Archive for May, 2009

Terrible Songs That Sound Good When You’re Drunk: Def Leppard – Pour Some Sugar On Me

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on May 30, 2009 by thebrewyorker

Def Leppard falls into the category of bands that really like to rock, but just don’t know how to do it. Motley Crue, Poison and pretty much any other hard rock band from the eighties would fall into this category. Their popularity, much like their existence, is without explanation. You might know Def Leppard as being the band with the one-armed drummer. A lot of people think that’s pretty cool. There’s just one problem: He stinks.


It’s not like he has one arm and he can play like John Bonham. No, he has one arm and plays like a caveman with a frontal lobotomy. Could you expect any other outcome?

But I don’t mean to pick on the guy. He’s not the reason the band is horrible. They would stink if he had four arms. He’s one out of the five reasons the band is horrible. The band writes their songs together. That means each member has something stupid to contribute. I can picture them in the studio, looking at each other and saying, “So, should we make this song about screwing or rocking?” Then another member responds, “Man, we’re Def Leppard. Let’s write a song about both.”

Their most popular song is about pouring sugar on someone during the act of love making. The influence of this song might explain the high rate of obesity in this country. To say the lyrics are incomprehensible is giving them too much credit:

“Love is like a bomb
Come on, get it on
Living like a lover with a radar phone
Looking like a tramp, like a video vamp
Demolition woman, can I be your man”

I hate to break the news to everybody, but I have never seen a radar phone, which leads me to believe that they don’t exist. But even if they did, that line still wouldn’t make any sense. The entire song goes on like that. Def Leppard writes sexual innuendoes like six year olds write jokes: You smile to humor them, but deep down inside, you don’t get it.

I hope to do more of these in the future, because there’s a lot of ground to cover. I can think of at least five articles to write on Billy Joel. But when I thought of the idea, this song was first in my mind. You have to be drunk to enjoy this song. In fact, there are three tests to find out if you’re drunk: The breathalyzer test, walking a straight line and singing along to this song. When there’s a room full of drunken Generation Xers and they hear that opening riff, you better believe everyone is joining in. Even I, in not one of my prouder moments, bellowed some “You got the peaches, I got the cream.” That’s a big reason why I don’t drink as much as I used to.

So when you’re at a bar and you see someone at the jukebox going to Def Leppard’s Greatest Hits, stop him. Pull out the plug, set off the fire alarm, do whatever you need to do. That is, until you’ve had a couple of more drinks.

– Will


Beer Review: McSorley’s Pale Ale

Posted in Bar or Beer Review on May 29, 2009 by thebrewyorker

The Brew Yorker review crew checks out McSorley’s Pale Ale. Who knows what wonders they’ll find?

Youtube link here.

The Best Beer In The World

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on May 28, 2009 by thebrewyorker

Some people would argue that there is no such thing as the best beer in the world. That is simply not true. Everybody has their own favorites, of course, but the title of “Best” is reserved for one beer and one beer only. And that beer’s name was Gary.

Gary was bottled in New York City at the Brooklyn Brewery. Though his nametag has fallen off, it is believed that Gary was originally a Brown Ale (though due to Gary’s feistiness and other traits, a vocal minority of historians have argued for an IPA ethnicity). After this innocuous beginning, however, nothing was ever the same for this beer again.

Gary was meant to be drank in Williamsburg by Skyler Loriano, a hipster who had paid $7.50 (no tip) to Mug’s for the beer. However, in a story that involves black magic, shoestring fries, and a zeppelin race around the world, Skyler instead stuck her tongue down the throat of fellow Green Pointer Hank Topper, leaving Gary to sit on the table. The two then went to ironically dance to an old James Brown tune before returning to do coke in Hank’s two bedroom apartment.

That should have been it, but Gary then rolled off the table – his fall broken by a pile of discarded peanut shells – and into the street. He fell into a sewer grating and then flowed out into the East River. This was six years ago, and the next half-decade is murky. However, a few things are known of Gary’s whereabouts in that time…

• He appeared in a photograph by noted area artist Sal Simeoneo (Gary was the bottle washed up on the beach in the foreground). This dates his arrival back on land no later than early 2004.
• He was picked up by a homeless man named Duggins, who tried to drink Gary but, when he couldn’t open the bottle top, decided that the drink had ruined his life enough. Instead, he gave up alcohol to become a transvestite rapper in Jamaica, Queens.
• The bottle somehow fell into the hands of Gary Bettman, who subsequently called off the 2004-5 NHL Season in his capacity as Commissioner to negotiate a better CBA. Gary’s involvement is strictly tangential, however.
• Gary was seen attached to actress Mischa Barton, who had just broken out as the star of The OC. This brought Gary into the big time like never before.
• The following directors have used Gary in their films: Kevin Smith, Paul Weitz, Michael Moore, Werner Herzog, McG, and Jay Roach.
• Gary’s subsequent Gold Record, Bubbling Away, broke all previous sales records set by an inanimate object.
• Gary’s endorsement of Barrack Obama in late 2007 is seen as a key turning point in the Democratic Primary.

