was curable!).

cute little Knut

Still think I'm cute? One year on, cuddly Knut has turned into a 300 lb. killing machine

From ALLAN HALL in Berlin

A year ago, he was a cute and cuddly ball of white fur who captured the hearts of millions worldwide.

But Knut the polar bear has grown up fast - as this startled young visitor to Berlin Zoo discovered.

Knut now weighs 22 stone (300 lb) and has six-inch claws and a fearsome set of fangs to match.

And he seemed to be particularly keen to test them on the three-year-old boy lying on the ground next to his enclosure.

Fangs for the memories: Knut is separated from this little boy by six inches of glass

Fortunately for the youngster, six inches of glass capable of withstanding a mortar attack separated him from the jaws of the world's most famous captive bear.

Knut was rejected by his mother at birth in December 2006.

Some animal rights activists said it would be better for him to die than to be weaned by mankind.

The zoo directors decided to let him live, however, and he went on to become a major attraction, pulling in £5million in revenue in a year.

But his days of being picked up and cuddled are long gone.

He is, after all, a wild animal and now not even the keeper who raised him by hand dares to get close.