This man knows fire

Adoring public (Mom), meet Sean, the engineer who is going to help me build the Fire and Meat Can (suggestions for a better name are welcome if anybody thinks of one). As you can see, Sean knows fire. Sean, I know you haven't agreed to do this yet, but come on, I just introduced you to my mom. LET THE MEAT BE SMOKED IN THE GATES OF HELL!

Weekend project evolution: from theramin to smoker

Went to the Juan Maclean show on Saturday night at Supreme trading, and when I wasn't entranced by the lead singer trying to eat the microphone and score coke off the crowd, I noticed that the keytar player also spent a good bit of time freaking out on theramin. I was impressed, so a buddy of mine and I decided to built one. Here are the plans I came up with:

As you can see, the project evolved, and I clearly designed a meat smoker built from two garbage cans, not a theramin. Fuck it. What was I going to do with a theramin anyway? I'm gonna run with this.

Obstacles (any ideas?):
-cooling of the fire can. I need a way to keep the fire can from reaching deadly temperatures and exploding or something. Probably going to involve ceramics.
-I was going to put this on my fire escape, but that could be a source of DEADLY IRONY. And, as Will pointed out, is like saying fuck you to my upstairs neighbors. So I don't have anywhere to put this thing.

Solution: Sean O'brien. He's an engineer and has a back yard, which means he should be good for some ideas and a place to put the smoker. He's going to help me, but doesn't know it yet. Hi Sean; can you help me?

FIRE CAN:


MEAT CAN:

Please note that all plans are preliminary--I'm working on the CAD drawings. This is going to be so boss.

The lucky winner

Mike (right) was the lucky winner of the CYHSY ticket, and he was superpsyched about it, jumping up and down like a got-damn mad person. Mike, it was nice to meet you; hope you had a happy new year. How was the concert, you ask? Well, it was fun, but I find Clap Your Hands Say Yeah are much better experienced un-live. Pro Tools did a lot for that boy's voice.

Thanks to Irish Tony for the photo.

Mike is the limerick king

Mike wins by a motherfucking landslide. Out of the whopping 19 votes that came in before 2PM, Mike captured 10--that's like 95 percent!

Man, Mike, after I deconstructed your limerick, I guess I kinda convinced myself that you had no friends. Glad to see I was wrong: the big losers are clearly Talia and Dancing Retard Matt, who didn't even vote for themselves. You stupid fucks. Let me give you a little life advice I learned a long time ago from my mentor, Welcome Back Cotter's Vinny Barbarini...Barbarino...whatever: You gotta take care of numero UNO.

Well, it's been a real pleasure wasting my time finding pictures to go with your limericks; some of you, particularly Patricia, for whom I voted twice because I thought she might be cute, show some real promise as limericksters, and I urge you to follow your dreams right to the top. Better luck next time some jackass holds a limerick contest for an awesome concert ticket. Which will be never. Happy new year.

JMFB

Mike: I'll be in touch, but plan to meet me at Irving Plaza at 9PM.

ROCK THE VOTE!

Ok, so these six people put, you know, at least some effort into their limericks. Now we find out if anybody gives a shit. Vote for your faves; you've got till 2PM.

JMFB

Be careful how much of yourself you reveal in these limericks

Mike submitted two versions of the same limerick. Here's version two:

The man really wanted the ticket
"If these words are profound they will pick it..."
So he summoned his wit
And his Masters in Lit.
Then a vagina walked in and he licked it.

Now read version one:

The man really wanted the ticket
"If these words are profound he will pick it"
So he summoned his wit
And his masters in Lit.
Then some vagina showed up and he licked it.


What effect were you trying to conjure with your prepositional specificity, Mike? Are you perhaps trying to hide something? If I were the psychologizing type, which I am, you know, sort of, I would venture that you have some animosity toward a specific female, which flared up a little bit last night as you contemplated the lonely new year.

This morning, after a peaceful sleep, however, you are feeling a little more optimistic and decided to put said female into your limerick opus by switching from "some vagina," which implies any old gal, to "a vagina," which is simultaneously less dismissive, more specific and gently implies a lack of surprise on the part of the limerick's protagonist. It's really quite tender: You're expecting her.

She'll call, buddy. I know she will.

Succinctity is not a word

But if it were, I would apply it to Talia's piece, which sums up this wee contest so nicely. I can't really think of a picture that applies to it, so I'm just using this fucked up weirdo connect-the-dots shit I grabbed.

Talia's email, in its entirety:

There once was a man in Manhattan,
But he and his girlfriend weren't happenin'.
So her ticket he gave
To a 'Clap' fan so brave
As to ask! (in a limerick (not Latin))

~t

Patricia's got JUICE!

Racing past the Patrick the Perv and Dancing Retard Matt: PATRICIA PATRICIA PATRICIA! Duality, symbolism, pain, and--dare I say it (yes): studious women of loose morality.

Check it

There once was a girl who did whore
Her body to any ol' bore.
To go see her band
She'd take any hand.
She'd write a dumb lim'rick to score.

