12 June 05
Telephone Swindle
Inmate phone calls generate multi-million dollar profits for the telephone service contractors at the expense of prisoners families and friends who are mostly members of the lower-income groups in society. Here, local calls cost from $2 upwards - at that rate, if the 2 million+ prison population average four calls per week then the contractors would reap approximately half a billion dollars per year. Adding long distance charges to that figure, I estimate that inmate phone calls are a half to one billion dollar a year industry.
The cost of long distance phone calls is particularly high. In 2002 I placed a call to my parents from the Towers Jail that cost $50 for 10 minutes. Using a conservative estimate, that my call cost the phone company 5 cents a minute, implies that the profit to the phone company was in excess of 10,000%! Before my parents disclosed the cost of the call after they had received the bill, I believed that there were laws against such corporate exploitation. Now I am starting to know better, and I recently read about a phone company scam that demonstrates how the companies and State leaders entangle the prison system in their web of corruption.
In California, Proposition 66 aiming to abolish the Three Strikes law, which would have freed thousands of non-violent criminals serving life for trivial crimes, was recently defeated by a slim margin. Arnold Schwartzenegger campaigned against Proposition 66 spooking the public into believing that 26,000 violent criminals would be prowling the streets if it were to be passed. And who was one of the biggest contributers to the opposition campaign? The founder of Broadcom Corporation, which owns MCI, which has the exclusive contract with the State of California, to monopolise prisoner phone calls.
Is the overriding objective of the mass incarceration of non violent offenders the provision of effortless rewards to the prison industry’s top brass and their contractor buddies? Should inmates be serving life sentences to help MCI make more money? How can the leaders of a country based on liberty and the proposition that all men are created equal, be allowing this to happen?
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Copyright © 2004-2005 Shaun P. Attwood
10 June 05
Gone With
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Copyright © 2004-2005 Shaun P. Attwood
Gone With
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Copyright © 2004-2005 Shaun P. Attwood
08 June 05
Heat
On my radio, I’ve been hearing Excessive Heat Warnings issued by the National Weather Service. Outdoor high temperatures recently rocketed from 90° to 110° without stopping at 100°.
We no longer have a rec field: we have scorched earth.
The swamp cooler and fan are keeping the cell temperature tolerable - an improvement from this time last year. Soon, the heat is expected to rise above 120°, so I’ve not yet experienced peak summer temperatures in Buckeye.
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Copyright © 2004-2005 Shaun P. Attwood
Heat
On my radio, I’ve been hearing Excessive Heat Warnings issued by the National Weather Service. Outdoor high temperatures recently rocketed from 90° to 110° without stopping at 100°.
We no longer have a rec field: we have scorched earth.
The swamp cooler and fan are keeping the cell temperature tolerable - an improvement from this time last year. Soon, the heat is expected to rise above 120°, so I’ve not yet experienced peak summer temperatures in Buckeye.
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Copyright © 2004-2005 Shaun P. Attwood
20 May 05
Latent Talents
Long Island has been studying hard. I've been sharing some of my books with him including R. Kolb’s The International Finance Reader, Graham & Dodd’s Security Analysis and S. Natenberg’s Option Volatility & Pricing (kindly provided by Guy Goo. Thanks!)
He has become so enthused about the financial markets that he has begun charting stocks and indexes. We are trading (on paper) options and tallying our imaginary profits, so that he can get a feel for market movements.
There are probably many talented people in the prison system, who, if given an education could become productive members of society. Sadly, other than a few token programs and GED schooling (high-school level education) I am unaware of any other classes. Four times I have applied for college correspondence courses, and each time I’ve been denied. Until there is an emphasis on education and rehabilitation, the growing prison population will continue to be a
problem.
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Latent Talents
Long Island has been studying hard. I've been sharing some of my books with him including R. Kolb’s The International Finance Reader, Graham & Dodd’s Security Analysis and S. Natenberg’s Option Volatility & Pricing (kindly provided by Guy Goo. Thanks!)
He has become so enthused about the financial markets that he has begun charting stocks and indexes. We are trading (on paper) options and tallying our imaginary profits, so that he can get a feel for market movements.
There are probably many talented people in the prison system, who, if given an education could become productive members of society. Sadly, other than a few token programs and GED schooling (high-school level education) I am unaware of any other classes. Four times I have applied for college correspondence courses, and each time I’ve been denied. Until there is an emphasis on education and rehabilitation, the growing prison population will continue to be a
problem.
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
18 May 05
Orangemen Are Not the Only Fruits
Email Jon at writeinside@hotmail.com or post comments below
Orangemen Are Not the Only Fruits
Email Jon at writeinside@hotmail.com or post comments below
14 May 05
Frankie Is Here
I was returning to my cell from the chow hall when a stocky Chicano requested my presence at the poker table.
“I’ve been asked to tell you that Frankie is here,” he whispered in my ear. He also divulged that Frankie is housed on the other side of Building 2, thus, I shall not be going to rec or chow with him.
Through some mutual friends I’m going to arrange a meeting with Frankie. I intend to maintain our friendship, but also to make it clear that the prison marriage he desires is not an option. Out of all the thousands of men I met in the jail system, isn’t it odd that I am now sharing a roof with Frankie?
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Frankie Is Here
I was returning to my cell from the chow hall when a stocky Chicano requested my presence at the poker table.
“I’ve been asked to tell you that Frankie is here,” he whispered in my ear. He also divulged that Frankie is housed on the other side of Building 2, thus, I shall not be going to rec or chow with him.
Through some mutual friends I’m going to arrange a meeting with Frankie. I intend to maintain our friendship, but also to make it clear that the prison marriage he desires is not an option. Out of all the thousands of men I met in the jail system, isn’t it odd that I am now sharing a roof with Frankie?
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12 May 05
The Howard League For Penal Reform
I would like to thank Finola Farrant, the Project Manager at the Howard League For Penal Reform for requesting and publishing a written piece about my time spent on remand.
The HLFPR is an organisation that works tirelessly for humane and rational reform of the penal system.
Keep up the good work Finola!
In solidarity,
Jon
The Howard League For Penal Reform
I would like to thank Finola Farrant, the Project Manager at the Howard League For Penal Reform for requesting and publishing a written piece about my time spent on remand.
The HLFPR is an organisation that works tirelessly for humane and rational reform of the penal system.
Keep up the good work Finola!
In solidarity,
Jon
08 May 05
Prison Lingo
Jarod in San Francisco has asked me to translate a passage from the Bible into prison lingo. So, as I enjoy the clash between David and Goliath, I have chosen 1 Samuel 17 (45-50).
1 Samuel 17
45 Then David said to the Philistines, “ You come to me with a sword, with a spear and with a javelin. But I come to you in the name of the Lord of the hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied.”
46 “This day the Lord will deliver you into my hand, and I will strike you and take your head from you…”
47 “Then all this assembly shall know that the Lord does not save with sword and spear; for the battle is the Lord’s, and he will give you into our hands.”
48 So it was, when the Philistine arose and drew near to meet David, that David hurried and ran toward the army to meet the Philistine.
49 Then David put his hand into his bag and took out a stone; and he slung it and struck the Philistine in his forehead, so that the stone sank into his forehead, and he fell on his face to the earth.
50 So David prevailed over the Philistine with a sling and a stone, and struck the Philistine and killed him. But there was no sword in the hand of David.
1 Sammy 17
45 David called out the dude who looked like he could crank a whole lotta iron on the weight pile, “It’s lookin’ like you’re strapped with a shank and a shiv, but I’m not stressin’ cos the Big Homey Upstairs has got my back.”
46 “Punk Philistine, today your ass is out.”
47 “Bitch, all the homies on the rec field are gunna see that you’re a take-it- in-the-ass sissy boy.”
48 The puffed up Philistine moved on David, and David was squared up to handle business.
49 David broke out with his own shit; the Philistine was smashed in the head with a battery, and fell tits down on the rec field.
50 Without a shank, David had taken the Philistine out with a battery in a sock.
email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com or post them below
Prison Lingo
Jarod in San Francisco has asked me to translate a passage from the Bible into prison lingo. So, as I enjoy the clash between David and Goliath, I have chosen 1 Samuel 17 (45-50).
1 Samuel 17
45 Then David said to the Philistines, “ You come to me with a sword, with a spear and with a javelin. But I come to you in the name of the Lord of the hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied.”
46 “This day the Lord will deliver you into my hand, and I will strike you and take your head from you…”
47 “Then all this assembly shall know that the Lord does not save with sword and spear; for the battle is the Lord’s, and he will give you into our hands.”
48 So it was, when the Philistine arose and drew near to meet David, that David hurried and ran toward the army to meet the Philistine.
49 Then David put his hand into his bag and took out a stone; and he slung it and struck the Philistine in his forehead, so that the stone sank into his forehead, and he fell on his face to the earth.
50 So David prevailed over the Philistine with a sling and a stone, and struck the Philistine and killed him. But there was no sword in the hand of David.
1 Sammy 17
45 David called out the dude who looked like he could crank a whole lotta iron on the weight pile, “It’s lookin’ like you’re strapped with a shank and a shiv, but I’m not stressin’ cos the Big Homey Upstairs has got my back.”
46 “Punk Philistine, today your ass is out.”
47 “Bitch, all the homies on the rec field are gunna see that you’re a take-it- in-the-ass sissy boy.”
48 The puffed up Philistine moved on David, and David was squared up to handle business.
49 David broke out with his own shit; the Philistine was smashed in the head with a battery, and fell tits down on the rec field.
50 Without a shank, David had taken the Philistine out with a battery in a sock.
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03 May 05
Xena Responds
After reading the comments posted to the blog Bon Voyage Balls, Xena responded:
Anatomy check for those who do not know what a vas deferens is: the extension of the epididymis of the testis that ascends from the scrotum and joins the seminal vesicle to form the ejaculatory duct. It is enclosed by fibrous connective tissue with blood vessels, nerves and lymphatics, and passes through the inguinal canal as part of the spermatic cord.
The operation was not done because Gina hated herself or wanted to cause any self-harm. She truly feels at peace, having performed her makeshift surgery, as I would considering her personality.
Yours truly, Xena
Comments can be posted below or emailed to: writeinside@hotmail.com
Xena Responds
After reading the comments posted to the blog Bon Voyage Balls, Xena responded:
Anatomy check for those who do not know what a vas deferens is: the extension of the epididymis of the testis that ascends from the scrotum and joins the seminal vesicle to form the ejaculatory duct. It is enclosed by fibrous connective tissue with blood vessels, nerves and lymphatics, and passes through the inguinal canal as part of the spermatic cord.
The operation was not done because Gina hated herself or wanted to cause any self-harm. She truly feels at peace, having performed her makeshift surgery, as I would considering her personality.
Yours truly, Xena
Comments can be posted below or emailed to: writeinside@hotmail.com
23 April 05
Frankie’s Imminent Arrival
Frankie has been approved for this unit. There are two buildings here, each containing four fifty-man pods, so there is a one in eight chance that I’ll be sharing a pod with Frankie, and a one in four chance that I’ll be going to the chow hall and the rec field with him ( two pods at a time eat together and attend rec together). Regardless of where he is housed, I will inevitably see him soon.
Following the sandwiched love letter I received a second letter from Frankie:
“What’s up? Did you find yourself another esposo [husband]? How are things going on at your end besides you cheating on me? I thought it was all about you and me. It’s all gravy cause nobody can lay pipe like me. Tu esposo [Your husband]”
After being approved for this unit it usually takes between one to two months to get transported. Now that Frankie is approved he should be here soon.
Frankie’s Imminent Arrival
Frankie has been approved for this unit. There are two buildings here, each containing four fifty-man pods, so there is a one in eight chance that I’ll be sharing a pod with Frankie, and a one in four chance that I’ll be going to the chow hall and the rec field with him ( two pods at a time eat together and attend rec together). Regardless of where he is housed, I will inevitably see him soon.
Following the sandwiched love letter I received a second letter from Frankie:
“What’s up? Did you find yourself another esposo [husband]? How are things going on at your end besides you cheating on me? I thought it was all about you and me. It’s all gravy cause nobody can lay pipe like me. Tu esposo [Your husband]”
After being approved for this unit it usually takes between one to two months to get transported. Now that Frankie is approved he should be here soon.
17 April 05
Ganja: should it be legalised?
My reading has led me to believe there are various solutions available that would go some way to solving the problem of prison overcrowding. In this blog entry I am going to suggest a simple government policy change that could reduce overcrowding. Although this idea will be considered radical by some, it is supported by such people as Milton Friedman.
According to the book You Are Being Lied To there are more prisoners incarcerated for marijuana charges in the US than the entire prison population of Europe. A solution to prison overcrowding could be the government legalising weed and selling it at cost. What would that achieve? Imagine the reduced stress on the justice and prison systems if all nondangerous
pothead prisoners were freed and all prosecutions against those on remand were discontinued. Prison overcrowding could be ended almost overnight.
The benefits to society would be enormous, but vested interests have sensationalised the dangers of weed in order to maintain the status quo. Marijuana is not the most dangerous of drugs. Highly addictive nicotine is the biggest killer, yet it is legal. Alcohol causes half of the total deaths from traffic accidents each year. The Founding Fathers grew hemp, yet adults are now jailed for lifestyle choices that do no harm to other people. I am amazed that potheads are being arrested, prosecuted and imprisoned by people who either smoke cigarettes or drink alcohol or pop prescription pills. (Supreme Court Justice William Rehnquist was addicted to sleeping pills.)
One of the reasons why weed is not legalised is because the game of cops and pushers generates money for various agencies and contractors. Legalisation would deprive the DEA and other law enforcement agencies of billions of dollars of taxpayers' money. Pretending to stop drugs is big business. The money that is being frittered away should be going to education, healthcare, and the pension system, instead, it is wasted on a charade that is having zero effect on drug crimes.
Just over a century ago Western governments were selling opium – a more dangerous drug than pot – to the population of China. Our governments use propaganda to justify whatever is most lucrative to them at the time. Locking up nondangerous potheads seems to be a senseless waste of economic resources that profits elite vested interests at the expense of the majority.
I would like to hear your views on the above,
Jon
Send comments to writeinside@hotmail.comOr post them on the site yourself below
Ganja: should it be legalised?
My reading has led me to believe there are various solutions available that would go some way to solving the problem of prison overcrowding. In this blog entry I am going to suggest a simple government policy change that could reduce overcrowding. Although this idea will be considered radical by some, it is supported by such people as Milton Friedman.
According to the book You Are Being Lied To there are more prisoners incarcerated for marijuana charges in the US than the entire prison population of Europe. A solution to prison overcrowding could be the government legalising weed and selling it at cost. What would that achieve? Imagine the reduced stress on the justice and prison systems if all nondangerous
pothead prisoners were freed and all prosecutions against those on remand were discontinued. Prison overcrowding could be ended almost overnight.
The benefits to society would be enormous, but vested interests have sensationalised the dangers of weed in order to maintain the status quo. Marijuana is not the most dangerous of drugs. Highly addictive nicotine is the biggest killer, yet it is legal. Alcohol causes half of the total deaths from traffic accidents each year. The Founding Fathers grew hemp, yet adults are now jailed for lifestyle choices that do no harm to other people. I am amazed that potheads are being arrested, prosecuted and imprisoned by people who either smoke cigarettes or drink alcohol or pop prescription pills. (Supreme Court Justice William Rehnquist was addicted to sleeping pills.)
One of the reasons why weed is not legalised is because the game of cops and pushers generates money for various agencies and contractors. Legalisation would deprive the DEA and other law enforcement agencies of billions of dollars of taxpayers' money. Pretending to stop drugs is big business. The money that is being frittered away should be going to education, healthcare, and the pension system, instead, it is wasted on a charade that is having zero effect on drug crimes.
Just over a century ago Western governments were selling opium – a more dangerous drug than pot – to the population of China. Our governments use propaganda to justify whatever is most lucrative to them at the time. Locking up nondangerous potheads seems to be a senseless waste of economic resources that profits elite vested interests at the expense of the majority.
I would like to hear your views on the above,
Jon
Send comments to writeinside@hotmail.comOr post them on the site yourself below
15 April 05
Anal Virginity Threats: Kenny’s Come-on
(Threat level: moderate)
During a recent yoga session with Popcorn, I was approached by Kenny, who is a rare sight on the rec field. Kenny offered some stretching advice.
After rec, Long Island divulged that he had noticed Kenny ogling my behind when I was bending over to do yoga postures.
The next day, I received a letter from Kenny.
Hi [Jon]! This is Kenny writing from afar. There’s been a lot on my mind that I’ve wanted to share with you for a very long time. At least it feels like a v. long time. I’m not afraid of too many things in this world, and I usually prefer to look someone strait in the eyes when I’m talking about something that means so very much to me, but in this case, I am afraid. I’m scared to hear you tell me (however tactful) that I’m offending you, or that I’ve got no chance in hell, and that’s where I should go, or maybe you’d be kind and say “…we can still be friends.”
