Yup, they have a point:
You might be cool, but you'll never be Frank-Sinatra-stepping-out-of-a-helicopter-with-a-cocktail-cool. #goals pic.twitter.com/LseXgbdIEn
— Drunken History (@DrunkenHistory) February 10, 2019
I like the Rat Pack. Talk about unabashed drinkers, real heroes to the anti-MADD crowd, like those at Modern Drunkard Magazine.
It was January 1960 and they called it the Summit at the Sands. There would be other Summits later, but this was the opening shot of the Swinging Revolution, the party that was heard around the world. After a few straight songs, the show would devolve into something best described as a very public stag party. Songs were perpetually interrupted by wisecracks, political correctness was made a pariah, the sacred audience was cajoled and rousted, the performers openly drank deep from a bar centered on stage like a sacrificial altar. Much of the act was ad-libbed and riddled with inside jokes, and the audience–and the army of press that had gathered–suspected the performers were having more fun than those they were supposed to be entertaining. And they were right.