We are The Official Manufacturing Company.
We have the necessary documents.
We are thing makers.
We are Mathew Foster, Fritz Mesenbrink, and Jeremy Pelley, although not necessarily in that order.
We are on the same team and have already won the game.
We are out of jail.
We have reviewed our past mistakes and taken notes.
We receive sporadic recognition for our unrecognized genius.
We are often under the influence of recreational drugs.
We nurse small injured animals and return them to their woodland homes.
We floss, both literally and metaphorically.
We consider the facts.
The three of us exist in this world to the extent that it actually causes physical pain: ouch!
Yet within this hurt lies our greatest joy which sleeps like a kitten and poops outside.
After having separately worked for some years for Wieden+Kennedy, Ace Hotel and a handful of other fantastic places, we are now credentialed as fuck.
We know exactly what we´re doing. More or less.
We rock the house in an obscenely boisterous manner.
Mama-Se, Mama-Sa, Ma-Ma-Koo-Sa.