The Road to Klaipėda

10 Reasons to Visit Lithuania:

1. Rare opportunity to surf the Baltic Sea
2. Figure out why women 65 and older outnumber men in the same age group by nearly 2:1
3. Visit the home where Charles Bronson's dad grew up
4. Meals are still family affairs, with no one leaving the table until all are done eating
5. No reality TV
6. The nearest McDonald's is somewhere in Poland
7. It is the geographical center of Europe
8. One-third of the country is forested!
9. The capital, Vilnius, is almost 700 years old
10. The rural speed limit is 130 km/h seven months out of the year (that's almost 81 mph to you and me!)
11. Bob Hope and Bing Crosby (with Dorothy Lamour, of course) had planned a Lithuanian road movie, The Road to Klaipėda, in 1955. However, traveling buddy films to Soviet-occupied states just aren't so funny. And neither wanted McCarthy to blacklist them.

OK, that last one is a fabrication. Still, a country that is over 240 miles and an international border away from the nearest Golden Arches has got to be worth getting away to!

A Parents' Guide To The Beatles - Part One, The White Album

So... you say your kid's been listneing to that awful hip-hop and grunge noise again, and you just don't know what to do? Here's a thought, moms and dads. Buy 'em The Beatles - better known as The White Album. Why? Well... for one, The Fabs don't sing about gangstas or rape or murder or poppin' caps. They sing about peace and love - not in an overtly hippie Donovan sort of manner, but honestly, with a sound that is strangely contemporary for a set of recordings that will turn 38 years old this year. (The only other album from 1968 to even come close to standing the test of time is The Rolling Stones' Beggars Banquet.) Besides, DJ Modest Mouse produced the incredibly popular (and notoriously letigious) The Gray Album a couple of years back - a mash up of Jay-Z's The Black Album and The White Album , proving The Beatles still contains plenty of hip.

So much of what passes for popular music today is just corporate sameness, track one sounding like tracks two, three, four, etc... etc... This is not a trend started by The Beatles. Indeed, all of their later albums have a great variety of sound - none moreso than The White Album. From the opening jet take-off of "Back in the U.S.S.R." to the closing strings of "Good Night", The Beatles serves up over ninety-minutes of variety - recordings so varied that it is hard to believe only four guys created this double-disc masterpiece.

If your kid likes rock and roll, The Beatles delivers the goods: The Beach Boys parodied fun of the aforementioned "Back in the U.S.S.R."; Paul's nonsensical "Why Don't We Do It In The Road?"; the rollicking "Birthday"; George's ode to a box of chocolates, "Savoy Truffle"; or the funky nonsense of "Everybody's Got Something To Hide Except For Me And My Monkey" - a song my nephews loved when they were much younger.

Is your son looking for the perfect love song to woo that young lady he wants to ask to the dance? "I Will" is architypal McCartney ballad, and a lovely song. George's "Long, Long, Long" is hauntingly beautiful, and proof that a pop recording need not be perfect to be wonderful (the rattling wine bottle at the end of the song being accidental).

If your young one is socially conscious, well... look no further than Paul's "Blackbird". Or John's "Revolution 1" (the "slow", smooth version of the much faster "Revolution"). Or George's humorous "Piggies", with it's combination of real swine and faux-Beatle grunts and squeals.

How about country music? Have them try "Rocky Raccoon" or Ringo's charming "Don't Pass Me By." (Note: the fiddler on "Don't Pass Me By", very sadly, passed away just a few days ago. He had once claimed to be embarrassed by the end of this recording, as he was just busking about, not knowing the tape was running while he - pardon the pun - fiddled around).

Heavy Metal? "Helter Skelter".

Acoustic? Try "unplugged" tracks like the gorgeous "Mother Nature's Son", "Julia" (quite possibly the most beautiful thing John Lennon ever recorded), "Blackbird" or "I Will".

Blues? Ah... John Lennon created a fine slice of white-man blues with "Yer Blues". And, in what is perhaps the high moment of The White Album, uncredited guest star and blues guitar virtuso Eric Clapton let's the strings cry on George's classic and beautiful signature tune, "While My Guitar Gently Weeps." (Trivia: Clapton's guitar track was heavily flanged by the engineers' wobbling the speed control knob on the tape machine, because Clapton felt his playing wasn't Beatley enough.)

