Welcome to Mojo Pop Comics

Hi, my name is Carlton J Donaghe, and I am the editor and writer of Mojo Pop Comics.
With a name like “Donaghe,” you can tell I’m Irish.  Or, of Irish ancestry.  My great-grandfather Donaghe came over during the Civil War when he was paid by a Northerner to fight in his place in the Union Army.  I don’t think Irish people were much welcomed outside of their own kind in those days, and kept to themselves.  My family is full of Milligans and Conners and Moores.  Both my mom and dad were of the Irish.  And you can tell which side of the family had the red hair.
Hot Dog!
Anyway, after the war, he settled in a place called Weed, New Mexico, which is in the Lincoln National Forest, south of the Mescalero Apache Reservation, probably because nobody else wanted his kind near them.  Actually, my first teaching job was in the first year of the Mescalero Apache High School.  I was their first science teacher.  Man, it was great.  I taught Biology, Chemistry, and General Science.  And being around the Apache was like coming home and being with family.  I got along great with the kids and their parents, and hung out with the Medicine Men there.  I had long hair in those days, along with my neatly-trimmed little beard and mustache, and the Medicine Men called me “Jesus Christ.”
On the first day of class, I was taking role, and I was being careful to pronounce everyone’s names perfectly.  I mean, I grew up in Deming, New Mexico—the gateway to Palomas, Mexico—and with a name like Donaghe, you get used to nobody being able to pronounce your name right.  There aren’t many Donaghes around.  I remember the night I was flipping through the TV channels and I caught Tina Fey saying something like, “... and you take that, Jack DONAGHE!” and my ears instantly perked up and I was, like, “aru?”  I’ve watched the show ever since, just out of family loyalty.  I figure, if I ever meet another Donaghe, chances are, we’re related.  Plus, I’m from Deming.  I speak with a Mexican accent.  And if you think my accent’s bad, you should hear my little sister.  Instead of calling me ‘brother,’ or even ‘bro,’ she calls me ‘Carnál.’  You know, I’m the only student in NMSU history who was allowed to take both Spanish I and Spanish II in the same semester.  They said, ‘It’s okay—he’s from Deming.’  Oralé.
And you know, the Irish language was invented to confuse Anglos.  Most people don’t know it, but the very existence of the Irish is a conspiracy to drive the English crazy.  We’re pretty good at it.  I mean think about it.  We get our holiday Halloween from the ancient pagan Irish festival of Samhain.  Now, how do you pronounce “Samhain?”  I heard there was a band that called themselves Samhain—you know, one of those goth bands, where everybody pierces themselves in inappropriate places, dye their hair, wear all black, chain-smoke cigarettes and dance with their backs to the wall.  But they say, “Sam-hane.”  It’s pronounced, “Sow-ween.”  In Irish, the m and the h together form the “w” sound.  Let me know sometime, and we’ll talk about the battles of Mag Tuired.  Wait’ll you hear how that’s pronounced!
So, I’m doing my best to get everybody’s name right, and with all the Spanish-surnames, I was being careful to get them right.  ‘Cause, you know, I’m a Donaghe.  Then I get to “Lawrence Galleritos.”  Lawrence was a senior, and he ended up being Senior Class President that year (I was the Senior Class Sponsor, by the way—did I mention the kids loved me?) and he was just the best kid.  Straight A’s.  Ended up joining the Marines.
I call out, “Lawrence Galleritos,” and I make sure to get the Spanish “ll” sound right, pronouncing it ‘guy-ye-rritos,’ with a perfect accent.  And I start hearing giggling.  I try it again, and the kids are snickering.
Now, I prepared myself well for being a high school teacher.  I decided that I wasn’t going to let the kids ever be able to get to me, so I got rid of my feelings.  I figured, that way, nothing they said or did could hurt me (and if you’ve ever been around teenagers while being in a position of authority, you know what I mean).  I started wondering if I had a booger hanging from my nose, or my pants were unzipped, or whatever way I was humiliating myself in front of the kids, but now that I was an emotionless sociopath, I was able to simply ask them, “What?!  What’s so funny?”
Finally, one of the girls spoke up and corrected, “It’s ‘GAL-ler-eeTos,’ Mr. Donaghe.”  And that’s the day I learned that the Apaches were gringos.
Being of Irish descent, I’m also a storyteller and a world-class liar.  A lot of girls I’ve dated have a hard time telling whether I’m lying or not, and every semester, I always have a student finally groan out loud in frustration, “I just can’t tell when you’re telling the truth or not!”  Well, I just don’t know what to tell you, but I suggest finding someone that you trust who is of the Irish blood, and when I start to shoveling it thick, you can ask them.  Kind of let them be your beacon in the darkness.
