True Confessions Time

Basketball Hall of FameI have never been to the Basketball Hall of Fame.

I'm sure this is true of the majority of people in the world, and even true of the majority of Americans. Except, of course, I grew up in the next town over, and I can't think of too many people in my life who have NOT visited the BBHoF at some point in their far-more-interesting lives. Indeed, it's kind of a standard school field trip destination when one is in elementary school, although exactly WHY I cannot say. Not being a basketball fan in the first place, I have the sneaking suspicion a field trip devoted to learning about basketball--let's face it, the rules AREN'T THAT DIFFICULT TO FOLLOW--would be about as appealing as a trip to, oh, say, the box factory.

Mojo's Contribution to Political Discourse

While I myself don't care much for politics or political arguments in general, as usual I find myself in the minority, as everyone around me likes nothing better than a full-throated screamfest on a nearly daily basis. In a feeble attempt to streamline the process of a political discussion slogging toward where most political discussions eventually end up, I have made another short video of questionable taste and repulsive aesthetics.

Mojo Breaks Yet More Hearts...

(In retrospect, I should have documented this whole anecdote on my phone, via pictures or video. But I didn't. Because I had worn down my phone's battery to a nub-like 20%, and all of my instructions I had to follow were on the phone, and I was afraid the phone would die in the middle of my many tasks. So you will just have to take my word for it.)

A Cautionary Tale of Our Times

I've been thinking lately of everyone's tendency on the innertubes to trash other people's ideas, opinions, hobbies, likes or whathaveyou if they perchance do not share them. Methinks it's totally Not Cool. I don't mean if you have a legitimate gripe--say, you truly cannot endure a particular political candidate and you wish to convey that emotion, preferably in an articulate, calm fashion. Even if you want to scream and fleck spittle all over the place, you certainly have the right to say or write whatever you wish.

Yeah: This.

Moby Dick(THE SCENE: Mojo's house. She and the Favorite Husband are watching movies during the weekend, as they are wont to do. The Favorite Husband did the picking this time, and chose the Gregory Peck version of MOBY DICK.

Clash of the Titans!!!

Danger signSo, umm, Mojo knows people. Lots of people. I don’t necessarily LIKE them all the time, mind you, but I do know them. People from all walks of life: from destitute folks who work part time on cow farms (when they can) to gazillionaires. Once in a while I meet someone with whom I like hanging around with; others I make a mental note to never EVER have anything to do with them if I can ever help it.

In this pantheon of people it is not surprising to find a variety of personality types. And while Mojo is no degreed psychiatrist nor psychologist nor even licensed social worker, there are two acquaintances in particular I have officially diagnosed as classic narcissistic sociopaths. I don’t mean sociopath in the axe-wielding maniac movie sense, but in the more common “the world revolves around me and everyone else I encounter is just staff who is there for me to use and conveniently blame when things go south” sort of feline vibe. Feline except, of course, I actually LIKE cats, whereas HUMAN narcissists and sociopaths are rather tiresome to the majority of us who, in the immortal words of (the highly narcissistic) George Costanza, are “trying to have a society, here”.


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