SITIN SAM'S SPICE

Hurricane Drink and a WWII Alcohol Shortage – Episode 14

Podcast

Podcast Summary:

“Anyway, I’ll Drink to That” is a Boozn Sam’s production, exploring the fun, quirky, and fascinating tales of drinks (The Hurricane Drink in this episode) that define culture, history and the world. Every drink has a story to tell, and I’m going to tell it…as true as I can. Hosted by Sam, from Boozn Sam’s. Saddle up with a good cocktail and give me a few minutes of your time for a mystery surrounding a drink that changed the world.

Episode 14 Details:

A famous media mogul, after fame and success in the US, finally met his match battling the fiesty Italians. He walked away a brusied and beaten, but with a drink to ease his pain. 

Transcript of Podcast:

*This is the entire podcast episode in written form. Do not read if you want the audio version to be spoiled.

Ed sat before the board and hard gulped. The faces looking back at him were all angry. Well, all except for Pat’s face, which he didn’t understand. He knew their anger was misplaced too, and due to a misunderstanding that he needed to clarify. The issue had been going on for years, and, with no end in sight, there wasn’t much Ed could do but appeal to those gathered around him and hope they’d understand.  He doubted they would.

Ed harbored his own anger and resentment too, as is usually the case. The stomped on like to pass on the beating to others. Hurting people, hurt people. Only, for Ed, he couldn’t pass along the whooping he wanted to give to anyone. Henry was the source of all his pain, and Henry was too far away to face retribution.

Besides, it wasn’t like it was Henry’s fault either. He was only the mastermind behind the current problem, a problem that led, out of necessity, the creation of a completely unrelated drink, which sells by the hundreds of thousands every year, in one very popular place alone. 

He’d followed Henry closely these past ten years. A man in his position, at this time in history, had to. There was too much happening throughout the world to not pay attention. Things that had never happened before, ever, were occurring. The world was being reshaped. War had hung on the horizon like a thick, dark cloud for many years until it exploded in violent fashion over in Europe when Hitler decided the world wasn’t a big enough place for all to exist.

So, he took his pride and his prejudices and he sent them off to death camps, as he blitzkrieg his way through Europe amidst a shower of bombs and bullets. Bombs, the explosives, was the culprit here. 

Or, became a culprit when Henry took over as Secretary of War at the ask of Theodore Roosevelt. At the time, Henry said this:

“we didn’t have enough [explosive] powder in the whole United States to last the men we now have over overseas for anything like a day’s fighting. And, what is worse, we didn’t have powder [explosive] plants or facilities to make it; they had all been destroyed after the last war.”

Neither side realized how much explosives they would need for this war, or, that, the use of explosives would become a primary strategy in World War 2. One popular explosive required mixing Toluene, Nitric Acid and Sulphuric Acid together. 

But, the resulting product was…dirty… for lack of a better word. It wasn’t a clean explosive. 

Science presented a solution, but not a solution that people like Ed, or the board that looked to Ed for direction, appreciated. After all, they had businesses to run, and without product, they had no businesses. 

There is a process called recrystallization where an impure substance is heated up until a saturation point is reached with another substance. Then, when the, now combined, liquids cool, crystals form.

Filter out the crystals. 

Dispose of the liquid, which contains the impurities that bound to the added substance.

What you’re left with is pure crystals. 

A clean product. 

A product called TNT that most certainly goes boom. 

And a metaphorical boom was also occurring for Ed, as he looked into the angry faces of those around him, who were listening to what he was saying, and the process of making explosives that he was describing, but were angry none the less.

He wiped sweat from his brow and paused. The room was so quiet you could hear the strike of a match. And in that moment, Ed kinda wished a match would strike, and blow this who meeting out of here. Because he wasn’t finished yet. 

When no one asked questions, he gulped, and continued. For a second his eyes met the eyes of Pat, who smiled, with a look of unconcern. If only everyone could be as calm as Pat, he thought, and wondered what sort of secret Pat had up his sleeve.

