McCartney

This is hardly a show review, it’s a love fest! I could not have had a better concert experience. What can I say about Paul McCartney? We’re the same age (I’m six months older), he looks better than me and is in better shape, but I appreciate him so much! I enjoyed listening, singing and participating in the music that runs through all our lives. It’s been the background of everything for so long we don’t even realize all it means to us, or at least to me.

My wife and daughters were with me, as we have been together for Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Springsteen, The Who and now McCartney! I feel that I’ve passed on the culture to my kids, and feel better for it!

It took getting the tickets on line, hoping for good seats, getting out of work early with everyone and driving to the train station in Burlington, ON. We made it with twenty minutes to spare, and even in a rain storm, the heat was a bit oppressive.

The train to Toronto was nice, and we sat on the second floor and it was great. We arrived at Union Station with an hour and a half to spare, which was fantastic as we could find a place to eat dinner. It took a bit of looking, as the close restaurants were all full due to the concert. This was the second night of two sold out shows.

It was a sweaty run, but we got to a great place, the Loose Moose, nearby, and had dinner. The Air Canada Centre is attached to Union Station so no outside walking was actually required but, we wanted a dinner in a place with seats, not a hot dog on the streets.

We were back and in our seats by 7:30, the start time. However, at 8:00 they started a slide show, a kind of running graphic which ran for thirty minutes, a nostalgic kind of thing, and then they came on.

The band (there are five of them) were on for three hours without a break and sounded every bit like the Beatles and Wings and themselves and were fantastic. Paul never even drank water that I could see! I can’t imagine he can remember all the words and the music, but he does. He is funny, cute. Playful and charming and we all loved the show.

The play list for Toronto was:

Monday 9th August, Air Canada Centre, Toronto

1. Venus and Mars / Rockshow

2. Jet

3. All My Loving

4. Letting Go

5. Got To Get You Into My Life

6. Highway

7. Let Me Roll It

8. The Long And Winding Road

9. Nineteen Hundred and Eighty Five

10. Let ‘Em In

11. My Love

12. I’m Looking Through You

13. Two Of Us

14. Blackbird

15. Here Today

16. Dance Tonight

17. Mrs Vandebilt


18. Eleanor Rigby

19. Something

20. Sing The Changes

21. Band On The Run

22. Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da

23. Back In The USSR

24. I’ve Got A Feeling

25. Paperback Writer

26. A Day In The Life / Give Peace A Chance

27. Let It Be

28. Live And Let Die

29. Hey Jude

Encore

30. Day Tripper

31. Lady Madonna

32. Get Back

Second Encore

33. Yesterday

34. Mull Of Kintyre

35. Helter Skelter

36. Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band / The End

When it ended, we ran out of the Centre, ran into Union Station and had four minutes to make the train, which we did. The next one was an hour away so we were motivated.

Our chariot was waiting and off we went to home, where I finally got to sleep at 2:00 a.m.

What a great night!

Always remember, "And, in the end, the love you take/ Is equal to the love you make."

Chariots of the Gods

Wikipedia says:


Chariots of the Gods? Unsolved Mysteries of the Past is a book written in 1968 by Erich von Däniken. It involves the hypothesis that the technologies and religions of many ancient civilizations were given to them by space travelers who were welcomed as gods. These ideas have been largely rejected by historians and scientists

The types of evidence von Däniken cites can be categorized as follows:

The tomb of Mayan ruler Pakal (603-683 CE) in Palenque, Mexico. Interpreted by Daniken as depicting an astronaut in his spaceship.

The existence of structures and artifacts have been found which represent higher technological knowledge than is presumed to have existed at the times they were manufactured. Däniken maintains that these artifacts were produced either by extraterrestrial visitors or by humans who learned the necessary knowledge from them. Such artifacts include the Egyptian pyramids, Stonehenge, and the Moai of Easter Island. Further examples include a medieval map known as the Piri Reis Map, allegedly showing the Earth as it is seen from space, and the Nazca lines in Peru, which he explains as landing strips for an airfield.

Statue from the late Jōmon period (1000 - 400 BC) in Japan, interpreted by Daniken as depicting an alien visitor.

Interpretations of ancient artwork throughout the world as depictions of astronauts, air and space vehicles, extraterrestrials, and complex technology. Däniken also describes elements that he believes are similar in art of unrelated cultures.

The Nazca lines (200 BCE - 700 CE) in Peru, interpreted by Daniken as landing strips for alien visitors.

