Essay Contest for a Shure 330 ribbon mic

mshilarious

mshilarious

Banned
I have a Shure 330 ribbon mic (the "Johnny Carson" mic) that has never really done that much for me. It was a repair job when I picked it up, I had to rewire and reribbon it. Unlike my trusty 315, which blossomed when I put a 0.6 micron ribbon in it (crude looking, fragile, but very effective), the 330 was just very meh. Plus the cork between the magnets and the body had disintegrated, the silk was in bad shape . . . you get the idea. Mind you it is now perfectly functional, just not very earth-shattering. However maybe you would like to get a pro reribbon (and re-silking, I left it off).

Rather than resell it, instead I have decided to sponsor an essay contest: "Why I Should Get mshilarious' Shure 330". It can be any length, any reason, any language that is either English, Irish, French, or that can be reasonably translated using Altavista's Babelfish.

Deadline for entries will be February 7, 2006, 12:00pm (that's noon, not midnight) Eastern Standard Time. Final decision rests with me and me entirely and solely. No sniveling allowed, but mocking of fellow essayists or from the peanut gallery is encouraged!

Each post on this thread will be considered an independent entry. You can enter as many times as you like, but each post will be considered discretely.

OK thems the rules!

Ready . . . set . . . OG!







Whoops I meant . . . GO!
 
Cause if I was lucky enough to win that mic, I would personally drive up to thank the man myself. Plus knock back a few beers and record up to 3 songs at no charge. :D

(I go great lengths to obtain gear).


(Patriotic snare roll and flute sounds)

So you see Mr President, it's not about what I can do for my country, or that I would put my life on the line for the starving children in Beverly Hills (think about the children), it's that as a patriotic American, I think we must thank god for our right to freeedum!

God bless America!
 
mshilarious said:
Rather than resell it, instead I have decided to sponsor an essay contest: "Why I Should Get mshilarious' Shure 330". It can be any length, any reason, any language that is either English, Irish, French, or that can be reasonably translated using Altavista's Babelfish.
Click to expand...


Note: this should be read in the voice of a detective in an old black-and-white movie---a low voice and a New York accent, while wearing a dark hat and trenchcoat and playing slow bluesy tenor sax music.


Why I Should Get mshilarious' Shure 330
By David Gatwood

So there I was, 6:00, sitting in my office chair. It was dark outside, the fog was rolling in off the Bay, and I knew it was gonna be one of those cold, lonely nights. The lights had already shut themselves off an hour ago as a reminder to go home, so it was almost as dark inside as it was out. I had a feeling I should get home, though, like there was someplace else I should be right then.

As I slowly stood and turned to leave, I saw someone... standing... in the shadows. I could barely see her face, its soft features gently reflecting the dim glow of the flat panel that it took two years to convince them to buy for me... but there she stood, her gentle curves reminding me of why I did technical writing instead of computer programming for a living.

I didn't know who she was, but with one look I could tell this dame was trouble. It was written all over her face, and we all know how hard it is to remove permanent marker ink. Poor gal. Didn't even see the marker bandit coming. That's when I knew why she was here...

...or at least I thought I did until she opened her mouth. Then, she said something that I will never forget to this day. She said, "There's a contest on homerecording.com's BBS. I want you to write an essay on why you want mshilarious's ribbon microphone."

So I looked at her kind of funny, and I asked her why, and she just looked at me with those sultry eyes and said, "I want you to make me a star." Well, I was hooked. I knew right then and there what I had to do, so I ran all the way home---fifteen miles uphill---both ways---and when I got there, the dame was waiting with this smile that said, "Hey, kid, you got a lotta recording to do."

I wondered how she got there so fast, but quickly realized I'd left my car keys on the desk along with my billfold and driver's license, so she knew my address. I wondered for a moment what else she knew, and thought for a moment that someday I'd like to find out, but first I had to record her. That's when it hit me. I could write an essay, and maybe with a little luck, I'd record that gal someday with the mic that she loved.
 
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I feel that I am worthy of this microphone for the following reasons...

Well... That's it...

I know I'm unworthy of the microphone for the following reasons....