“You see,” Ed said, fumbling with his sport coat, “their product was being siphoned for the war effort, to make bombs, not for consumption by the military. Furthermore, the shortage is likely to continue to be real as long as the war lasts.”

He gulped, waiting for the backlash, but he was met with something far worse. Indifferent stares that he couldn’t read. More sweat pouring out of him, and more heat rolling off of his hot chest and red face. Still, he continued on and explained another problem that would certainly not help their cause in any way. 

In addition to the process of recrystallization that was needed to create TNT, this substance was also needed to create a better version of a chemical called Butadiene, which was essential for the war effort…because it was used to produce tires and other plastic resins. And, do you know what the military was going through a lot of during World War 2? Tires.

A groan went through those gathered and the temperature int he room seemed to tick up a few more degrees. The seersucker suit Ed wore wasn’t doing him any good. He looked at the faces of those gathered. Anger. Frustration. Disappointment. More Anger. And Peace. 

Pat seemed unconcerned. If anything, he seemed… okay with the situation. As if, whatever trick he had up his leave was lighting a new pathway to success that none of the others had discovered. 

“But, it’s 1944 and we’ve been without any new production here in the US for 2 years. Surely we can’t be expected to continue on like this much longer.” Someone shouted.

“We’ve got businesses to run.”

It’s the war effort.” Ed mumbled and shrugged. How could he be expected to change the tide of an entire nation, and didn’t it seem selfish to demand such a thing for such, at a time like this, felt inconsequential in comparison to all the lives being lost overseas?

“It’s our lives.” Someone retorted.

And from there the anger only rose, until all of the frustrated owners voiced their objections, despite knowing that the shortage came from a good spot. 

All voiced there anger, expect for one. Pat. Because Pat knew that if the world hands you coconuts, you make a Pina colada. Well, not a Pina colada exactly, but something along those lines. 

Ed pulled at his shirt collar and shrugged once more. “What do you want me to do about it?” He finally asked angrily. “It’s not like I’m the one taking all your alcohol.”

And he wasn’t. The great shortage of alcohol in the US during WW2 was due to a directive from the acting Secretary of War Henry Stimson, appointed by Theodore Roosevelt, who saw the need to dramatically ramp up production of explosives and essential war time materials like tires. 

Alcohol was essential for both. 

For the production of TNT and the process of recrystallization, whereby the impure mixture of Toluene, Nitric Acid and Sulphuric Acid, which formed the basis of TNT, was mixed with alcohol, heated, and then allowed to cool. The crystals created upon cooling left behind their impurities in the remaining liquid substance. 

And TNT production in WW2 was a big deal.

3 millions tons of it were exploded during the war.

Rubber was the same way, and the United States dealt with natural rubber shortages the entire war…

Which lead them to invest heavily in synthetic rubber production, which required a chemical that could be made better and cheaper with alcohol.

For all in the room, expect Pat, this was a big blow.

Pat, on the other hand, had something the others did not. 

At this time, with the extreme alcohol shortages hitting hard, distributors required the purchase of a different type of liquor, a much more prevalent type of liquor that could be more easily imported. So, to get the good stuff, the drinks like scotch and whiskey that people really wanted, a fine establishment had to buy a ton of other liquor in addition.

For many this was a deadly blow, because the liquor purchased was not desirable by any stretch of the imagination.

But, Pat stretched his creatively a little bit further. Like he had to survive the prohibition years not too long ago. After all, him and his business partner had, only a few years prior in 1940, opened a new establishment just down the street from his prohibition speakeasy. 

Then, two years later, they were dealing with this. So, Pat employed every ounce of resourcefulness he had and came up with a sweet, fruity drink that utilized the surplus of liquor distributors were pushing. 

He found a clever name, a name after the container that he served the drink out of. 