Explanations for the origins of religions as reactions to contact with an alien race, including interpretations of the Old Testament of the Bible. According to von Däniken, humans considered the technology of the aliens to be supernatural and the aliens themselves to be gods. Däniken asks if the oral and literal traditions of most religions contain references to visitors from stars and vehicles travelling through air and space. These, he says, should be interpreted as literal descriptions which have changed during the passage of time and become more obscure. Examples such as: Ezekiel's revelation in Old Testament, which he interprets as a detailed description of a landing spacecraft with angels in the likeness of man. Moses and the directions 'God' gave him to construct the Ark of the Covenant, which is assumed to be a communication device with an alien race. Lot and his extended family being ordered by human like 'angels' to go to the mountains, due to the destruction of the city of Sodom by God. His wife looked back at the possible nuclear explosion, and falling "dead on the spot". Däniken attempts to draw an analogy with the "cargo cults" that formed during and after World War II, when once-isolated tribes in the South Pacific mistook the advanced American and Japanese soldiers for gods.

Petroglyphs (also called rock engravings) are pictogram and logogram images created by removing part of a rock surface by incising, pecking, carving, and abrading. Outside North America, scholars often use terms such as "carving", "engraving", or other descriptions of the technique to refer to such images. Petroglyphs are found world-wide, and are often (but not always) associated with prehistoric peoples. The word comes from the Greek words petros meaning "stone" and glyphein meaning "to carve", and was originally coined in French as pétroglyphe.

The term petroglyph should not be confused with pictograph, which is an image drawn or painted on a rock face. Both types of image belong to the wider and more general category of rock art and Petroforms, or patterns and shapes made by many large rocks and boulders over the ground, are also quite different. Inukshuks are also unique, and found only in the Arctic (except for reproductions and imitations built in more southerly latitudes).

When I first saw these petroglyphs I was astounded. I was climbing a bit of a mountain in New Mexico when I came upon “ancient spacemen” and I was amazed! These were well known pictures but seeing them first hand made a believer out of me.


All this relates to the photographs I have included here. These drawings have been appearing all over my neighborhood within the last week. I was excited but concerned by their presence, because it foretold, I thought, of alien behavior in my area.


On Friday I received a notice, by letter not by telepathy, and it states that the city is going to resurface our street and repave our sidewalks. It seems the aliens were city workers and surveyors, plotting out some construction and not aliens plotting out my being abducted into space, a truly unique experience.

Norman's Story

Norman said, “My dumbest blunder was…..

Susan Sontag 1966

I met Susan on a Saturday night while a small group of campus bar friends were party hoping. She was in the group and we sort of pared off talking, maybe dancing. I hadn't especially focused on her until after the parties, and bars were open to 4 AM in NYC on Saturday nights back then. She and I wound up in a booth at Columbia's beloved West End Bar and Grill, just the two of us. I then noticed she was hot looking and we seemed to clicking (in my mind at least). We babbled for awhile, just small talk probably about the parties or about some mutual friend...nothing deep, political, nor philosophical I'm sure because I was still out of my element intellectually at that time...still am re: my wife.

“That was fun”, she said “We should do this again. What’s your name?”

I told her. “What’s yours?”

“Susan”.

“Susan what?” I asked.

“Sontag.” She said.

“That’s familiar” I thought. “Are you related to a Sidney Sontag?” Sidney was a fraternity alumnus.

“No”.

We drank and talked trivial small talk. She was fun. She gave me her phone number, and for some reason showed me her driver’s license as if to prove her name. I had always meant to call her for a date, but West End life was spontaneous and there was always another new interesting person…….

I wrote to Norman and asked, “in light of Susan Sontag's sexual preference and her age (born in 1933), how was it possible to imagine yourself fixed up with her?”

This has been bothering me.

“Given the times, she may still have been in the closet, but I have to ask. She did come out in the early 70's. She was, however, a Jewish girl and that may have been enough!”

Norman replied, “I was born in 1939, she in 1933, so in 1962-63 she was in her late 20's, or turning 30...the height of her sexuality...and I a cute young, bright (a perception attributed to people at Columbia U.) Jewish lad. I was prime meat for a girl searching and trying to figure out her sexuality.

Or, she had no sexual interest in me but found me a harmless feckless pal to bop around with. Either way I was stupid to let the opportunity pass.”

