Mission Statement

When I said I was starting a publishing company, lots of
folks asked me what my mission statement was.
The normal people said, oh, wow, a publishing company.  It’s been
the obvious step to take since 2000
because, every year, hundreds of people throw manuscripts at you.
See, there’s the proper response.  But people just have to put me
on the spot,
don’t they?

When asked about my mission statement, my initial response of
“…the fuck?” never went over well, so I sat down and started
thinking.  Should I have a mission statement?  Of
course!
This is a business, after all.  I
found a piece of paper in the crawlspace and borrowed a pen from my
next door
neighbor and started to put one together.
But, then, I realized that my number one goal was “to make a tremendous
boatload of money at all costs and burn it all in the backyard while
dancing in
a circle, chanting oaths to Satan, and masturbating.”

The second item on my mission statement was even more
dangerous:  “Endless and meaningless encounters
with multiple instances of strange pussy.”

Next came something a bit more down to earth:  “Make enough so I can buy a fortified
compound located at the end of a 25 mile dirt road off of US 250, WVA.”

The strange pussy would be difficult to find at the compound
but, no worries, Satanic rites would be much easier to perform.
You have to take the good with the bad.  Know what I mean jelly
bean?  The Dark Lord loves well water.  The Dark Lord wants
an ATV.  The Dark Lord would like to pitch a novel –
more of a fictional biography – if it’s not too much bother, if it’s
okay,
unless you’re busy.  Please.

When I asked my contact in A Major Publisher Near You about
organizing a mission statement for my company, she glanced over the top of her
teacup and asked if I was planning on sending up satellites or something, then
shrugged and advised me to scrawl “To publish books” across a piece of
construction paper and hand it out to anyone who gave me a hard time.

Even if I were to send up a satellite, I’d
have just as much trouble composing the mission statement:

Mission:  Classified
Orbit:  Classified
Commanding Officer:
Colonel Jack Brady, USAF, specialist in low orbit tactical release fusion
bomb delivery.

Hey, why are you guys wearing those funny suits?

Not your concern, sir.
Did you happen to notice any…shooting stars last night?

Related to the mission statement is the very real and legitimate
question regarding what my publishing company specializes in.  I
answer, in a steady voice:  “Fiction and creative
nonfiction.”  What that means is:  “Anything that fucking
sells motherfucker.”   I’m
probably going to start saying that pretty soon.  What do I
specialize in?  Jesus goddamned Christ, what do you
have?  Is it good?  Probably not.
I don’t know why I’m even talking to you.

Unlike other small publishers, I’m able to steer my company in any
direction thanks to the first part of my mission statement.  If I
have to sell hate tracts to prison
Aryans, I’m glad to do it.

Good morning.  We sold
ten thousand copies of “Chinks are just frustrated Jews” at $8 a pop and the
author got shanked in the showers last night.
He has no surviving family or friends.

Well, well, well, jelly bean.