Still, that wasn’t enough. He had to go further. And he did. By taking an old time concept and reinvent it into a format that still lives on today with great popularity. 

So, when Pat looked around the room at his fellow bar owners, he wasn’t worried. He’d found a way to survive the hard times and adapt. And a way that would, fast forward over 85 years later, result in over 500,000 of these drinks being served up every year at the establishment that still bears his name, the same establishment he started.

The establishment where you can find the only thimble tray player in the world still alive today. Alvin, who has been tapping thimbles stuck to his fingers on the bottom side of an aluminum tray filled with quarters to create a rhythmic, unique percussive instrument…like his predecessor, Eddie. 

Alvin has been there almost 45 years. And Eddie, well he played there for almost 7 decades, until he drowned in Hurricane Katrina not too long ago at the age of 95. 

But, this bar having the only musician of this type in the world in attendance isn’t even the most famous part of this establishment. 

Nor is it the two pianos, which face each other and allow two pianists to duel it out in a, what we consider, classic dueling piano scenario….a concept that Pat himself also invented by taking the 1890’s ragtime piano duel concept and allowing for crowd participation with song requests….which is the version of dueling pianos that we know today.

Still, set aside the musician who plays thimbles on the bottom of a tray, cast away the first version of the modern dueling piano, and let’s look to the most important contribution that Pat made at Pat O’Brien’s, which still stands in New Orleans today. 

The invention of a cocktail with the rum that flowed fast and free from the Caribbean during WW2, when good scotch and whiskey were hard to come by, and people like Ed Dauphin, Chairman of the Southwest Louisiana Liquor Industry Board, had to explain to a room full of angry people the importance of alcohol in the war effort to make explosives and synthetic plastic.

The Hurricane Drink

Pat took 4 oz of Caribbean rum, and added 2 oz of lemon juice and 2 oz of passionfruit syrup to create a bright red drink that he served out of a glass shaped like a flower vase, or, more specifically A Kerosene Lamp… 

That kerosene lamp carries a nickname that gave this drink it’s name:

The hurricane lamp

And the rum drink Pat called the hurricane,

You can still drink this drink today at Pat O’Briens, and many other places. 

The next time you do, remember the resourcefulness of a man named Pat during a very trying time in world history, and a drink named the Hurricane Drink, which also gave us 

Dueling pianos

And the only living musician still around making music by tapping thimbles on the back of a tray. 

Anyway… I’ll drink to that.

Mint Julep and Ancient Persia – Episode 13

Podcast

Podcast Summary:

“Anyway, I’ll Drink to That” is a Boozn Sam’s production, exploring the fun, quirky, and fascinating tales of drinks (The Mint Julep in this episode) that define culture, history and the world. Every drink has a story to tell, and I’m going to tell it…as true as I can. Hosted by Sam, from Boozn Sam’s. Saddle up with a good cocktail and give me a few minutes of your time for a mystery surrounding a drink that changed the world.

Episode 13 Details:

The origins of the Mint Julep date back to ancient Persian times and the Safavid Empire, which was a famous but treacherous family that ruled most of Persia through murdering and killing their own family members. Persian culture was the birthplace for the name of this now famous Kentucky Derby drink.

Transcript of Podcast:

*This is the entire podcast episode in written form. Do not read if you want the audio version to be spoiled.

Pari looked on as the corpse of her brother Ishmail the second was lowered in the ground and buried. They concluded the Persian ritual as was customary, with a grand dinner fit for a king, because…well, Ishmail the second was a king, and they washed it down with a delicate drink that would give it’s name to a famous drink three hundred years later.

Pari watched the ceremonies with a cautious eye, was unconcerned. With her brother now dead, poisoned, mysteriously, the kingdom would fall to her. And what a kingdom it was. 

Considered as one of the three great empires of the early modern muslim world that also included the Ottoman Empire and the Mughal Empire, the Safavid Empire expanded from the Caucasus Mountains, wrapped around the Kaspian Sea, and ended where Iran is today.