For those who haven’t a clue, here’s the Wikipedia version:

Sontag, born Susan Rosenblatt, was born in New York City to Jack Rosenblatt and Mildred Jacobsen, both Jewish. Her father ran a fur trading business in China, where he died of tuberculosis when Susan was five years old. Seven years later, her mother married Nathan Sontag. Susan and her sister, Judith, were given their stepfather's surname, although he never formally adopted them.

Sontag did not have a religious upbringing. She claimed to have not entered a synagogue until her mid twenties.]

Sontag grew up in Tucson, Arizona, and, later, in Los Angeles, where she graduated from North Hollywood High School at the age of 15. She began her undergraduate studies at Berkeley but transferred to the University of Chicago in admiration of its famed core curriculum. At Chicago, she undertook studies in philosophy and literature alongside her other requirements (Leo Strauss, Richard McKeon and Kenneth Burke were among her lecturers) and graduated with an [Artium Baccalaureus] A.B. She did graduate work in philosophy, literature, and theology at Harvard with Paul Tillich, Jacob Taubes and Morton White et al. After completing her Master of Arts in philosophy and beginning doctoral work at Harvard, Sontag was awarded an American Association of University Women's fellowship for the 1957-1958 academic year to St Anne's College, Oxford, where she had classes with Iris Murdoch, J. L. Austin, Alfred Jules Ayer, Stuart Hampshire and others. Oxford did not appeal to her, however, and she transferred after Michaelmas term of 1957 to the University of Paris. It was in Paris that Sontag socialised with expatriate artists and academics including Allan Bloom, Jean Wahl, Alfred Chester, Harriet Sohmers and Maria Irene Fornes. Sontag remarked that her time in Paris was, perhaps, the most important period of her life It certainly provided the grounding for her long intellectual and artistic association with the culture of France.

At 17, while at Chicago, Sontag married Philip Rieff after a ten-day courtship. The philosopher Herbert Marcuse lived with Sontag and Rieff for a year while working on his book Eros and Civilization.[8] Sontag and Rieff were married for eight years throughout which they worked jointly on the study Freud: The Mind of the Moralist that would be attributed solely to Philip Rieff as a stipulation of the couple's divorce in 1958. The couple had a son, David Rieff, who later became his mother's editor at Farrar, Straus and Giroux, as well as a writer in his own right.

The publication of Against Interpretation (1966), accompanied by a striking dust-jacket photo by Peter Hujar, helped establish Sontag's reputation as "the Dark Lady of American Letters." Movie stars like Woody Allen, philosophers like Arthur Danto, and politicians like Mayor John Lindsay vied to know her.

In her prime, Sontag avoided all pigeonholes. Like Jane Fonda, she went to Hanoi, and wrote of the North Vietnamese society with much sympathy and appreciation (see "Trip to Hanoi" in Styles of Radical Will). She maintained a clear distinction, however, between North Vietnam and Maoist China, as well as East-European communism, which she later famously rebuked as "fascism with a human face."

Sontag died in New York City on 28 December 2004, aged 71, from complications of myelodysplastic syndrome which had evolved into acute myelogenous leukemia. Sontag is buried in Montparnasse Cemetery, in Paris. Her final illness has been chronicled by her son, David Rieff.

Porn stars with bad eyesight that have radio controlled cameras eliminating cameramen.

This is one disgusting commercial! First of all, it’s only toilet paper. Secondly, who the hell cares? Some guys sat around a room and dreamed up, or used focus groups to find a “disease” that we all could relate to with toilet paper.
The truth is, I can’t relate to this. I have never had a problem that I can remember and I know I’ve never seen such a problem because I would definitely remember this one.

I am sure women use much more toilet paper than men, and probably are responsible for buying much more of it than we are, but still, no woman I’ve ever seen has had such a problem and no one anywhere would admit to having one. It is way over the top!

I just found this blog on the net and it seemed appropriate.

Worst Use of Coffee in a Commercial


In Coffee in Pop Media on January 1, 2010 at 6:06 pm


I just saw the latest Charmin Ultra Soft toilet tissue commercial. You know, those are the ones where the bear always has a few pieces of paper clinging to his butt fur when he wipes. I always thought they were pretty funny in a gross kinda way.


The latest one though features both coffee and espresso in a very bad way as a metaphor for coffee. They use the concept of less is more, as in less espresso gives bigger push than more coffee and less Charmin wipes up more poo than more regular toilet paper.


