21 May 08
From Two Tonys (Letter 5)
Two Tonys - A whacker of men and Mafia associate serving multiple life sentences for murders and violent crimes. Claims all his victims "had it coming."
Hey pal from across the pond,
I received your letter of 4-20-08. It’s always good to hear from you.
Hey! Thanks for the pics of your lady friends, Posh Bird and Cat Eyes. Good lookers both. You sly dog you. Playboy of the Misty Isles. You go boy, but make sure you hone your video picking skills so Posh Bird don’t slap you around. Love is strange. Start off right, not on shaky ground. Listen to me, I’m such a success at love and marriage. 3 exes, and I can’t count the bimbos. Yeah, I’m one to give advice on relationships. Ha. You do what you got to do. Just don’t let no lady whimp you out. (Enough said.)
Now to answer Floyd’s question. Once again, we all change. If I ever got out – which I won’t – I like to think I’d do the right thing and stay out of trouble. And I probably would not seek to harm no one. I fantasize about fishing trips and ball games and playing with my grandsons at the park. But that’s a nice normal fantasy. Reality is this. That ain’t going to happen. Neither is me getting out and putting my hack defense attorney’s (who sold me out) grey matter on the inside windshield of his car. Which is also a fantasy of mine. But I choose to fantasize about my grand kids. It’s easier on my hate goiter (which is shrinking by the way due to my reading of good books and thinking straight). Thanks to you. You’ve helped me. Along with my age, mellowing thoughts, and love for my family.
Look, Shaun, I’ve detected a few of your readers’ responses in your blog, a sort of, oh, poor old Two Tonys, he’s sad and never getting out, poor old Two Tonys. Well that sucks. I did my thing out there. It’s done. Like what my son-in-law said when I first met him in a prison visitation room, “Hey, it is what it is.” I can do this time but only what I’ll be alive to of it. I can’t do it all. But I’ve got to do what I can. And I like doing it feeling good.
Let me tell you about today. I just got back from breakfast. At 5:30am I went to rec. It was still dark out so I walked 15 laps. That’s 2 miles at a good fast clip. Now it was dark when we went out and the sun hadn’t come up yet, and as I’m walking my laps, here comes the sun over the landfill area garbage dump. Man was it nice. I stopped and just watched it rise. I can understand a rice farmer on the Nile Delta 5000 years ago, tending his fields in the dark and all at once here comes this bad fucking sun. No wonder they worshipped it. It was a natural high. So I got all inspired by myself. There was about 10 guys out that early but I exercised alone. I did a 9:30am workout. Push-ups. Squats. Back arms. I even sprinted 40 yards a couple of times.
Now get this. As I’m at my workout station, these two schmucks are walking laps and as they approach me, they’re having a discussion and talking so I can hear them. Now one has a 5 o’clock shadow with plucked eyebrows, thinks he’s Gidget with a ponytail. A real swisher. The other is a big lanky guy who years ago they put me in a cell with and he lasted 10 minutes and pushed the buzzer for the C.O. and told him he didn’t want to live with me, so they took him out. So anyway, he’s now a Christian. So he’s telling this Gidget freak how much he loves mankind, loud so I can hear.
“Yes, I love all people and I tell them. I don’t care who they are or what they did, I’ve got love for everyone.”
I said to myself, Don’t let these scumbags ruin your morning, and I got my head right and went on with my workout. My hate goiter subsided.
Look, you know I did 5 years in that fucking lockdown hole CB8-2. Cold chow. Roaches. Mice. Indifferent C.O.s. Feces throwers around you. No, now I consider my options. You, Shaun, taught me that.
I just left the chow hall. I had French toast, scrambled eggs, cold cereal, fried potatoes, 2 oranges, 1 biscuit, 1 milk, syrup, coffee. Good rap at the table discussing Michelangelo and the Sistine Chapel and the pervert Pope Julius II.
