The Great and Terrible Mojo Goddess

When I got out of the army, I worked for my uncle. Now, my uncle, aside from being extremely sketchy was a hard worker and strange man. He taught me how to mix and lay concrete, and drive a tractor. When we were working on contract, he told me of the superstition. Essentially, he believed that the Mojo Goddess was a watchful being, a saint of the workers. The Mojo Goddess was a deity that provided drive and initiative, and was not a terrible fan of overworking.

We regularly worked 14 hour days on contract, laying pneumatic tube three stories up. We ended up delirious from the exertion and lack of sleep. The Mojo was not with us, he said. There were two remedies to this situation:

1. Take a day off to rest, like cowards or possibly communists.

2. Make an offering to the Goddess.

Offerings varied from expensive rum (working hung over and three stories up was not particularly pleasant) to steak dinners and microbrewed beer. The Goddess, she is a being of excess. She sees you treat yourself well, or better yet, opulently, and she will reward you with renewed morale, vigor and energy.

Well, that's what he said. The theory was sound, even if the theology wasn't. Sleeping like the dead from the liquor, or the massive protein dump had something to do with it, I'm sure. The superstition works, all told, beyond what you would think. I've used offerings to the Mojo Goddess to kick the Muse awake from time to time, or to burn through school work. It's sort of a weird, family superstition I felt like sharing.

Des