I am ONLY a home recordist....

I have never even laid a finger on a ribbon microphone before...

99.9% of my training in the area of recording/composing/performance has been self taught and very daunting...

My hair is long these days not because of my style preference... It's long because of my financial priorities (MUSIC!!!!)....

Oh well... I could go on all day long about why I'm not worthy.. (Wayne's World anyone?)... But you get the idea... If you have any $1 dollar thrift store finds though... I would accept them with my arms justifiably open wide!!

P.S. I love this place!! :)

-Joshua
 
I Love Microphone

Thanks for offering us an opportunity..

There is a lot of great talent in this area that is not being recognized in the music, writing, and art fields. My dream for the last 3-4 years is to build a recording and production house for all of the local talent. I'm pretty sure I'm even developing a few contacts in major A&R departments and film departments. Yes, I have a LITTLE bit of television & radio experience.

I am and probably always will be a session musician and producer first and foremost. Here's a little backstory:

My progressive rock band signed our first contract when I was just 18. Unbeknownst to me, this contract deprived me and my band of all of our monetary rights and distribution up to a very large dollar amount. We were so eager to get into a big studio sponsored by a big name (he was getting MTV time back then) that we just signed without question.

This lead nowhere. Not only did we get no support whatsoever from this label, but the producer had increasing demands on our time and was placing larger and larger constraints on our playing style. At one point, we were told which instruments and which styles we could and couldn't play in the studio and on stage. Oh yeah, four releases with me on them and not one dime in my pocket.

I sadly broke away from the group and gigged on bass with a very accomplished jazz guitarist for a couple of years.

Now, not being the prettiest guy in the world and pushing 30 now, my own taste for the ups and downs of trying to find a major sponsor and battling the rigors of the road has left me with the idea of trying to build my own label. My goal is to record, produce, and hopefully distribute for anyone and everyone that I meet who has talent. I charge whatever the band can afford pretty much, and often work on equipment trades.

I have not worked a 'real' job in quite a while now, and I am trying to piece this whole thing together on a shoestring budget and some help from a few good friends.

I have had to build my studio from other people's throwaways & castoffs. I have stopped the car more than once to pick up a castaway tube television set or old Bogen PA system from the side of the road on garbage day. I scanned through the newspaper for weeks to obtain my (free) acoustic piano, $50 Wurlitzer 200B fixer-upper stage organ, and my (free) Hammond M-3!!!! A few new capacitors and everything is all good again!

All of my studio preamps & even most of my mics were fix-its or put together part by part by me. My preamps are racked in old 386 computer cases and old 17" filing cabinet drawers. Many of my power supplies are Goodwill brand, and it's easy to spot a DI, line amp, or headphone box that was built by me into an old electrical outlet box.

I took it upon myself to learn basic amplifier & power supply theory so I could build this all myself and never have to hire someone to fix things. I even built my own recording computer piece-by-piece.

Yes, I have designed and built a few VERY rough ribbon mic prototypes even though I have never held a factory ribbon mic in my hands.

I'd love to own your ribbon mic. It would be my first, and I would never sell it. I find myself with empty pockets a lot nowadays, as trying to start a business (especially in the art field) is always rough. The bands that I have been producing have been very happy, and I have been very happy to be able to produce.

People have been already donating equipment. Sofar I've gotten: A few API, Melcor, & MAP preamps (all in pieces.) Someone sold me an antique Slingerland drumset for $5 last spring, which was AWESOME. My cousin is giving me an old f-hole jazz guitar 'cuz I can't afford one. :) My dad has recently retired from the trades, and he is helping me build a cedar drum room. We'd love to keep some good momentum going over here, and any help is very much appreciated.

And of course, you would be welcome to come & record a demo - on the house.

Thanks,
Jim

PS - How's the weather down there? I kinda miss High Point/Greensboro ;)
 
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Why I should get the mic...

Because I didn't write some long ass sappy, bullshit about why I should receive a mic.

Because I didn't get down on one knee and kiss your ass for it.

And because I said please.
 
