Everyone knows that Voodoo is just something scary in the movies. Right? That it can't hurt you. Keerect? That's true. Unless you believe it. Then it can kill you. A death spell placed on a true believer can cause that cursed soul to wither and die. Happens with regularity.
In our office, at the CCSO, Roger Fussell and I had displayed some artifacts taken from a Voodoo grave discovered in some remote area of Golden Gate. We had the small statue of Chango, who--if properly plied with sacrifices--will intercede with the divine gods that allow you into voodoo heaven. We also had a voodoo doll, a statuette of a black, female figure, some dried fruit and lizards, and the letter to Chango himself. All this had been sprinkled with chicken blood. (Our lab folks had checked)
There were people that came into our office who would take one look at the display, and do one of those feet don't fail me now moves. Some were police officers. One of the officers would, thereafter, cross the street if he saw me coming. He told other cops I was a devil. He was terrified of me.
In South Florida, people on the street that are practitioners of Santeria--Haitian Voodoo--are common. A ubiquitious mojo found in a bag tied around their necks is the forked bone from an possum's penis--a fertility enhancer.
And I know that some of us cops--and other bureaucrats--are called zombies. But a cop believing in Voodoo?
How do folks get in such a condition? What's the appeal? I just never could understand the fascination of Voodoo. Build a big fire, do the naked zombie dance with a bunch of lustful, writhing Voodoo priestesses. Guzzling aphrodisiacs until everyone ends up bumpin' uglies in a squirming orgy. Who would that appeal to?
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