Rejection scares me when it comes from someone I admire [Jon] you know I’m gay, and until you tell me otherwise, I have to assume you are strait. But for so long now, ever since I first seen you; first heard the sound of your voice, I’ve wanted to be closer than just a friendly acquaintance. You are sooo handsome to me, and intelligent, and rather self confident-a strong man. You have all the things I admire - most, anyway since I’ve never seen you with less than shorts on!! Yes [Jon], you know where this is going. I want you to read this - keep it to just you and me. Please do not betray my trust/secrecy. Even though people know I’m gay, I do not want anyone to know who I have feelings for, and I do not want anyone to know who I ‘get together with, when, where, or what exactly happens between myself and a guy that’s willing to give me a chance to show him excellent pleasures. I’ve been gay since about 12 years old, and I love myself just the way I am. When someone strait trys to understand, its impossible! Try explaining a colour to someone born blind.
Being in prison for years on end, without the sexual pleasures of a woman, leaves most men frustrated and left with what they feel is no alternative than to fantasize with some long-ago fantasy and a magazine in the company of their own right hand. That gets old after years and years.
To finally decide to give a guy like me a chance to do the very same things (most things) a woman can do leaves a guy realizing he should have let me please him long ago.
[Jon], someday, somehow, I would really love to get together with you. I’ve admired you for so long. And when I watched you do that yoga, in all those positions, all I could do was dream of how wonderful it would be, to be with you, in a room, just you and me, in total privacy….
Since being with you would be our ‘first time’, its best, if you would give me a chance, to go slow, and show you what I can do for you a lttle at a time. When you were out there doing that yoga, and the morning sunrise made all that hair on your legs shine - as I watched you from a distance, I imagined how fine you must look if you were with me and….
This would be our secret. And the things written here are our secret too. Please do not betray my trust. This is no work of fiction. Return this to me. If you would ever want this to hapen, you know where I live, and the thing to do, is to come over here when everyone goes to rec. [Jon], in the privacy of my room, there is nothing (nearly so) I would not do to please you. I have other fantasies too. If you wish, I will write them in my next letter.
How do you feel about Kenny’s approach? What should I tell him that won't hurt his feelings?
Cheers! Jon
Anal Virginity Threats: Kenny’s Come-on
(Threat level: moderate)
During a recent yoga session with Popcorn, I was approached by Kenny, who is a rare sight on the rec field. Kenny offered some stretching advice.
After rec, Long Island divulged that he had noticed Kenny ogling my behind when I was bending over to do yoga postures.
The next day, I received a letter from Kenny.
Hi [Jon]! This is Kenny writing from afar. There’s been a lot on my mind that I’ve wanted to share with you for a very long time. At least it feels like a v. long time. I’m not afraid of too many things in this world, and I usually prefer to look someone strait in the eyes when I’m talking about something that means so very much to me, but in this case, I am afraid. I’m scared to hear you tell me (however tactful) that I’m offending you, or that I’ve got no chance in hell, and that’s where I should go, or maybe you’d be kind and say “…we can still be friends.”
Rejection scares me when it comes from someone I admire [Jon] you know I’m gay, and until you tell me otherwise, I have to assume you are strait. But for so long now, ever since I first seen you; first heard the sound of your voice, I’ve wanted to be closer than just a friendly acquaintance. You are sooo handsome to me, and intelligent, and rather self confident-a strong man. You have all the things I admire - most, anyway since I’ve never seen you with less than shorts on!! Yes [Jon], you know where this is going. I want you to read this - keep it to just you and me. Please do not betray my trust/secrecy. Even though people know I’m gay, I do not want anyone to know who I have feelings for, and I do not want anyone to know who I ‘get together with, when, where, or what exactly happens between myself and a guy that’s willing to give me a chance to show him excellent pleasures. I’ve been gay since about 12 years old, and I love myself just the way I am. When someone strait trys to understand, its impossible! Try explaining a colour to someone born blind.
Being in prison for years on end, without the sexual pleasures of a woman, leaves most men frustrated and left with what they feel is no alternative than to fantasize with some long-ago fantasy and a magazine in the company of their own right hand. That gets old after years and years.
To finally decide to give a guy like me a chance to do the very same things (most things) a woman can do leaves a guy realizing he should have let me please him long ago.
[Jon], someday, somehow, I would really love to get together with you. I’ve admired you for so long. And when I watched you do that yoga, in all those positions, all I could do was dream of how wonderful it would be, to be with you, in a room, just you and me, in total privacy….
Since being with you would be our ‘first time’, its best, if you would give me a chance, to go slow, and show you what I can do for you a lttle at a time. When you were out there doing that yoga, and the morning sunrise made all that hair on your legs shine - as I watched you from a distance, I imagined how fine you must look if you were with me and….
This would be our secret. And the things written here are our secret too. Please do not betray my trust. This is no work of fiction. Return this to me. If you would ever want this to hapen, you know where I live, and the thing to do, is to come over here when everyone goes to rec. [Jon], in the privacy of my room, there is nothing (nearly so) I would not do to please you. I have other fantasies too. If you wish, I will write them in my next letter.
How do you feel about Kenny’s approach? What should I tell him that won't hurt his feelings?
Cheers! Jon
12 April 05
Pops and Slingblade
It’s 1pm and I’m sitting with Pops at a picnic table. Pop's is talking about his cellmate, Slingblade (they live next door to me). It's rumoured that Slingblade came back from Vietnam and killed his father in law . He barely talks to anybody but he can often be seen standing alone in the day room, staring blankly or cackling and muttering to himself. When he gets excited his body trembles and he shakes his massive fists. He is heavily medicated and his jumpy behaviour has caused most inmates to stay away from him.
“So how’s Slingblade doing, Pops?”
“He’s getting worse. I’m gonna' have to get out of that cell. As soon as he gets his toilet paper, he trades it for soda, and then he wipes his big butt with pages out of the TV Guide and takes a shower to clean his ass.”
“He wipes his arse with the TV Guide?”
“Yeah. He craps a minimum of three times each day. He already went twice today. He sounds like a pop gun when he’s shittin’ – pwk-pwk-pwk –like his ass is shootin' out a wad.”
“What’s a wad?”
“A little round turd.”
“Like rabbit poops?”
“The same shape but bigger. He’ll sit on the toilet for fifteen minutes and then he starts sneezin’ and coughin’, and the cell stinks.”
“How do you hang with that?”
“I cover my face with a sheet or a pair of ol’ worn-out shorts. I’ve got a jar of perfumed vaseline that I put up my nose.”
“And do these methods work?”
“It don’t stink so bad, but sometimes it comes through the sheets.”
“Why don’t you just leave the cell before he goes?”
“Oh hell! He never tells me that he’s gonna go. Sometimes he’s talkin’ and he just pulls his pants down and – bam! – before I can even move.”
“How long has he been your celly?
“Three years and he gets worse and worse. When we were in CB2 [a different prison] in single cells, five guards came in, opened his cell, and threw a five-gallon pail of water, with a bunch of disinfectant in it, on him. He was layin’ on his bunk and they just threw it on him.”
“Why did they do that?”
“Because he wasn’t cleanin’ his room, makin’ his bed, or takin’ a shower or nothin’.”
“Are the rumours true that he pees in the sink?”
“Yeah. I’ll be sittin’ on the pot and he just can’t wait.”
“Who’s that you’re talking about?” a Chicano inmate called Cortez asks.
“My celly. He’s crazy.”
“Yeah. I saw him in the shower the other day barefooted,”Cortez says.
“I told him that if he keeps peein' in the sink I’ll have him moved out. He has no manners. He’s never heard of Emily Post.”
“I haven't either," I say.
"Who’s Emily Post?" Cortez asks.
“Where’ve you two been? She wrote the best book on etiquette ever written. Ol’ Slingblade doesn’t read a goddam thing. He doesn’t write or anythin’. He crawls up on his bunk, turns the TV on, falls asleep, snores loudly and leaves his goddam TV on all night.”
“Does he go to the store?” Cortez asks.
“Yeah, he got eleven-hundred dollars recently, and he eats all the goddam time. It’s half spent already. At CB2 someone dropped a hamburger patty and asked for a new one and ol’ Slingblade just picked it up and ate it – like a Dewrock Jersey hog.”
“Did he clean it off?”
“Nah. It was layin’ in the dirt on the filthy floor. He didn’t give a damn.”
“I’ve seen him eatin’ out of the trash bag," Cortez says.
“Oh, yeah. I saw an officer once stop him from eatin’ a bun and a hamburger out of the trash.”
“Doesn’t he get enough food?” I ask.
“Hell no! Never. He’s all gut. He’s not built. He’s got a flat chest. He just sucks in air and gas. He doesn’t chew anythin’ Have you noticed him quiverin'?”
“Yeah,” I reply, fixating on Pops' unshaven turkey neck that wobbles as he speaks.
“He takes psych meds," Pops says. "If I clap my hands, it sets him off. He’ll be going duh-duh-duh-duh. In all my life I’ve never come across such a person before.”
“Is the rumour that he strangled his father in law true?”
“I heard he walked in and found his wife huggin’ another fella and he just squeezed her to death.”
“Does he have kids?”
“One daughter.”
“Does she visit him?”
“He’ll no!”
“I don’t know if he was ever slimmer but I can’t imagine a woman under that guy,” Cotez says.
“I see him laughin’ a lot,” I say.
“Yeah. All the time – whether he’s layin’ in bad or on the pot, it's like he’s watchin’ Bob Hope with the TV off.”
“Does he choke his chicken in front of you?” Cortez asks.
“He lopes his mule layin’ on his side facin' the wall. I can tell cause he’ll be squeezin’ his butt cheeks, tryin’ to get his rocks off. Sometimes I clap while he’s doin’ it and it’ll startle him.”
“Does he make a mess?” Cortez asks.
“I don’t know. If I was gonna do it, I’d take a wash cloth or old towel, but I don’t have to do that. I’ve had a very good life with female friends and sweethearts. Most guys are stupid, they think that women are fuck machines.”
“And how do you view women?” I ask.
“I treat 'em like ladies, and if they want you, they’ll make the moves. That’s what I always found.”
“That’s good advice,” I say, nodding in agreement. “Do you think that there’s any difference between European and American women?”
“European’s have hairy underarms,” Cortez says.
“I’d say that European’s have better manners, they’re real polite.”
Email Jon at writeinside@hotmail.com
or post your comments below
Pops and Slingblade
It’s 1pm and I’m sitting with Pops at a picnic table. Pop's is talking about his cellmate, Slingblade (they live next door to me). It's rumoured that Slingblade came back from Vietnam and killed his father in law . He barely talks to anybody but he can often be seen standing alone in the day room, staring blankly or cackling and muttering to himself. When he gets excited his body trembles and he shakes his massive fists. He is heavily medicated and his jumpy behaviour has caused most inmates to stay away from him.
“So how’s Slingblade doing, Pops?”
“He’s getting worse. I’m gonna' have to get out of that cell. As soon as he gets his toilet paper, he trades it for soda, and then he wipes his big butt with pages out of the TV Guide and takes a shower to clean his ass.”
“He wipes his arse with the TV Guide?”
“Yeah. He craps a minimum of three times each day. He already went twice today. He sounds like a pop gun when he’s shittin’ – pwk-pwk-pwk –like his ass is shootin' out a wad.”
“What’s a wad?”
“A little round turd.”
“Like rabbit poops?”
“The same shape but bigger. He’ll sit on the toilet for fifteen minutes and then he starts sneezin’ and coughin’, and the cell stinks.”
“How do you hang with that?”
“I cover my face with a sheet or a pair of ol’ worn-out shorts. I’ve got a jar of perfumed vaseline that I put up my nose.”
“And do these methods work?”
“It don’t stink so bad, but sometimes it comes through the sheets.”
“Why don’t you just leave the cell before he goes?”
“Oh hell! He never tells me that he’s gonna go. Sometimes he’s talkin’ and he just pulls his pants down and – bam! – before I can even move.”
“How long has he been your celly?
“Three years and he gets worse and worse. When we were in CB2 [a different prison] in single cells, five guards came in, opened his cell, and threw a five-gallon pail of water, with a bunch of disinfectant in it, on him. He was layin’ on his bunk and they just threw it on him.”
“Why did they do that?”
“Because he wasn’t cleanin’ his room, makin’ his bed, or takin’ a shower or nothin’.”
“Are the rumours true that he pees in the sink?”
“Yeah. I’ll be sittin’ on the pot and he just can’t wait.”
“Who’s that you’re talking about?” a Chicano inmate called Cortez asks.
“My celly. He’s crazy.”
“Yeah. I saw him in the shower the other day barefooted,”Cortez says.
“I told him that if he keeps peein' in the sink I’ll have him moved out. He has no manners. He’s never heard of Emily Post.”
“I haven't either," I say.
"Who’s Emily Post?" Cortez asks.
“Where’ve you two been? She wrote the best book on etiquette ever written. Ol’ Slingblade doesn’t read a goddam thing. He doesn’t write or anythin’. He crawls up on his bunk, turns the TV on, falls asleep, snores loudly and leaves his goddam TV on all night.”
“Does he go to the store?” Cortez asks.
“Yeah, he got eleven-hundred dollars recently, and he eats all the goddam time. It’s half spent already. At CB2 someone dropped a hamburger patty and asked for a new one and ol’ Slingblade just picked it up and ate it – like a Dewrock Jersey hog.”
“Did he clean it off?”
“Nah. It was layin’ in the dirt on the filthy floor. He didn’t give a damn.”
“I’ve seen him eatin’ out of the trash bag," Cortez says.
“Oh, yeah. I saw an officer once stop him from eatin’ a bun and a hamburger out of the trash.”
“Doesn’t he get enough food?” I ask.
“Hell no! Never. He’s all gut. He’s not built. He’s got a flat chest. He just sucks in air and gas. He doesn’t chew anythin’ Have you noticed him quiverin'?”
“Yeah,” I reply, fixating on Pops' unshaven turkey neck that wobbles as he speaks.
“He takes psych meds," Pops says. "If I clap my hands, it sets him off. He’ll be going duh-duh-duh-duh. In all my life I’ve never come across such a person before.”
“Is the rumour that he strangled his father in law true?”
“I heard he walked in and found his wife huggin’ another fella and he just squeezed her to death.”
“Does he have kids?”
“One daughter.”
“Does she visit him?”
“He’ll no!”
“I don’t know if he was ever slimmer but I can’t imagine a woman under that guy,” Cotez says.
“I see him laughin’ a lot,” I say.
“Yeah. All the time – whether he’s layin’ in bad or on the pot, it's like he’s watchin’ Bob Hope with the TV off.”
“Does he choke his chicken in front of you?” Cortez asks.
“He lopes his mule layin’ on his side facin' the wall. I can tell cause he’ll be squeezin’ his butt cheeks, tryin’ to get his rocks off. Sometimes I clap while he’s doin’ it and it’ll startle him.”
“Does he make a mess?” Cortez asks.
“I don’t know. If I was gonna do it, I’d take a wash cloth or old towel, but I don’t have to do that. I’ve had a very good life with female friends and sweethearts. Most guys are stupid, they think that women are fuck machines.”
“And how do you view women?” I ask.
“I treat 'em like ladies, and if they want you, they’ll make the moves. That’s what I always found.”
“That’s good advice,” I say, nodding in agreement. “Do you think that there’s any difference between European and American women?”
“European’s have hairy underarms,” Cortez says.
“I’d say that European’s have better manners, they’re real polite.”
Email Jon at writeinside@hotmail.com
or post your comments below
8th April 05
Question Time
Nick asked if I had any stock picks
Although I am itching to analyse individual companies I have insufficient info at my disposal to make specific recommendations; however, the general investment advice that I’ve had published since my arrest has been fruitful. My long gold recommendation (published in the Investors Business Daily) was followed by a spectacular $150 rise. My main investment themes were blogged here, which are long gold, long oil, short the dollar, and exercising caution with common stocks (especially when dealing with deceitful mutual fund companies and pension fund managers who are skimming invisible fees from your capital).
From studying geopolitics I believe that there are several profitable sectors to invest in - especially when sell-offs occur. Defense companies should do well, especially those enabling the military to fight video-game-style wars from computer terminals utilizing networks and satellite technology. Bush’s re-election equals an increasingly militaristic Uncle Sam. Also look at companies that are profiting from the rises of China and India, and companies producing raw materials whose prices will escalate during global conflict.
email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com
or post them below.
Question Time
Nick asked if I had any stock picks
Although I am itching to analyse individual companies I have insufficient info at my disposal to make specific recommendations; however, the general investment advice that I’ve had published since my arrest has been fruitful. My long gold recommendation (published in the Investors Business Daily) was followed by a spectacular $150 rise. My main investment themes were blogged here, which are long gold, long oil, short the dollar, and exercising caution with common stocks (especially when dealing with deceitful mutual fund companies and pension fund managers who are skimming invisible fees from your capital).