Doug and Bob are metropolitan policemen with a difference. Doug likes nothing more than slipping into little cocktail frocks before a large breakfast of jugged kippers & junket while Bob loves to bouffant his hair for a long night on duty. But ,as they aren’t in this story we won’t give their last names.

Spunky Reginald Vas Deferens is a muscular scientist hysterically in love with Mafia boss Enrico Marx who is himself married to Conchita McBeth – a lively belly dancer in a Belgian disco whose manager, Burly Ivan Crabb, has a naked daughter, Janece, engaged to J.J. Spim a New York private detective employed by swelegant Lora Heron to trace the million pound bidet Hitler gave to Eva Braun as a barmitsvah present during a state visit to Kruff’s and which had remained hidden until a World Cup referee, Horse Jenkinson, was found hanged, at his convenience, in a New Jersey tenement with the plans of a Russian secret weapon partially tattooed onto his elbow.

In a Brisbane suburb the Brain brothers, Nicky & Vance, torture a Mayfair tuckologist who reveals to Dora Brain, in a tender and emotional death scene, that his hair is not his own. Meanwhile the Kent Touring Eleven have trapped husky Matilda Tritt on a sticky near Hastings where she reveals all before enforcing the follow on.

Peter Neisawarnd & Cyril Garfunkel arrive with the Welsh police and the Harry Orchestra just in time to then proceed to sing a love song allowing Dr Indira McNaughton sufficient time to cross the Alps into Geneva where he makes the acquaintance of Kong Wrap, a kung fu fanatic and notorious cat lover who, frivolously, shoots him. Though not before introducing him to lively Norwegian widow, Lanny Krimpt, who shows him her inner thighs upon which he finds, written with a ball point pen, the address of a good French restaurant and, unexpectedly, meets Gabriello McKismo an ex-Korean plastic surgeon whose, frankly blonde, assistant Sally Lesbit is now the half brother of a distant cousin, Rev. Vauhan Ding Ding-a-Dong, the Eurovision song & part owner of a million pound bidet given to Eva Braun, by her dear Adolf, as a barmitzvah present during a state visit to Kruffs and which remained hidden etc, etc, etc. This then begins the story.

Meanwhile Harold & Victor Medway III discover a new found love for each other in a flash back near the motorway outside Devon where they had planned to meet with Doug & Bob the Metropolitan policemen who surprisingly turn out to be in this story after all, & who proceed to kill everyone then live happily ever after having secured a Shure 330 ribbon mic for rayC who had, until this time, continued to use a Tandy Hi Ball, 3 Sony electret 19Bs, a Beringher cheapie & a reversed speaker cone not having had an opportunity to purchase or use anything approaching a REAL mic, but continued collecting tattoos of the local topography for a propsed skin flick regardless of criticism that eczema rated films no longer sold well in the provinces to post reconstructed males.

That being said & with Victor & Harold recording their aural oral history for a series of self massage DVDs the sound as well as the oils had a soothing natural warmth to them.
Cheers
rayC
 
You forgot about the Rosicrucians, Knights Templar, Masonic Order, Illumati, and the guy who played Judas on the original studio recording of Jesus Christ Superstar.... How could you??? You must have something to hide!!!
 
An essay on Shure 330 Ribbon Mics​

The issues involving Shure 330 Ribbon Mics has been a popular topic amongst scholars for many years. At one stage or another, every man woman or child will be faced with the issue of Shure 330 Ribbon Mics. Until recently considered taboo amongst polite society, there are just not enough blues songs written about Shure 330 Ribbon Mics. Often it is seen as both a help and a hinderence to the upper echelons of progressive service sector organisations, who form the last great hope for our civilzation. Hold onto your hats as we begin a journey into Shure 330 Ribbon Mics.

Social Factors

There is cultural and institutional interdependence between members of any community. Upon Peter Pinkleton-PishPosh's return to Britain he remarked 'class will refelect the inner hero' [1], he failed to understand that if one seriously intends to 'not judge a book by its cover', then one must read a lot of books. Spanning divides such as class, race and uglyness, Shure 330 Ribbon Mics helps to provide some sort of equilibrium in this world of ever changing, always yearning chaos.