So the husband bear switches to espresso for more caffiene and Charmin so he doesn’t have clingons around uranus.


It’s gross on 2 main accounts. I could name more, but I’m losing my appetite as I speak. Number one- coffee should never ever be used in any way in conjunction with dark matter (poo). Number two- no type of food product should be featured on a toilet paper commercial. Yes, I know that all loo activities come from the original act of eating, but do we really need to associate the two. No, we don’t.

I tried to think of people this “problem” (made up by some ad guys I’m sure) would affect, and here it goes:

1. Proctologists

2. Porn stars with bad eyesight that have radio controlled cameras eliminating cameramen.

3. Small children in diapers with arthritic grandparents.

4. Cartoon Bears.

I have it on good authority this morning, that a friend of a friend of mine had this happen to her (a woman in B.C.) early in a relationship where the new beau told her sheepishly that she had toilet paper stuck in her butt!

OK, I guess it is possible, just its not a daily household event!

21st Century Grandpa

I watched a guy today at McDonalds with his two grandsons. He was keeping the kids busy while his daughter got food for all of them. They seemed to be an obviously upscale kind of a group, the kids were very well behaved, the Grandparent was elegantly dressed for a very hot summer day at McDonalds, and the daughter looked like the poster girl for L.L.Bean.


In Dundas, this is a very unusual look, as most of us poor slobs are just sloppily hanging around. I had on my usual baggy jeans, plain color polo and a pair of multi-colored Sketchers. Grandpa was wearing striped shorts, the kind of shiny striped material that dress pants are made out of. These were tailored shorts, a sort of Bermuda length. He had on an out of the pants shirt, but it was pink striped, shiny, and had a white collar and cuffs. This was big time dressed up lunch wear.

This guy had on two pairs of glasses, one to wear and one to hang around his neck to use for reading on top of the others. He was probably from New York and was visiting the family.

However, I digress, because this is about a 21st century Grandpa. He amused the kids, one sitting on either side of him, about 4 and 5 years old, with photos of the family. What amazed me is that he was prepared to do this on his i phone! OK, maybe it’s because I don’t have one, and I don’t really know how to do this on my phone, that I was jealous. This guy was not young, albeit he may have been younger than me, but he did know how to use it. As they got a bit antsy, he moved on to viewing web sites with them showing them weather forecasts from New York.

It wasn’t much, but it foretold a technical change in the force! The times they are a changin’

Gymkhanas, the Lodge Freeway, Big Heads and Crazy Driving - post # 401

In the early 80’s, I lived in Detroit and drove a BMW 320i. While a lower echelon BMW, in those days, and in that place, it was unique. When I visited the auto companies I would borrow a car so I would pull on to the parking lot in an appropriate vehicle. My old friend Jerry Rubin had a BMW in the 60’s, which was completely unusual and he had the only one I’d ever seen at that point.

I would roar around town, pumped up in my little Bimmer, and have a smile on my face. This car appeared after my Mazda RX7, a sort of a 40th birthday gift to me.

At some point I heard about the Gymkhana. Gymkhana is a type of motorsport practiced in Canada, Japan, the United States, the United Kingdom, Scandinavia, and South Africa. Similar to autocross, gymkhana courses are often very complex and memorizing the course is a significant part of achieving a fast time.

Gymkhana events are time and/or speed events in an automobile. These can feature obstacles such as cones, tires, and barrels. The driver must maneuver through a predetermined "track" performing many different driving techniques. What separates gymkhana from traditional autocross events is that the gymkhana requires drivers to perform reversals, 180 degree spins, 360 degree spins, parking boxes, figure 8s and other advanced skills. Drifting is also encouraged where helpful or necessary. Essentially, a gymkhana is any event featuring a starting point, a finish line and some sort of "obstacle" to get through, around, or by, all within a time limit.

I went to my first gymkhana and wanted to enter after looking over the course. I think it all took place at Chrysler headquarters but I can’t remember. It was exciting, and probably it was with the BMW, but I looked at the course, knew it was confusing to me, but figured I’d try it anyway.

I went to sign up and discovered that I needed a helmet to participate! I ran around like a crazy guy trying to borrow a helmet but knowing down deep inside that I would fail and never participate. I suffer from “big head” syndrome, a syndrome that runs through my family. My mother had it; one of my daughters suffers from it, as do I. It’s not a good “big head” problem, but a bad one. I was crushed!

