The makers of National Bohemian beer took out a full-page ad, written in the voice of its one-eyed mascot, Mr. Boh, in this morning's Sun asking beer drinkers, Orioles fans, and beer-drinking Orioles fans to protest Boh's absence at Oriole Park at Camden Yards.
It is bullshit.
First, the ad is called "Boh: Thrown Out at Home." Sorry, Mr. Boh, but you lost the right to call Baltimore your home when you stopped brewing your beer here. Geez, it's like saying Bloody Mary into a mirror at this point. "Natty Boh is not brewed in Baltimore. Natty Boh is not brewed in Baltimore. Natty Boh is not brewed in Baltimore." I've already said this several times, but it's worth repeating. Y'all are the Baltimore Colts of local beers.
After recounting the timeline of events that led to the O's parting ways with Natty Boh, Mr. Boh writes "The Natty Boh Bar at Camden Yards has been replaced with a non-local beer as a sponsor."
Ahem, National Bohemian is a non-local beer.
"I may only have one eye," he writes, "but even I can see what's going on here. Big beer is attempting to push us out and buy up our memories, but because I have you, Baltimore, that won't happen." (You can read the same text that appears in the full-page ad here)
Boh! Your stuff is made by "big beer"! Pabst Brewing Co., based in Los Angeles, puts Boh and other legacy crappy beers such as Old Milwaukee, Schlitz, Blatz, Colt 45, and, of course, Pabst Blue Ribbon on the market. It contract brews most these beers through a deal with the behemoth MillerCoors. It is undoubtedly a big brewer. Get outta here with this shit.
Mr. Boh then questions the team's "alleged focus on local craft beer" by pointing to "Budweiser-owned Goose Island carts," all the while ignoring that Heavy Seas and Flying Dog, two beers actually brewed in Maryland, can be purchased in the stadium.
At least the line about "buy[ing] up our memories" alludes to what Natty Boh's motivations are really all about: a craven corporate attempt to cash in on nostalgia.
The fact that they took a swing at the Orioles, a hometown tradition that still does its business in Baltimore, only shows how desperate they are to keep this long-gone connection alive.