Pari was no stranger to power, which, for a woman, was not uncommon during this time. Today, such behavior from the Middle East would be received quite different. But, back then, before the regression of values in the forward progression named religion, it was not unique for a woman to run a kingdom. 

Pari had, in fact, when her ailing father was in his last years. Then after his death, and after twenty years imprisoned by his own father, out of fear and jealousy for how well liked he was, Ishmail, with the help of Pari took the thrown. 

There were many other claims to the thrown at this time. The kingdom had grown powerful in the 75 years that it had already existed and there was much to desire in the way of wealth, land and power. Ishmail, to secure his spot, and with the help of his sister Pari, killed all those siblings, except for his full brother, who had a claim on the thrown. 

Without a clearly designated successor by her father, Pari had to imagine that the kingdom would fall apart from civil war and factions. Something had to be done. So she took a side. And, in doing so, I doubt either her or Ishmail the second participated in any of the customary funeral rituals that followed all of their murdered, with the drink that gave it’s name to a fashionable drink today. 

Now, only a four years removed from all of that chaos, Pari was up against the same thing once more. She had participated heavily in the ruling of the kingdom under Ishmail the Second, as well. But, would the men let her continue to rule? Surely not. Their egos were too fragile. Pride too big. This was a patriarchal society, after all. When one king died another must be selected or ascend to the throne somehow, even if no successor was selected.

Of course, she’d thought this over many times in many different ways before she poisoned her brother, and continued to reach the same conclusion. If she continued to act as ruler, who would stop her?

No one had with her father. No one had with her brother. The kingdom had enjoyed her years of reign and wisdom to help guide it toward greater prosperity. In parts of the kingdom, Kashan in particular, the drink she was drinking now was making a surge in popularity, thrust forward by the distilleries that popped up overnight and flooded the kingdom and beyond its border with the sweet, slightly soapy to some, flavored drink that seemed to suddenly dominate Persian culture.

Pari had a loyal following. Many personal guards and servants. Surely it would be madness for someone to oppose her. So, the best thing for her to do was act as if she owned the kingdom, and people would think she did. 

She mulled this over as she sipped the drink heralded for its medical benefits and healing properties and pretended to console those around her who mourned the dead king. She had other problems. Bigger problems. A kingdom to rule. One of the largest and most important of the time.

So, for over two months Pari ruled the Safavid Empire, until a council, comprised of men, appointed one of the few still living that also had the royal bloodline. Mohammad. The full brother that Ishmail the Second spared during his murderous family rampage and ascent to the throne. 

Still, Pari felt confident that Mohammad and his wife Madh-e would be no problem for her. You see, Mohammad was old and his blindness made it challenging to rule. He’d rather spend his time enjoying the pleasure of women than ruling. And his wife was a woman and, well, a woman would know her place. After all, this was a patriarchal society. 

With Mohammad in power, Pari knew that she could continue on as she always had, ruling and controlling the affairs of this great kingdom. She gave her agreement to the new proposed king for that reason. Knowing she could still control the kingdom with a weak king in power. And, if all else failed, and he didn’t bend to her will, like her father, and like her other brother, then she would toast and sip another glass of this rose flavored drink to another dead king. 

So, a few days later when Mohammad and Madh-e arrived in the city to take the throne she greeted them on a gold throne of her own. Flanked by 5,000 personal guards and servants. She looked at the people around her, her heart beat pumping harder in her young chest. At 28 she had achieved alot. But, back then, that was not uncommon. 

When you lived till 50, at best, you needed to get started with really living life a little sooner. Of all the things that we’ve forgotten in our society today, this would be a good one to remember. For even though our lives are longer, our life in those years is shorter.