I have since gone to a motorcycle shop, because they specialize in stuff for bikers, many of whom are big guys with big heads, and purchased a less than attractive helmet that fits my head.

My head redefines “one size fits all”. It doesn’t!

I now use an online company called the Big Hat Store. They say, “We decided to open our store in 1998 when we found few extra large baseball hats available for my brothers and father who like me have extra large heads! After looking throughout the country I found it was tough to find large caps and, for the few that I found, quality was lacking. Our big hats are custom manufactured to ensure quality fit and comfort. Our big hats contain more cloth and are made from a bigger die pattern than normally sized caps. Only proven fabrics and stitching are used. They're larger around and deeper (higher crowned) than normally sized hats. They will not sit on the top of your head like a beanie. Our hats look and feel good! Furthermore, we ship our hats in boxes (vs. paper envelopes and tubes) so that hats you order will keep their shape.

Our store, The Big Hat Store, is located in Troy, Michigan

http://www.bighatstore.com/

They do not sell motorcycle helmets but they have great baseball hats, etc.

I used to drive to work in those days, when I lived in Bloomfield Township, using the Lodge Freeway most of the time.

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

M-10, also known as the John C. Lodge Freeway and Northwestern Highway is a state trunk line route in the US state of Michigan. The southernmost portion follows Jefferson Avenue in downtown Detroit, and the southern terminus is at the intersection of Jefferson and Randolph Street. The northern terminus is in West Bloomfield at the intersection with Orchard Lake Road. M-10 was built in segments throughout much of the 1950s and 1960s. It carried several different names before the entire route was finally officially named The John C. Lodge Freeway in 1987[2]. M-10 was named after John C. Lodge, an influential Detroiter and mayor of Detroit from 1927-1928.

In the early 80’s, coming down the Lodge from the ‘burbs into Detroit, there was an unwritten race going on. It was unscored, no names were given, but cars would race each other until they left the freeway to get to work. I hadn’t noticed it until I got the Mazda, and it continued when I had the Bimmer, but it was always on the Lodge. All sleek, expensive or two passenger cars were invited by no one in particular to participate. You got the picture the first time as you drove along and were silently challenged by someone. A Corvette would drive up next to you at 60 or 70 miles an hour, rev his engine and take off like a bat out of hell! If you had a normal car you just assumed these were individual crazy drivers, but there was an insane pattern to all this. Different cars would appear at different times of the morning and roar, weaving through heavy rush hour traffic getting there jollies in the mornings. It was you out there with the occasional Ferrari, Lamborghini or more normal Corvettes and Mercedes.

It was not safe but it was one hell of a lot of fun. Also, in the morning, we were probably all sober, and that way there were less accidents. I wouldn’t do it today, but in hindsight, it is nostalgic.

Politicians and Palaces Chicken Kiev

In 1974 I was invited to a dinner as part of my duties as Associate Director of what was then called UICA, the Union of Independent Colleges of Art, since then expanded to AICAD and including most of the independent art schools in North America as well as foreign ones.
This dinner was at the Governors Palace in Santa Fe, NM. Originally constructed in the early 17th century as Spain's seat of government for what is today the American Southwest, the Palace of the Governors chronicles the history of Santa Fe, as well as New Mexico and the region. This adobe structure, now the state's history museum, was designated a Registered National Historic Landmark in 1960 and an American Treasure in 1999.

Included at the dinner were the Presidents of all our Art Schools, our staff, the Governor and Mrs. Bruce King of New Mexico and Mrs. Montoya, wife of the Senator from New Mexico at that time. Also included at the dinner were local dignitaries and friends.

There was music, wine and a wonderful dinner served, as I remember, at a very large table set for 20 plus guests.

My dinner companion was an oil heiress; this was the best description I can come up with as her name I probably forgot at the time. She seemed distracted, and was treated by friends as a person with a problem. The problem may have been drug or alcohol related or some other mental problem but when you have heaps of money, you become interesting as opposed to crazy. She was accompanied by a gentleman who was out of “Central Casting” as a Latin Lover type (this may be a generous view) but he kept her happy and it seemed that was enough to solve everyone else’s concerns. This has little to do with the story but it sets the scene.