When one is faced with people of today a central theme emerges - Shure 330 Ribbon Mics is either adored or despised, it leaves no one undecided. Society is powered by peer pressure, one of the most powerful forces in the world. As long as peer pressure uses its power for good, Shure 330 Ribbon Mics will have its place in society.

Economic Factors

We no longer live in a world which barters 'I'll give you three cows for that hat, it�s lovely.' Our existance is a generation which cries 'Hat - $20.' Of course, Shure 330 Ribbon Mics fits perfectly into the Lead-a-Duck-to-Water model. Taking special care to highlight the role of Shure 330 Ribbon Mics within the vast framework which this provides.
Transport
Costs

Shure 330 Ribbon Mics

The statistics make it clear that Shure 330 Ribbon Mics is a major market factor. Clearly transport costs sings a very different tune. In the light of this free trade must be examined.

Political Factors

Modern politics owes much to the animal kingdom. Placing theory on the scales of justice and weighing it against practice can produce similar results to contrasting pre and post war views of Shure 330 Ribbon Mics.

Consider this, spoken at the tender age of 14 by nobel prize winner Esperanza Bootlegger 'Man's greatest enemy is complacency with regards to personal and political hygiene.' [2] What a fantastic quote. Both spectacular failure and unequaled political accomplishment may be accredited to Shure 330 Ribbon Mics.
Since the Renaissance Shure 330 Ribbon Mics has become more and more prevalent. May it continue.

Conclusion

What can we conclude? Well, Shure 330 Ribbon Mics has played a large part in the development of man in the 20th Century and its influence remains strong. It replenishes the self, it stimulates and it is human.

I will leave you with the words of Hollywood's Demi Zeta-Jones 'Oooh yeah Shure 330 Ribbon Mics shoo badaby dooo.' [3]

[1] Flankton - The Complete History - 1999 Fantastico Publishing

[2] Bootlegger - Take It! - 1961 Viva Books

[3] Everything you always wanted to know about Shure 330 Ribbon Mics, but were afraid to ask. - Issue 287 - QKS Publishing
 
The Shakesperean / Poetic Angle:

Microphone:

shure330.gif


I hope BigWillz' foul fool halitosis will never wilt you like dried fall flowers; :eek:

330 ! Make my sources fair & flirty!

Capture my psychosis peak to peak ; gleaming vented tower of machined steel.
Make this union of expression and mechanism flattering without fickle failings between membrane & magnetism...

We yearn for, perhaps covet this cold motor in its gleaming, grinning grille. A transportation of transformer coupled electrical translation ; bridging the spans between medium and imagination.

This delicate tulip ; What hours wasted toiling in repose, fumbling through thoughts of this device of tyranically tympannic foil until the higher levels of my very conciousness are vibrating within its grille!

The imagined becomes real.

Onion-like layers peel away in this imagined dissection and replication of my spirit trances ; my inner mouth speaks in nonsensical, imaginary languages just to make its longed-for silk-hidden motor move.

Just to flux the gauss - to floss the flux between iron poles - the goals to toss into the fluxed, gaussed, pole-flossed foil. The source transformed & transformer formed, from motor reposed and dormant, then excited to harmonic norms, taking the forms of source (with some loss.) The source is deformed, but awesome.

Some wanton, utilitarian, manic threw themself into this creation; this mechanic's station was likely plagued with these same spectres of thoughts and hopes of accomplished toasts.
 
To match my mshilarious donated furniture.

And the fact that I have an unhealthy love for all things free.

And the fact that I can write three seeemingly unrelated sentence fragments in a single post.
 
Another One: Nonsensical

I can assure you that upon the arrival of the Shure microphone, the whole family will be elated.

We will bask in its enlightenment as we delicately transfer it to its gem-studded terrarium, where it will be chewed into triangles by Cuban ants.

Parts of it will be ground into placebo and used for such things as Don Knotts' tummy ache.​

donknotts.jpg

Friends of mine in certain mysterious circles will bathe it in warm milk chocolate as it is simmering in a pot above select hickory bark that was hand-picked by Bask gnomes.

kimmelgnomes.jpg

We will certainly try to enjoy and appreciate it for all of it's delicious goodness, and we will most definitely NOT let any of it spoil in the refrigerator.

