For the record, I am neither a particular fan (I pretty much had stopped listening to the radio by the time he made it big) nor a rabid hater. I thought Michael Bolton's version of When a Man Loves a Woman to be okay enough, but rather a copy of all previous versions. I didn't see anything all ground-breaking or awe-inspiring about it, so I didn't see what all the fuss was about. And that's about all I've heard of his music.
No, not really. I'm just practicing for that inevitable time when I might accidentally post something so egregious, so utterly offensive, that all right-thinking people, if not mortally offended, will at least have the passing thought, "Geez Mojo, what WERE you thinking?"
I believe this is how the sequence works (Mind you, I use "works" in as loose a way as you can possibly imagine):
1. Post said nasty, awful, offensive thought, joke, or nude selfie only meant for an ardent admirer (even better if they're underaged). Because let's face it, that's how Mojo rolls in the first place. (Or at least WOULD if her dang MOTHER wasn't reading this blog all the time. But I digress.)
2. Be utterly shocked when one-a them sensitive, whiny, trouble-making types somehow takes offense to your obvious genius. (Incidentally, if anyone ever criticizes you online for anything, they are CLEARLY JEALOUS. But again, I digress.)
3. Try to DEFEND said nasty, nasty thing with increasingly shrill vociferousness.
4. Somehow fail miserably, despite your shrill tone and unpleasant behavior.More Mojo!>>
Here is Mojo being META-lazy! Reposting a repost of an old Usenet posting. But it's always been one of my favorites, and I like the purty pitchers. Plus, it's my blog. So there.
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In honor of what is quickly becoming Mojo's Lazy Friday, I offer something I first wrote about on misc.writing back in 2000 or so, around this time of year. Hound had asked us how we celebrated autumn, and I blathered on and on about one of Mojo’s Horsey Days. Now with the beauty of "teh Innertubes" I have expanded the text a hair and added pictures I took on that day, from waaaayyyy back in the Stone Age of Kodachrome slides. Enjoy!
Last week I took a day off from work for the first time in about a billion years. A friend owned a pair of Belgian draft horses, named Ginger and Lacey. We called them The Girls. I helped groom them, bridle them and harness them. We hitched them up to a small hay wagon and spend most of the day giving hay rides to the foliage tourists up for Columbus Day weekend. Four dollars for adults, two dollars for kids, for a fifteen minute circuit through the Berkshire countryside.More Mojo!>>
Just when you thought Mojo's life looking out the window couldn't get any more exciting, we have this.
Our neighbor down the street is an avid (and skilled and respectful; not the beer-swilling idiot kind) hunter who owns the land up above our white pine woods way behind our house. He has told me time and time again that moose frequently bed down for the day in our saplings in the back.
We have lived here for well over a decade and I've seen moose poo and moose tracks all over the place. Once we came home from a week's vacation and found not only very large moose tracks circling the house, but little baby moose tracks in the sand coming right up to the dog door. So we KNOW they're out there. Just never saw one, until last Sunday, when the cowardly dog decided to exercise her window muscles (like beer muscles, except dogs don't drink beer--at least MINE doesn't) and wake us up threatening said ungulate with Certain Death should she remain in the back yard.
All Mrs. Moose did, when she realized the house was awake, was very slowly wander behind a thin screen of saplings and just stood there, motionless. I have often said when hiking in our woods that there was a fairly good chance we were being watched; it never ceases to amaze me how very quiet these HUGE creatures--moose and bear--can be when they wish. She didn't panic, she just took her time and drifted until she was hidden, and then she stood there, not moving, for a good five minutes or so. More Mojo!>>
Now for sale in the Mojo Merch Zazzle store. Click on the image to see more. Warn others, before the same fate befalls them! Because Mojo Cares About You.
As usual, the entire Craptacular store can be found here. Mojo's also a PRO SELLER on Zazzle. I have no idea what that means, but if I wanted I could display a little badge to that effect. But I don't really want to, since I'd have to look up the image file and all, and--let's face it--you'd just be CONSUMED WITH JEALOUSY when you saw it. More Mojo!>>
So, when Mojo was a wee lass she had this very kind and supportive Favorite Mother who tended to indulge and encourage various shenanigans. One such interest was art, particularly wildlife art. At one point Mojo decided she was going to become a Famous Wildlife Artist (little did she know there really *IS* no such thing, as least as far as TRUE FAME goes, in the quantity Mojo expects and demands), and her Favorite Mother hooked her up with weekly art lessons with a very nice lady the next town over, by the name of Mary Drayton. (I give you her name because the poor dear has since passed on, and Mojo knows a deceased person cannot sue her for libel. Or slander. Or mere association.)
Mrs. Drayton was a simply LOVELY and PATIENT person, who would probably pretend not to mind being associated on the internet with such a rapscallion as Mojo. Anyway, Mojo being Mojo she thought pretty early on that she was quite good at representing various critters in their natural habitats, and her Favorite Mother encouraged this hubris by dropping RANGER RICKs and NATIONAL WILDLIFEs and NATIONAL GEOGRAPHICs all over the house. (To be honest they actually predate Mojo's interest in art, and some of them even predated Mojo.) She even bought the big ol' BINDERS so you could hold a year's issues in one convenient place--the NW ones were green; the RRs were brown--and Wee Lass Mojo would spend HOURS paging through the lovely photos of animals and drawing the ones she thought were worthy of her talents. More Mojo!>>
If you're the sort who groans because it's Monday morning (Mojo rarely does, by the way; despite her online whining she's actually a fairly chipper lass who enjoys and appreciates her life, especially when contrasted with some of the awful, awful suckfests out there masquerading as existence), then what better waste of time this morning than watching kittens playing? More Mojo!>>
So I usually see three or four bears every summer, and it's been slightly bothering me that thus far I haven't seen a single one. Especially since the Favorite Husband has apparently seen, like, a GAZILLION so far. His latest being last week when he was out trying to hike just before a bad thunderstorm. He stopped on the trail and was looking up at the ominous sky and a rumble of thunder--in a rare instance of insight he was actually thinking of GOING BACK TO THE CAR, which would have been an astonishment of nations--when a bear came out of the woods onto the trail about fifty feet away. And this bear, likewise, had stopped and was looking up at the dark clouds and the thunder and was heartily wishing he was somewhere else at the moment, and temporarily unaware of the puny human creature just down the trail from where he stopped. More Mojo!>>