drunkcle:

The not-so-innocent side of Anita Ekberg and archery. Here she is threatening a paparazzo with a bow and arrow in Rome in 1960. Photo is by the famed Marcello Geppetti, who was, in fact, one of the photographers who were inspirations for the character Paparazzo in Fellini’s La Dolce Vita. From the account in Life (Oct 31, 1960):

“Annoyed by photographers who dogged her from a nightclub, she dashed into her villa, emerged with a bow and a clutch of arrows which she unleashed against men and vehicles. When a photographer tried to disarm her she dropped the bow and went for him, manicured nails high and shapely knee low. Then she spotted another photographer recording the scene, picked up her bow and got him high and outside with a well-aimed arrow.”

The incident ended with the photographers agreeing to hand over their film. Which they did. Except that Geppetti handed over a blank roll.

(via hoodoothatvoodoo)

colonialgoods:

“Life has become immeasurably better since I have been forced to stop taking it seriously.”- Hunter S. Thompson

Based on the Can Can Martini, my drink re-adjusts the balance between a dry, citrus gin and the great liqueur St. Germain. For me, the martini’s recipe was too much gin; I changed it to emphasize the liqueur’s subtle flavor of pear and lychee fruit. St. Germain claims to be primarily made from elderberry flowers, but I’d describe it more as a round fruity flavor with a floral nose; it warms up and softens just about any liquor imaginable without sweetening the drink too much. 

1 1/2 oz. a citrus-reciped Gin (I prefer Blue Coat or Plymouth for dry, citrus)

1 oz. St. Germain

1/2 oz. Blanc (I used a Greek Vin Blanc, but I am sure a French dry vermouth would work just fine)

Stir all with cracked ice in a metal tumbler. Strain into a cocktail glass and garnish with an orange twist. Squeeze it over the surface to release the essential oils. 

This drink is really refreshing and dangerous! The Can-Can originally was a play on the word “scandal” for the dance breaking out across Paris in the middle of the 19th century. It’s not hard to imagine how things could quickly come out of hand, if one were drinking these devils all night.

The dance was also known as the Chahut (see Georges Seurat’s painting); it translates roughly to the “Uproar” and it’s what I’ve decided to name this drink: almost the same as the Can-Can Martini, but not quite. Besides, after sleeping off the effects of four of these le diable, I was ready to “uproar” on the floor!

Salute! Here’s some music to help you through your first two:

The engine bay of the gorgeous XJ-13. Watch a test drive of the only one ever made.

publicdomainbitch:

“Pam” 

MI5 staff member pictured on beach. This ordinary looking snapshot was taken and planted as part of a complex WWII intelligence plan known as Operation Mincemeat.

The intention was that this photograph would make other documents secreted with it seem more authentic. These documents, passed on to German agents after they were found on a body washed up on the coast of Spain (planted by British intelligence) suggested that the Allies were not planning an invasion of southern Europe via Sicily. This led to a weakening of German defence of Sicily which assisted the eventual Allied attack.

UK National Archive

“The food factor should always be massive: four Bloody Marys, two grapefruits, a pot of coffee, Rangoon crêpes, a half-pound of either sausage, bacon, or corned-beef hash with diced chilies, a Spanish omelette or eggs Benedict, a quart of milk, a chopped lemon for random seasoning, and something like a slice of key lime pie, two margaritas and six lines of the best cocaine for dessert… Right, and there should also be two or three newspapers, all mail and messages, a telephone, a notebook for planning the next twenty-four hours, and at least one source of good music… all of which should be dealt with outside, in the warmth of a hot sun, and preferably stone naked.”

Ah yes, the Manhattan: easily my favorite traditional cocktail. Everybody seems to have a variation on this one, and most of them are indeed quite good. I’ve tried so many that it is impossible to claim I’m presenting any new ideas here, but rather what I prefer.

Preferences to the Manhattan seem to center around polarizing attitudes about sweet vermouth; its quantity typically determines the rest of the drink. I think traditionally in America, vermouth is frowned upon as a necessary evil, something sweet and heavy and gross that lurks somewhere in the back of the liquor cabinet between the grenadine and sloe gin. If you think “yuck” when you see the words “sweet vermouth”, you more than likely enjoy a Manhattan proportioned like a martini: mostly whiskey (I think the traditional is Canadian Blended Whiskey, if for the rye content and resultant smoothness), a tinge of sweet vermouth, a dash of angostura bitters, and a bright red sweet maraschino cherry. It is cold, bracing and more-or-less a glass of whiskey with some stuff added for tradition’s sake.

Someone (probably Wondrich) suggested warming up to sweet vermouth. The real Italian kind; fresh and kept in the refrigerator for God’s sake. Why? Try mixing a Manhattan at a 50:50 ratio. It sounds ludicrous, but it honestly makes a slightly sweet, noticeably smoother, and all together different creature that tastes far better than what most people know as a Manhattan. In additon, this arrangement’s subtle sweetness is far superior to the deplorable tradition of pouring that sticky red maraschino cherry “juice” in there to pink it all up. Yikes.

On the subject of adding that chemically little unnaturally red “cherry” to your cocktail, don’t do it. Back away from the jar slowly; this recipe doesn’t need it.  Just 2 or 3 healthy dashes of orange bitters and a peel of lemon.

The Manhattan Club Cocktail

2 oz. Bourbon, I prefer George Dickel No. 12 or Evan Williams; since we’re using more vermouth, I find using 80 proof rye or a Canadian blended leaves the taste a little flat. 100 proof rye (above) is a different story.

2 oz. Italian Sweet Vermouth. Keep it cold in the fridge.

2 or 3 healthy dashes of orange bitters

a twist of lemon

The mix: Add bourbon and vermouth to a shaker filled with ice. Shake the hell out it, at least until the sides of the shaker are frozen cold and uncomfortably cold. Strain into a cocktail glass. Immediately add the bitters (I like quite a bit). Squeeze the lemon rind along the surface to release the oil, use it to stir the bitters up from the bottom of the glass and send it to the depths of an absolutely fantastic drink.

mostexerent:

JPS

(via youngfolksociety)