Baehr-Cat

Here's how the Bearcat came to be according to legend and UC's information services.

Kentucky was the fifth game of a nine-game schedule in 1914. Throughout four games in September and October, no one had managed to score against the Red & Black. Kentucky was the first real competition for Coach George Little's squad, and the students were eager for a good game.

At this time, the UC team had no real nickname. The teams were known variously as "Varsity," the "Cincinnati Eleven," the "Red & Black" and the coach's "boys," as in "Dana's Boys" or "Little's Boys." Mascots were uncommon among college football teams back then, and UC had no mascot, although a curious bulldog, clad in a "C" sweater and miniature hat, was depicted throughout the athletic sections of the yearbooks.

A new era was born when Kentucky came to town. The Wildcats were a formidable team and UC was struggling. During the second half of the game, cheerleader Norman "Pat" Lyon, building on the efforts of fullback Leonard K. "Teddy" Baehr, created a new chant: "They may be Wildcats, but we have a Baehr-cat on our side."

The crowd took up the cry: "Come on, Baehr-cat!" Cincinnati prevailed, 14-7, and the victory was memorialized in a cartoon published on the front page of the student newspaper, the weekly University News, for Nov. 3. The cartoon, by John "Paddy" Reece, depicted nine vignettes from the game. Front and center is a bedraggled Kentucky Wildcat being chased by a creature labeled "Cincinnati Bear Cats." Reece was certainly inspired by his editor - the same "Pat" Lyon who led the "Baehr-cat" cheer.


Leonard K. "Teddy" Baehr

Farmer Gone Wild

5-Minute Theory: The Worstest Ever

Wind up the clock. Here we go.

In the history of the world there has never been anything as bad, terrible, brain-melting horrible as Olive Garden commercials. Not even Hitler. I don't need 4:45 min. to expound. The end.

Food Video with Leah

I'm a lucky dude.

Mustachioed Baby

Question: Is this the most amazing video ever made?

Answer: Maybe?

5-Minute Theory: Doubt = The Great Paralyzer

Put another cinco minutos on the clocko. I'll try not to go over this time.

Every one of us has a tiny demon that's drilled itself down into the depths of our brain. The Doubt Demon. He has a feathered back hair do and thinks he's the Arthur Fonzerlli of demons. I'm wasting time on this stupid description.

Doubt keeps us from doing stuff.

Doubt says: You don't really know what you want to do with your life. You don't really like ______ enough to really pursue it. Pursuing _______ costs too much money. It's impractical.

Doubt says: You're not as smart as Jonjon. You're not as spiritual as Bobbob. You can't read like they do. You'll never get it so why even try?

Doubt says: You're not qualified for _______. You don't have enough experience. People will see through you. They'll know you don't know. You'll get exposed. Then embarrassed. You need to wait. It's too early to take on _________. Take it on someday when you actually have the appropriate experience. You're simply not ready. Sorry.

Doubt says: Meryl Streep done me good.

You say: Hilarious joke, Brad.

Doubt says: They don't really think it was hilarious, Brad. It was a stupid joke. You should stop wasting everyone's time with these mega dumb posts. Where do you get off thinking you have a right to type words into the internet.

I say: Time's up.

Boca

Last week I had the amazing opportunity to shoot a video with Chef David Falk at Boca, arguably the nicest restaurant in Cincinnati. Seriously, I have the best job in the world. Two things shocked me about this experience.

1. how many people said to me after telling them I went to Boca, "Do you mean Buca Di Beppo?" Wow.
2. how good a grilled salad can be.

A quick story. Back in March I was the officiant for my friends Ryan and Carrie's wedding in NYC.


A month ago, Ryan asked me for a recommendation for the best restaurant in Cincinnati. His sister-in-law was coming to town. So I told him about Nada (also started by Chef David), Honey (in Boca's old digs in the Northside) and Senate (the hip, new kid in town). He pushed me to recommend a place that is top top notch. I told him the obvious choice is Boca. They make brussels sprouts that are so good you want to cry. But it's expensive, I told him. He said it didn't matter. His sis-in-law was a baller.

Fast forward a couple weeks from that conversation and I get (in the mail) a thank you note and a gift card to Boca from the double-crossing lying liar. No trip to Cincy for his in-law sissy. He tricked me, and I love/hate him for it.

So this Friday, Leah and I are heading out to this amazing restaurant on Ryan and Carrie. It's no Buca Di Beppo but I bet it'll do. Woop woop!