I will press the remaining dust into an elongated stiletto shoe heel and gift it to my mother. As she hobbles to the barn to line dance, she will be wringing the laminated datasheets in her claw-like hands. At the barn, they will be folded and used to shore up table 3, which has had that short leg wobble for at least a year or two now. Ever since John Newberry and that band of hooligans came in demanding powdered soil for their horse engines.

fig4.gif

Paw will be sitting on the front porch like usual, with the shotgun in his hand, daring the locals to, "just step over that line there, I dare ya." Sure he talks big through that big mouthful of chewing tobacco coated rotting teeth, but he's never done more than tan that Jenner kid's hide with a strop once back in December of '24.

20031018-120000.jpg

Yes, I am a werewolf. It happened back in '73 when I was carrying two avacodo-shaped marble busts of Quincy Jones to the bathroom stall. With one beneath each arm, my fists were too clenched and studded with faux keychain rings to even squeeze out more than a chuckle.

Quincy%20Jones_3.jpg

A small amount of Shure 330 ground to coarse meal in a hand-turned, Aztec-themed mortar and pestal taken orally every four hours on a full stomach is good for those ailins'.

met3_150.jpg
 
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dgatwood,
I love your essay...it reads like a subplot from the Singing Detective, it had me scratching' & reaching for the 'trolium Jelly. I d'off my 'at to your prose.
You've set a very high standard. I'll have to try to improve mine. I suppose an edit wouldn't be appropriate eh?
Cheers
rayC
 
Analytical & Loosely Realistic Inner Dialogue

I am here because I don't fit in, I don't look or act like anyone else. In some respects, I am transparent, particularly in my madness. Yet, this is perhaps a stereotype and reflection of me based upon my appearance. There are many times, and I believe these to be the basis of my existence, in which I see divine love and eternity. Yet I am denied through alienation, and the dark half of the circle completes the light. Occasionally the pain opens my mind to the basic languages of forgotten times, in which many speak to me as they would a hideous apparition. They fear, they reject. Those of which my appearance does not frighten to a distance, my apparent oddity in thought seems to dispel. My spirit is self-medicating to provide for me a means to communicate with those who walk in the middle way.

Psychosomatics; The mind and spirit shape themselves in accordance to the body. On the other half, the body shapes itself in obeyance of the spirit and mind. Which is why I and we tumble through endless circles of change until we finally can communicate or simply pass away.

I remain immobile, as if trying to absorb or comprehend the friendly visions of a free microphone which have bestowed themselves upon me in increasing frequency within the last few hours. A pressing question poses itself to my mind; What is the origin of this phenomenon? Any approach utilizing standardized modern psychology would start with the premise that these are self-created hallucinations. Perhaps this is insanity, feeling thus detached from these callers who speak to me through the the filter of my mind's eyes and the window of a computer screen. The plots that are dictated seemed too far-fetched to be an acceptable part of reality, therefore were kept in secret until an opportunity for material advancement presented itself. However, the intensity of the idea is beginning to blur into reality.
 
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up-fiddler said:
0101000001101100011001010110000101110011011001010010000001101101011000010111100100100000010010010010000001101000011000010111011001100101001000000111100101101111011101010111001000100000011100100110100101100010011000100110111101101110001000000110110101101001011000110011111100111111
Click to expand...
Pulls string
And the Up-Fiddler says, "Please may I have your ribbon mic?"
 
Big Kenny should get the mic for four reasons:
1) He talks about himself in the third person, like he's not there. This kind of behavior deserves attention if not serious medical help.
2) It would be look good on your resume, He knows some very important people (or is it impotent?)
3) Cuz last time you gave stuff away you promised him he would be next. (The tubes dude {not to be confused with tubedude}
4) Cuz if he doesn't like it or use it enough, he will hold another competition and you will get a chance to win it back!
5) Cuz he doesn't even know how many four is.
 
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