On The Beatles, John Lennon finally comes into his own, developing a trend toward personal self-expression he had begun three years earlier with "Help!", and would culminate two years later on his solo John Lennon / Plastic Ono Band. Songs like "I'm So Tired", "Happiness is a Warm Gun" and "Julia" show Lennon growing as a songwriter. John also shares memories of the recent trip The Beatles made to the Maharishi's ahram in India with "Dear Prudence" (written for Mia Farrow's reclusive sister), the humorous fiction of "The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill", and the barely veiled bitterness / sarcasm of "Sexy Sadie" (originally entitled "Maharishi").

Lennon also gives us a brief recent history of the Beatles: "Glass Onion", which also answers all those absurd diggers looking for clues to great mysteries alledgedly hidden in Beatles recordings and album sleeves. And "Cry Baby Cry", a quasi-nursery rhyme little tune.

John also provides The White Album's least popular (although aurally interesting) eight-and-a-half minutes. "Revolution 9" is not a song, but rather an audio collage created by John and bride-to-be Yoko Ono, along with help from George Harrison. Heard in the track are a discussion betwen producer George Martin and Apple assistant Alistair Taylor; football crowd chants (panned from left to right and back again across the stereo field); John and George speaking out names of dances and other absurdities; and backwards, sped up and altered outtakes from "Back In The U.S.S.R.", "Revolution 1" and the orchestral overdub from Sgt. Pepper's "A Day in the Life".

Paul also provides a moment of strangeness with "Wild Honey Pie". However, he also provides The Beatles' sweeter moments: "Martha My Dear", the sticky nostalgia of "Honey Pie", and the classically saccharine "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da".

From the sugary pop of Paul McCartney to the brutal honesty of John Lennon to the developing creativity of George Harrison to the charm of charming Ringo Starr, The White Album is the epitome of what an album should be: masterful, warm, varied and entertaining. This is a fun album, overflowing with originality and top-notch performances.

If you really want to give your kids the full White Album experience, find them a great condition vinyl copy of the album - with the poster and 8x10's of each Beatle. Maybe spend the extra dough for an original, individually numbered copy. Although, CDs will transfer much better to an iPod.

Race Day Thoughts and Reflections

It's Indy 500 Race Day, and I'm enjoying a relaxing Sunday of multitasking. I'm watching the race, cooking dinner for friends who are coming over tonight, and blogging.

I love the 500. For me, it's a connection to home. Last weekend, when we were lunching at an Irish pub called The Local, we saw some ex-patriot Irishmen watching - rather, reveling - in a satellite broadcast of a football game from home. I have an idea how they feel, connecting via the flickering TV screen with home.

Some of you may be thinking, "If the Indy 500 is so wonderful, why multitask? Why would you walk away from the TV to go into the kitchen and cook? Or sit an block while Danica Patrick races her way upward in the standings?" Well... I think many Hoosiers would agree with me - the Indy 500 is a sport best served on radio. Maybe its because I've listened to more races than I've watched in my life. Indeed, I have a childhood memory of picnicing in our backyard while listening to the 500 on WTHI AM radio.

It's comforting to see so many last names from childhood (Unser, Andretti, Foyt). 19-year old Marco Andretti worries me. It's nothing personal. Simply: 19-year-olds worry me when they drive on I-465, let alone the 500. (Although, based on the last time I drove on the loop around Indianapolis, many drivers seem to confuse I-465 with the Brickyard).

Some poor race fan got smacked by racecar debris. Some things never change. It seems there is always some poor spectator getting smacked by flying auto parts.

You may be wondering what I'm fixing for supper. Well, considering the unnatural heat outside, we're keeping it cool tonight: grilled chicken salad, pasta salad and watermelon balls. I tried to copy my Grandma Courtney's recipe for pasta salad, a fixture at every Courtney family get together. However, I had to add my own twist: Tahitian Lime Vinegrette. I dunno if Grandma would be proud of me or not - that's an awfully austentatious ingredient. Still, my pasta salad ended up tasting a lot like hers, which makes me very salad. (Maybe I found her secret ingredient after all! Of course, I doubt IGA in Brazil Indiana carried Tahitian Lime Vinegrette, especially back in 1975).

