‘Yes’ is my policy.


Mission has been to build a technology-enabled video production platform centered on empowering human creativity. Why? Because we think this field is one that will grow substantially in the coming decades.”

“having a positive mission orientation multiplies the sense of satisfaction – not only upon the achievement of the goal, but throughout the process of its achievement.”

“I’ve decided that I want to spend my limited number of swings in the business world building companies with what I’ve started to call ‘scalable positive mission potential’.”

“Autumn never had true scalable positive mission potential.”

“but if you want to be happy in life and you’ve made the crazy choice to pursue this goal through the windy road of entrepreneurship, then shouldn’t this type of mission orientation load the dice in favor of your real goals? “

“The goal of my next company is not going to be to create a few hundred jobs.  We’re shooting for a few million.  And even in the early days of that journey, I can already feel the dopamine flowing.”

Walker said he was inspired to write the song after an encounter with a street performer in a New Orleans jail. While in jail for public intoxication in 1965, he met a homeless man who called himself “Mr. Bojangles” to conceal his true identity from the police. Mr. Bojangles had been arrested as part of a police sweep of indigent people that was carried out following a high-profile murder. The two men and others in the cell chatted about all manner of things, but when Mr. Bojangles told a story about his dog, the mood in the room turned heavy. Someone else in the cell asked for something to lighten the mood, and Mr. Bojangles obliged with a tap dance. The homeless “Mr. Bojangles”, who was white, had taken his pseudonym from Bill Bojangles Robinson (1878-1949), a black entertainer.” – Wikipedia

I knew a man “Bojangles”, and he danced for you

In worn out shoes

Silver hair, a ragged shirt and baggy pants

The old soft shoe

He jumped so high

He jumped so high

And then he’d lightly touch down

I met him in a cell in New Orleans, I was

Down and out

He looked to me to be the eyes of age

As the smoke ran out

He talked of life

He talked of life

He laughed, clicked his heels and stepped

He said his name “Bojangles”, and he danced a lick

Across the cell

He grabbed his pants and feathered stance

Oh, he jumped so high

Then he clicked his heels

He let go a laugh

He let go a laugh

Shook back his clothes all around

Mr. Bojangles

Mr. Bojangles

Mr. Bojangles


He danced for those in minstrel shows and county fairs

Throughout the south

He spoke with tears of fifteen years how his dog and him

Traveled about

The dog up and died, he up and died

After twenty years he still grieves

He said, “I dance now at every chance in honky tonks

For drinks and tips

But most the time I spend behind these county bars

‘Cause I drinks a bit”

He shook his head

And as he shook his head

I heard someone ask him “Please”


Mr. Bojangles

Mr. Bojangles

Mr. Bojangles