The NASA panel also reported on a third flight that an astronaut was cleared for, this time on the space shuttle. But the mission was scrubbed just in time, presumably when the crew showed up in full spacesuits, sans pants.
Iron Butterfly Slurs Their Way into History
If we were to draft a list of all the artists, writers and musicians who owed their muse to booze, it would pretty much just be a list of all artists, writers and musicians, period. Douglas Adams came up with The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy while lying drunk in a field, Jackson Pollock turned being a violent drunk into an art form, Charlie Parker once vomited onto his microphone during a live performance, and Ernest Hemingway was Ernest Motherfucking Hemmingway. But no act of creation so thoroughly embodies the drunken arts as the songwriting of Doug Ingle, from the band Iron Butterfly.
You'd be an alcoholic too if you had to dress like that.
1968 was not a particularly good year for the band: Their first album, Heavy, had just been released, and it was doing so well that their drummer, Ron Bushy, "was supporting the band by making pizza." When Ron came back from work one evening to find Ingle, Iron Butterfly's primary composer, drunk(er than usual) after pounding an entire bottle of Red Mountain wine, Ingle was "playing this song on the keyboard for me and singing it. He was so drunk that it came out 'in-a-gadda-da-vida' instead of the intended "In the Garden of Eden."
Strangely, Wikipedia doesn't list the genre as "Rock and/or Roll"