From studying geopolitics I believe that there are several profitable sectors to invest in - especially when sell-offs occur. Defense companies should do well, especially those enabling the military to fight video-game-style wars from computer terminals utilizing networks and satellite technology. Bush’s re-election equals an increasingly militaristic Uncle Sam. Also look at companies that are profiting from the rises of China and India, and companies producing raw materials whose prices will escalate during global conflict.
email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com
or post them below.
Gravano On Gotti
7th April 05
In the day room today I was joined by Junior Bull Gerard Gravano (Sammy the Bull’s son), and I asked him about growing up in a Mafia family and his relationship with John Gotti the Gambino crime boss known as "the Teflon Don." The following is blogged with Junior Bull’s permission.
“John Gotti was a good guy. I considered him an uncle. I remember getting hit by a car, and I was in hospital, and he came and visited. There was an aura about him. I was at a Holy Communion service once, and there was about one-hundred-and-fifty people. There was a bunch of made guys there and Frankie Valli of the Four Seasons,
and there was a bigger line to shake John Gotti’s hand than Frankie Valli’s. Everyone loved him: the women, the kids. You knew when he was in the room. He had presence, an aura. Everyone wanted to meet John.”
“Did you know what John and your dad were up to?”
“I saw money and guns. I didn’t know that it wasn’t legit. My dad had a construction business. People were always visiting, paying respect. I didn’t realise what the mob was until I was sixteen, after the government got him.”
“Can you tell me more about John?”
“He shoulda moved to Hollywood and been a movie star. He woulda been a huge movie star. I think he thought that he was a movie star, not a gangster. Once, my father was eating with John at a restaurant in Brooklyn and a married couple a few tables away were pointing at John and laughing. My father asked John if they were bothering him, and if he wanted those people out of the restaurant, and John said, ‘No. Leave them alone. This is my public.’ My dad was a mobsters’ mobster. People are not supposed to know who you are. Mobsters are supposed to be on the DL [down low].”
“How did you feel about John’s death?” (John Gotti died of throat cancer on June 10th 2002.)
“When John died I was sad, very upset. I shed tears because of the way and the circumstances he died.”
“What were the circumstances?”
“He died in Springfield Medical Unit. He couldn’t eat or talk for six months. He died a brutal death. He died in a lotta pain. A guard told me that John suffered for a good ten months.”
“Did John ever show a bad side?”
“I have mixed feelings. I didn’t like what he did and how he handled some things. He threatened to kill a lawyer who was cross-examining my dad and someone got found guilty of a murder that he didn’t conspire to commit. My dad even admitted to it but they didn’t care. John was the down fall of the Mafia. He brought the entire Mafia down because of his big mouth.”
In the day room today I was joined by Junior Bull Gerard Gravano (Sammy the Bull’s son), and I asked him about growing up in a Mafia family and his relationship with John Gotti the Gambino crime boss known as "the Teflon Don." The following is blogged with Junior Bull’s permission.
“John Gotti was a good guy. I considered him an uncle. I remember getting hit by a car, and I was in hospital, and he came and visited. There was an aura about him. I was at a Holy Communion service once, and there was about one-hundred-and-fifty people. There was a bunch of made guys there and Frankie Valli of the Four Seasons,
and there was a bigger line to shake John Gotti’s hand than Frankie Valli’s. Everyone loved him: the women, the kids. You knew when he was in the room. He had presence, an aura. Everyone wanted to meet John.”
“Did you know what John and your dad were up to?”
“I saw money and guns. I didn’t know that it wasn’t legit. My dad had a construction business. People were always visiting, paying respect. I didn’t realise what the mob was until I was sixteen, after the government got him.”
“Can you tell me more about John?”
“He shoulda moved to Hollywood and been a movie star. He woulda been a huge movie star. I think he thought that he was a movie star, not a gangster. Once, my father was eating with John at a restaurant in Brooklyn and a married couple a few tables away were pointing at John and laughing. My father asked John if they were bothering him, and if he wanted those people out of the restaurant, and John said, ‘No. Leave them alone. This is my public.’ My dad was a mobsters’ mobster. People are not supposed to know who you are. Mobsters are supposed to be on the DL [down low].”
“How did you feel about John’s death?” (John Gotti died of throat cancer on June 10th 2002.)
“When John died I was sad, very upset. I shed tears because of the way and the circumstances he died.”
“What were the circumstances?”
“He died in Springfield Medical Unit. He couldn’t eat or talk for six months. He died a brutal death. He died in a lotta pain. A guard told me that John suffered for a good ten months.”
“Did John ever show a bad side?”
“I have mixed feelings. I didn’t like what he did and how he handled some things. He threatened to kill a lawyer who was cross-examining my dad and someone got found guilty of a murder that he didn’t conspire to commit. My dad even admitted to it but they didn’t care. John was the down fall of the Mafia. He brought the entire Mafia down because of his big mouth.”
4th April 05
Dr.B
From my final session with Dr.B:
“You had success," Dr.B said,"and you learned that making money is not a panacea. Spending time with your family, reading a child a book, are more important than material things.”
“I agree, but I have an overwhelming desire to succeed. It's in my genes. Surely I can use my success to help my family, pay back the legal bills that I owe them. I can put the fruits of success to good use, philanthropically, helping the oppressed and exposing injustice. Or maybe I’m delusional?”
“You’re not delusional because in the past you have achieved everything that you’ve set your mind to. You were a top stockbroker, a successful day trader, and even prison hasn’t stopped your achievements.”
“So my ultimate goal of acquiring enough knowledge to conquer the stock market isn’t a product of megalomania?”
“I’ve questioned you to test for megalomania but you have viable answers carefully expressing how you will achieve your goals. You’re definitely not delusional. You are one of the most ambitious people that I have ever met, and even if you only achieve half of your goals, you’ll be doing very well. But will you ever be happy? Look at the Kennedys. Where did wealth get that family? How many of them died young? Wealth did not make them happy.”
“I want to be happy, but my will to succeed drives me relentlessly. In the future I will spend more time with my loved ones. They are the people who have been there for me throughout this ordeal.”
“You must see the trade off: the harder that you work, the less time you’ll be able to spend with your family.”
Email your comments to writeinside@hotmail.com Or post them below.
Dr.B
From my final session with Dr.B:
“You had success," Dr.B said,"and you learned that making money is not a panacea. Spending time with your family, reading a child a book, are more important than material things.”
“I agree, but I have an overwhelming desire to succeed. It's in my genes. Surely I can use my success to help my family, pay back the legal bills that I owe them. I can put the fruits of success to good use, philanthropically, helping the oppressed and exposing injustice. Or maybe I’m delusional?”
“You’re not delusional because in the past you have achieved everything that you’ve set your mind to. You were a top stockbroker, a successful day trader, and even prison hasn’t stopped your achievements.”
“So my ultimate goal of acquiring enough knowledge to conquer the stock market isn’t a product of megalomania?”
“I’ve questioned you to test for megalomania but you have viable answers carefully expressing how you will achieve your goals. You’re definitely not delusional. You are one of the most ambitious people that I have ever met, and even if you only achieve half of your goals, you’ll be doing very well. But will you ever be happy? Look at the Kennedys. Where did wealth get that family? How many of them died young? Wealth did not make them happy.”
“I want to be happy, but my will to succeed drives me relentlessly. In the future I will spend more time with my loved ones. They are the people who have been there for me throughout this ordeal.”
“You must see the trade off: the harder that you work, the less time you’ll be able to spend with your family.”
Email your comments to writeinside@hotmail.com Or post them below.
31 March 05
Bon Voyage Balls
One of the strangest prison stories I've heard is about an attempt by a man named Graham to convert himself into a woman named Gina. Equipped with a razor blade, needle, thread and a cigarette lighter, Gina....
Let's hear Xena tell the story.
“Xena, tell me what happened with Gina and the sex change?”
“She," said Xena, who refers to prison transsexuals as women,"wanted to have a vagina on the streets [outside of prison] but they wouldn’t giver her a sex-change op because she’s a felon. She would have had to wait somethin’ like seven or eight years without committing a crime before they’d do the op.”
“So she ended up back in prison and she decided to take matters into her own hands?”
“Yeah, she cut her nuts off and flushed ‘em down the toilet.”
“Wait a minute. How did she manage to do that in a prison cell?”
“She cut open her sack like this [Xena drew a circle with a vertical line down one side] and severed her vas deferens with a razor blade.”
“What’s the vas deferens?”
“It’s a vein, nerves and a tube that carries the sperm, it’s attached to the balls. She cut that, popped her nuts out, and flushed them down the toilet.”
“So the vas deferens is like a branch holding the nuts in the sack?”
“Yes. The branch was severed. The nuts were free.”
“Yikes!”
“Then she used a cigarette lighter to cauterize the wound and a sewing needle and thread from inmate hobbycraft to stitch herself up.”
“But she messed it up and got caught? Got caught performing the sex change on herself?”
“Yeah, the wound got infected.”
“She was wheeled out on a stretcher. She was all strapped down,” String Bean said.
“So, was she happy with the job?”
“Kinda. She said that she had lost a lot of weight and now that the nuts are gone she overheats a lot.”
“What about her penis? Does she still have one?”
“Yeah, and she still gets erections. She doesn’t like erections.”
“What gives her erections?”
“She gets excited suckin’ someone’s penis or takin’ it in the butt. She doesn’t like the erections though, she wants to have a vagina.”
“Is the empty scrotum sack dangling down there?”
“The sack’s shrunk quite a bit and she gets sensations where the sack is at. She’d be much happier with a vagina.”
“Do you want to have a vagina, Xena?”
“We’re all gonna get vaginas - fuck it! I wanna get a vagina on my right hand, that way my fingers won’t get tired. I’ll be able to fuck someone with my hand and tickle their balls at the same time.”
Xena stood up, bumped my shoulder with her hip, licked her right armpit, and sat back down.
“I don’t really wanna vagina, but I do believe that if someone wants to change themselves or their lifestyle, and that will make them a better member of society, they should be free to choose those changes.”
“How do they make the penis into a vagina?”
“They slice the penis in half and fold it into the body.”
“But they can’t get their rocks off then can they?” String Bean asked.
“Kinda. The incoming penis would rub against the prostrate and they get the same pleasure as getting’ fucked in the ass but just from the other side.”
“Would it look like a pussy?” String Bean asked.
“Yes. They take the urinal tract and they place it to look like a clit and it works the same way.”
“But the clitoris contains highly sensitive nerve endings?”
“And there’s nerves in the prostrate.”
“That cause jollies?”
“That cause jollies. Yes!”
“OK. We’ll leave it at that. Thanks for the info Xena!”
“Anytime.”
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.comOr post them below.
Bon Voyage Balls
One of the strangest prison stories I've heard is about an attempt by a man named Graham to convert himself into a woman named Gina. Equipped with a razor blade, needle, thread and a cigarette lighter, Gina....
Let's hear Xena tell the story.
“Xena, tell me what happened with Gina and the sex change?”
“She," said Xena, who refers to prison transsexuals as women,"wanted to have a vagina on the streets [outside of prison] but they wouldn’t giver her a sex-change op because she’s a felon. She would have had to wait somethin’ like seven or eight years without committing a crime before they’d do the op.”
“So she ended up back in prison and she decided to take matters into her own hands?”
“Yeah, she cut her nuts off and flushed ‘em down the toilet.”
“Wait a minute. How did she manage to do that in a prison cell?”
“She cut open her sack like this [Xena drew a circle with a vertical line down one side] and severed her vas deferens with a razor blade.”
“What’s the vas deferens?”
“It’s a vein, nerves and a tube that carries the sperm, it’s attached to the balls. She cut that, popped her nuts out, and flushed them down the toilet.”
“So the vas deferens is like a branch holding the nuts in the sack?”
“Yes. The branch was severed. The nuts were free.”
“Yikes!”
“Then she used a cigarette lighter to cauterize the wound and a sewing needle and thread from inmate hobbycraft to stitch herself up.”
“But she messed it up and got caught? Got caught performing the sex change on herself?”
“Yeah, the wound got infected.”
“She was wheeled out on a stretcher. She was all strapped down,” String Bean said.
“So, was she happy with the job?”
“Kinda. She said that she had lost a lot of weight and now that the nuts are gone she overheats a lot.”
“What about her penis? Does she still have one?”
“Yeah, and she still gets erections. She doesn’t like erections.”
“What gives her erections?”
“She gets excited suckin’ someone’s penis or takin’ it in the butt. She doesn’t like the erections though, she wants to have a vagina.”
“Is the empty scrotum sack dangling down there?”
“The sack’s shrunk quite a bit and she gets sensations where the sack is at. She’d be much happier with a vagina.”
“Do you want to have a vagina, Xena?”
“We’re all gonna get vaginas - fuck it! I wanna get a vagina on my right hand, that way my fingers won’t get tired. I’ll be able to fuck someone with my hand and tickle their balls at the same time.”
Xena stood up, bumped my shoulder with her hip, licked her right armpit, and sat back down.
“I don’t really wanna vagina, but I do believe that if someone wants to change themselves or their lifestyle, and that will make them a better member of society, they should be free to choose those changes.”
“How do they make the penis into a vagina?”
“They slice the penis in half and fold it into the body.”
“But they can’t get their rocks off then can they?” String Bean asked.
“Kinda. The incoming penis would rub against the prostrate and they get the same pleasure as getting’ fucked in the ass but just from the other side.”
“Would it look like a pussy?” String Bean asked.
“Yes. They take the urinal tract and they place it to look like a clit and it works the same way.”
“But the clitoris contains highly sensitive nerve endings?”
“And there’s nerves in the prostrate.”
“That cause jollies?”
“That cause jollies. Yes!”
“OK. We’ll leave it at that. Thanks for the info Xena!”
“Anytime.”
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.comOr post them below.
27 March 05
Question Time
Q.Paula in the UK asked if I ever hear from any of my previous cellies.
A. Mark, my final cellmate at the Madison Street jail, who is now on house arrest, recently sent a letter. He wrote: “ Sorry I haven’t written sooner but I have been so busy working so I can pay my stupid lawyer fees, so he can sit around and do nothing.”
Q.Dave & Edna asked if, in my opinion, gays or straights have it tougher inside.
A. My gay friend Jim said that if an inmate can get into a stable relationship and the potential for separation can be overcome then an emotional return can be obtained. Jim also identified negative effects such as younger inmates being taken advantage of by older ones, and some ultimately becoming cheetos.
I asked Xena the same question and Xena’s short answer was:
“It’s worse for heteros because they can get raped!”
I haven’t been raped but I have had my arse pinched a few times, and upon one occasion George took advantage of my focus on a book and licked my foot before I could pull it away from him.
email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com
or post them below.
Question Time
Q.Paula in the UK asked if I ever hear from any of my previous cellies.
A. Mark, my final cellmate at the Madison Street jail, who is now on house arrest, recently sent a letter. He wrote: “ Sorry I haven’t written sooner but I have been so busy working so I can pay my stupid lawyer fees, so he can sit around and do nothing.”
Q.Dave & Edna asked if, in my opinion, gays or straights have it tougher inside.
A. My gay friend Jim said that if an inmate can get into a stable relationship and the potential for separation can be overcome then an emotional return can be obtained. Jim also identified negative effects such as younger inmates being taken advantage of by older ones, and some ultimately becoming cheetos.
I asked Xena the same question and Xena’s short answer was:
“It’s worse for heteros because they can get raped!”
I haven’t been raped but I have had my arse pinched a few times, and upon one occasion George took advantage of my focus on a book and licked my foot before I could pull it away from him.
email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com
or post them below.
20 March 05
Odds & Ends
My former cellmate, Jerry, has returned and is now housed in Building 1.
Long Island has stopped earning tickets and has commenced a marketing correspondence course. He has turned out to be a good cellmate. He is respectful and easy going, but also someone who stands up for himself if anyone tries to push him around. Long Island gets released later this year, so I will have to shop around for a new cellmate shortly before he leaves, as I don’t want to end up playing what's called the "celly lottery": waiting for a random assignment, which can be good or bad. The key to happiness here is good cellmate chemistry.
I have a workout partner, Popcorn, who claims to be seven-eighths Chicano and one-eighth Pima Indian. Together we do my yoga routine and his jogging routine. Popcorn can walk on his hands and he has helped me half master the scorpion pose – I can hold the pose for up to thirty seconds but my feet do not touch my head. We jog up to five miles every couple of days and with Popcorn’s motivation I’ve been attending the twice-weekly 5:00am breakfasts in order to go to the 6:30am rec sessions. In order to rise so early, I now go to sleep between 9:00pm and 10:pm.
I’ve been trying to start a correspondence course with Rio Salado Community College but it’s a slow process.
