If you love something set it free.

Mutt's very own Al James will be leaving us soon for Dolorean's European tour. We wish him much luck. Fly little birdy, fly.

Want to hear a little?

http://www.doloreanmusic.com/DoloreanPlayer.html

Mutt Holiday Party

Thank you and Happy Holidays!

Love,

Mutt

we missed you Z...

When Gen X met the Millenials, it was murder.

I remember the first time we met. I was at a trends presentation in Dallas. You were on slide 19.

Years later, the details are a bit fuzzy. But I do remember you and your peers clutching trophies and banging on about changing the world. I also remember wanting to vomit.  

Last year you walked into my office looking for a job. You seemed humble and scared and nothing like the PowerPoint deck from Dallas. And you knew how to use Photoshop. So I offered you an internship; unpaid of course.

The first month you did everything we asked of you. And it pissed me off. I just knew you were snowballing us. I also knew that if I offered you a job, your notoriously obnoxious sense of entitlement would rear its ugly head and poison Mutt to its core.   

So I offered you a job.  

Weeks later, when you revealed you were living with your parents and that your mom was coming by to take you to lunch, I thought I had made a mistake. And when you returned from Pizza Schmiza with two large veggies for yourself and a kiddie-size pepperoni for the rest of the Mutts, I knew I had made a mistake. 

But slowly, as we learned to turn recriminations into questions and differences into debates, our relationship began to thaw. I liked it when you complimented me for playing Seals and Croft. And I was grateful when you finally checked your digital snobbery and taught me how to use I-Chat. Now, every time I drag a JPEG into that little rectangle and send it ripping through cyberspace, I think of you and your humble tutelage. 

I know we still have our awkward moments. Like today, when you tried to reason that a kickball match was more important than preparing for a new business pitch. But I do know that I’d be lost without you. And that, in spite of what I supposedly learned that day in Dallas, one should never judge a Millennial by a trends presentation.   

 

Dance Embassador Dewitz

I'd like to introduce you all to a very special Mutt. His name is Danny Dewitz- but we'd love for you to call him Dance Embassador Dewitz- and he is the head of R&DD (Research and Dance Development) here at Mutt HQ.

At first we didn't think we even needed an R&DD. After all, we're the forerunners of the gigging and jerkin movements. Not to mention we have a resident english folklore dance expert. But the moment Danny sent in his resumé (see the below) we knew we had to hire him.

And that was Danny at age 13. So it's no surprise that three days into his department's study of current Southern dance movements fifteen and a half year-old Danny found this gem. Ladies and gentlemen, allow us to introduce you to The Bern.

Ray Fresco

Monsieur Luker and Mr. McCommon have been road tripping with the Ventura, California based rock band Ray Fresco. They've been climbing mountains, fending off killer mountain goats and making sweet lullabyes in the middle of Convict Lake, California:

The Times

See, I fooled you there...You thought that was a title for a post with clever reflections on the trials and tribulations of everyday life here at Mutt HQ. I must say, I've got some promising material...but I feel it needs a healthy dose of holiday season nostalgia. Stay tuned for that until either Thanksgiving or Chrismahanukwanzakah for that installment (under a different title of course, maybe "The Year Of The Pigon?")

Instead, we're making the title literal. When you think of non-interval-based "times," what do you think of?

Perhaps, New York?

Like, the New York Times?

Yeah, like that one. And that one wrote a thing about us (or mentioned us in a thing it wrote about them/them).

For a second I thought Steve and Mike were actually on a Vision Quest.

The Hibernator

Scott Cromer, age 5, wondering how a bear is so lucky to be able to take naps.

In addition to thick manes of hair and intimidating size, Bears and I have a lot in common. Another one of these commonalities is impressive sleeping abilities. Last night I went home and passed out on my bed after eating half a sandwich and a warm bowl of vegetable soup. I've been illy lately, and as a result i've been exhausted. Anyway, I took a four-hour nap and then woke up around 11 and thought, "man am I glad I'm not Scott Cromer."

See, to start, Herr Cromer probably couldn't nap for four hours if his life depended on it. And second, if he could, he'd have no chance at sleeping through the night. He doesn't have it as bad as some, but he's pretty much an insomniac, which goes a long way in explaining his severe mood swings.

But my name isn't Scott Cromer, it's David Zavertnik and I am the Hibernator. So twelve hours later, after I woke up from my second sleep for the evening, I thought more about sleeping - specifically, those of us at the office who love to sleep. Have you ever seen a sleeping Mutt?

Beauvais sleeps on his back

Nick is a chair-sleeper

Scott prefers his stomach and the comfort of his laptop

Luker's a stomach sleeper but requires ultimate comfort.

I have yet to witness the sleeping patterns of Mike McCommon or Damien Webb, but I promise to keep you posted with any developments.