Let Me Get This Out Of The Way

I'm an organic kind of guy. A feel guy. An "it's not the destination, it's the journey" (which I'm guessing Columbus was the original, or better have been, his destination being half a world away from what he thought it would be) guy. An inchoate (in an initial or early stage; pronounced in-KO-it) guy. A true believer in the "how do I know what I think until I see what I write" kind of guy. And so, after more than two years of writing this blog (with the experiment detour mistake of spending a month writing nothing but posts about pogo sticking well behind me), I've finally envisioned, sculpted, and varnished its mission. And so, with no further ado (i.e. parentheses), I unveil spitoutyourgum's Mission Statement, an ethos, an attempt to define the culture of this blog, a symbolic lighting of the torch which, if not always so in the past, I vow will serve as the guiding lighthouse for this blog from this post onward. Cuddle up and be edified.

Spitoutyourgum blog treasues the individual and the infirm (in fact, we proudly salute all "in-" peoples: the innocuous, the incredulous, the ingrates, the inert, the inept, the indeterminate, the Inuit, the intelligentsia, and hell, even the in flagrante delicto [if you folks are reading this, my, what talent!]). We believe in universal respect and aim to practice it when doing so doesn't conflict with what we value, namely, expediency. We celebrate diversity, basically writing about whatever comes into our divergent little minds. We exult in the Royal We whenever we speak of ourselves (another tip of the hat to the individual's right to be diverse). We not only talk the talk of thinking outside the box, we walk the walk--we are 100% box-free. Well, 99%. We have one box on site, situated exactly in the middle of our offices, so that we are always literally "outside the box." We do love plastic bins, though, and reams and reams of scrap paper. Obviously we are environmentally sensitive. Okay, full disclosure--we're allergic to the cat that shares a lease on our offices. What we bring to the table is ourselves. Well, if we had a table. As it stands now, we have a desk and a love seat that functions more like a table (and really, isn't a table just an uptown word for junk drawer?). Anyway, we are committed to bringing our committed (committable?) selves to this metaphoric table, i.e. literal love seat, every day. Well, we try to write every couple of days. We go beyond valuing our customers; in general we slobber over them. But since we're not selling anything here but simply offering mindless diversion for free, screw you, you get whatever we give you. As always, puppies and children under 12 eat for free. We offend no one with a funny bone, and defend anyone with ready cash. We embrace wholly the concept of the early bird gets the worm, but we prefer bagels with cream cheese, Malley's chocolate, and spaghetti. Our religion is words. Especially holy ones like canard. Bunkum is our sole tenet. In bacon, truck drivers, the boundless melancholia of Cleveland, and insouciance we trust. We love music but not to the arcane lengths of many a blogger; and we've grown sick of Big Brother publishing companies stomping on the fun of proselytizing about favorite songs. We shruggingly hug our Ludditism. Coffee is our drug, peanuts our fuel, indoor plumbing our crutch, tobacco our vice president. Readers our delight. 

And for you ADD, Cliff's Notes-preferring, pull quote sound byte folks, our mission in seventeen words: All the free malarkey we and you can fit into our/your busy every other (hopefully) day.