In the chow hall, I sit at a table with String Bean and Fish. String Bean is the skinniest man in the unit – and probably the entire complex – standing six-feet tall and weighing
one-hundred-and-twenty-two pounds. He is so thin that the Medical Unit has authorised him to receive extra chow. Fish is an occultist intellectual with a British sense of humour, who, tragically, is HIV positive. Fish is due to be released shortly, and String Bean gets out in one year’s time.
Thank you for your support. I hope that your letters, emails, comments and questions keep coming because reading them makes my day.
Cheers! Jon
Email Jon at writeinside@hotmail.com
Or post a comment below
Odds & Ends
My former cellmate, Jerry, has returned and is now housed in Building 1.
Long Island has stopped earning tickets and has commenced a marketing correspondence course. He has turned out to be a good cellmate. He is respectful and easy going, but also someone who stands up for himself if anyone tries to push him around. Long Island gets released later this year, so I will have to shop around for a new cellmate shortly before he leaves, as I don’t want to end up playing what's called the "celly lottery": waiting for a random assignment, which can be good or bad. The key to happiness here is good cellmate chemistry.
I have a workout partner, Popcorn, who claims to be seven-eighths Chicano and one-eighth Pima Indian. Together we do my yoga routine and his jogging routine. Popcorn can walk on his hands and he has helped me half master the scorpion pose – I can hold the pose for up to thirty seconds but my feet do not touch my head. We jog up to five miles every couple of days and with Popcorn’s motivation I’ve been attending the twice-weekly 5:00am breakfasts in order to go to the 6:30am rec sessions. In order to rise so early, I now go to sleep between 9:00pm and 10:pm.
I’ve been trying to start a correspondence course with Rio Salado Community College but it’s a slow process.
In the chow hall, I sit at a table with String Bean and Fish. String Bean is the skinniest man in the unit – and probably the entire complex – standing six-feet tall and weighing
one-hundred-and-twenty-two pounds. He is so thin that the Medical Unit has authorised him to receive extra chow. Fish is an occultist intellectual with a British sense of humour, who, tragically, is HIV positive. Fish is due to be released shortly, and String Bean gets out in one year’s time.
Thank you for your support. I hope that your letters, emails, comments and questions keep coming because reading them makes my day.
Cheers! Jon
Email Jon at writeinside@hotmail.com
Or post a comment below
Are we being moved?
The inmates are speculating that our entire unit is about to be moved. Probably to Tucson.
I spoke to a member of staff today who confirmed that the entire unit is being moved – destination unknown – within the next few months. He stated that this unit is being converted into a high-medium yard and that ninety inmates from Pima County are waiting to be moved here.
For up to date info on inmate movements see here http://www.azceg.org/
Email Jon at writeinside@hotmail.com
Or post your comment below
The inmates are speculating that our entire unit is about to be moved. Probably to Tucson.
I spoke to a member of staff today who confirmed that the entire unit is being moved – destination unknown – within the next few months. He stated that this unit is being converted into a high-medium yard and that ninety inmates from Pima County are waiting to be moved here.
For up to date info on inmate movements see here http://www.azceg.org/
Email Jon at writeinside@hotmail.com
Or post your comment below
10 March 05
Anal Virginity Threats: Adam's Fetish
(Threat level: medium)
My behind is dodging a triple threat. Frankie and George have been joined by Adam. The fact that I just want to be left alone seems to have impassioned them further.
Adam introduced himself a few weeks ago:
“Wassup! I hear you’re from England?”
“Yeah.”
“I fuckin' dig English dudes. You wanna know why?”
“Why?
“I had a porno movie collection and there was somethin’ different about the English dudes that I just fuckin’ love.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Can you guess what I’m talkin’ about?”
“Probably.”
“The English guys were all uncut. I just love to see that. Are all English guys uncut?”
“As far as I know, only America and countries like Israel do it.”
“Yep, they butcher us at birth and charge us for it. It’s a scam. Uncircumcised men are a rarity around here They just drive me wild.”
“Well, I’m straight, so I’m not going to be able to help you in that department.”
“Alright then, but if you change your mind.”
More recently:
“I heard that you were into S & M on the streets?”
“A little. Why?”
“And I know that you’re into yoga, so you must be real flexible.”
“I’m flexible.”
“I love flexible guys. I’ve got somethin’ I wanna tell you about.”
“What is it?”
“You’re open minded right?” You wouldn’t take offence if I told you somethin’?”
“I doubt it. But it's still no if you’re looking to shag me!”
“Well, there’s somethin’ that I’m really into.”
“Yeah. Spit it out then.”
“OK, I’ll give you the rundown on how this came about. I had a boyfriend in here right, about a year ago.”
“Yeah.”
“We used to fuck around all the time. Anyway, this one day, he was positioned doggy style and I was lickin’ his ass.”
“Oh dear.”
“Just wait. Its about to get much better. So I was lickin’ his ass right and out of nowhere he accidentally – well, actually, it might have been on purpose – he farted in my mouth.”
“How terrible!”
“Yeah and he made it seem like it was an accident but he was fuckin’ laughin’ at the time.”
“It didn’t bother you?”
“It amused me. For a second, it was like an egg in the face, but I was in the moment, so I resumed what I was doin’.”
“Licking his arse?”
“Yes, goin’ to town on his ass.”
“Did he fart on you again?”
“No. Not on the same evening.”
“But it did happen again?”
“Well, yeah, actually, it grew to the point that it was highly entertaining, so I encouraged it.”
“Didn’t it put a weird taste in your mouth?”
“That’s what was so cool about it, his farts didn’t smell. If there was an offensive odour, I wouldn’t have done it.”
“So, did you start demanding that he would fart in your mouth?”
“Kinda. Later on. What I did was make bets with him.”
“Like what?”
“Silly little bets. If I lost he would have to fart ten times in my face bare-assed.”
“I assume that you lost quite a bit?”
“Oh yeah. I picked things to ensure that I would lose.”
“You loaded the dice so that you would end up being farted on?”
“Naturally.”
“And this man could perform ten back-to-back farts after you intentionally lost these bets?”
“Well, as many as he could do at one time. I would count them and carry the balance over until the next session.”
“So what started out as an accidental fart on the face turned into a sexual thrill?”
“Most certainly. I have this thing about – I dunno – I like to lick ass, and the fact that the farts didn’t stink, it wasn’t offensive, added some spice to the ass lickin’.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah. I would lick his ass, he would fart in my mouth, I would fuck him, and he wouldn’t even need lotion or lubrication because he was so turned on by farting in my mouth, which turned me on all the more.”
“That good eh?”
“Yeah. The farts were like foreplay.”
“He was a talented man, if he could fart repeatedly at will and they never smelled too bad.”
“Yeah. When he owed me enough farts, he’d put me on standby until he was ready and when it was all good, I’d depants him and go to town.”
“And now you see farts in a whole new light?”
“Somethin’ like that.”
“Thanks for sharing that with me. Your tendency is unusual – I only ever read about it once in a Marquis de Sade book. I'd like to write about it. Would you mind?”
“If you think it’s interesting enough, I don’t give a shit, just don’t let anyone know who I am.”
“OK. I’ll change your name.”
“I like the name Adam.”
“Adam will work.”
Email Jon at writeinside@hotmail.com
or post a comment yourself below.
Anal Virginity Threats: Adam's Fetish
(Threat level: medium)
My behind is dodging a triple threat. Frankie and George have been joined by Adam. The fact that I just want to be left alone seems to have impassioned them further.
Adam introduced himself a few weeks ago:
“Wassup! I hear you’re from England?”
“Yeah.”
“I fuckin' dig English dudes. You wanna know why?”
“Why?
“I had a porno movie collection and there was somethin’ different about the English dudes that I just fuckin’ love.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Can you guess what I’m talkin’ about?”
“Probably.”
“The English guys were all uncut. I just love to see that. Are all English guys uncut?”
“As far as I know, only America and countries like Israel do it.”
“Yep, they butcher us at birth and charge us for it. It’s a scam. Uncircumcised men are a rarity around here They just drive me wild.”
“Well, I’m straight, so I’m not going to be able to help you in that department.”
“Alright then, but if you change your mind.”
More recently:
“I heard that you were into S & M on the streets?”
“A little. Why?”
“And I know that you’re into yoga, so you must be real flexible.”
“I’m flexible.”
“I love flexible guys. I’ve got somethin’ I wanna tell you about.”
“What is it?”
“You’re open minded right?” You wouldn’t take offence if I told you somethin’?”
“I doubt it. But it's still no if you’re looking to shag me!”
“Well, there’s somethin’ that I’m really into.”
“Yeah. Spit it out then.”
“OK, I’ll give you the rundown on how this came about. I had a boyfriend in here right, about a year ago.”
“Yeah.”
“We used to fuck around all the time. Anyway, this one day, he was positioned doggy style and I was lickin’ his ass.”
“Oh dear.”
“Just wait. Its about to get much better. So I was lickin’ his ass right and out of nowhere he accidentally – well, actually, it might have been on purpose – he farted in my mouth.”
“How terrible!”
“Yeah and he made it seem like it was an accident but he was fuckin’ laughin’ at the time.”
“It didn’t bother you?”
“It amused me. For a second, it was like an egg in the face, but I was in the moment, so I resumed what I was doin’.”
“Licking his arse?”
“Yes, goin’ to town on his ass.”
“Did he fart on you again?”
“No. Not on the same evening.”
“But it did happen again?”
“Well, yeah, actually, it grew to the point that it was highly entertaining, so I encouraged it.”
“Didn’t it put a weird taste in your mouth?”
“That’s what was so cool about it, his farts didn’t smell. If there was an offensive odour, I wouldn’t have done it.”
“So, did you start demanding that he would fart in your mouth?”
“Kinda. Later on. What I did was make bets with him.”
“Like what?”
“Silly little bets. If I lost he would have to fart ten times in my face bare-assed.”
“I assume that you lost quite a bit?”
“Oh yeah. I picked things to ensure that I would lose.”
“You loaded the dice so that you would end up being farted on?”
“Naturally.”
“And this man could perform ten back-to-back farts after you intentionally lost these bets?”
“Well, as many as he could do at one time. I would count them and carry the balance over until the next session.”
“So what started out as an accidental fart on the face turned into a sexual thrill?”
“Most certainly. I have this thing about – I dunno – I like to lick ass, and the fact that the farts didn’t stink, it wasn’t offensive, added some spice to the ass lickin’.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah. I would lick his ass, he would fart in my mouth, I would fuck him, and he wouldn’t even need lotion or lubrication because he was so turned on by farting in my mouth, which turned me on all the more.”
“That good eh?”
“Yeah. The farts were like foreplay.”
“He was a talented man, if he could fart repeatedly at will and they never smelled too bad.”
“Yeah. When he owed me enough farts, he’d put me on standby until he was ready and when it was all good, I’d depants him and go to town.”
“And now you see farts in a whole new light?”
“Somethin’ like that.”
“Thanks for sharing that with me. Your tendency is unusual – I only ever read about it once in a Marquis de Sade book. I'd like to write about it. Would you mind?”
“If you think it’s interesting enough, I don’t give a shit, just don’t let anyone know who I am.”
“OK. I’ll change your name.”
“I like the name Adam.”
“Adam will work.”
Email Jon at writeinside@hotmail.com
or post a comment yourself below.
6 March 05
Loneliness
It is 11:40am and I am miserable. Claudia - the young lady who I was living with and engaged to at the time of my arrest - had promised that she would visit today but she hasn’t shown up. Visitation hours range from 8.00am until 3.00pm, and the afternoon is near. I was up bright and early, showered and shaved, beaming in anticipation of her company, but every passing hour has increased my tension. I am so sad my appetite has vanished.
This state of mind is not Claudia’s fault - it is my own. I am forever in her debt for everything she did for me. It would be wrong to expect her to put her life on hold for me. If I love her then shouldn't I want her to be happy? It's difficult. Losing her is one of the worst things that's happened to me. But what can I do? Kick and scream? Feel sorry for myself? Or try to be like Mr. Spock? There's a difficulty with trying to be like Mr. Spock: I am human, emotional, and fallible. And fragile on days like these.
Loneliness
It is 11:40am and I am miserable. Claudia - the young lady who I was living with and engaged to at the time of my arrest - had promised that she would visit today but she hasn’t shown up. Visitation hours range from 8.00am until 3.00pm, and the afternoon is near. I was up bright and early, showered and shaved, beaming in anticipation of her company, but every passing hour has increased my tension. I am so sad my appetite has vanished.
This state of mind is not Claudia’s fault - it is my own. I am forever in her debt for everything she did for me. It would be wrong to expect her to put her life on hold for me. If I love her then shouldn't I want her to be happy? It's difficult. Losing her is one of the worst things that's happened to me. But what can I do? Kick and scream? Feel sorry for myself? Or try to be like Mr. Spock? There's a difficulty with trying to be like Mr. Spock: I am human, emotional, and fallible. And fragile on days like these.
5 March 05
Good Suffering at Tent City
Link to New Times article about Leslie and other victims in the gulag.
Good Suffering at Tent City
Link to New Times article about Leslie and other victims in the gulag.
4 March 05
Observations from the Rec Field
It’s 5pm and I’m sat at a picnic table on the rec field.
“We gotta lotta shit to do.”
“What shit we gotta do?”
“Wide pushups, pullups, dips.”
Nearby, two stocky Chicanos are working out. One of them, Mooga, will be released later this year. The other, Horns, is serving a life sentence. They look like mini-Arnold Schwarzeneggers, but with beer bellies. They are topless, clad in knee-length orange sports shorts, toting Sony cassette players on their hips. Their Blues Brothers-style sunglasses make them appear comical and dangerous. They are taking turns suspending themselves by their toes from a picnic table and performing downward-sloping pushups. As their muscles ripple the turquoise tattoos on their coffee-coloured skin come to life.
“One more set.”
“How many are we doin’?”
“Five.”
“We’ve already done five!”
“Then let’s do another five.”
“Ah, fuck no!”
They are departing, strutting their pumped-up physiques with arms akimbo. They resemble gunslingers ready to draw their Walkmans. Shrinking in size as they swagger into the distance, they now look like little birds stretching their wings.
Being outdoors is soothing - if you don't pay attention to the architecture of oppression: the endless razor wire, and battleship-grey buildings.
Lamps, on steel poles, seem to be hovering in the sky. They look like the UFOs described by H.G. Wells in War of the Worlds.
Practising a variety of basketball shots, is Speedy, a youngster. Speedy falls. “Damn!”
Stretching his lower limbs he assessess the damage.
Mooga and Horns are approaching, their bickering is growing louder.
“Before we do da dips, lets do dat one over dere.”
“You’re fuckin’ gay, man!”
“You talk alotta shit every day, man. Lets go”
“You go homes!”
“I already did my set, man”
“Okay. Here I go”
“Dis man, Mooga, can work out, talk a lotta shit, and smoke at the same time.”
“Tu tambien.” (You also.)
In a voice like Johnny Rotten’s, Mooga is singing, “Insane in the membrane! Insane in the brain! You’re insane, got no brain!”
By placing his knees over one dip bar, Horns is suspended upside down, he is using the other dip bar to do pullups.
Wheelo, a thinner Chicano joins them.
“Don’t fuck with Wheelo. That’s the Godfather right there,” Mooga says and helps himself to one of Wheelo’s cigarettes.
Horns shoulderbarges Wheelo.
“What’d I tell you! Don’t fuck wiv Wheelo!”
The Chicanos are getting smaller again as they head for the outdoor urinal.
The sun is trying to hide behind the Administration Building. Its rays are causing Speedy’s sweaty chest to glisten.
The Chicanos are back.
Looking directly at me Mooga yells,“You, come here!”
“You come here,” I say.
“No you come here!”
“Estoy ocupado ahorita.” (I’m busy right now.)
“Don’t gimme that shit. I want to show you somethin’.”
Undoubtably, Mooga wants to show me something I don't want to see, so I change the subject.
“How would you describe yourself, Mooga?”
“Vindictive, out of control, wild.”
The Chicanos are on the move again. Mooga is yelling obscenities and throwing gravel at Wheelo.
The sun is almost out of sight. The rain clouds have wandered west and a pink tinge is making them look more cheerful. The wind is carrying the smell of manure.
“Rec is terminated! Rec is terminated!”
Email Jon at writeinside@hotmail.com
Observations from the Rec Field
It’s 5pm and I’m sat at a picnic table on the rec field.
“We gotta lotta shit to do.”
“What shit we gotta do?”
“Wide pushups, pullups, dips.”
Nearby, two stocky Chicanos are working out. One of them, Mooga, will be released later this year. The other, Horns, is serving a life sentence. They look like mini-Arnold Schwarzeneggers, but with beer bellies. They are topless, clad in knee-length orange sports shorts, toting Sony cassette players on their hips. Their Blues Brothers-style sunglasses make them appear comical and dangerous. They are taking turns suspending themselves by their toes from a picnic table and performing downward-sloping pushups. As their muscles ripple the turquoise tattoos on their coffee-coloured skin come to life.
