Wisconsin Marketing 101

Me Knows Better Than to Say This... but I will. The Department of Transportation in Wisconsin is an example of preeminent marketing. Now I know that many of you doubt my comment... mainly because I am cynical by nature. But this time... really... I am only stating the facts.
Jimmy bases this on one random occurrence will driving around the St. Croix River Valley taking photos of fall leaves. I like to take seldom traveled roads and try to figure out a way to see overly photographed sites from a new angle... but this takes me down some "pretty" difficult roads. I mean really rough roads.

In Iowa they are honest about the quality of the road. The DOT in IA displays plenty of signs to remind everyone that these are, "Low Maintenance Roads." With this warning, I expect rough roads and probably no shoulders and a little complaining that Iowa should do something about this travesty of a road crew.

In Minnesota, the roads are usually pretty good - all due to the exorbitant taxes and the thanks of Representative Oberstar, the ranking Democrat on the Transportation Committee. He is really good at siphoning funds from other states to do his pet projects and no one blinks an eye... wink... wink. Luckily all that money is free... so no need for any posted signs... and I still complain if the roads aren't perfect... after all shouldn't these be paved in gold with the taxes we pay.

But in Wisconsin... these guys are geniuses. They just label them as "Rustic Roads." Too bad George Carlin isn't alive as I can hear him enunciate the words slowly... "Rustic Road." Jimmy had visions of wagon wheel tracks and Conestoga’s passing through the prairie. Even when the road turned to crumbled asphalt and plenty of potholes, another sign reminded me, a present day settler, that this was a "Rustic Road." I had no reason to complain... I had shelter... the wheels were turning, I was moving and no Indians were attacking... for I was on a Rustic Road... this was an adventure.

But let's do the math and expectations:

Iowa - $4,000 for signs and much complaining about shitty work.

Minnesota - $4,000,000,000,000  in taxpayer funded roads (probably could add a few more zeros.. but Jimmy tried to be conservative in the estimate) - and still some shitty areas.

Wisconsin - $400 for a couple of well positioned signs - still a shitty road, but fun to drive on something called a "Rustic Road."

Wisconsin DOT - Marketing geniuses...

Guess There Is More Than One Way To Do It

Me Know Better Than To Say This... But I Will.

Putting out... Well I guess vertical is one way to do it if you want.  Jimmy leads a sheltered life.

Sign of the Times

Me Knows Better Than to Say This… but I will. While walking through the airport parking garage in Shanghai, I noticed this sign on every level next to the escalator... even though the sign says elevator.

No one wants to lose an appendage on an escalator or even an elevator, but I especially don’t want to lose my “Booy”… whatever part of my anatomy that is.  I have my suspicions, but even I have some standards for this blog... as low as they might be... but they're still standards.

Jimmy The Subversive

Me Knows Better Than to Say This… but I will. I have to apologize to my two followers. I have been traveling through the People’s Republic of China and unable to update Jimmy's Blog. Apparently the Communist Government became aware of my recent popularity on this blog and blocked 6 Billion people from reading my musings. No wonder my readership has not reached the level I expected. It turns out that my writing could be considered subversive and all access was denied. I was just trying to be somewhat humorous... not take over a 60 year old communist regime.  I have enough trouble of my own to fix.  The photo shows all that I could receive on my laptop from the hotel.  "This Page Can Not Be Displayed."

Then as I was leaving the visa checkpoint in the airport, one sign was begging me to snap a photo… unfortunately there were signs posted everywhere saying no photos, area monitored, along with a host of security personnel. Jimmy may not be all that smart, but this time me thought better than to take a photo of the poster which had smiling security person pointing at the words, “Building a civilized society through civilized behavior.” Me boarded the plane quickly.

What Did That Sign Say?

Me Knows Better Than to Say This... but I will. While zooming down the highway in India (more on that later), this sign flashed by... However after the day, it seemed like a reasonable risk as it couldn't have been any worse than the prior bridge… the one without a sign... the one which still had remnants of deteriorated cement... the one with no railing.. the one with various sections reduced to one lane. Our driver assured no one had lost a car into the river… yet. Yes that one was safe. This new one… well at least we had a warning this time.

Airline Cuisine to Mumbai

Me Knows Better Than to Say This… but I will. Note to self: Next time check seat locations on planes before arriving at airport. This is a simple rule I will live by from now on. This goes with the corollary to this rule: No seats within 5 rows of the bathroom.... especially should Northwest/KLM serve vegetable burritos with curry spice to please the overwhelmingly Indian crowd flying into Mumbai. “Whoa!” is all I can say.

I also made an executive decision that there is a new job I don’t want any part of… cleaning bathrooms on an airline after a nine hour flight - as it looked like… well let’s just say I had to use my right shoe to keep clinging toilet paper from sticking to my left shoe and vice versa creating an interesting scene stepping out the bathroom door.

The odor emanating from the small and frequently used room was especially interesting. It alternated from an obnoxious sanitary sweetness, on one extreme, to a residue of post-processed burritos… Indian style. After a while, I was really hoping to smell the sanitary acidic odor all the time, however, it turned into a mild blend of each which wafted out every time the door was opened.

While the smell seemed to get de-sensitized to my olfactory glands after a few hours, the constant traffic and local greeting and conversation area next to my head did not. This sustained distraction allowed me the option to snooze in roughly 15 second intervals… but of course this was over 9 hours so it all added up to a good night’s rest… that is if you only need 24.5 minutes of sleep per night. Not only that, but each person had to bang the door, not once, but twice (once to get in… once to get out) and throw in the constant whoosh of high speed bodily fluids with an air suction unit tied directly into the wall behind my head. The wonders of modern sanitary systems never cease. I think the trains in Europe do it the right way… just let it drop from the sky.

And since it was a high traffic area (apparently this version of an Indian burrito did not seem to agree even with the Indians), each person that meandered over to my private abode had to brush my elbow or rock the back of the seat while they balanced standing outside the door. Nice.

I also observed a custom for which I was not prepared to experience. Just as I was falling off for one of my 15 seconds of sleep, the gentleman beside me decides to show his appreciation for the meal with a large and sustained belch. Since I was unable to muster a responding show of similar approval for the meal, I assumed that all bodily displays were appropriate and I lifted my right cheek… again only as a sign of deep and gastrointestinal respect for the meal… but thought twice before allowing the signal to become public as it may have produced an unexpected outcome… for me that is.

It was then that I determined that the close proximity to the bathroom does have one major advantage.

Tough Day At The Home Office

Me knows better than to say this... but I will. Golf is a tough occupation... luckily I still have a day job.

After my fifth trap in five holes, one of my playing partners commented, "The only person that has seen more bunkers than you is Eva Braun."

So I flipped him a modified Third Reich saluate with an extended long digit signaling that it only took me one swing to get out of each trap.