Hey, Good Lookin'.

To run a small business you need to be able to provide tough answers to tough questions, such as what is your mission, what makes you special and what musician would you invite to your holiday party? Though we’ve struggled recently to answer the first two questions, let there be no mistake about the latter—it’s Hank Williams Sr.. I realize Hank Sr. is dead, and that we’d have a hard time getting him out here to Portland. But I just know that if/when Mutt needed to rock Christmas or Labor Day, the Drifting Cowboy would turn our studio into a five-alarm fire. I have this image of Hank Sr. and Mike hanging out in our bathroom, just before Hank’s set. They’re drinking whiskey from a bottle, and Mike cracks a smart-ass joke and Hank Sr. blows a gasket. Before you know it, the two are wrastlin' on the piss-soaked floor screaming like a couple rabid coons.

PS--Ulysses, Hank Williams Sr. was a seminal country musician.

Hells Yeah.

So we just shipped our first print ad for Teague (hi Sarah). I'd share it with you, but the contract (which I wrote) won't permit it. Idiot. Have patience though sports fans. We'll post it in a couple weeks, after it seeps into culture and starts blowing minds. In the meantime, I'd like to thank my partners and Paige for a job well-done. And of course, our ridiculsouly awesome clients (who approved the ad in less than three hours...no, I'm not kidding). All congratulations aside, I would like to point out that the idea was mine, and that I gave Steve a ton of art direction. But let us never forget there is no "I" in Mutt.

Hail, Hail to Satan!

The detriments of working in the ghetto have been well documented (see feces post). But I must say, there is never a dull moment on the proverbial wrong side of the tracks. As I write this, a marching band is practicing outside my window. But not just any marching band. Apparently, these high-stepping lettermen are members of Satan's Church. And right now, they're beating their little hearts out in honor of Mr. Mephistopheles. The music isn't bad. But it does sound a little disorganized and off key, as though unsuspecting angels are being beaten to a bloody pulp. Maybe I'll stroll over there and request a satanic version of Hail to the Victors.

Bongs & Frosties.

I’m assuming most of you have been following the Michael Phelps story and his infamous bong hit in South Carolina. In recent days my friends from Kellogg’s have been dragged into the fray, terminating Phelps’ contract because “his behavior isn’t consistent with the image of Kellogg’s”. I read this article on the Huffington Post and it got me thinking—all ethics aside, do you believe Kellogg’s decision is ultimately good or bad for business. Ladies and gentlemen, cast your vote:

I Need a Lawyer.

I don’t exactly treat my body like a temple. But let me just break down the last two weeks: nine 90-minute sessions of yoga, virtually no alcohol, yogurt for breakfast, tomato juice in the afternoon and no sweets. The result? A five-pound weight gain. Fantastic. Now either my metabolism is broken or I’ve become Benjamin Button, and my muscle is starting to morph into baby fat. Frankly, I’ve seen enough. And I’m tired of reading and hearing about things like patience, discipline and focus. If I don’t get some results fast, I’m gonna sue the pants off Bikram Yoga (and his wife).

Mutt Seeking Mascot.

I love mascots—especially ones with a little attitude. When a mascot throws down with another mascot and/or gets tossed from a game, I think it’s one of the greatest moments in sport. There’s something bewildering and oddly upsetting about a guy dressed in a kid’s costume acting like a complete lunatic in front of thousands of people. Check out Sammy the Owl above. He didn’t care for how this game was being officiated, so he took matters into his own hands (wings). And after getting bounced, he apparently went apeshit in the locker room and tore up the joint (to the tune of $10,000). Now I don’t want this guy trashing our expensive tables. But I sure wouldn’t mind having him around to stir the pot when things aren’t going Mutt’s way.

I Want to Interact with You.

Today, my friends, is reader participation day! Yes, a rich, deep interactive experience courtesy of Scotty McLuker. Here is the assignment, er, interactive experience: If you were a client who didn’t know a thing about Mutt, what questions would you want to ask of us? For example, What makes Mutt unique? or Why do we call ourselves Mutt? Please post any and all questions below. Clever, sarcastic responses are more than welcome, so long as they’re accompanied by something moderately helpful. Thanks in advance friends.