Every country has its character cliché. Hot Latin temperaments, Asian industriousness, Brazilian sexiness; the list goes on and on. Russia conjures up a ponderous, intellectual penumbra. Okay, maybe for ME that's what it is. Endless days thumbing through Pushkin, Tolstoy and Dostoevsky isn't conducive to dancing a jig, unless it's as a survival mechanism. The music of Moussourgsky and Shostakovich is not a romp in the park. Don't get me wrong, I think these guys are GREAT.  Maybe that's because there's a streak of that old Slavic Doom in my DNA. So if you feel like wallowing in a murky mood, may I suggest you grab a bottle of vodka, pull down the shades, turn out the lights and seek out the video "Belaya Noch" by DDT playing as an interstitial this week. Let it carry your spirit along its alleys, canals, museums, and graveyards. Drink in the waxworks, funerary effigies and angels. Ponder the vanity of history. Then open the window, take a deep breath and have a nice Thanksgiving.