“One more set.”
“How many are we doin’?”
“Five.”
“We’ve already done five!”
“Then let’s do another five.”
“Ah, fuck no!”
They are departing, strutting their pumped-up physiques with arms akimbo. They resemble gunslingers ready to draw their Walkmans. Shrinking in size as they swagger into the distance, they now look like little birds stretching their wings.
Being outdoors is soothing - if you don't pay attention to the architecture of oppression: the endless razor wire, and battleship-grey buildings.
Lamps, on steel poles, seem to be hovering in the sky. They look like the UFOs described by H.G. Wells in War of the Worlds.
Practising a variety of basketball shots, is Speedy, a youngster. Speedy falls. “Damn!”
Stretching his lower limbs he assessess the damage.
Mooga and Horns are approaching, their bickering is growing louder.
“Before we do da dips, lets do dat one over dere.”
“You’re fuckin’ gay, man!”
“You talk alotta shit every day, man. Lets go”
“You go homes!”
“I already did my set, man”
“Okay. Here I go”
“Dis man, Mooga, can work out, talk a lotta shit, and smoke at the same time.”
“Tu tambien.” (You also.)
In a voice like Johnny Rotten’s, Mooga is singing, “Insane in the membrane! Insane in the brain! You’re insane, got no brain!”
By placing his knees over one dip bar, Horns is suspended upside down, he is using the other dip bar to do pullups.
Wheelo, a thinner Chicano joins them.
“Don’t fuck with Wheelo. That’s the Godfather right there,” Mooga says and helps himself to one of Wheelo’s cigarettes.
Horns shoulderbarges Wheelo.
“What’d I tell you! Don’t fuck wiv Wheelo!”
The Chicanos are getting smaller again as they head for the outdoor urinal.
The sun is trying to hide behind the Administration Building. Its rays are causing Speedy’s sweaty chest to glisten.
The Chicanos are back.
Looking directly at me Mooga yells,“You, come here!”
“You come here,” I say.
“No you come here!”
“Estoy ocupado ahorita.” (I’m busy right now.)
“Don’t gimme that shit. I want to show you somethin’.”
Undoubtably, Mooga wants to show me something I don't want to see, so I change the subject.
“How would you describe yourself, Mooga?”
“Vindictive, out of control, wild.”
The Chicanos are on the move again. Mooga is yelling obscenities and throwing gravel at Wheelo.
The sun is almost out of sight. The rain clouds have wandered west and a pink tinge is making them look more cheerful. The wind is carrying the smell of manure.
“Rec is terminated! Rec is terminated!”
Email Jon at writeinside@hotmail.com
Channel 4 Documentary
British television station exposes abuse
Sheriff Joe featured in ‘Torture: America’s Brutal Prisons’
Produced and Directed by Nick London
Article written by Linda Bentley - Sonoran News - March 2 - March 9, 2005
LONDON, U.K. – In late January, British Channel Four Television Reporter Deborah Davies was in Arizona interviewing Maricopa County Sheriff Joe Arpaio and the women involved with Mothers Against Arpaio (MAA). The program titled, “Torture: America’s Brutal Prisons,” airs tonight across the sea. The program opens with stills depicting Iraqi prisoners at Abu Ghraib prison in Baghdad being humiliated and tortured by American guards. Cutting to the next scene, American guards are marching to cells, screaming obscenities at naked prisoners, this time they’re in Texas. And then, cutting to the Fourth Avenue Jail, the narrator says: “Get arrested in Phoenix, Arizona – and you’ll end up here; a county jail run by the sheriff’s department. … Just as we arrive, two prisoners start fighting. The inmates are quickly buried under a mountain of officers.“This jail is run by the man who revels in the title ‘America’s Toughest Sheriff.”
Arpaio says, “… I’m not going to have my officers assaulted. When these inmates try to assault my officers, we use as much force as necessary.”
Channel Four asks, “But more than a dozen officers to pull a man out of a cell, fling him on the floor, jump on top of him … why?”
Arpaio said, “What difference, whether you use one or ten. It doesn’t make any difference. We’re going to restrain that person.” That seemed to be the perfect segway into use of the restraint chair.
Dan Corcoran of AEDEC International, manufacturer of the “Prostraint Violent Prisoner Chair,” told Channel Four, “What this does is protect the prisoner. And, it was made to protect the prisoner. It keeps the airway clear. Think about how many deaths it’s eliminating. Plus look at how humane it is …”
However, reality speaks to 20 prisoners who died after being placed in restraint chairs. The Medieval-looking device is still in use in Arizona, even though two of those deaths occurred in Arpaio’s jail.
As Arpaio provides a tour of Madison Street Jail, the commentator continues, “It’s almost a choreographed routine … stressing the tough conditions, the convict uniforms, the terrible food.” Arpaio says, “… They’re criminals, they’re murderers. I’m sorry they’re alleged murderers. They haven’t been convicted yet.”
The commentator goes on, “But strip away the showmanship of Sheriff Arpaio and you hit a far more brutal allegation … inside his jails prisoners are beaten, tortured, even killed.”
The program cuts to photographs of Charles Agster, mentally handicapped and a drug user. “He weighed only nine stone,” the commentator states, the equivalent of 126 pounds. After Agster was arrested for refusing to leave a convenience store, his parents assumed he would be held in jail overnight.
His mother Carol Agster relives the story, “The telephone rang and it’s the emergency room. They said, ‘Well, your son is here … we don’t know if he’s going to live through the night."
The commentator says: “The horror of Charles Agster’s last hours is captured by cameras inside Madison Street Jail.”
A video of Agster being dragged into the jail is shown as his mother says, “He was dragged in like a suitcase. He was hogtied … a policeman was kicking him. … nine jail staff forced him into a restraint chair – still handcuffed. One kneels on his stomach. They bend him forward to undo the handcuffs and re-strap him into the chair.”A nurse notices Agster is unconscious. She pinches his face, puts ammonia under his nose, yet no one removes the spit mask or frees him from the chair.
Training documents from the sheriff’s own department clearly warn inmates must be uncuffed before being placed in the chair, to avoid what’s known as positional asphyxia. Arpaio tells Davies, “You can see all the videos you want. Videos … don’t always tell the truth.”
Davies asks, “But you’re not denying that he’s put in the chair with his hands handcuffed behind his back?”
Arpaio responds, “I’m not familiar with all that as far as the handcuffs. But I’m telling you right now, we did nothing wrong … when you run a jail system … you’re bound to have some deaths that occur.”
The sheriff apparently learned nothing since Scott Norburg died in a restraint chair. Norberg’s family was awarded over $8 million in a lawsuit.
Brian Crenshaw, a blind man, was serving six months for shoplifting. His mother Linda Evans learned he had been in some sort of scuffle with officers at Tent City before he was transferred and placed in solitary confinement at Madison Street Jail. Six days later Crenshaw was taken to the hospital after being found unconscious in his cell. However, Crenshaw had already told a prison doctor he’d been beaten by officers. He died one month later and the family is suing.
Evans says, “They murdered my son. Mr. Arpaio is responsible. He is the head of the sheriff’s department and yet he seems to thrive on this cruelty and this mentality that these men are nothing.”
The sheriff insists Crenshaw fell off a bunk. Even though medical evidence indicates otherwise, it’s Arpaio’s story and he’s sticking to it. Arpaio said, “Well, a lot of people in jail say certain comments that are not true. So, if you want to believe a few of these inmates … so be it.”
Channel Four joined MAA at the home of co-founder Pearl Wilson, whose son Phillip Wilson died after being beat into a coma by other inmates. Wilson is also suing the sheriff. She says Arpaio’s staff allows fights to happen.
Arpaio said, “I feel very comfortable with myself. I go to sleep every night. It’s a tough job that I have. … if this sheriff … did anything wrong … it would be well publicized. I’m sure action would have been taken.”
If action translates to lawsuits, Arpaio is named as a defendant in approximately 1,500.
Jon spent over two years in Arpaio’s jail system, he was in Madison St. jail until he was sentenced. It was while he was there that Jon decided to write about the conditions. Revisit the beginning of the blog to understand why it all came about.
British television station exposes abuse
Sheriff Joe featured in ‘Torture: America’s Brutal Prisons’
Produced and Directed by Nick London
Article written by Linda Bentley - Sonoran News - March 2 - March 9, 2005
LONDON, U.K. – In late January, British Channel Four Television Reporter Deborah Davies was in Arizona interviewing Maricopa County Sheriff Joe Arpaio and the women involved with Mothers Against Arpaio (MAA). The program titled, “Torture: America’s Brutal Prisons,” airs tonight across the sea. The program opens with stills depicting Iraqi prisoners at Abu Ghraib prison in Baghdad being humiliated and tortured by American guards. Cutting to the next scene, American guards are marching to cells, screaming obscenities at naked prisoners, this time they’re in Texas. And then, cutting to the Fourth Avenue Jail, the narrator says: “Get arrested in Phoenix, Arizona – and you’ll end up here; a county jail run by the sheriff’s department. … Just as we arrive, two prisoners start fighting. The inmates are quickly buried under a mountain of officers.“This jail is run by the man who revels in the title ‘America’s Toughest Sheriff.”
Arpaio says, “… I’m not going to have my officers assaulted. When these inmates try to assault my officers, we use as much force as necessary.”
Channel Four asks, “But more than a dozen officers to pull a man out of a cell, fling him on the floor, jump on top of him … why?”
Arpaio said, “What difference, whether you use one or ten. It doesn’t make any difference. We’re going to restrain that person.” That seemed to be the perfect segway into use of the restraint chair.
Dan Corcoran of AEDEC International, manufacturer of the “Prostraint Violent Prisoner Chair,” told Channel Four, “What this does is protect the prisoner. And, it was made to protect the prisoner. It keeps the airway clear. Think about how many deaths it’s eliminating. Plus look at how humane it is …”
However, reality speaks to 20 prisoners who died after being placed in restraint chairs. The Medieval-looking device is still in use in Arizona, even though two of those deaths occurred in Arpaio’s jail.
As Arpaio provides a tour of Madison Street Jail, the commentator continues, “It’s almost a choreographed routine … stressing the tough conditions, the convict uniforms, the terrible food.” Arpaio says, “… They’re criminals, they’re murderers. I’m sorry they’re alleged murderers. They haven’t been convicted yet.”
The commentator goes on, “But strip away the showmanship of Sheriff Arpaio and you hit a far more brutal allegation … inside his jails prisoners are beaten, tortured, even killed.”
The program cuts to photographs of Charles Agster, mentally handicapped and a drug user. “He weighed only nine stone,” the commentator states, the equivalent of 126 pounds. After Agster was arrested for refusing to leave a convenience store, his parents assumed he would be held in jail overnight.
His mother Carol Agster relives the story, “The telephone rang and it’s the emergency room. They said, ‘Well, your son is here … we don’t know if he’s going to live through the night."
The commentator says: “The horror of Charles Agster’s last hours is captured by cameras inside Madison Street Jail.”
A video of Agster being dragged into the jail is shown as his mother says, “He was dragged in like a suitcase. He was hogtied … a policeman was kicking him. … nine jail staff forced him into a restraint chair – still handcuffed. One kneels on his stomach. They bend him forward to undo the handcuffs and re-strap him into the chair.”A nurse notices Agster is unconscious. She pinches his face, puts ammonia under his nose, yet no one removes the spit mask or frees him from the chair.
Training documents from the sheriff’s own department clearly warn inmates must be uncuffed before being placed in the chair, to avoid what’s known as positional asphyxia. Arpaio tells Davies, “You can see all the videos you want. Videos … don’t always tell the truth.”
Davies asks, “But you’re not denying that he’s put in the chair with his hands handcuffed behind his back?”
Arpaio responds, “I’m not familiar with all that as far as the handcuffs. But I’m telling you right now, we did nothing wrong … when you run a jail system … you’re bound to have some deaths that occur.”
The sheriff apparently learned nothing since Scott Norburg died in a restraint chair. Norberg’s family was awarded over $8 million in a lawsuit.
Brian Crenshaw, a blind man, was serving six months for shoplifting. His mother Linda Evans learned he had been in some sort of scuffle with officers at Tent City before he was transferred and placed in solitary confinement at Madison Street Jail. Six days later Crenshaw was taken to the hospital after being found unconscious in his cell. However, Crenshaw had already told a prison doctor he’d been beaten by officers. He died one month later and the family is suing.
Evans says, “They murdered my son. Mr. Arpaio is responsible. He is the head of the sheriff’s department and yet he seems to thrive on this cruelty and this mentality that these men are nothing.”
The sheriff insists Crenshaw fell off a bunk. Even though medical evidence indicates otherwise, it’s Arpaio’s story and he’s sticking to it. Arpaio said, “Well, a lot of people in jail say certain comments that are not true. So, if you want to believe a few of these inmates … so be it.”
Channel Four joined MAA at the home of co-founder Pearl Wilson, whose son Phillip Wilson died after being beat into a coma by other inmates. Wilson is also suing the sheriff. She says Arpaio’s staff allows fights to happen.
Arpaio said, “I feel very comfortable with myself. I go to sleep every night. It’s a tough job that I have. … if this sheriff … did anything wrong … it would be well publicized. I’m sure action would have been taken.”
If action translates to lawsuits, Arpaio is named as a defendant in approximately 1,500.
Jon spent over two years in Arpaio’s jail system, he was in Madison St. jail until he was sentenced. It was while he was there that Jon decided to write about the conditions. Revisit the beginning of the blog to understand why it all came about.
3 March 05
Anal Virginity Threats: George Reads Frankie’s Love Letter
(Threat level: medium and rising)
I told George about Frankie's letter. George demanded to see it.
“Uh…he calls you Englandman, eh?,"George said,"I don’t know, Englandman, if he managed to get a letter into here, into your sandwich, without a trace, I’d say he’s pretty serious buddy. He’s hunting for bear.”
“Hunting for bear, George?”
“And a little British bear, I believe.”
“I’m not worried. He might not even be sent here.”
“This is pretty serious stuff. What on earth did you say to him?”
“Nothing.”
“Perhaps you were practising your Spanish on him and it didn’t turn out very well.”
“I hope not.”
“Perhaps you said pass the choriso [sausage] and that flipped his switch.”
I laughed.
“As one gay man judging another I believe that if he ends up on this yard, you may need some protection.”
“Protection! For what?”
“Because he might want to ride your Hershey Highway.”
“My Hershey Highway! What the bloody hell is a Hersey Highway, George?"
“Your gluteus maximus.”
“Not anus maximus?
“Anus is not maximus unless you have sphincter problems.”
"I’m lost, am I detecting a bit of jealousy over Frankie, Jeeves?”
“Hell yeah! I don’t ever get to see Mr. Willy and he gets to ride the Hershey Highway. I don’t think so!”
“Well, its not like I wanna give it up to him.”
“I hope not. Wouldn’t you rather have someone lick the willy instead of cramming his dick in your ass.”
“Neither!”
“But you’re gonna end up with one or the other playing with people’s emotions like you do.”
“I haven’t promised anyone anything.”
“Evidently you have. Getting a message in your sandwich from someone who’s in another prison is pretty serious…we’re talkin’ pretty fucking serious! This guy knows what he’s doing and he must have plenty of help.”
“He may be kidding?”
“No this is beyond kidding, its…its…its…love!”
“Ha ha!”
“You may be laughing now but when his dick is in your ass you’re gonna be singing a different tune.”
“So how do I get out of this?”
“As soon as you see him you need to tell him, ‘I’ve found somebody else. You’re too late'.”
“I’ve found someone else! Are you bananas? What if he doesn’t accept that.”
“You may want to phone the British Embassy and tell them to mail you some prophylactics in a diplomatic pouch.”
“George, surely there are other ways to handle this situation?”
“As serious as he is, I doubt it. You need rubbers so that when his dick is in your ass you don’t get any diseases or become pregnant. Accept your fate.”
“Accept my fate! That’s not very helpful advice, Jeeves.”
“Accept your fate and don’t encourage him anymore.”
“Is that the best you can come up with?”
“Yes, and I’m off to clean up now, so tallyho, Englandman.”
“Toodle-oo, Jeeves.”
Anal Virginity Threats: George Reads Frankie’s Love Letter
(Threat level: medium and rising)
I told George about Frankie's letter. George demanded to see it.
“Uh…he calls you Englandman, eh?,"George said,"I don’t know, Englandman, if he managed to get a letter into here, into your sandwich, without a trace, I’d say he’s pretty serious buddy. He’s hunting for bear.”
“Hunting for bear, George?”
“And a little British bear, I believe.”
“I’m not worried. He might not even be sent here.”
“This is pretty serious stuff. What on earth did you say to him?”
“Nothing.”
“Perhaps you were practising your Spanish on him and it didn’t turn out very well.”
“I hope not.”