In the meantime, Gary helped Darfur refugees escape persecution while at the same time aiding the Red Crescent in Sri Lanka. He suffered numerous wounds to his glass during this period, but always managed to soldier on. He was awarded the Alo So Finna Mach Cross, Gaelic Ireland’s most noble award (literally meaning, Being that Inspires Us to Get Really Drunk in Celebration) for his work to preserve Gaelic as a language through his epic poem, Branach do Einen. Finally, he was awarded the Nobel Prize for Physics for his help in folding the Kurtz-Heldment Postulation into current Astrophysical Theory. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to accept the award. He had died saving three children from a burning building in Stockholm the night before.

Still, his legacy lives on. Gary is survived by his wife, Icelandic Supermodel Fjunda. The Gary Prize is regularly awarded at NYU to the student who is able to maintain the highest GPA while still committing him or herself to public service, athletics, and getting shitfaced as often as possible. Finally, much of his estate was left to care Our Lady of Pompeii, a church that cares for children and homeless in the West Village. It is a testament to his life’s work that Gary’s funeral was broadcast in 112 countries and was attended by millions of people (including two former presidents, the King of Swaziland and a host of other important figures the world over). His life, though short, affected the world in a way that few can ever hope to match.

So, the next time someone asks you what your favorite beer in the world is, feel free to say what’s in your heart. But when they ask what the “Best” beer in the world is, you’ll already know the answer. Say Gary, tell the story, and then pour a little of your own beer in memory. It is only fitting.

– Steele

Why Aren’t You Reading This?

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on May 27, 2009 by thebrewyorker

If you’re reading this, chances are you’re probably going through a backlog of entries for entertainment purposes; given our current viewership, the odds of you reading this the day (or week) this entry was posted are slim to none.

The internet is a strange place, with strange trends; at the time of this writing, all the YouTube hits from every single video we’ve uploaded amount to around 2,000. Yet, a twenty second video of a fat Chihuahua gets 100,000 hits.

Even more insane, a five second clip of a squirrel looking menacingly at a camera gets 15,000,000 hits.

I certainly don’t want to blame people on the internet; I, myself, watched Bill O’Reilly’s on-camera freak-out about thirty times over the course of two weeks. People like what they like. My question is this; what are we doing wrong?

I suppose the best person to ask would be the fans, the people who comment on our blog posts. Are you reading this now? Why haven’t you recommended this site to your friends with the same ferocity you’d use if, say, you found a video of a man flipping off a rock and landing on his face,

or a dancing cat song,

or Christian Bale screaming.

Well, you get the point.

If I had to guess, the problem is largely that we just aren’t getting the word out like we should. After all, no one would have heard Christian Bale’s rant if he hadn’t initiated a brilliant marketing campaign involving sending letters to all the members of congress filled with lollipops embossed with the URL to his rant.

The problem is we don’t really have money for that kind of advertising, so it’s really up to you! That’s right, if you’re reading this, I’m placing full responsibility on you to promote this site. Kirk? SteveO? EthithBaimaxy? Themuterobot? Bob Fronduti? I’m looking at you guys! You’ve all posted comments at one point, and (as far as I know) are not members of the Brew Yorker staff. Go out! Spread the word! If you don’t, this website will fail, and it will be your fault. Go forth!

To all of you reading this entry years after it’s been written: All of our success we owe to those listed above. If it hadn’t been for their determination, our website would still be nothing more than a WordPress blog, as opposed to the multi-national, tyrannical corporation harvesting human embryos to make that “MAN BEER” you so naively consume.


Food For Drunks

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on May 26, 2009 by thebrewyorker

Although for many years, I’ve maintained that Mamoun’s Falafel is the greatest drinking food in New York, my buddy Patrick may have just introduced me to an eatery that tops it in the contest for best food to eat before you hit the road after a prolonged bout of drinking.