Jane Mowery, Will You Dance with Me?

Jane...this could be our jam at the reception.

"I tip on alligators and little rattle snakers"



via D.Kalbach

5-Minute Theory: Why Stuff Sucks

Put five minutes on the clock. I have another theory to not flesh out properly.

A lot of stuff sucks. It sucks that people are flipping out about the mosque down near Ground Zero. It sucks that churches are known more for hating people, places and things than loving them. Apathy sucks. Here's my theory of why this is:

Research is Dead.

Nobody does their own homework. We listen to the one guy who wrote a book about Islam who says they're all terrorists and we believe him. We tell people he's trustworthy because he used to be one. He knows. So everything he says about Muslims wanting to kill every non-Muslim must be true. We don't do any real research ourselves. We listen to the Glen Becks and Keith Olbermans and call it a day.

Religion sucks because we just inherit our beliefs and never do the research to figure out if we actually believe it ourselves. We accept our paper thin theology from our parents and do one of two things. 1. We grow apathetic and never really do anything with it besides have vague ideas of what we kind of believe. 2. We pick a few things that stand out and fight for them because in that fight we find at least a little purpose. The death or non-exsistence of personal research creates an ignorant brand of apathy and/or zealotry that leads to awkward late night bar talk or pointless pickets full of misspelled signs and bad group chantings.

I went over by four minutes. Oops. And I still didn't make sense of this un-researched theory. Lame.

Hanson All Grow'd Up

This song is ridiculously catchy. And over-the-top sunshiney and silly. Weird Al's playing tambo for bopsake. Love it.

5-Minute Theory: Boredom as a Terrorism Hatchery

Alright. I have this theory. I also have five minutes before I go to work. So rather than wait to explore said theory at a later juncture I'm gonna start the clock, spew nonsense for five minutes and then microwave some quiche.

I believe boredom is the biggest terrorism threat of our time. It happens in the factories where smart people make tons of money doing tasks that bore the absolute hell out of them. That boredom is unbearable most days. Stuck in a place of knowing they hate their job/life but liking that they can afford their pontoon boat and trips to the casino, these folks decide to numb the boredom pain. They experiment with drugs, that turns into an addiction because it's the only thing that trumps the nagging boredom. That addiction trumps their marriage and kids. Families are ruined. The boredom terrorist cell wins again.

I'm running out of time.

Churches get bored because all they do is get together once a week and wear uncomfortable clothes. They start looking for something, anything to do that'll trigger something in their brain. They need some kind of mission, action, adventure because that's what everyone needs/wants. We're hardwired that way. Somewhere, somebody says, "I'm mad about _____. We should fight to protect ______." Boredom leads to action but it's pointless, stupid action that ends up hurting everybody. How does that happen exactly? Not sure. This theory isn't fleshed out.

One minute left.

Marriage gets boring because the couple gains weight, work gets hard but boring, the tv and couch have "must see" tractor beam that dull the boredom. Couples stop talking because they're bored with the same conversation day in day out. The Internet may not be boring. Porn may be fun. An affair may be fun. Or at least new. New is good. We deserve new. We don't deserve to be bored. We work too hard to be bored. Marriage gets ruined. Kids turn into crazed maniacs that join fraternities and haze other maniacs.

My time is up. There you have it. Ungrounded theory with little to no proof. Science.

Albert's Performance Art

Albert was tired of the games. Tired of the Boxers owned by the Baxters who always made stupid comments when they got walked past his house. Fed up with the irony of the poodles and doodles and other curloodles calling him a freak. Sick of condescending stories about the Iditarod's "don't ask don't tell" policy from Iggie (short for Igloo for godsake), the pretentious poser of a Husky down the street. A statement had to be made. A billboard of sorts. "I'm a big gay dog. Get over it. Lady Gaga 4ever."

Few Thoughts...

A few thoughts from today:

Dog parks turn awkward when ladies start kicking dogs.

Sometimes the only way to convince a dog it's not ok to murder your dog is to kick it.

Sometimes I'm glad to have black lab who is anti-social and a hound with a relentless desire to escape.

Unlike the soggy squirrel "sleeping" in the street, leaves smell good when they start to die.

My hair is getting pretty close to looking like a hockey player from the 1980s.

Or a member of the Cobra Kai Dojo.

I don't think I'd sweep Daniel's leg just because Sensei said so.

I used to have karate pajamas. With a black belt even.

Poser.

