[Suggested Servings]
 
Combustible Edison:
the music and the drink.

"Never resist being fabulous," says The Millionaire of Combustible Edison, who embraces polyester, gold lamé, and the view that a wig is better than real hair.

The Millionaire, once a pissed-off Bostonian punk rocker known as Michael Cudahy, shed his ripped T-shirt and combat boots six years ago for a sharkskin suit and white loafers, as he began to create "a musical passport to adventure, romance, and an ice-cold Martini in 13-dimensional sound of the very highest high" for those on the verge of emigrating to the Cocktail Nation.

According to The Millionaire and other members of Combustible Edison, we're now in the post-revolutionary stage of the Cocktail Revolution. We here at Cocktail have to confess that we weren't aware the fight was over, but in our efforts to be optimists, we're willing to celebrate.

For this Suggested Servings, we'll be following the directives of The Millionaire, who "admires drag queens as those who epitomize people willing to live fabulously, even if it endangers their lives." So take the risk of appearing absurd and plan a party around Club Wired this Wednesday, when The Millionaire will explain how to cultivate fabulousness as he sips Combustible Edison cocktails with us.

Achieving fabulousness while typing on a computer keyboard won't be easy. But as The Millionaire says, just remember that "you, swinger, are sacred and golden. Be saturated with your essences to the point of ridiculousness and beyond, for there lies the sanctified realm of the fabulous."

Of course, we're somewhat more concerned with the technical aspects of getting to this realm. As if having to telnet in weren't enough, you'll also have to maintain good conversation, hors d'oeuvres, and cocktails.

If you've worked with lighter fluid, you won't be taken aback by the flame on the brandy. Although we recommend taking all fire precautions short of inviting Smokey Bear over, the fire is relatively mild and will extinguish itself moments after splashing into the citrus and Campari.

The biggest risk you'll face is burning your hands as you pour the hot liquid into a cocktail glass. Be prepared for spills as you decant the flaming liquid, and always have the cocktail glasses over a nonflammable surface, such as stainless steel or glass. You may even want to invest in a pair of swank oven mitts.

If you fail to heat the brandy to near boiling or if you wait too long before pouring it, you may not have a fire at all. Although the brandy produces a blue flame, it may appear quite light. Keep the room's lights dim so the flame is more visible and, if possible, pour the drink in front of a dark background.

Unless you're the bartender at Café Montmartre in Madison, Wisconsin, who can make 10 Combustible Edison cocktails at once, only mix two of these cocktails at a time.

If you can't muster the energy to mix a Combustible Edison, opt for the simpler Edisonian cocktail, which is a true cocktail. The Combustible Edison cocktail isn't an actual cocktail, because it's warm, but we're willing to overlook the fine points of nomenclature on this one, since we like it so much. The Edisonian, made of the same ingredients as the Combustible Edison, minus the heat, encourages the tartness of the Campari and citrus. If either drink is too sour for someone's taste, add a dash of Cointreau.

Part of making good cocktails is looking the part. If you're not overdressed at this party, you're not adequately dressed. If you're currently lacking synthetic fabrics in your wardrobe, head to a local thrift store.

Men, model yourselves after the ever-charming Rat Pack. Ladies, buy that floor-length gown and those arm-length gloves you've always wanted but have been too weak-willed to wear. Study the elaborate hairstyles of Miss Lily Banquette, Combustible Edison's singer and drummer, who manages to combine the best styles of ancient Rome and Star Trek.

If you're unable to join us this Wednesday, savor a Combustible Edison with a few friends. The Millionaire recommends listening to the hypnotic sounds of the band's Intermission while "traveling at top speed in a private train car from coast to coast - from Lonelyville to the Barbary Coast - with perhaps one stop at Café Montmartre, to see the drink being performed in its full glory."

T h e  M e n u

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