If you’re a frequenter of that area on the far west side of New York between Sixth Avenue and Soho, you’ve undoubtedly seen those words glowing in big red neon letters: Steak Frites. Maybe you’ve never gone by, or maybe you have and the fact that the waiters are wearing ties throws you off. Maybe you didn’t come close enough to the restaurant to notice that fantastic placard that proudly tells you “Beer, Frites, Draft – $10.95.” Because let me tell you, my friends, this is one of the best deals in Manhattan.

Bad news first, the draft’s a PBR. But if that’s bothering you at the end of your night, then you simply have not done your job as a New York drinker. And anyway, the beer’s just the side note, because this burger? It’s a pretty good damn burger. And if the place is empty and you ask for something that doesn’t normally go on it, they may be nice to you and put it on anyway. And these fries? These are good fucking fries. These ain’t no “we just pulled these out of the freezer and threw ‘em in the oil” fries. These are pieces of potatoes that have been cooked and salted to perfection.

The atmosphere is great. It’s pretty chill; you can just walk on in. And when your bill comes in the end, after a nice big meal that hits your stomach just right and a beer – a shitty beer, but a beer nonetheless – to wash it all down, and you see that you only owe eleven bucks (plus tax and tip), you feel like a damn king.

The place may be a bit out of your way. It’s down on Clarkson and Varick, and there’s not a lot else down there. At the same time, it’s summer – the weather’s really nice, and this is a deal worth walking for. Another caveat, they’re soon going to change the name to “Lucy Browne’s”, which is a decision I’m not thrilled with. But they swear the deal’s going to stick around. Even so, get down there before they change the name. Because when you’re eating in Lucy Browne’s, it just won’t feel the same as when you’re eating in a place that has “steak” in the name.

Burger, frites, draft – $10.95. Do you really need to know more? Get off your ass and give this place some love.

– Jake

Homebrewing Basics with Steele & Jake

Posted in Uncategorized on May 25, 2009 by thebrewyorker

Always wanted to homebrew, but never knew how? Well, you’ve come to the right place! Watch, as Steele and Jake teach you the basics of homebrewing! Well, it’s actually mostly Steele; Jake kind of just complains and punches people out…

Youtube link here.

4 Jobs That Turn You Into An Alcoholic

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on May 23, 2009 by thebrewyorker

1 – Poet

Back in the day poets were alcoholics because they were depressed and emotional. They drank themselves stupid and then wrote rhymes about drinking themselves stupid. Covered up by similes, of course. But today’s poet is a different story. They now drink because no one reads poetry anymore. That is at least 21st century poetry. We all saw that woman at Obama’s inauguration and we were all thinking the same thing: Where’s the nearest Smith and Wesson so I can blow my brains out before they slowly melt from boredom. Poetry is as dead as Dylan Thomas (one of the greatest drunks who ever lived). So, all poets can do is drink booze and tell themselves that no one understands their art. But don’t feel bad for them. There will come a time when poetry will rise again and overthrow the reign of commercial art. Hopefully, I’ll be dead by then.

2 – Peanut Farmer

Okay, you’ve planted the peanuts. You’ve watched the peanuts grow. You’ve picked the peanuts. What do you do in between those things? You get plastered. I can’t think of anything more tedious than farming peanuts. I’m sure the satisfaction you feel after your first batch is shipped to the awaiting public fades after a few weeks. There isn’t — nor will there ever be – any excitement to this job. You wake up in the morning and say: “ I don’t know what’s going to happen today…but it’s going to involve peanuts.” The only pleasure these guys get out of life is a tall glass of whiskey. Think about that the next time you bite into a Snickers.

3 – Vice President Of The United States

Someone once said, “There’s no shame coming in second.” That someone must have come in second in a race to kiss Ernest Borgnine. There’s no shame in that, but it must be a bummer to be second to the most important person in the country. The President gets the interns; the Vice President gets the cleaning lady. The President gets a book deal; the Vice President gets to be on Sesame Street. The main duty of the Vice President is to wait. Wait and pray that the President gets sick or dies. Then it’s his time to shine. But what does he do until then? He pounds down cold ones until he’s passed out at the Lincoln Memorial. Just to rub it in, the VP has to live at Number One Observatory Circle.


The White House is to this place what the Russian Tea Room is to Chuck E. Cheese. I imagine there’s a fully stocked bar in this dinky shack, where he hides and cries over broken dreams.

4 – Alcoholic

This is kind of a cheat, but it’s true. If you work really hard and you believe in yourself, you can become a professional drunk. People will pity you and they will give you their hard-earned money. And you will use that money to get drunk again. Live on the streets the way God intended you to. Wear the same thing everyday. Never again will you worry if you’re going anywhere in life because you’ll know: You’re not. But it could be worse. You could be a poet.

– Will