Hello World

You may recall earlier this week when Mutt had a mini-celebration for our main mang Mr. Webb and the whole Mutt team after the Pac Ten logo became official. Today we celebrate again, as our little rebrand hits new-stands and splashes the internetz (and even Steve's iPhone) in the New York Times and Sports Illustrated. Not to mention, the Pac Ten website is less than fifteen minutes away from launching. (UPDATE: IT JUST LAUNCHED, CHECK THE TWELVE PAGES OF OUR LOGO) The anticipation is killing me.

It should be clarified that Steve has never been to Michigan, let alone studied there, and it was in fact Mr. Cromer S.I. was speaking of.

It's always fun to look at the progression of a mark, from initial concepts to final product, so why don't I walk you through the journey that was Pac Ten...

So once upon a time, the Pacific Ten Conference came to Mutt with a question, "Can you make us a new logo?" And Mutt said yes, I think we have just the ticket. Pulling from a collective 80+ years in sports we set out to make the ultimate sports logo.

Sketches became vectors.

Shields became significant.

And the new Pac Ten was born. We're thrilled to have been able to work on this project and we can't wait to show you all the Pac Twelve logo...

Intern ≠ Parakeet

When I was nine, I decided I wanted a goat. Needed a goat. I bought books, researched different breeds, visited local farms, and even offered to knit little goat booties to keep its hooves from scuffing the floors.

So my parents bought me a parakeet.

And as you might suspect from a kid who spent her summers threatening to knit shoes for livestock, the idea of a friend in a cage appealed to me. Unfortunately for both of us though, my face was huge and horrifying. It was pink and featherless and smelled of sack lunch. My parakeet sunk into a deep depression.

Enter: the concept of reflections as friends. I'd read somewhere that parakeets were happiest with other birds, but if you didn't feel like shelling out the $19.99 for another bird, you could just hang a mirror in the cage. So I hung a mirror in the cage. And she fell for it. She'd spend all day whispering to it, trying to feed it seeds, and preening its cold, metallic feathers without even a hint of suspicion.

But she was also a parakeet. Her brain was a good 200 times smaller than the average intern's, which is to say: You aren't fooling anyone.



New intern, my ass. I know my own reflection when I see it.

GO TEAM!

Congratulations Mutt on a job well done. He might not look like much but that young lad with the cap on his head is 386 lbs of pure design muscle. It took David, Steve and Scott every ounce of strength they had but they carried him on their shoulders for at least seven seconds. Moments after this photo was taken Steve collapsed to the ground and Scott had to perform mouth to mouth. Everything is now ok and Steve is resting comfortably on an island somewhere. Scott doesn't want to talk about it. Anyhow, good job Damien. Great LOGO.

THE Z'ELLOW Z'ERSEY.

Our fury, bespectacled David Z'avertnik just completed a grueling bike race from Seattle to Portland.

The mere thought of this race makes my lower back tighten...I can barely finish the drive from Portland to Seattle, let alone bang out 100 plus miles in 36 hours.

Just consider my last road trip to Seattle:

Fatigue set in around mile 30, followed shortly by lower back stiffness and nausea, culminating in general anxiety and, finally, a moderate to severe panic attack outside of Tacoma.

By the time I finally hit Safeco Field, tears were welling my eyes.

Now cut to Z out there on some god forsaken state highway, sans a combustible engine and the snappy, distracting beats of Phil Collins, slurping protein goo and trading paint with hairless, doped up Lance Armstrong wannabees. One can only imagine the physical pain that Z suffered, as well as the mental anguish and white hot hatred he must have felt for those poser wannabees.

All I can say is, "Z is we. And we are Z.”

Summertime

It’s July and along with the wave of heat, mosquitos and personal fans filling Mutt HQ, we’ve been seeing a lot of books from some lovely hopeful interns. Today I had the opportunity to sit down with our first-round draft pick, Darcie Burrell, writer, poet and all around girl.

Z: Hey Darcie! Welcome to the den. Now, this isn’t our first encounter is it? We’ve got what you might call a bit of a history. I graduated from the Ad Program at UO last year, you graduated from that same program this past June. We had the same classes and we even produced a little gem together. How’d you like the program?

Darcie: I loved it. The ad program there was like one big, hilariously dysfunctional, incestuous family. And we had a cool mom.

Z: Already, I’m impressed with your ability to speak in hyper-links. Well done! That’s a cute little whatever it is in your arms….What is it?

Darcie: I don't know. I think she's the guardian of the Girls' Corner. She has no hands.

Z: So where’d you come from?

Darcie: Las Vegas.

Z: What's the coolest place in Vegas?

Darcie: Cesar E. Chavez park. It's actually a really poorly designed park behind a middle school I didn't go to, but it has a great view of the city. And swings.

Z: You’ve lived in Portland for about two weeks now, what’s your favorite space here?

Darcie: I haven't been here long enough to give you a real answer to that, but I love Peninsula Park. It sounds like all I do is go to parks. Maybe I'm just trying to prove I go outside sometimes.

Z: Point established. And may I add, how very Oregon of you. Now that you’re a Mutt I’d like to know what type of Mutt you imagine yourself as.