I wish cheesy popcorn would put more cheesy in my belly and less on my fingers.

The Hound can't understand why I don't put cheesy in her belly.

There's a bar in Cincinnati with a Notre Dame and Xavier neon sign hanging in its window.

This makes me entertain terrorist thoughts.

Then I think, WWBED?

What would bald eagles do?

Bob Evans was the real deal.

One of these dogs just farted.

It smells like a soggy "sleeping" skunk.

Firestarters BBQ vids 1 & 2

I got a pretty good gig. This past week when we weren't eating deep fried wieners we were burning a thighmaster and garden gnome on a grill for a video. Is this real life?

Mess With The Hound and You Get Humped

Download now or watch on posterous

IMG_0579.MOV (1771 KB)

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Between Two Ferns

I love Between Two Ferns. This might be my favorite yet.
(a few choice words in this one)

Between Two Ferns with Zach Galifianakis: Steve Carell from Between Two Ferns

Dog Parks = K9 orgy

Turns out the Hound is a whore. But a floppy, wholesome, cute kind of whore. We went to the dog park yesterday. First time ever. She went dognanas. Lots of sniffing new dark places. Lots of unprovoked humping by pent up terriers. Lola was like a freshman with a fake ID and a billion dollars in Panama City. She was like Cookie Monster at a midnight rave in the Tollhouse Factory. Garfield at a lasagna orgy. The whole scene was like when the Teletubbies get that feeling. It was like Scrooge McDuck at a Justin Bieber concert. Curve ball. You thought I was gonna say something about a gold coin vault. Watching Lola race around making new friends was a little like watching this crazed demon.

FlameThrower vs. FlameExtinguisher

A fiery duel between two angry devils.

J.Biebs

It's like his hair is made of hypnotic tractor beams. I can't look away. Even when he's dancing so awesome I can't stop looking at his brown mane. Why is that?


Justin Bieber - Love Me
Uploaded by UniversalMusicGroup. - Music videos, artist interviews, concerts and more.

Cheerio

On the eve of my sixth wedding anniversary I found myself in a situation I rarely experience. I was at Big Justy's bachelor party and I was one of the eldest statesmen when it came to marriage. Most of the guys there were either single or newly married. A few guys asked me if I had any advice on marriage. They were drunk. I was caught off guard because I'm the one usually asking this question to my older friends. I thought about it for a bit and my answer ended up being simple.

Be your spouse's biggest fan and cheerleader. So when your spouse works up enough courage to share with you a dream/hope/idea your default response should be, "I love it. How do we make it happen?" Don't jump to conclusions about costs (money, time, inconvenience, sacrifice). Jump to solutions. It takes guts to talk about dreams and hopes out loud. Honor that courage. Be an advocate. There's a surplus of critics.

"How To Be Alone" a poem by Tanya Davis

I'm not good at reading poetry. It takes me a couple reads to really get it. This video was good the first go around. The second was even better.

My friends are Benja-mins and the Franka-lins

Do you ever wake up, look out your window, past the ripened fruit, thru the bird-ravaged screen, and see something that gives you the sense that you are the richest bastard to ever live? Doesn't this scene make you want to turn up the Black Eyed Peas, spritz mosquito repellant in the air, and pour champagne all over your hillbilly hound as she swims ten foot laps? You're a dirty liar if you say no.

Posted via email from Brad's posterous

Opulence, I has it.

I loves it.



(via r.c. moore)

Magic Hour

Drive along a country road thru cornfields and tiny towns at 3pm and you’ll think, “This is cute I guess.” Make the same drive at 8pm in the summertime and you’ll think, “I would buy this painting. I would bottle this dusk-induced nostalgia. I would pay someone to make a movie of when we rode bikes, played baseball, ate popsicles at this same hour, years ago. I would download the country song about this strange feeling I have when the sunlight shines thru the bug carnage on my windshield and fills the Jeep with its heavy warmth.” We may have to suffer through oppressive humidity in the summer, but our reward is the magic hour. Why does this time of day make me feel so strangely good? Am I the only one?

Download now or watch on posterous

video.mov (1865 KB)

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Sneezy Pooh

Stopher Day sent this my way. Sneezy bears are cute. They're just like us. They sneeze. Then they take naps and dream of lollipops. Yeah right. This video ends right before this coke-head bear murders the videographer looking for more toot. More white pony. More sneeze powder. More yay-yo. This cute little fiend probably went bearnanas when all he inhaled was the cameraman's blood, fat and muscle.