She sat on my left and the main dish was chicken Kiev, a tasty deep fried chicken breast stuffed with herb butter. When one cuts into the succulent morsel and cold air hits the hot butter strange things can happen. When our heiress cut into hers, a stream of butter took off and went straight up from the chicken and made a lovely arc in the air and landed on my left thigh! The very hot butter caused me to scream and jump up in the air, scaring our heiress to death but it all subsided and I was able to sit down, mop my pants (it missed my crotch thank God) and she apologized and I apologized and we all went on an finished dinner while I also surreptitiously rubbed my very sore thigh.

I seldom admit to wearing anything made of double knit fabric, but in the 70’s it was normal. I was wearing a pair of tan, double knit pants I used when I traveled, and while double knot did not wrinkle much, and washed easily, it did not do well with grease stains. I had no choice but to dump those pants in the hotel trash later that evening, and sadly said goodbye to them. I replaced them the next chance I got, and expensed the pants on my expense account, as a necessary business expense.

From Easy French Food:

According to French history, this dish was invented by the the Frenchman Nicolas Appert (1749-1841), a masterful food manufacturer, who is also, and perhaps much more significantly, credited with developing the technique for canning foods.

He called his dish les côtelettes de volaille and it was also known as chicken supreme. The name chicken Kiev didn't appear until New York restaurants wanting to woo a Russian clientele began using it to designate this butter stuffed chicken breast.

Herb Butter

In the freezer section of the grocery store here in France, we can buy a roll of butter that has been mixed with herbs and garlic. It is great stuff to have on hand for frying steaks, topping vegetables or rice, or even as a spread for breads. If you can find a similar product, it should work fine in this chicken Kiev recipe.

If you make your own herb butter, which is absolutely delicious, you may like to make extra to have on hand for other uses. It should be fine for at least a week if kept in plastic wrap in the refrigerator.

Deep Fat Frying

I have a genetic thing against deep fat frying, but I went ahead and tested this chicken Kiev recipe using this method and it came out just great. My family was smacking their lips and begging for more. However, given my disposition, I tried it in the oven as well, and while there was a little less smacking and longing glances in the direction of the kitchen, it was quite delicious.

You may be concerned, like I was, that the butter is going to leek out of the chicken as it fries. Not to worry. The flour, eggs, and bread crumbs form a good seal on the whole thing and nothing leeks. Do follow the directions though and allow the breaded rolls to chill in the refrigerator for a while before frying.

________________________________________

Poulet à la Kiev

Prep time: 30 min - Cook time: 20 min

For the herb butter:

• 8 tablespoons butter, softened

• 2 cloves garlic, finely minced

• 2 tablespoons finely chopped parsley

• 2 tablespoons finely chopped tarragon

• 2 tablespoons finely chopped chives

• 1/4 teaspoon pepper

• juice of 1/2 lemon

For the chicken:

• 4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts

• 1/3 cup all purpose flour

• 1 egg, beaten

• 1 cup fine bread crumbs (you may need more)

• Canola oil for frying

1. Begin by preparing the herb butter. Mix all of the ingredients together in a small mixing bowl until thoroughly combined. Some of the lemon juice may remain separate from the butter. Mound the butter on a piece of plastic wrap and mold into a log. Cover completely in plastic wrap and refrigerate until hard.

2. Meanwhile flatten the chicken breasts by wrapping them in plastic wrap and hammering them with a meat hammer or a rolling pin until they are about 1/3 inch thick. Don't mangle them - just get them on the slender side.

3. Prepare three shallow bowls for dipping: one with flour, one with the beaten egg, and one with the bread crumbs.

4. Remove the hardened butter from the refrigerator and slice into eight equal portions (each piece should be a little less long than the chicken breast is wide). Place a piece of butter towards one end of each chicken breast and then roll the meat up tightly round the butter. Tuck in the edges and any stray bits as you roll. Press firmly together.

5. Dredge each chicken roll thoroughly in flour, then egg, and finally in bread crumbs. Be sure everything is well coated. Place the chicken rolls on a plate and refrigerate for 1/2 hour before frying.

6. When you are ready to fry, add oil to a depth of about 1 inch to a sturdy deep pan. Heat the oil to 375°F. Carefully add the chicken rolls one at a time. Fry for about 15 minutes (exact cooking time will depend on the size of your chicken rolls) turning as needed with metal cooking tongs to completely brown the chicken on all sides and cook throughout.

7. Drain rolls on absorbent paper and serve immediately. Watch out when you cut into these as the butter is likely to squirt out.

Makes 4 servings.