Gotta run - the chicken has cooled. Time to chop and mix.

The Times They Are A-Changin' (and The Bard He Is A-Agin')

It doesn't seem right. I mean, the man is still hip! He's the host of his own satellite radio show. He still packs 'em in when he goes on tour. He may no longer write about rainy days in Juarez, rainy day women, diplomats riding on chrome horses, the Queens of Hearts (or Spades), or apocryphal encounters between God and Abraham, but the man is still goin' strong.

And tomorrow - are you sitting down? - is Bob Dylan's 65th birthday. He can finally retire and start collecting Social Security, if he so chooses. (I doubt he needs the extra income.)

In his hometown, they were hoping the birthday boy would bring it all back home to Hibbing MN (he probably won't). All the same, the local folk celebrated with a "bash" last Thursday night. (No, I didn't attend, although I would have loved to. Hibbing is a mere 3-1/2 hours north of here, and Thursday was a school night.)

Here at Jumbled Encephalon Noodle Salad, we'll be spinning his best: Highway 61 Revisited, Blonde On Blonde, Planet Waves, Blood On The Tracks... I wish I still had a copy of his classic live double-disc set with The Band, Before The Flood. (My copy was on cassette which, as most tapes eventually do, bit the dust a few years back. I'm far too cheap to shell out $30+ for a new copy on CD.)

So, tomorrow, wish Bob a Happy 65th Birthday. And when that classic rock radio station you listen to at work plays "Like A Rolling Stone" or "Knockin' On Heaven's Door" (sandwiched between unhealthy overdoses of Styx, Boston and Led Zeppelin), turn it up a bit. But not too much. Some folks' ears still haven't adapted to that nasal Iron Range voice.

Some Sketchbooks Age Like Fine Wine

When I was younger, I was far more creative than I am now. Is this because the creative muse has left me? No, not at all. I've just let myself get rusty. The muse is not silent - just briefly muted.

I dug around and found a hardbound sketchbook I had bought in Illinois back in 1996 (or before). When I purchased the thing at Border's (or was it Barnes and Noble?), I set it aside. I preferred spiral-bound sketchbooks - they open up wider and are far easier to use.

Today, after a decade - and with one page filled in 1996 with lousy scribbles (simply a test of a new drawing pen, not any sort of artistic expression) - I began creating in this old discarded sketchbook. My goal is to fill it by the end of the year with ideas, drawings, writings, doodlings, noodlings, impressions, expressions and all manner of creative output.

I have a vague notion of what this book will be when finished. I have a feeling it will end up something totally different.

"Unorthodox Taxidermy" From Whoville

Unorthodox taxidermy indeed! Our morning in downtown Minneapolis included a visit to Jean Stephen Galleries. Here we discovered an exhibit of works by the one and only Dr. Seuss.



I used to have a big anthology of Dr. Seuss's work. I say used to because his pre-children's work was a tad too surprisingly xenophobic for my taste. Still, as a child of the late sixties and seventies, I have a familiar happy connection with such oddities as green eggs and ham and Grinches and Zaxes and Loraxes and Red Fish and Blue Fish and all the Whos down in Whoville...



So seeing the handiwork of Theodore Geisel up close and before me was quite a treat for my inner child. Although much of what hung on the walls were prints, there were a few sketches and originals. And, of course, those pieces of "unorthodox taxidermy".



The trip to Minneapolis was intended to help spark some creativity. This trip to Jean Stephens Gallery certainly helped.

Don't Knock It 'Till You've Tried It!

From top: blood pudding and white pudding, scrambled eggs, baked beans, Irish bacon, wheaten toast

I had my first Irish breakfast back in 1998, at McNally's Irish Pub in St. Charles, IL. I haven't had it since.

Until today, that is.

A Saturday morning outting in downtown Minneapolis culminated in a delicious brunch at The Local at 10th and Nicollet.