50, of course is a ripe old age to reach during this age. And, it was an age Pari would never reach, as that very same day she greeted Mohammad and Madh-e at the gates of the city to welcome them through with a display of her power, she was strangled by the bare hands of a man loyal to the new queen: Madh-e

As it turns out, Madh-e had an equal amount of desire to prove that a woman can rule. And she did. Until, years later, she had the power snatched by a son of Mohammads, that was not her son, when he rode into the capital and forced Mohammad, his own father, to give him the crown under threat of death. 

And in that way Abbas, not Madh-e, or Pari, would be attached to the period of this famous empire’s rule that was considered the pinnacle of its rule and height of it’s power. 

And no one, I’m sure, took the time to tip back a drink of rose water in honor of these women. 

A drink that flourished under the Safavid Empire under blooming rosewater distilleries throughout the kingdom, 

And started an annual event, which is now over 700 years old, that translates as the “rosewater making festival” 

that honors the blessings and greatness of the natural world  and its many gifts, 

Including gulab.

An ancient Persian word that translates into “rose water”

A non alcoholic drink that infuses Damask roses with water, 

A popular drink the middle east still today, 

But which has another drink derived from it in American culture.

Julep

Derived from gulab

Which signifies the infusion of something in water.

In the case of Gulab it’s roses in water.

For Julep it’s mint

Which is crushed and muddled with a bit of water and sugar, 

Tossed with some bourbon

And garnished with a mint leaf

The Mint Julep

Named after a rose water infusion that flourished under one of the great early modern Middle Eastern kingdoms, 

A regal kingdom that also existed with a surprising twist of powerful females ruling, but ultimately succumbing to violence and cultural norms, something that has unfortunately become even more common place today.

But, it’s only fitting that we toast the mint julep’s powerful and regal history, 

Filled with so many struggling to win at any cost, 

Not unlike the Kentucky Derby, which is, ironically, so closely tied to the mint julep today.

Anyway… I’ll drink to that. 

A Monkey Gland & A Bag of Unexpected Things – Episode 12

Podcast

Podcast Summary:

“Anyway, I’ll Drink to That” is a Boozn Sam’s production, exploring the fun, quirky, and fascinating tales of drinks (The Monkey Gland in this episode) that define culture, history and the world. Every drink has a story to tell, and I’m going to tell it…as true as I can. Hosted by Sam, from Boozn Sam’s. Saddle up with a good cocktail and give me a few minutes of your time for a mystery surrounding a drink that changed the world.

Episode 12 Details:

When Serge was slicing and snipping and saving, or scamming, rich millionaires in France, he was also laying the groundwork to have a drink named after him. This episode is an inappropriate, but hilarious look at science gone wrong.

Transcript of Podcast:

*This is the entire podcast episode in written form. Do not read if you want the audio version to be spoiled.

The gnarled, arthritic hands of Nicolas tapped on the cracked wooden table, as he stared at the things spread across the table in front of him. Beakers, some empty, and others filled with wide ranging liquids were scattered everywhere. 

A scale was buried among them with a pile of powder carefully sprinkled on top of one side, and balanced on the other platform by tiny, chunks of crude shaped iron. 

He let out a groan as he leaned back into his chair, which strained and creaked beneath him. Dusk was approaching fast but he didn’t notice until now. He was buzzing with excitement at the drink boiling and melding in front of him. 

Just a little longer, he thought. Or, at least he hoped it was only a little longer. He’d been at it for years now and time was no longer on his side. Nicolas ran a hand through his curly beard, which flowed down to the top of his sternum and pursed his lips, as he thought about the long road he’d taken to get here.

As was common during this time, he’d gone to the world itself to discover the universe’s secrets, a secret that held the key to the drink mulling before him now. Nicolas was a well read man, but there are some things even books can’t teach you. After all, if this secret had been well known, surely he would have been able to create this drink long before. 

On a hunch and a hope, Nicolas, therefore, took off from his home and sought out the spiritual growth of a great pilgrimage. A pilgrimage that is still famous today in Northwestern Spain. Nicolas hoped that the roads would release their secrets and give him the one thing he, and many others like him, had been seeking for so many years.