Darcie: A great dihuahua.

Z: Is it like a Liger/Tion where it matters which one is male and which is female?

Darcie: I have no idea.

Z: Oh…..

Darcie: ….

Z: What’s your favorite color?

Darcie: I'm glad you asked. I've recently retired green, so I'm excited to say purple. PURPLE!!!!!!!!!!

Z: What's something you've never told anyone?

Darcie: "David is right."

Z: Speaking of bitches…As you may have heard, Mona isn’t keen on having other canine visitors in the office, will that affect your pet situation at all?

Darcie: But Mona is so friendly! And no, we should be just fine. I have a fish and it lives in a bowl on a shelf in my bedroom. It doesn’t get out much.

Z: What’s your fish’s name?

Darcie: David...

Z: …Darcie?

Darcie: It’s name is David. And I tell every David I meet that I named my fish after him. By the way – I named my fish after you.

Z: That’s a first. How do you feel about Millennials?

Darcie: I feel like we like parks.

Now we’ve come to the guest speed questionnaire portion of the interview--

Raphie: What is the average velocity of a sparrow?

Darcie: About as fast as I drive on the freeway – 25 mph.

Beauvais: what is your fondest memory growing up?

Darcie: Hosting a Barbie-Q in third grade. All my friends came and we melted our dolls on my dad's grill. Then we swam.

Scott: which animal would you most want to spend time with AND eat?

Darcie: Is this a personal attack because I eat fish now? Because the answer is people, Scott. It's people.

Nick: why does she think the weather gods hate portland so much?

Darcie: Most strip clubs and micro breweries per capita? You tell me.

And finally! Pop Quiz: What are the partners names and what is each of their favorite color and food?

Darcie:

Scott Cromer - Red, gelato

Steve Luker - Blue, holiday candy bars
Mike McCommon - Green, acai berries

Z: Aced. Thanks Darcie. Glad to have you!

God Bless America.

Sunday night was interesting.

A peripheral friend invited me to his home for the Fourth and, short on plans and sausages, I agreed to attend for thirty or forty minutes.

Things were uneventful at first—a little chatter about single-malt Scotch followed by a game of badminton. You know, real patriotic stuff.

I played along but was a bit peeved by the lack of organization. Where were the miniature flags? Where was the singing of God Bless America? And why was there no Corn Hole?

Something you should know is that the host is renowned in these parts for his record collection and assortment of nautical turtlenecks. Imagine Captain Ahab clutching a latte and leafing through Graham Parsons albums on Hawthorne…that is my friend.

I tell you this because, upon realizing his party was sinking like the Pequod, my friend did what any hipster sailor would do—he pulled out a box of fireworks, dusted off a pint of whiskey and set about torching the neighborhood.

Many of the partygoers were dumbfounded. But I’ve grown accustomed to my friend’s desperate, whiskey-fueled tantrums so I gathered a few sparklers and tried to celebrate the way our founding fathers once did—with joy, cheer and merriment.

This did not last long however. Having depleted his stock of fireworks and good will, my friend snapped the sparklers from my hand and waved them wildly before my face; through the haze I could see him smirking and chortling like a drunken English sailor. It made my blood boil.

Badly burned and without sight I summoned my inner patriot, grabbed hold of my friend’s turtleneck and dropped him on the hard concrete, holding tight to his hipster boot as he tried to slither away.

What followed was captured on film but disposed of immediately. Let’s just say that peace and order were restored. And that King Matt learned an important lesson—to never ever tread on an American.

America + Mutt = Winners

I realize there’s a lot going on in this picture. And that it’s quite ugly. If Luker saw this picture his teeth would fall out. But Luker’s not here right now....I am. And I want to talk about America.

As some of you know, America has been around a lot longer than Mutt. It’s seen several wars, made mad money and basically dominated the world.

On the other hand, Mutt has yet to fight a war, is still trying to figure out how to make money and, well, the last point goes without saying.

Curiously, this is pretty much where the differences end.

Allow me to explain.

If this were a court of law, I would submit to you (the jury) our business plan from 2008, which strangely resembles the document Tommy Jefferson penned thousands of years ago. I say strange because I’ve never read the Declaration of Independence (except when I worked on Mello Yello) nor have I ever written anything that sounds like an 18th century dandy.

But the proof is irrefutable. Our document, which was originally penned in PowerPoint, looks, sounds and reads like a latter day Declaration of Independence. And the layout is ten times cooler (thanks Nick).

Something else to consider: even though we’re only 18 months old our company has unwittingly written, followed and broken virtually every Amendment to the Constitution.

Perhaps the most stunning parallel is the 18th Amendment. Like America, we once banned the manufacture, sale and transportation of intoxicating liquors. And like the 21st Amendment, we repealed that rule immediately and now openly mock it and the legislator (Steve) who wrote it.

So on this Fourth, when you’re jamming hot dogs and corncobs down your throat, please stop for a moment and consider the awesomeness that is America. And if you’ve had a few cocktails, maybe think a few seconds about the bizarre and seemingly inexplicable parallels I’ve just illustrated here.