“Perhaps you said pass the choriso [sausage] and that flipped his switch.”
I laughed.
“As one gay man judging another I believe that if he ends up on this yard, you may need some protection.”
“Protection! For what?”
“Because he might want to ride your Hershey Highway.”
“My Hershey Highway! What the bloody hell is a Hersey Highway, George?"
“Your gluteus maximus.”
“Not anus maximus?
“Anus is not maximus unless you have sphincter problems.”
"I’m lost, am I detecting a bit of jealousy over Frankie, Jeeves?”
“Hell yeah! I don’t ever get to see Mr. Willy and he gets to ride the Hershey Highway. I don’t think so!”
“Well, its not like I wanna give it up to him.”
“I hope not. Wouldn’t you rather have someone lick the willy instead of cramming his dick in your ass.”
“Neither!”
“But you’re gonna end up with one or the other playing with people’s emotions like you do.”
“I haven’t promised anyone anything.”
“Evidently you have. Getting a message in your sandwich from someone who’s in another prison is pretty serious…we’re talkin’ pretty fucking serious! This guy knows what he’s doing and he must have plenty of help.”
“He may be kidding?”
“No this is beyond kidding, its…its…its…love!”
“Ha ha!”
“You may be laughing now but when his dick is in your ass you’re gonna be singing a different tune.”
“So how do I get out of this?”
“As soon as you see him you need to tell him, ‘I’ve found somebody else. You’re too late'.”
“I’ve found someone else! Are you bananas? What if he doesn’t accept that.”
“You may want to phone the British Embassy and tell them to mail you some prophylactics in a diplomatic pouch.”
“George, surely there are other ways to handle this situation?”
“As serious as he is, I doubt it. You need rubbers so that when his dick is in your ass you don’t get any diseases or become pregnant. Accept your fate.”
“Accept my fate! That’s not very helpful advice, Jeeves.”
“Accept your fate and don’t encourage him anymore.”
“Is that the best you can come up with?”
“Yes, and I’m off to clean up now, so tallyho, Englandman.”
“Toodle-oo, Jeeves.”
1 March 05
Anal Virginity Threats: Frankie’s Love Letter
(Threat level: medium and rising)
This evening in the chow hall, I looked inside my sandwich bread and discovered it contained some carefully-folded paper. Upon examining the paper I recognised Frankie’s handwriting.
Frankie is still at SMU2 in Florence. I wondered how he was able to circumvent the mail system and cause a letter to pop up in a sandwich?
For readers unfamiliar with Frankie, Frankie is a Mexican Mafia hitman who I met at the Madison Street jail (see blog Chess Moves 13/05/04) where he was fighting a double-homicide case, which he subsequently won. I used to play chess with Frankie and he made it clear that he would try to make me his prison bride if we were ever housed together.
Here are Frankie’s own words as discovered in my sandwich:
“Anyway, as you know you’re engaged to me so don’t be cheating on me because I’m a jealous guy. I’ve met a couple of cheetos here but all they do is flash their white asses through doors and that an’t no fun cause I can’t get none, I want someone I can make love to.”
Frankie believes that he will be at Buckeye soon:
“I’m more than sure that I’ll go there.”
He ended the letter with a smiley face, winking and pulling tongues.
I’ve a feeling that Frankie will be here soon.
Anal Virginity Threats: Frankie’s Love Letter
(Threat level: medium and rising)
This evening in the chow hall, I looked inside my sandwich bread and discovered it contained some carefully-folded paper. Upon examining the paper I recognised Frankie’s handwriting.
Frankie is still at SMU2 in Florence. I wondered how he was able to circumvent the mail system and cause a letter to pop up in a sandwich?
For readers unfamiliar with Frankie, Frankie is a Mexican Mafia hitman who I met at the Madison Street jail (see blog Chess Moves 13/05/04) where he was fighting a double-homicide case, which he subsequently won. I used to play chess with Frankie and he made it clear that he would try to make me his prison bride if we were ever housed together.
Here are Frankie’s own words as discovered in my sandwich:
“Anyway, as you know you’re engaged to me so don’t be cheating on me because I’m a jealous guy. I’ve met a couple of cheetos here but all they do is flash their white asses through doors and that an’t no fun cause I can’t get none, I want someone I can make love to.”
Frankie believes that he will be at Buckeye soon:
“I’m more than sure that I’ll go there.”
He ended the letter with a smiley face, winking and pulling tongues.
I’ve a feeling that Frankie will be here soon.
Question Time & Biblio Files
Angie asked me for my favourite author:
Miguel de Cervantes Don Quixote is my favourite work of fiction. The book is a witty portrayal of a mentally-ill man who has read too many books about knights and chivalry, and thinks he is a knight-errant. With his sidekick, Sancho Panza, Don Quixote embarks upon a series of adventures, most of which result in physical injury to himself and cause him to become known as the Knight of the Ill-favoured Face. Despite suffering violence, Don Quixote struggles on, undeterred, in the false belief that he is wooing an imaginary damsel in distress whom he is destined to rescue and whose kingdom he shall inherit.
Arnold J. Toynbee’s A Study of History is my favourite work of nonfiction. Upon reading this book I was able to view present events in the context of thousands of years of progressions and declines of civilisations. This is one of the most important books that I have ever read.
So, to answer your question Angie: for fun, Miguel de Cervantes is my favourite author; for study and knowledge content, Toynbee takes the top spot. Prior to discovering Cervantes, George Orwell was my favourite author.
Many blog readers have asked me to describe the books I have most recently enjoyed. I checked out Great Russian Short Stories from the prison library because I saw that it included Fyodor Dostoevsky’s The Grand Inquisitor. This story contained powerful prose but I obtained more pleasure from Nicholas Gogol’s The Cloak, which made me laugh a lot.
In another library book The Norton Anthology of World Masterpieces (sixth edition, volume two) I discovered an author who I admire both for his ability and his political philosophy. I’m referring to one of the geniuses from the Enlightenment era: Francois-Marie Arouet de Voltaire. I read Candide,or Optimism, a comedy about human nature in which the characters are raped, cut to pieces, hanged, stabbed, mutilated and seemingly murdered, only to resurface at more opportune moments. Voltaire ridicules certain philosophical beliefs by juxtaposing them with historical reality.
The Norton Anthology also contains Franz Kafka’s Metamorphosis, which I enjoyed. . Kafka’s story starts with Gregor who wakes up one day at his family's home and discovers that he has become a beetle who can listen to his family but not make himself understood. I was fascinated by Kafka’s dreamy style. Gregor’s sister, at first, feeds and cares for him. His father chases Gregor back into his bedroom for being an eyesore. At the end, Gregor’s death is warmly wished for by the entire family. I was moved when he died.
My fifth and sixth fiction selections both come from the same author: George Orwell, Animal Farm and 1984. I’ll come back to George shortly.
A book that I consider almost as important as Toynbee’s is Edward Gibbon’s The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.
I enjoyed reading William Steinhoff’s George Orwell and the Origins of 1984, which contained this Orwellian quote:
"Political thought is a sort of masturbation fantasy in which the world of facts hardly matters.”
In accordance with one of my New Year’s resolutions, I have recently read four books about criminal justice.
I was moved by two disturbing books written by Jewish political prisoners. Jacobo Timberman’s Prisoner Without a Name, Cell Without a Number describes his stay in an Argentinian prison where he was subjected to electro-shock torture amongst other things. Primo Levi’s book Survival in Auschwitz reeks of death. Mr. Levi somehow survived the torture, slave labour, prolonged nudity, diseases, and managed not to be selected for the gas chamber where the majority of his fellow prisoners ended up. Timberman’s book, describes events occurring in Argentina decades after World War II. He points out that some of the Argentinian right wing extremists idolised Hitler, and that such forces are always fermenting below the surface waiting for opportune moments to rise up.
Kenneth Clark’s Civilisation explores the creative works of Western society from the fall of the Roman Empire to the twentieth century. The book covers works of genius in architecture, sculpture and painting, philosophy, music and literature. I expected Ken’s style to be stuffy, but a keen sense of humour shines through his prose. The book expanded my knowledge of arts about which I know little
I recently wrote about Proust and F. Scott Fitzgerald (see Literary Growing Pains) and perhaps my phraseology led some readers to believe that I am seeking to emulate their styles. I didn’t mean to mislead people. I can only ever dream of aspiring to such skill levels.
Regarding my New Year’s resolutions (see blog), I have thus far lopsided my reading in 2005 in the area of criminal justice. I will now try and focus on the other areas to achieve a better balance. I appreciate all of the books that readers have generously sent to the prison. On my shelf currently sit books written by Goethe, J.S.Mill, Freud, Brzezinski, Apuleius, and one called Suicide Girls.
Appreciatively yours, Jon.
Angie asked me for my favourite author:
Miguel de Cervantes Don Quixote is my favourite work of fiction. The book is a witty portrayal of a mentally-ill man who has read too many books about knights and chivalry, and thinks he is a knight-errant. With his sidekick, Sancho Panza, Don Quixote embarks upon a series of adventures, most of which result in physical injury to himself and cause him to become known as the Knight of the Ill-favoured Face. Despite suffering violence, Don Quixote struggles on, undeterred, in the false belief that he is wooing an imaginary damsel in distress whom he is destined to rescue and whose kingdom he shall inherit.
Arnold J. Toynbee’s A Study of History is my favourite work of nonfiction. Upon reading this book I was able to view present events in the context of thousands of years of progressions and declines of civilisations. This is one of the most important books that I have ever read.
So, to answer your question Angie: for fun, Miguel de Cervantes is my favourite author; for study and knowledge content, Toynbee takes the top spot. Prior to discovering Cervantes, George Orwell was my favourite author.
Many blog readers have asked me to describe the books I have most recently enjoyed. I checked out Great Russian Short Stories from the prison library because I saw that it included Fyodor Dostoevsky’s The Grand Inquisitor. This story contained powerful prose but I obtained more pleasure from Nicholas Gogol’s The Cloak, which made me laugh a lot.
In another library book The Norton Anthology of World Masterpieces (sixth edition, volume two) I discovered an author who I admire both for his ability and his political philosophy. I’m referring to one of the geniuses from the Enlightenment era: Francois-Marie Arouet de Voltaire. I read Candide,or Optimism, a comedy about human nature in which the characters are raped, cut to pieces, hanged, stabbed, mutilated and seemingly murdered, only to resurface at more opportune moments. Voltaire ridicules certain philosophical beliefs by juxtaposing them with historical reality.
The Norton Anthology also contains Franz Kafka’s Metamorphosis, which I enjoyed. . Kafka’s story starts with Gregor who wakes up one day at his family's home and discovers that he has become a beetle who can listen to his family but not make himself understood. I was fascinated by Kafka’s dreamy style. Gregor’s sister, at first, feeds and cares for him. His father chases Gregor back into his bedroom for being an eyesore. At the end, Gregor’s death is warmly wished for by the entire family. I was moved when he died.
My fifth and sixth fiction selections both come from the same author: George Orwell, Animal Farm and 1984. I’ll come back to George shortly.
A book that I consider almost as important as Toynbee’s is Edward Gibbon’s The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.
I enjoyed reading William Steinhoff’s George Orwell and the Origins of 1984, which contained this Orwellian quote:
"Political thought is a sort of masturbation fantasy in which the world of facts hardly matters.”
In accordance with one of my New Year’s resolutions, I have recently read four books about criminal justice.
I was moved by two disturbing books written by Jewish political prisoners. Jacobo Timberman’s Prisoner Without a Name, Cell Without a Number describes his stay in an Argentinian prison where he was subjected to electro-shock torture amongst other things. Primo Levi’s book Survival in Auschwitz reeks of death. Mr. Levi somehow survived the torture, slave labour, prolonged nudity, diseases, and managed not to be selected for the gas chamber where the majority of his fellow prisoners ended up. Timberman’s book, describes events occurring in Argentina decades after World War II. He points out that some of the Argentinian right wing extremists idolised Hitler, and that such forces are always fermenting below the surface waiting for opportune moments to rise up.
Kenneth Clark’s Civilisation explores the creative works of Western society from the fall of the Roman Empire to the twentieth century. The book covers works of genius in architecture, sculpture and painting, philosophy, music and literature. I expected Ken’s style to be stuffy, but a keen sense of humour shines through his prose. The book expanded my knowledge of arts about which I know little
I recently wrote about Proust and F. Scott Fitzgerald (see Literary Growing Pains) and perhaps my phraseology led some readers to believe that I am seeking to emulate their styles. I didn’t mean to mislead people. I can only ever dream of aspiring to such skill levels.
Regarding my New Year’s resolutions (see blog), I have thus far lopsided my reading in 2005 in the area of criminal justice. I will now try and focus on the other areas to achieve a better balance. I appreciate all of the books that readers have generously sent to the prison. On my shelf currently sit books written by Goethe, J.S.Mill, Freud, Brzezinski, Apuleius, and one called Suicide Girls.
Appreciatively yours, Jon.
24 Feb 05
Fasting
I decided to give my digestive system a rest by fasting. I haven’t eaten for fourteen hours. I'm hungry and there’s a strange taste in my mouth.
My fast was long overdue. I haven’t fasted since I was a guest at the Madison Street Jail (see blog entry 08/04/04). I only have ten more hours to go to make a day and then I will shovel peanut butter into my mouth.
Fasting
I decided to give my digestive system a rest by fasting. I haven’t eaten for fourteen hours. I'm hungry and there’s a strange taste in my mouth.
My fast was long overdue. I haven’t fasted since I was a guest at the Madison Street Jail (see blog entry 08/04/04). I only have ten more hours to go to make a day and then I will shovel peanut butter into my mouth.
17th Feb 05
Pecker Pucker
Strip searches sometimes cause an inmate’s penis to dwindle in size. This withered willy condition is jokingly referred to as "shrinkage" by the inmates. Xena, my lanky shemale friend, talked about shrinkage after we were both recently strip-searched.
“ It was so cold in there, I had shrinkage. And what sucks is that I was thinkin’ of all kinds of sex acts goin’ into the strip-search room hopin’ that my penis would be bigger when I showed it to them. But they kept us waitin’ for so long in that cold-ass room that it had shrunk back down to nothin’ by the time that I had dropped my pants.”
There are at least two factors that seem to cause teeny-weener: the room temperature and strip-search-anticipation anxiety. Over the Christmas holidays, due to the visits with my parents and my kitchen job, I was getting strip-searched three times a day. I noticed that my organ was its regular size during the brisk going-into-the-visitation-room one-on-one strip-search, whereas, later on, it suffered diminution during the coming-out-of-the-visitation-room strip-search, which involved a long wait, a cold room, and a naked can-can performance in front of four guards alongside three other inmates.
Much later on, after seven hours of sweaty kitchen work, I was subjected to another brisk search conducted by one guard in a warm restroom, and my organ made his manliest appearance of the day. Outspoken inmates jest about succumbing to willy-shrivel, especially during the cold winter months when shrinkage is most common. Male readers: imagine standing starkers with your hands in the air while a guard or two gazes at your mouth, armpits, and reproductives. How would your organ react under such pressure?
Pecker Pucker
Strip searches sometimes cause an inmate’s penis to dwindle in size. This withered willy condition is jokingly referred to as "shrinkage" by the inmates. Xena, my lanky shemale friend, talked about shrinkage after we were both recently strip-searched.
“ It was so cold in there, I had shrinkage. And what sucks is that I was thinkin’ of all kinds of sex acts goin’ into the strip-search room hopin’ that my penis would be bigger when I showed it to them. But they kept us waitin’ for so long in that cold-ass room that it had shrunk back down to nothin’ by the time that I had dropped my pants.”
There are at least two factors that seem to cause teeny-weener: the room temperature and strip-search-anticipation anxiety. Over the Christmas holidays, due to the visits with my parents and my kitchen job, I was getting strip-searched three times a day. I noticed that my organ was its regular size during the brisk going-into-the-visitation-room one-on-one strip-search, whereas, later on, it suffered diminution during the coming-out-of-the-visitation-room strip-search, which involved a long wait, a cold room, and a naked can-can performance in front of four guards alongside three other inmates.
Much later on, after seven hours of sweaty kitchen work, I was subjected to another brisk search conducted by one guard in a warm restroom, and my organ made his manliest appearance of the day. Outspoken inmates jest about succumbing to willy-shrivel, especially during the cold winter months when shrinkage is most common. Male readers: imagine standing starkers with your hands in the air while a guard or two gazes at your mouth, armpits, and reproductives. How would your organ react under such pressure?
14th Feb 05
Question Time
Liz asked about the practicality of implementing the Japanese community justice approach in the United States. (see blog 15th Oct 04)
I believe that reintegrative shaming, which has been successful in Japan, could be used in America. Statistics indicate that there are less than 100,000 prisoners in Japan versus over 1 million in the US (figures released by the US Dept of Justice 31/12/03, 1,470,045 total prison population) so taking a small fraction of the US prison population out and into community guidance programs would benefit the economy and reduce the taxpayers' burden. Those prisoners could be making a positive contribution to society.
