Mojo the Monster

Rosie Meets Ratty, April 2006.
So just in case you aren't already convinced of just what an AWFUL person Mojo can be, I submit the following.

The other day I stumbled upon Rosie's AKC registration that I got from her previous owners. (Stumbled upon it because I don't care about such things.) And just this weekend the Favorite Husband and I were debating just how old she was; I remembered George died the same day as the Pope (April 2005) and I thought it was a bit after that, like early the next year. She was just under a year old when we got her; I remember that much.

Staahhp It!

Underpants Business PlanI used to think there wasn't a more annoying sort on the internet beyond those who give themselves any sort of title that includes the phrase "Social Media". Before that it was blogging; before that it was marketing the One Miracle Secret That Allows You To Sit In Your Underwear Making Millions On the Internet While Lesser Mortals Sleep.

Regardless of whether they call themselves marketers or mavens or gurus or whatnot, the basic business plan remains the same: make lots of money on the internet by "writing" (believe me, I use that word loosely) an over-priced e-book telling people how to make money on the internet. Add the prerequisite circle-jerk of business partners and wannabes giving one another substantially false testimonials, and you maaaayyyybe got yourself a money maker for a couple of weeks (assuming you have enough gullible friends and acquaintances who can be roped into buying your wares), until it finally catches on to those who fell for it that there actually *IS* no secret, aside from continuing the pyramid scheme of writing your OWN e-book about how to make da munnies on da internet.

I used to think there was nothing worse. But now I am prepared to publicly admit: Mojo Was Wrong.

Mojo's Confusion Continues, Part II...

Bay Leaves

So Mojo, fresh from the TRAUMA of seeing pictures of EVIL CLOWNS everywhere, decides to go out for Thanksgiving dinner with some Loved Ones. It's buffet style--Mojo has the salmon, since she planned on having turkey the NEXT day--and for dessert Mojo chooses a cup of chocolate mousse. Because, ummm, listen, if the words "chocolate mousse" aren't reason enough, we might as well end it now because you will never understand The Free Spirit That Is Mojo.

Anyway, I am eating chocolate mousse, and from the very first I am aware of a nasty taste I don't particularly like, but I can't quite place it. I keep eating because, well, chocolate mousse, but the taste doesn't go away and it's actually making me a hair nauseated. Which is a shame because, well, chocolate mousse.

The waitress pops by to see how things are going, and I do my best to not make a horrible face as I casually ask, "What's in the chocolate mousse?" Because this is the sort of pretentious Yuppie cuisine where the chef likes to add Weird Stuff to things, and you have to be cool about it or people might suspect Mojo is slightly less awesome than she actually is.

The waitress lights up like you wouldn't believe (she's probably in her early twenties, so she still has the energy to get all excited about foods she had no hand in preparing except to bring it to the table) and she gushes "Isn't it GREAT?"

Mojo's Administrative Heart Attack

So one Facebook page Mojo admins is a typical do-goody organization that does nice things for the area. You'd be hard put to find someone wanting to make their lives miserable, though I know such people (and bots) exist. I have been on the innertubes for a long time, and I am usually SCRUPULOUSLY CAREFUL with security and whatnot.

Part of being the admin for a FB page is, you get access to all these stats about hits and clicks and comments and whatnot. I usually stroll by that section every now and then, to keep tabs and make sure folks are behaving. They always are. So after the glut of Thanksgiving-esque posts for this organization, the notifications are invariably chock full of people who appreciate just how nice this organization is. And then I saw this:


Okay, so I have this THING about Evil Clowns. Meaning, I DON'T LIKE THEM. I do not like them, Sam-I-Am! Mojo and Evil Clowns DO NOT MIX. And the next more horrible thing besides actually MEETING an Evil Clown would be seeing a PICTURE OF ONE.


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