I just got out of a hot shower. I’m writing you, then I’m going to the Wachovia golf tournament. I’ll bust open a rahmen beef soup a little later. Or maybe I’ll open a tuna and break out a bagel.
My daughter is happy and married to a great loving husband and father. My grandsons are healthy and loved. Hey, bro, there’s blokes laying up in cancer wards, burn wards.
Shaun, if I allow myself to get all sad and on the woe is me bullshit, then I’m a weakass motherfucker.
I got that graveyard shift sanitation job. I go out at 10pm and pick up trash with 4 other guys. I see this as part of my journey. It is what it is.
Yeah, you can let Avuncular Floyd know that if fate should move its huge hand and I got released I probably would not bother anyone. But then if a motherfucker really asks for it and he’s got it coming, fuck yeah, I’ll try to show him how the cow eats the cabbage. That option is always open. Options, that’s what it’s all about. Take nothing off the table. People respect that or at least they should.
Hey bro, this Obama lame can’t keep his fucking mouth shut. He’s fucking up. I thought this asshole had a shot but he’s making me think he’s only human. He’s got some fools for handlers like that whacked out preacher Wright. He needs to be smitten with the plague, or a good steady rainfall of frogs, or the Nile turn to blood, or how about a good locust invasion. Something to get this asshole’s attention that God is angry. I mean like pissed off enough to let Hillary or that hack McCain win. Only time will tell. But God and Ophry want Obama for prez and they know what’s best for the masses, the great unwashed. Maybe if Obama wins he would grant me a pardon, and I could get hooked up with a job as a greeter at Harrod’s or Wal-Mart’s. And perhaps work my way into the gun department, so I could show blokes the wonders of a 2 inch snub nose Colt. Hey! I can dream can’t I?
Give my L&R to Mums and Dad and Sis and you be a good guy. No wild parties.
Hey bro, don’t misconstrue what I just wrote. I don’t think I’m institutionalised. It’s just that I’m a realist. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, so I’ve got to accept it and make the best of a bad situation. Much as a cancer patient does or a car wreck victim. Only my situation is self inflicted due to bad choices and not considering options and penalties. But so what. I should do this time sad and sniveling?
If you recall one time I told you about that asshole I took out down in Tucson, and after I was found guilty and called back to court for sentencing, the guy’s wife gets up acting like a loving victim and goes on about never wanting me to have a happy day again or to smell roses and all that bullshit, and that I should suffer. Well, if that dope dealing broad had a video camera on me today she’d be pissed. I ain’t got no roses to smell but fuck it. I’ll smell some aftershave and make believe it’s roses. Yeah, to quote our beloved asshole of a president, “Bring it on.”
Hey friend, seriously, how are you doing out there? Are you happy? Are you working? I know you’re staying out of trouble, you’re too smart not to. What about old friends? Is Wild Man around? I enjoyed your pics and I’m happy you’re gone from this shithole.
I talk about you to a lot of these guys. Some know you, some don’t. But when your name comes up it’s all in good recall. Believe me, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Besides, you did your time textbook style. No drama. I was and still am glad to say, Yeah, Shaun! Yeah, he’s a friend of mine.
So you stay strong out there. Watch for those curve balls life will throw at all of us. Just a little advice from an old lifer who was a tough guy for 20 seconds and an asshole for 112 years. Options, always consider your options.
Oh yeah, tell Richard I really enjoyed his books, specially Into Thin Air. Its’a mystery why people want to suffer on that mountain. I guess the answer to that mystery is because it’s there. He was very thoughtful in sending them to me. A good bloke as you Limeys say.
I enjoy your letters. You and your readers feel free to ask me questions about anything. Life’s journey. Religion. Pride. Prejudice. Politics.
Hey bro, enjoy yourself and don’t forget in the turmoil of life’s struggles it’s good to stop and smell the roses or in some cases – the aftershave.
“You’re my horse even if you never win a race.”
Coming next: Two Tonys' friend, Warrior, introduces himself to us.
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