America will continue to suffer rising crime and prison overcrowding until the politicians and legislators decide to address the root causes of crime.(see blog ‘Crime & Punishment) Unfortunately the profiteers continue to successfully lobby for the status quo, and as a result, a justice system designed to protect and benefit the public has been converted into a profit- making scheme.
Question Time
Liz asked about the practicality of implementing the Japanese community justice approach in the United States. (see blog 15th Oct 04)
I believe that reintegrative shaming, which has been successful in Japan, could be used in America. Statistics indicate that there are less than 100,000 prisoners in Japan versus over 1 million in the US (figures released by the US Dept of Justice 31/12/03, 1,470,045 total prison population) so taking a small fraction of the US prison population out and into community guidance programs would benefit the economy and reduce the taxpayers' burden. Those prisoners could be making a positive contribution to society.
America will continue to suffer rising crime and prison overcrowding until the politicians and legislators decide to address the root causes of crime.(see blog ‘Crime & Punishment) Unfortunately the profiteers continue to successfully lobby for the status quo, and as a result, a justice system designed to protect and benefit the public has been converted into a profit- making scheme.
Lost in Post – Penguin’s Scars
The following blog has just arrived although Jon sent it in October. It refers to Penguin (See blog 25/09) who was Jon’s cellmate at Florence. .
Penguin has been miserable ever since his birthday. He’s written to his mum several times, but he hasn’t received a reply. Every night, with hope in his eyes, Penguin looks at the mail officer.
“Is that all the mail there is?” he constantly asks.
“What I’ve handed out is all I’ve got. I tell you this every night!”
Penguin is hoping for a belated birthday card from his mum.
The guards and inmates have been teasing Penguin about the pentagram tattoo on his forehead. Penguin got the pentagram at the behest of a tattoo artist in Sunnyslope.
Penguin asked the tattoo artist to place the pentagram on his chest. The price agreed upon was $120. The man offered to do the tattoo for free if he could put it on any part of Penguins body. Penguin agreed and the forehead was designated. Penguin insists he is not a Satanist and that the tattoo is his family’s ancestral symbol. He claims that he is a Nazarene descended from the Hebrew line of the Israelites. The inmates laugh at this.
When Penguin was topless I noticed a large, thick scar stretching from his upper abdomen down to his public mound. I also noticed another scar that goes around the side of his belly. I asked Penguin how he had come to get such scars on his torso. Another tragic tale emerged.
In 1990, when Penguin was eighteen, he was roaming around Sunnyslope with his friend Jimmy, who was in possession of a 16-inch knife that belonged to Penguin. A car went by slowly, and Penguin, thinking that he recognised the occupants, waved at them and urged them to stop. Penguin approached the driver’s side of the vehicle and realised that he had made a mistake. Penguin promptly apologised but the driver punched him in the face. Penguin retreated but one of the passengers in the vehicle jumped out and accosted Jimmy, who pulled out the blade. The passenger pulled a handgun. Jimmy dropped the knife and bolted. Penguin was running away at a slower pace when the passenger tackled him and stabbed him in the stomach. Before fleeing, the passenger started to slice the knife through Penguin’s flesh in what almost resulted in a disembowelment.
It took Penguin a few minutes before he realised he had been stabbed. He was looking for Jimmy when he noticed blood soaking his clothing. It took Penguin 30 minutes to walk half a block to reach a pay phone. He was losing consciousness when the paramedics arrived.
The doctor, fearing that Penguin’s internal organs had been damaged, decided to cut Penguin open to examine his entrails. They cut a large incision down his torso and during a
twelve-and-a-half-hour operation the doctors examined Penguin’s intestine inch by inch. They informed his family that 90% of the victims of such stab wounds die.
The damage to Penguin’s internal organs was not life threatening, but Penguin entered a coma and remained in it for two-and-a-half weeks. Penguin claimed that he saw a bright light when he was comatose and that he heard God’s voice saying: “Do not fear my precious child, for I am with you.” Penguin survived but ever since the incident he has suffered from irritable bowel syndrome and acid reflux disease.
Penguin wrote a poem this week:
Misery Is Living (by Penguin)
Misery is living for me right now,
And God won’t let me go.
I am trapped in my loneliness and pain.
To woe my soul and to know,
Is all I have to look forward to?
And still I cry for death’s cold grip
To end my pain of endless loneliness,
And lonely nights of my weeping soul
19th October 04
The following blog has just arrived although Jon sent it in October. It refers to Penguin (See blog 25/09) who was Jon’s cellmate at Florence. .
Penguin has been miserable ever since his birthday. He’s written to his mum several times, but he hasn’t received a reply. Every night, with hope in his eyes, Penguin looks at the mail officer.
“Is that all the mail there is?” he constantly asks.
“What I’ve handed out is all I’ve got. I tell you this every night!”
Penguin is hoping for a belated birthday card from his mum.
The guards and inmates have been teasing Penguin about the pentagram tattoo on his forehead. Penguin got the pentagram at the behest of a tattoo artist in Sunnyslope.
Penguin asked the tattoo artist to place the pentagram on his chest. The price agreed upon was $120. The man offered to do the tattoo for free if he could put it on any part of Penguins body. Penguin agreed and the forehead was designated. Penguin insists he is not a Satanist and that the tattoo is his family’s ancestral symbol. He claims that he is a Nazarene descended from the Hebrew line of the Israelites. The inmates laugh at this.
When Penguin was topless I noticed a large, thick scar stretching from his upper abdomen down to his public mound. I also noticed another scar that goes around the side of his belly. I asked Penguin how he had come to get such scars on his torso. Another tragic tale emerged.
In 1990, when Penguin was eighteen, he was roaming around Sunnyslope with his friend Jimmy, who was in possession of a 16-inch knife that belonged to Penguin. A car went by slowly, and Penguin, thinking that he recognised the occupants, waved at them and urged them to stop. Penguin approached the driver’s side of the vehicle and realised that he had made a mistake. Penguin promptly apologised but the driver punched him in the face. Penguin retreated but one of the passengers in the vehicle jumped out and accosted Jimmy, who pulled out the blade. The passenger pulled a handgun. Jimmy dropped the knife and bolted. Penguin was running away at a slower pace when the passenger tackled him and stabbed him in the stomach. Before fleeing, the passenger started to slice the knife through Penguin’s flesh in what almost resulted in a disembowelment.
It took Penguin a few minutes before he realised he had been stabbed. He was looking for Jimmy when he noticed blood soaking his clothing. It took Penguin 30 minutes to walk half a block to reach a pay phone. He was losing consciousness when the paramedics arrived.
The doctor, fearing that Penguin’s internal organs had been damaged, decided to cut Penguin open to examine his entrails. They cut a large incision down his torso and during a
twelve-and-a-half-hour operation the doctors examined Penguin’s intestine inch by inch. They informed his family that 90% of the victims of such stab wounds die.
The damage to Penguin’s internal organs was not life threatening, but Penguin entered a coma and remained in it for two-and-a-half weeks. Penguin claimed that he saw a bright light when he was comatose and that he heard God’s voice saying: “Do not fear my precious child, for I am with you.” Penguin survived but ever since the incident he has suffered from irritable bowel syndrome and acid reflux disease.
Penguin wrote a poem this week:
Misery Is Living (by Penguin)
Misery is living for me right now,
And God won’t let me go.
I am trapped in my loneliness and pain.
To woe my soul and to know,
Is all I have to look forward to?
And still I cry for death’s cold grip
To end my pain of endless loneliness,
And lonely nights of my weeping soul
19th October 04
6 Feb 05
Anal Virginity Threats: Glory Hole
(Threat level: moderate) Warning: Sexually Explicit
This week George came on strong. Picture him - stout, soft-spoken, silver-haired, and in his late forties. Out of nowhere, in a voice reminiscent of Monty Python member impersonating a woman, George said, "Jon's too shy to get oral sex. Jon's too inhibited to get his willy played with by another man. Oh, no! What if the Queen of England were to find out that a man had been fiddling with Jon's Prince William."
"Inhibited? Shy? I'm too heterosexual, is what you mean?"
George's voice returned to normal, "You're too homophobic."
"Nonsense, I have loads of gay friends."
"Then you're confused. There's nobody that's one-hundred-percent heterosexual or homosexual. There's only varying degrees of the whole range of sexuality."
"Oh yes, how do you know that?"
"Humans are curious about sex."
"All of them, about all kinds of sex?"
"Everyone of 'em. If you took away people's inhibitions there'd be a lot of bisexuals."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Look at the Sixties, free love. One minute you're going down on a vagina and the next minute there's a penis in your face and you're just going to town on it."
"If you're going down on a vagina how can you be performing fellatio at the same time?"
"Because its an orgy. You're just rollin' around from person to person without a care in the world."
"Maybe at your house!"
"Why do you think that voyeurism is so popular?"
"You tell me."
"Because the people being watched are uninhibited."
"You just want more bisexuals to feast upon!"
"I want people to be less inhibited."
"So they'll have sex with you?"
"Surely you've been near a penis at some point of your life?"
"Nope."
"Not even peeing contests or circle jerks?" (Communal adolescent masturbation sessions.)
"I helped put a fire out one night by peeing on it."
"See, you have had a penis near you!"
"Putting a fire out is not a sexual act."
"Peeing on fires jointly is, okay, Jon. It's male bonding, camaraderie."
"But it wasn't sexual!"
"So you've never cruised for love?"
"No!"
"Don't you think that if it didn't have social stigma you would do anything that feels good?'
"Such as letting you suck my dick? Is that where this is heading?"
"I say if it feels good, let it happen."
"Ha, ha! You are a fiend."
"Let me ask you this then: if you stick your dick into a glory hole [a hole through which fellatio is performed anonymously] and you didn't know if it was a man or a woman sucking on it, what difference would receiving the pleasure make?"
"I've never used a glory hole."
"You wouldn't know then, but in my opinion, a man would do a better job."
"No, I wouldn't know."
"But you agree that they'd both feel good right?"
"That's a tie down. You're asking me a question to solicit a yes answer?"
"You know that they would both feel good," he said, smiling slyly.
"No I don't."
"You need to toss out of the window your preconceived notions of right and wrong. Lose your inhibitions."
"It seems you've beaten me with semantics. I'll grant you that."
"Yah! I won. Now you have to drop your knickers and close your eyes."
"Not likely!"
"Think about my question again then: if you put your penis in a glory hole and you didn't know if it was a male or a female giving you satisfaction, wouldn't it be equally pleasurable?"
Refusing to answer his question directly, I replied, "I'll write about this conversation and see what my blog readers think. Then I'll find out if you're a madman or not. Perhaps there are people out there acquainted with glory holes, or maybe not."
"I'll leave it at that for now then, shall I?" he asked, looking me up and down.
"Most definitely!"
"Okay. Goodbye," he said and left.
"Ta ta," I shouted after him.
I would appreciate your comments on handling George. Does his argument make sense or not?
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com
Anal Virginity Threats: Glory Hole
(Threat level: moderate) Warning: Sexually Explicit
This week George came on strong. Picture him - stout, soft-spoken, silver-haired, and in his late forties. Out of nowhere, in a voice reminiscent of Monty Python member impersonating a woman, George said, "Jon's too shy to get oral sex. Jon's too inhibited to get his willy played with by another man. Oh, no! What if the Queen of England were to find out that a man had been fiddling with Jon's Prince William."
"Inhibited? Shy? I'm too heterosexual, is what you mean?"
George's voice returned to normal, "You're too homophobic."
"Nonsense, I have loads of gay friends."
"Then you're confused. There's nobody that's one-hundred-percent heterosexual or homosexual. There's only varying degrees of the whole range of sexuality."
"Oh yes, how do you know that?"
"Humans are curious about sex."
"All of them, about all kinds of sex?"
"Everyone of 'em. If you took away people's inhibitions there'd be a lot of bisexuals."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Look at the Sixties, free love. One minute you're going down on a vagina and the next minute there's a penis in your face and you're just going to town on it."
"If you're going down on a vagina how can you be performing fellatio at the same time?"
"Because its an orgy. You're just rollin' around from person to person without a care in the world."
"Maybe at your house!"
"Why do you think that voyeurism is so popular?"
"You tell me."
"Because the people being watched are uninhibited."
"You just want more bisexuals to feast upon!"
"I want people to be less inhibited."
"So they'll have sex with you?"
"Surely you've been near a penis at some point of your life?"
"Nope."
"Not even peeing contests or circle jerks?" (Communal adolescent masturbation sessions.)
"I helped put a fire out one night by peeing on it."
"See, you have had a penis near you!"
"Putting a fire out is not a sexual act."
"Peeing on fires jointly is, okay, Jon. It's male bonding, camaraderie."
"But it wasn't sexual!"
"So you've never cruised for love?"
"No!"
"Don't you think that if it didn't have social stigma you would do anything that feels good?'
"Such as letting you suck my dick? Is that where this is heading?"
"I say if it feels good, let it happen."
"Ha, ha! You are a fiend."
"Let me ask you this then: if you stick your dick into a glory hole [a hole through which fellatio is performed anonymously] and you didn't know if it was a man or a woman sucking on it, what difference would receiving the pleasure make?"
"I've never used a glory hole."
"You wouldn't know then, but in my opinion, a man would do a better job."
"No, I wouldn't know."
"But you agree that they'd both feel good right?"
"That's a tie down. You're asking me a question to solicit a yes answer?"
"You know that they would both feel good," he said, smiling slyly.
"No I don't."
"You need to toss out of the window your preconceived notions of right and wrong. Lose your inhibitions."
"It seems you've beaten me with semantics. I'll grant you that."
"Yah! I won. Now you have to drop your knickers and close your eyes."
"Not likely!"
"Think about my question again then: if you put your penis in a glory hole and you didn't know if it was a male or a female giving you satisfaction, wouldn't it be equally pleasurable?"
Refusing to answer his question directly, I replied, "I'll write about this conversation and see what my blog readers think. Then I'll find out if you're a madman or not. Perhaps there are people out there acquainted with glory holes, or maybe not."
"I'll leave it at that for now then, shall I?" he asked, looking me up and down.
"Most definitely!"
"Okay. Goodbye," he said and left.
"Ta ta," I shouted after him.
I would appreciate your comments on handling George. Does his argument make sense or not?
Email comments to writeinside@hotmail.com
27 Jan 05
Psychotherapy and Music
I have been scheduled to see the prison psychotherapist, Dr. B. I have also obtained a textbook, Theory and Practice of Counselling and Psychotherapy, which I hope will give me a better understanding of psychotherapy. Thus far, I have found the chapter on Cognitive Behaviour Therapy the most helpful, especially an approach called REBT (Rational Emotive Behaviour Therapy).
The gist of REBT is that our negative interpretations of events, and not actual events themselves, cause us problems. The remedy is to break the pattern of negative thoughts, replacing them with positive ones. In short, changing our reactions to situations.
REBT seems to be a modern adaptation of certain schools of ancient philosophy. I practice Sidda Yoga meditation, which helps me let go of negative thoughts. The Stoics also had advice in this area. Epictetus taught, “People are disturbed not by things, but by the views which they take of them."
Cognitive Behaviour Therapy is a holistic approach, which includes relaxation, humour, conversation and techniques such as yoga, meditation and listening to music.
Regarding music, I have been unable to listen to electronica since my arrest. At the Towers Jail in 2002, I listened to some radio broadcasts from a nightclub in Tempe, but I became sad. Too many memories were released all at once. I remembered the fun I had with my friends.
In order to relax I have begun to listen to music again. Most of the radio stations in Arizona are abysmal. They push the same play lists. But I did discover an excellent classical music radio station, NPR (National Public Radio). I tuned into NPR and listened to Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 3 in C minor. Lying down on my bunk, I closed my eyes, and Beethoven’s concerto managed to make the hair on my arms rise.
As I was listening to Beethoven, Greg, an Aryan Brotherhood member, came to my door, and seeing my headphones and a smile on my face, asked if I was feeling alright. I assured him that I was and I explained that I was listening to Beethoven. He left with a grin on his face, returned a few minutes later, and flung two cassette tapes at me.
“I’ve got a fuckin’ anger problem, so my doctor tells me that when I feel like hitting someone, I’ve gotta listen to these.”
I am now enjoying Greg’s tapes: Mozart for Meditation and Bach’s Greatest Hits Volume 2. I especially like Bach’s Piano Concerto No. 27 in B-flat. I hope that Greg doesn’t smash someone while his tapes are absent.
I am going to ask my parents to coordinate the delivery of some tapes. Enya or Enigma would be good. Perhaps I am ready to listen to some Sasha or Paul Van Dyk
John at http://www.tofuhut.blogspot.com/ asked if there was any music that I liked that I considered underrepresented. Two of my DJ friends, Keoki and Sandra Collins were massive in the States before my arrest, but I am not sure about their popularity in Europe. They are both talented and perhaps they have made it big in Europe by now.