And all that goes real well being from Deming.  Actually, I was born on a farm, south of town.  When people ask me, “What’s the matter with you—were you born in a barn?!”  I tell ‘em, “Yeah... So what’s you’re point?”  I ain’t no city boy.  I grew up drinking and partying.  And I had long hair.  In Deming.  So, I’d walk by the honkies (what we called the “cowboys”) and they’d say, “We’re gonna cut yer hair, boy, haw haw.”  And then I’d walk by the cholos, and they’d say “We’re gonna cut your hair, esé...”  What made it worse, before her accent changed, my little sister dated the cowboys.  But, you know, they stopped bothering me after I stuffed one of them into a trash-can.
So, I’m Irish, I’m a liar, I’m from Deming... I’m also left-handed.  In fact, most of my family was left handed—my mom, my brother, me, and three of my sisters.  Only my dad and my oldest sister were right-handed.  You’ve heard the saying, “If right-handed people use the left side of their brain, and left-handed people use the right side of their brain, then left-handed people are the only ones in their right minds.”  Well, that’s only half true.  It is true that right-handed people use the left side of their brains for math and logic, and the right side of their brains for art and visual coordination, but it is not true that left-handed people are just opposite of that.  Instead, a left-handed person’s brain uses both sides for both things.  That is, we can combine art and math, logic and music, words and pictures better.  We excel at creativity.  Want proof?  Jimi Hendrix.
Jimi Hendrix is what we call a triple-threat.  He was not only a lead guitarist—one of the absolute best, if not the best, who ever lived, but he was also a singer and a songwriter.  He was so far beyond most of the musicians nowadays, it’s hard for a lot of kids today to understand.  All you have to do is listen to his album, Electric Ladyland.  Let me know sometime, and I’ll give you my “Electric Ladyland story.”
But if you want more—Paul McCartney.  Did you know that the Beatles were actually Irish?  It was Paul McCartney that said the capitol of Ireland was Liverpool.  Hot dog.
Also, Leonardo DaVinci was left handed.  He not only wrote left-handed, he wrote his notes left-handed, backwards, and in code.  I remember a student raised his hand, one day while I was giving this introductory lecture in a college class.  “Well, do you think right-handed people are stupid, or something?”  I said, “No, but if you get stuck on a problem, ask a left-hander.”
In Spanish, the name for left-handedness, or to be left-handed, is izquierda.  It comes from the same Latin root as where we get the word for “sinister.”  People who were left-handed used to be thought to be touched by the devil, or more prone to wickedness.  It figures a right-hander would think that.  When my mom was a little girl, they used to slap her hand to make her stop writing with her left hand.  It was considered “wrong.”  And did you know, that when little left-handed boys are forced to write with their right hands, it induces stuttering.  Left handed people, especially boys, tend to stutter.  I know I do—especially around pretty, left-handed girls!
There have been quite a few left-handed presidents, but most of them have been since World War II, which makes sense, since before that, they would have been beaten like they were caught talking Irish.  The first one I know if is Garfield, not only the first orange cat to be elected president, but also the second president to be assassinated.  Herbert Hoover was thought to be left-handed, but had been “turned” right-handed.  Might explain his presidency.
After World War Two, President Harry S. God-Bless you Truman was left handed.  Ol’ “Give ‘Em Hell” Harry.  Eisenhower wasn’t left-handed.  Neither was John F. Kennedy, but John F. Kennedy, Jr. was left-handed, and that boy died too soon.  Johnson wasn’t.  Nixon wasn’t either, although he was certainly sinister. 
Gerald Ford was left-handed.  Jimmy Carter was not.  Ronald Reagan was left-handed, but he was “turned” right-handed.  I think that explains how he could betray the American people like he did.
George H.W. Bush was left handed.  And then, in 1992, when he ran for re-election, we had a “sinister” presidential election.  All three men who ran for president that year were left-handed—Bush was left-handed, Bill Clinton was, and so was Ross Perot.
Then again, four years later, we had another sinister presidential election—Bill Clinton ran against Bob Dole, and though Bob Dole was born right handed, Bob Dole was injured, so Bob Dole had to learn to write left handed.
In 2000, George W. Bush was obviously NOT left-handed.
And then, in 2008, we had yet another sinister presidential election when Barack Obama (left-handed) ran against John McCain (ALSO left handed).
So, my name is Carlton Donaghe.  I’m Irish, I tell great stories, but I lie a lot, I'm a long-haired country boy who was born in a barn near the Mexican border, and I’m left-handed.  If I haven't scared you off yet, I think you're going to have fun.  Welcome to Mojo Pop Comics.
Copyright © 2012 by Carlton J Donaghe.  All Rights Reserved.

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