Legend has it that the remains of St. James were carried by boat from Jerusalem to Northern Spain, where they came to rest at Santiago De Compostela. The way of St. James, one of the most famous and important spiritual pilgrimages during these medieval times, and still today, starts at one’s own house and ends at the resting place of St. James. 

Nicolas took a moment to look back at this concoction on the wooden table. Should he add heat? Maybe that would speed up the process. His hand instinctively shot out to the burner, then stopped. He let it fall with a clatter back to the table. No, he thought. Better to let nature take its course.

Just as it had when he first discovered the key to all of this on the Camino De Santiago pilgrimage. Trust the process. He thought. And inhaled deep, then exhaled slow. 

The problem was two fold. First, he didn’t know if he was doing the right thing, on account of the fact that no standard method of creation existed for what he was trying to accomplish. That was due in large part to the existence of more stories than proof. 

Second, was the problem of time, which was against him and ticking away slowly, second by second, as age continued to sink deeper into his soul and pull him more strongly to that place beyond. 

So, faced with the problems of experimentation and time, he trusted that, given enough of the second problem, the first problem would present a solution. The real test would be if his stone, once pulled from the remaining mercury, could turn copper into gold. 

If that happened, well, then the rest would be history, and his constant craving for youth and vigor would find satisfaction in the drink itself, which his stone could create, and turn back the irreversible forward march of time and age, which turned his hands gnarled and arthritic. 

Nicolas Flamel, though, had faith. And a secret. The philosopher’s stone, which could turn any metal to gold and also create an elixir…the most important elixir…the elixir of life.

His secret would vanish when he vanished and, centuries later another man would come alone with a similar ambition and discover that secret once more, starting from scratch and reaching the same conclusion, but in a different way, that Nicolas reached.

Serge did not find the secret from a Spanish pilgrimage, but rather by immigrating from Russia to France, and studying diligently under a Nobel prize winning surgeon, biologist and geneticist. 

However, his conclusions were different than the ones Nicolas reached in the age old quest to defy aging and prove that humans could outsmart their creator and become godlike in their immortality. 

Many during this time also held the intense greed for eternal life that Nicolas held. It was the 1920’s and life was good. An unparalleled level of wealth and optimism grabbed life by the metaphorical balls and yanked…which was ironic considering the secret that Serge had discovered.

His path to that secret was a long one, and filled with much experimentation. He took a hint from another well known genius by the name of Charles, who in 1889, injected himself with a mixture of ground up dog and guinea pig….well, you know… kahones. Marbles. Peas in the pod, as they say. 

But, Charles’ experiment was unsuccessful and he did not find the an anti-aging elixir like Nicolas found in his philosopher’s stone. 

Serge learned from Charles’ mistakes and realized there was a fatal flaw, a flaw that would not stop death cold in its tracks. And a flaw, that he, the genius he was, could correct. So, he went to work. 

He reasoned that gland transplants would be more effective than injections into the blood stream. He started by taking thyroid glands from chimpanzees into humans with thyroid issues. Met with success in that endeavor, he worked his way up to….grander ambitions.

The goal of life extension remained an ever present ambition for Serge, and one he chased after with determination and a pair of gonads…in his hand.

Quite literally.

The gonads of executed criminals.

Which he transplanted into the aging sacks of millionaires desperate to enjoy their money for longer and reverse the effects of aging. 

Believe it or not, demand for this procedure outpaced his supply, and, without more executed criminals to slice the nads off of, he turned to a fellow cousin of the human. The chimpanzee.

Convinced he was on to something, or driven by the money he got from all the surgeries he performed, Serge doubled down on his research and, over the span of nine years, performed over 500 surgeries in which he transplanted the yahoos of younger goats and sheep into the bags of older goats and sheep.