Sez the aritst:

The word 'score' is meant to have multiple meanings
(score = sexual implications; score = to win; score =
musical text, as in musical score) so it should bring
to mind an array of complexity. It resonates because
sexual implications connect with whore; to win
connects with this contest; and musical score connects
with going to see a band.

To actually compose the limerick, I googled "how to
write a limerick."
I utilized:
www.gigglepoetry.com/poetryclass/limerickcontesthelp.html
to get the AABBA rhyme and da DUM etc rhythm specifics
down.

Late to work

Yeah, so I got a little fucked up and made the executive decision to pass out face-down in my kitchen instead of posting the limericks that came in last night. My apologies to both of you reading this. If anybody out there is in need of inspiration, please consider the painfully cute russian dominatrix I met last night at the Motherfucker party.

JMFB

CLARIFICATION: B-Y-O-Friends

Just a quick note to say this isn't some Charlie and the Chocolate Factory-style contest. The ticket is GENERAL ADMISSION, and the recipient is on his or her own as of, like, two seconds after receiving it.
-JMFB

Patrick says he NEEDS this ticket.

I don't really give a shit about sob stories, but Patrick's NYE plans were affected by a change in relationship status. Since this ticket is available because of a similar situation, the robot I had installed in my galvanized heart said it was acceptable to waste your time with his tale. And I quote:

i needs that ticket. not even kidding man, the girl i was seeing decided
she needed to not talk to me anymore. she invited me to her new years eve party and then told me the other day she doesn't want me to go. i love cyhsy.

Anyway, here's Patrick's perverted limerick. Props to him for venturing into obscenity; minus five points for eggregious misuse of the word "digest." Pat: care to explain that word choice to the discerning public?

there once was a man from the west.
a virgin, he was, on a quest.
so he picked up a hooker,
she was not a looker.
still, cum inside her was digest.

To vote for this limerick, click on comments and write "vote yes."

Things are looking up

This limerick, from Matt, came complete with a link to a movie of dancing retard. SWEET! To vote for it, click on the comments link and write "vote yes."

There once was a band from Brooklyn
Who's singer was mad into Dylan
He hooked up with some twins
With hair blonde and thin
And played music that got this guy* dancing

* http://ni9e.com/blog_images/cyhsy_web.mov

Here's Matt's blog:
http://www.fakecentury.blogspot.com

Is this limerick thing going to work?

Getting a little nervous about this contest--kind of like when you throw a party and it's ten o'clock and only one person has shown up. Dunno what I was expecting, but those tickets are going for more than a c-note on craigslist. Shit, even a post requesting a submissive woman to clean your house in a french maid uniform while you pelt her with bits of corned beef hash gets a flood of responses in the first day... not that I would know from experience, but, you know, I've heard that.

Thanks to my friends, who have kicked in limericks saying nice things about me. I'll start posting them if the public doesn't come through, but for now, those little ditties are kind of like the lone partygoer, standing in the corner playing with your stereo and drawing attention to the fact that nobody else is there.

limerick inspired by 'batman begins'

To vote for this limerick, click on the comments link and write "vote yes."

there once was a woman named katie
who couldn't act her way out of a paper bag
this really isn't much of a limerick
but now it's too late to make it a haiku.

The Story of the Limerick Contest

Shit. I was kind of hoping that image would be large enough that I wouldn't have to write out again what I am doing here. Oh well, here's the skinny: I've got an extra ticket for the Clap Your Hands Say Yeah show at Irving Plaza on Saturday night, and I decided to hold a competition on craigslist and award the ticket to the person who comes up with the funniest limerick. I like limericks. This should be fucking funny. Keep checking back; I'll post the limericks in batches as they roll in. And PLEASE VOTE! This Saturday, December 31st, between high noon and 2PM!

Here's the link to the craigslist ad:
http://newyork.craigslist.org/mnh/tix/121298807.html

I: Introduction

I remember fantasizing on the first day of Kindergarten, while playing with one of those plastic stove sets, that I was called something more unusual; I tried to think of something better and more distinctive in preparation of the name game that my teachers said we would play after snack time, but the only thing I could think of was Fig Newton. What the fuck do you want? I was five years old and hungry.

The only cool part about my vanilla name, I thought, was that Michael Knight used it as an alias once in an episode of Knight Rider. Not that you care (and not that anyone is actually reading this) but I have a theory that my impression of my name as being overly-common lead me to seek out unusual experiences. To date, I've seriously studied for and experimented with four different carreers. Not quite nine lives yet, but I'm only 27. And I'm lazy.

Ironically, my name isn't as common as I use to think it was: I've actually only ever met one other Joe Brown. When I told him this, he said, "I ain't ever met no white Joe Brown before." I was about to confess that I had always considered myself African American at heart, but thought better of it because it was total fabrication. I like my name now. As a native New Yorker, I appreciate anything that adds to my ability to remain anonymous. And in that spirit, I'm going to remain just another of the thousands of Joe Browns currently living in New York City.