Desperate times call for desperate measures. Cast about in a sea of road losses, I've turned to some admittedly extreme measures to help turn back the tide of losing.
Oh Jobu, voodoo god of road victories, I beseech you for mercy. For far too long have you punished your flock. For 3 long years, through 18 excruciating defeats, you have deemed us unworthy of your love.
I have been faithful. Assured others you would come. I offered you cigar..
I'm pissed off now, Jobu. Look, I good to you. I stick up for you. You don't help me now, I say "Fuck you," Jobu, I do it myself.