Mojo, members. For a hoodoo shaman, it’s St. John the Conquerer Root; for a buddhist, it’s qi; for Jim Morrison, it’s his dong. Whatever it is, you got it – so use it. And this week, Member mojo will reign supreme. It will be stronger, brighter, and more powerful than that mojo which you meet. It will to stem the flow of bullshit mojo that thinks itself extraordinary, but really, is a chronic bore, like Pete Dougherty or x-box obssession. It will get you up in the morning with ass-kicking odes to your brilliance. And if, perchance, you’ve forgotten where you’ve put it, or it’s off running amok in some depraved corner of your psyche, allow Waylon Jennings to provide a stand in. Just repeat after Mr. Honky Tonk: You better move away/you’re standing to close to the flame/once I mess with your heart/your little heart won’t beat the same. Mojo members! Hit it! In loving memory of Max Roach, mojo master sine qua non. 1924 – 2007.