His research, from all this heavy lifting, revealed, he observed, that the older animals once again regained their youthful vigor when upgraded with an…ummm… younger package. 

Of course from there the rest was easy to deduct. Anyone could have jumped to the same conclusion. Even you. It was a conclusion that unlocked the secret to anti-aging, a secret first discovered by Nicolas Flamel in medieval times, only this time it was done with a set of nuts and not a philosopher’s stone and the elixir of life. 

The secret is simple and I’ll share it with you now, so listen close if you want to live forever.

Take a slice, a thin slice, of a monkey testicle, and implant it inside your bag. A similar procedure can be done for females too, with the respective ovaries of each creature- the monkey and the human.

From there, let the amazing wonder that is the human body go to work, grafting itself to the monkey gland and infusing the youthful, enriching health benefits directly into your body.

Sounds fantastical, doesn’t it? 

The stuff of fairy tales, or horror films where humans are sewn together with animal parts.

But, it’s not. 

Serge was actually part of a whole line of science devoted to such practices. 

It’s called xenotransplantation.

Taking something foreign – xeno is the latin word for foreign

And transplant it into the human body.

It was such a popular science in the 1920s that Serge hit a gold mine… I mean… helped over 500 old men within the span of a decade, in France, reverse the effects of aging 

By putting a tiny slice of a gland into their bodies.

A panel of over 700 leading surgeons at the time from around the world, at the 1923 International Congress of Surgeons in London, England, applauded his work for the rejuvenation of old men.

These gland surgeries were the talk of all high society get togethers throughout France and Europe during this time period, and people whispered, as Nicolas Flamel had centuries prior, of the elixir of life. 

The world was a flutter with the unverifiable, but heavily documented, scientific and medical breakthrough Serge made. 

At this point, I’m almost at a loss of words. Let’s summarize what’s occurred so far.

An alchemist during medieval times believed that by combing liquid mercury with other ingredients a philosopher’s stone could be created to produce an elixir that would grant immortality and create gold. 

He died, although he claimed he was immortal.

Then, centuries later, a Russian surgeon ended up in France grafting slices of chimp’s coconuts into human coconuts so those rich, aging humans could live longer. 

Here’s what my takeaways are, but feel free to make your own judgements.

1. The scientific and academic community never knows as much as they think they do. They are not infallible and don’t trust everything they say. For, at one point 700 of the top surgeons from around the world were willing to say that a chimp’s nut can make you live longer.
2. People will seek out, spend money on, and believe, the things they think will make them live longer. We’ve got such a fear of aging and death, and an uncheck hubris for our ability to manipulate the world that we actually believe we’re capable of changing the laws of the universe. 
3. Or, we’ll do almost anything when we’re afraid and all logic, all civility goes out the window.

Now, I’m well aware I’m coming at this from a position of hindsight. But, it’s made me wonder what things today, we accept as truth and right that, in a hundred years, will be looked on with scorn and mockery. 

What medical breakthroughs will crumble in the face of future knowledge?

What deeply held beliefs and pursuits will fade into nothing, or be marked as not worth the time?

And, most important, because they have a tendency to always drive human action, what fears will spur us on in the next hundred years?

It’s some heavy tough questions and a tough nut to crack. 

But, in the meantime we can at least look with humor at the mistakes we’ve made and not judge ourselves too harshly for the fragility of humanity.

That’s why, a drink, featuring equal parts gin and orange juice, a tblsp of absinthe, and a tblsp of grenadine, was aptly named…

The Monkey Gland

And created in the 1920’s in a London bar

When Serge Voronoff was slicing and snipping and saving, or scamming, rich millionaires in France

The Monkey Gland is the perfect drink to remind us that we’ve still got a bit to go as humans, 

But you might as well enjoy the ride

Because, at least in the near future, there’s no way to extend it and it’s the only one we’ve got.

Anyway….I’ll drink to that.