Whiskey and jazz. A pristine pairing of supremely complimentary pleasures. The two go together like milk and honey, yin and yang, Ella and Louie. Hand me a scotch on the rocks, if you will, and let the lady croon: Heaven...I'm in heaven. It's Thursday night and I step out of the office with this dynamite duo on my mind.

Tick-tock: the clock hands turn and night descends upon New York City. Out come the night crawlers, the iconoclasts, the debonairly dressed and the dance-crazy dreamers. Hoards sick with Saturday night fever spill onto the streets looking to fulfill wanton desires. Suited gentleman hold open cab doors for ladies struggling to stride in heels too high.


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