Irish bacon is not nearly as salty as our bacon. The texture is a cross between bacon and ham. Delicious! Better yet, the dark and light pudding. Once you get beyond the chief ingredient in the dark pudding - pork and / or beef blood - the flavor is wonderfully mellow. (If you cannot stomach the idea of blood pudding, try the white pudding, which has no blood in it.)




















Fried Red Potatoes and Banger Sausage

Irish sausage (or Bangers) are also wonderfully mellow in flavor, not nearly as salty as American or German sausages. The texture is also much softer. The Claddagh serves a wonderful dish of bangers served over garlic mashed potatoes with a rosemary demiglaze. (There are plenty of Claddagh's in Minnesota, Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, Georgia and Kentucky. Go have a plate of bangers and mashed and thank me later!)

I'll have to do brunch at The Local again. Next time, I'll have what my beautiful wife had: fish and chips.

Today's Fake Horoscope

ARIES (March 21 - April 19)
An intense hunger for good blood pudding will take you to a remote village on the southwest coast of Ireland. Your tour guide will be the little leprachaun from the Lucky Charms box. Bono will greet you at the airport. His first words to you will be the same as the message we're about to give you: lay off the peyote. There is no such thing as leprachauns. Go home and sleep it off.

TAURUS (April 20 - May 20)
Monkeys. Remember that word today: monkeys. Whenever someone asks you a question, look them straight in the eye and, as serious as possible, answer them with one word: monkeys. Don't say it with dramatic flair. Don't repeat it. Just say it once, and be very direct in your answer: monkeys.

GEMINI (May 21 - June 21)
Your lucky number today: the square root of 45986543.33884(14). Good luck with that jackpot!

CANCER (June 22 - July 22)
The moon will cross Aries, then turn left. It will be refused service at the McDonald's drive-thru. They don't accept walk-up business.

LEO (July 23 - August 22)
Pat Robertson will finally speak up and admit that he is not really God's spokesman. The announcement will come after a year of thunderstorms, a tsunami, and generally weird weather that, oddly enough, strike only his property. Remember: God does not need a televangelist for a consigliere. God is God.

VIRGO (August 23 - September 22)
Surprise! Keanu Reeves is coming over for dinner tonight. Don't try to impress him with your freaky Matrix moves. He's seen it all before. Fun game suggestion for tonight: parcheesi.

LIBRA (September 23 - October 22)
Do not stray from nature's path unless you're wearing long pants. Poison ivy is no fun.

SCORPIO (October 23 - November 21)
Your well-kept secret is out. Everybody knows all about it. Even your neighbors. But don't panic. Cancel your plans to move at least three state lines away. Just keep a box of tissue with you when you drive. And, don't worry - people will want to shake hands with you again someday.

SAGITTARIUS (November 22 - December 21)
Be willing to stand up for your right to play your CDs at work. In time, your co-workers will come to appreciate - even enjoy - the soothing sounds of Pained Screeching Bavarian Yaks Drinking Caustic Acid While Standing On Searing Hot Coals. Beats rap music.

CAPRICORN (December 22 - January 19)
When was the last time you hugged an exorcist? They need love, too! Have one over for dinner. But don't serve pea soup. That would be in poor taste. (No pun intended.)

AQUARIUS (January 20 - February 18)
The shrill voice in your head that keeps shrieking "60B! 60B!" will finally subside when you remember you fell asleep last night watching Elizabethtown.
(Note: Don't believe what your co-workers tell you. Elizabethtown really was filmed in Elizabethtown. There is no town in Kentucky called Bungdrop. And, no, that wasn't Buck Owens in the background during one of the hotel lobby scenes.)

PISCES (February 19 - March 20)
No, World War II-era Twinkies are not safe for consumption. That is what the doctor will tell you just before pumping your stomach. Don't be a gastrointenstinal daredevil. Put the yellowed package down and go buy some fresh snack cakes at mini-mart. And stop buying "edible rations" at the Army surplus store!

Richard R. Nixon's Autographed Poster

As I was driving along Highway 100, I had an idea for a book: The Big Book of What I Believe. Yes, I know... it sounds like quite a narcissistic idea, especially for somebody going into ministry. However, I believe I can pull off penning this tome without being overly (overtly) self indulgent.

For example: I believe if one is going to deface a poster with fake signatures of famous people, one should be able to spell the names of the those whose signatures they are forging. This is especially true if said poster hangs in a bookstore, regardless of the fact that the poster was in the men's room.

The poster - a black-and-white art print of a western skyline - was "signed" by the one-and-only Richard R. Nixon. I can only assume this must be some distant cousin of former president Richard M. Nixon. Next to Tricky Dick's autograph was the signature of one "Bill Shakespeer" (sp). "Al Einstein" left his mark as well.

Wile E. Coyote placed his autograph on the print, as did all four Beatles - but only by their first names. (After all, if you don't know them simply as John, Paul, George and Ringo, then you've probably been holed up in a cave since at least the Eisenhower administration). Strangely enough, all of the Fab Four have amazingly identical penmanship. I guess they must have all attended the same grade school.

On the right-hand side of the poster, a portion about 3"x3" square was ripped from the poster. Immediately beneath it were the scribbled words "...and Clinton let it happen!" Evidently, hand-written GOP rhetoric grafitti is unwelcome. My guess is the scribe was Richard R. Nixon, and the offended paper-tearing water closet user was no fan of the faux former prez.

I have the distinct feeling that these autographs are not real. I believe they are forgeries. What gave it away? Richard R. Nixon would never share a poster with Edward Van Halen. Or Wile E. Coyote.

Excuses Excuses 101

First off, let me apologize for not blogging here for quite some time now. I've been really busy taking a course on Creative Alibi Conception, Concoction and Composition (LIES 101).

Step one: Apologize without accepting blame or admitting fault.Let me rephrase the first line of this entry. I apologize for no new blog entries having appeared here in the past few days.

Step Two: Rationalization
I recently have been unable to get to this blogspot because I was abducted by a pack of wild panda bears who were very angry at humans for referring to them as "bears". Apparently, pandas are a mammal class all their own, and wish to be recognized as such.

I was taken by this not-so-merry band of 250 pound critters to a remote mountainous cave, where I was fed a diet of wild berries, chestnuts, and Diet Coke. You may have seen the videotape the bears - er, uh, pandas - released while I was in their captivity. It was on Nightline (west coast feed only). They filmed me a stolen zoocam from the panda exhibit at the San Diego Zoo.

While I cannot say for certain the location where I was being held, I can tell you I was rescued by a busload of Deadheads on their way to a Phish concert who were on their way to Kashmir to "reload the supply shelves, dude." They paid up my ransom: three boxes of Snickers bars ("not the cheap Halloween fun-sized stuff!" as the ransom note stated).

They had only gotten as far as Nevada.

Step Three: Accept Responsibility Without Actually Accepting Responsibility
So, as you can see, being held up in a cave in Nevada, with no wireless signal, makes blogging a bit tough. I know I promised to blog more often, and have not lived up to that over the past three weeks. But, clearly, this situation was out of my hands.

Step Four: Blame The Other Guy
This would never have happened had that twelve-year-old kid not lifted the latch on the panda cage gate at the zoo (the name and location of which I will not divulge here, to save them embarrassment). Had security been tighter, the maurading pandas would never have escaped, and I would never have had to face the terrifying experience of being held hostage by misunderstood mammals. Or of the terrible stomach ache from all those berries!

Not only that, but we should also consider the blame that needs to be assigned to:
The manufacturers of the panda enclosure
The manufacturers of the steel that was used to make the panda enclosure
Local authorities in at least eight states who failed to pull over a station wagon full of pandas
Several fast food drive-thru employees who failed to alert authorities to a station wagon full of pandas
The local hardware store that sold the pandas the inordinate amount of duct tape and rope used to bind my wrists and ankles.
The manufacturers of aforementioned duct tape and rope, for making such a dangerous product that could be used to hold a human captive
The manufacturers of the automobile these animals used, for not having the sense to make them panda proof
Local telecommunication companies for not making wireless service available in that remote desert cave (hey, we all have the right to Internet access!)