Psychotherapy and Music
I have been scheduled to see the prison psychotherapist, Dr. B. I have also obtained a textbook, Theory and Practice of Counselling and Psychotherapy, which I hope will give me a better understanding of psychotherapy. Thus far, I have found the chapter on Cognitive Behaviour Therapy the most helpful, especially an approach called REBT (Rational Emotive Behaviour Therapy).
The gist of REBT is that our negative interpretations of events, and not actual events themselves, cause us problems. The remedy is to break the pattern of negative thoughts, replacing them with positive ones. In short, changing our reactions to situations.
REBT seems to be a modern adaptation of certain schools of ancient philosophy. I practice Sidda Yoga meditation, which helps me let go of negative thoughts. The Stoics also had advice in this area. Epictetus taught, “People are disturbed not by things, but by the views which they take of them."
Cognitive Behaviour Therapy is a holistic approach, which includes relaxation, humour, conversation and techniques such as yoga, meditation and listening to music.
Regarding music, I have been unable to listen to electronica since my arrest. At the Towers Jail in 2002, I listened to some radio broadcasts from a nightclub in Tempe, but I became sad. Too many memories were released all at once. I remembered the fun I had with my friends.
In order to relax I have begun to listen to music again. Most of the radio stations in Arizona are abysmal. They push the same play lists. But I did discover an excellent classical music radio station, NPR (National Public Radio). I tuned into NPR and listened to Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 3 in C minor. Lying down on my bunk, I closed my eyes, and Beethoven’s concerto managed to make the hair on my arms rise.
As I was listening to Beethoven, Greg, an Aryan Brotherhood member, came to my door, and seeing my headphones and a smile on my face, asked if I was feeling alright. I assured him that I was and I explained that I was listening to Beethoven. He left with a grin on his face, returned a few minutes later, and flung two cassette tapes at me.
“I’ve got a fuckin’ anger problem, so my doctor tells me that when I feel like hitting someone, I’ve gotta listen to these.”
I am now enjoying Greg’s tapes: Mozart for Meditation and Bach’s Greatest Hits Volume 2. I especially like Bach’s Piano Concerto No. 27 in B-flat. I hope that Greg doesn’t smash someone while his tapes are absent.
I am going to ask my parents to coordinate the delivery of some tapes. Enya or Enigma would be good. Perhaps I am ready to listen to some Sasha or Paul Van Dyk
John at http://www.tofuhut.blogspot.com/ asked if there was any music that I liked that I considered underrepresented. Two of my DJ friends, Keoki and Sandra Collins were massive in the States before my arrest, but I am not sure about their popularity in Europe. They are both talented and perhaps they have made it big in Europe by now.
Inmate Resources
‘The only way in which a human being can make some approach to knowing the whole of a subject, is by hearing what can be said about it by persons of every variety of opinion, and studying all modes in which it can be looked at by every character of mind. No wise man ever acquired his wisdom in any mode but this.’
John Stuart Mill, ‘On Liberty’
Inmates need stuff to read. The following organisations may be of use.
MIM DISTRIBUTORS
P.O. BOX 29670,
LOS ANGELES, CA 90029-0670
www.etext.org/Politics/MIM
MIM provides free books and newsletters to US prisoners nationwide. They publish a monthly theoretical journal espousing the theories of Marx, Engels, Lenin, Stalin and Mao. They welcome written contributions from inmates.
FAULT LINES
2940 16th STREET ste. 216
SAN FRANCISCO, CA 94104
http://www.indymedia.org/
Fault Lines is a newspaper reporting alternative global news that is suppressed by the mainstream propaganda machine. They rely on donations, and welcome written work from prisoners.
NEWS & LETTERS
36 SOUTH WABASH, Room 1440
Chicago, IL 60603
http://www.newsandletters.org/
News and Letters is a newspaper also reporting alternative global news. They try to present all voices struggling for freedom including prisoners'.
EDWARD R. HAMILTON (bookseller)
FALLS VILLAGE CT 06031-5000
http://www.edwardrhamilton.com/
This bookstore has the cheapest prices I have ever seen. They offer a wide range of books. Their book catalogue is a must for prisoners who like to read. They make http://www.overstock.com/ seem expensive in comparison.
AK PRESS DISTRIBUTION
674-a 23rd STREET
OAKLAND, CA 94612
http://www.akpress.org/
They offer a 40% inmate discount and provide books that you will not find in your average bookstore, including some shocking titles in the sex section.
‘The only way in which a human being can make some approach to knowing the whole of a subject, is by hearing what can be said about it by persons of every variety of opinion, and studying all modes in which it can be looked at by every character of mind. No wise man ever acquired his wisdom in any mode but this.’
John Stuart Mill, ‘On Liberty’
Inmates need stuff to read. The following organisations may be of use.
MIM DISTRIBUTORS
P.O. BOX 29670,
LOS ANGELES, CA 90029-0670
www.etext.org/Politics/MIM
MIM provides free books and newsletters to US prisoners nationwide. They publish a monthly theoretical journal espousing the theories of Marx, Engels, Lenin, Stalin and Mao. They welcome written contributions from inmates.
FAULT LINES
2940 16th STREET ste. 216
SAN FRANCISCO, CA 94104
http://www.indymedia.org/
Fault Lines is a newspaper reporting alternative global news that is suppressed by the mainstream propaganda machine. They rely on donations, and welcome written work from prisoners.
NEWS & LETTERS
36 SOUTH WABASH, Room 1440
Chicago, IL 60603
http://www.newsandletters.org/
News and Letters is a newspaper also reporting alternative global news. They try to present all voices struggling for freedom including prisoners'.
EDWARD R. HAMILTON (bookseller)
FALLS VILLAGE CT 06031-5000
http://www.edwardrhamilton.com/
This bookstore has the cheapest prices I have ever seen. They offer a wide range of books. Their book catalogue is a must for prisoners who like to read. They make http://www.overstock.com/ seem expensive in comparison.
AK PRESS DISTRIBUTION
674-a 23rd STREET
OAKLAND, CA 94612
http://www.akpress.org/
They offer a 40% inmate discount and provide books that you will not find in your average bookstore, including some shocking titles in the sex section.
26 Jan 05
Long Island’s Disciplinary Tickets
Inmates who receive disciplinary tickets lose privileges (known as LOP), have their scores raised, and ultimately may be moved to a higher-security prison. My new cellmate, Long Island, worked his way up from medium security in 2003 to supermaximum security in 2004 by earning lots of tickets. He has only been back in medium security for two weeks and he has already earned three tickets. If he receives one more major ticket he will be sent to a higher-custody yard. The law of averages is not in his favour.
Long Island’s most recent ticket occurred after the officer whose duty it is to monitor our outgoing mail discovered that he was "piggy-backing" a letter to an inmate at SMU1. Long Island was charged with "BO8: Disobeying a verbal or written order, including Departmental and Institutional rules, policies, procedures, memoranda or other directives." The officer found a reference to me in Long Island’s letter, “I’ve found Jon” and was concerned that Long Island was a "sleeper" - someone contracted to kill me. The officer quizzed Long Island and mentioned that he reads my blog.
I asked Long Island to show me some of his other tickets (Inmate Disciplinary Reports) and he obliged. On 21st September, 2003, Long Island decided to stand on some rocks in an area where inmates are prohibited from going. The officer wrote: “(He) was given several direct orders by myself…to get off the rocks… and go home. (He) refused all orders given.” For standing on the rocks Long Island was sentenced to 30 days LOP – confiscation of appliances including the TV and cancellation of store purchases (except for hygiene and postage).
In November, Long Island was charged with "B11: Give/Receive Tattoo or Paraphernalia" because "during a cell search a tattoo gun and ink were found in the light fixture." Tattoo guns are made by extracting the motor from a stereo, using a guitar string as a needle, and inserting the string into an empty Bic pen. Ink is obtained by collecting soot caused by burning hair grease. The sentence was yet another thirty days L.O.P and a stay at the hole.
While in the hole, Long Island, who was suffering from nicotine-withdrawal symptoms, formed a plan to obtain some smokes. He mailed another inmate "instructions on how to introduce tobacco into CDU (Complex Detention Unit)." For doing this he was charged once more with B26. The lieutenant told Long Island, “You’re on LOP "till the cows come home." Instead of doling out more LOP, Long Island was sent to SMU1 where he resided until being moved back here.
email Jon at writeinside@hotmail.com
Long Island’s Disciplinary Tickets
Inmates who receive disciplinary tickets lose privileges (known as LOP), have their scores raised, and ultimately may be moved to a higher-security prison. My new cellmate, Long Island, worked his way up from medium security in 2003 to supermaximum security in 2004 by earning lots of tickets. He has only been back in medium security for two weeks and he has already earned three tickets. If he receives one more major ticket he will be sent to a higher-custody yard. The law of averages is not in his favour.
Long Island’s most recent ticket occurred after the officer whose duty it is to monitor our outgoing mail discovered that he was "piggy-backing" a letter to an inmate at SMU1. Long Island was charged with "BO8: Disobeying a verbal or written order, including Departmental and Institutional rules, policies, procedures, memoranda or other directives." The officer found a reference to me in Long Island’s letter, “I’ve found Jon” and was concerned that Long Island was a "sleeper" - someone contracted to kill me. The officer quizzed Long Island and mentioned that he reads my blog.
I asked Long Island to show me some of his other tickets (Inmate Disciplinary Reports) and he obliged. On 21st September, 2003, Long Island decided to stand on some rocks in an area where inmates are prohibited from going. The officer wrote: “(He) was given several direct orders by myself…to get off the rocks… and go home. (He) refused all orders given.” For standing on the rocks Long Island was sentenced to 30 days LOP – confiscation of appliances including the TV and cancellation of store purchases (except for hygiene and postage).
In November, Long Island was charged with "B11: Give/Receive Tattoo or Paraphernalia" because "during a cell search a tattoo gun and ink were found in the light fixture." Tattoo guns are made by extracting the motor from a stereo, using a guitar string as a needle, and inserting the string into an empty Bic pen. Ink is obtained by collecting soot caused by burning hair grease. The sentence was yet another thirty days L.O.P and a stay at the hole.
While in the hole, Long Island, who was suffering from nicotine-withdrawal symptoms, formed a plan to obtain some smokes. He mailed another inmate "instructions on how to introduce tobacco into CDU (Complex Detention Unit)." For doing this he was charged once more with B26. The lieutenant told Long Island, “You’re on LOP "till the cows come home." Instead of doling out more LOP, Long Island was sent to SMU1 where he resided until being moved back here.
email Jon at writeinside@hotmail.com
25 Jan 05
Hello Long Island
My new cellmate is a twenty-six year old called Long Island who brought some interesting books with him. He gave me F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Tender is the Night.
After being locked down for over a year, Long Island is understandably boisterous. He managed to get two disciplinary tickets his second day here. The guard cited him for wearing shower shoes in the day room (ticket one) and Long Island responded by calling the guard “a bitch”
(ticket two).
BHF was in the habit of pelting my cell with batteries, so Long Island went and asked BHF to stop.
Hello Long Island
My new cellmate is a twenty-six year old called Long Island who brought some interesting books with him. He gave me F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Tender is the Night.
After being locked down for over a year, Long Island is understandably boisterous. He managed to get two disciplinary tickets his second day here. The guard cited him for wearing shower shoes in the day room (ticket one) and Long Island responded by calling the guard “a bitch”
(ticket two).
BHF was in the habit of pelting my cell with batteries, so Long Island went and asked BHF to stop.
24 Jan 05
Lithium and Prozac
As I'm diagnosed with anxiety and bipolar disorders, they've put me on lithium and Prozac.
At hourly increments I jotted down how the lithium made me feel.
1 hour after swallowing the pill:
I can feel my heart pounding. My anxiety has increased – I am trembling and uneasy. My mind is clouded. Breathing feels difficult – slow and heavy. I feel dizzy. There is a strange taste in my mouth. My eyes are heavy.
2 hours later:
I have urinated twice – long, clear jets. My eyes are aching and squinting, the book I am reading is going in and out of focus. I have a headache. My heartbeat feels odd and the left side of my chest feels tight.
3 hours later:
I have urinated two more times – more clear pee. I threw up a small amount of vomit – it looked as if blood was in it, but it may have been the tomatoes I ate at lunchtime. My hands are trembling. My head is pulsating. My skin feels strange to touch. I am experiencing sudden flatulence. I have completely lost my appetite. I am feeling occasional stabbing pains in the right side of my brain.
I felt so sick that I skipped the evenings chow.
The next day I refused the meds. I signed a refusal form upon which I described the side effects. Instead of taking these pills, I’ll stick to yoga from now on. A five-minute headstand is the best kind of medicine. Maybe a century from now the medical profession will be scoffing at lithium, as we look back and mock electro-shock therapy. In the meantime the pharmaceutical-industrial complex will make a fortune.
Lithium and Prozac
As I'm diagnosed with anxiety and bipolar disorders, they've put me on lithium and Prozac.
At hourly increments I jotted down how the lithium made me feel.
1 hour after swallowing the pill:
I can feel my heart pounding. My anxiety has increased – I am trembling and uneasy. My mind is clouded. Breathing feels difficult – slow and heavy. I feel dizzy. There is a strange taste in my mouth. My eyes are heavy.
2 hours later:
I have urinated twice – long, clear jets. My eyes are aching and squinting, the book I am reading is going in and out of focus. I have a headache. My heartbeat feels odd and the left side of my chest feels tight.
3 hours later:
I have urinated two more times – more clear pee. I threw up a small amount of vomit – it looked as if blood was in it, but it may have been the tomatoes I ate at lunchtime. My hands are trembling. My head is pulsating. My skin feels strange to touch. I am experiencing sudden flatulence. I have completely lost my appetite. I am feeling occasional stabbing pains in the right side of my brain.
I felt so sick that I skipped the evenings chow.
The next day I refused the meds. I signed a refusal form upon which I described the side effects. Instead of taking these pills, I’ll stick to yoga from now on. A five-minute headstand is the best kind of medicine. Maybe a century from now the medical profession will be scoffing at lithium, as we look back and mock electro-shock therapy. In the meantime the pharmaceutical-industrial complex will make a fortune.
21 Jan 05
Literary Growing Pains
‘There is no satisfactory explanation of style, no infallible guide to good writing, no assurance that a person who thinks clearly will be able to write clearly, no key that unlocks the door, no inflexible rule by which the young writer may shape his course. He will often find himself steering by stars that are disturbingly in motion’ (Source: E.B. White, The Elements of Style by William Strunk Jr & E.B. White, Chpt. 5)
I recently received some books that caused me to think about my writing. Maybe I should have added studying English literature and language to my New Year’s Resolutions, as there seems to be plenty of room for improvement.
This self-assessment began when I started to read Remembrance of Things Past (3294 pages) by Marcel Proust. The three-volume set was thoughtfully sent as a Christmas gift by one of my sister’s colleagues, Jill Shiel. My first impression of Volume 1 was negative, the pace seemed to be too slow. I wondered why Jill had chosen Proust, but after reading over 100 pages I began to suspect that Jill wanted me to read a style of writing par excellence.
Despite my initial doubts I quickly began to enjoy the genius of Marcel Proust. I found myself in awe of his figurative language and I began to reread the sentences that mesmerised me the most. Here are some descriptions I enjoyed.
"…the heat of the day was falling and settling, as though in a vase along the sides of which the transparent, dusky jelly of the air seemed of such consistency that a tall rose-tree, fastened against the dim wall which it veined with pink, looked like the arborescence that one sees at the heart of an onyx."
"…the churches of Criquebec which, in the distance, surrounded by water on every side because you saw them without seeing the town, in a powdery haze of sunlight and crumbling waves, seemed to be emerging from the waters, blown in alabaster or in sea-foam, and, enclosed in the band a variegated rainbow, to form an ethereal, mystical tableau."
After reading Volume 1 of Remembrance of Things Past, I started F. Scott Fitzgerald’s, Tender is the Night.
I am envious of the talents of Proust and Fitzgerald. I have now set about improving my
English.
Unlike my sister, Karen, who has studied English her entire adult life, I have not studied English since high school.
Despite my shortcomings, I am endeavouring to use all of the resources at my disposal to improve my abilities. My father kindly sent me The Oxford American Writer’s Thesaurus for Christmas and I am seeking approval from the prison’s education department to do some correspondence courses with www.riosalado.edu/ci who provide non-Internet courses for prisoners.
ENG213: Introduction to the Study of Language, would be beneficial. It is described as the Study of language as code: phonetics, phonology, morphology, syntax, semantics, language acquisition; historical and socio-linguistics.
ENH275: Modern Fiction, also interest me. It is described as including "novels and short stories for modern writers which reflect significant themes of our time."
Literary Growing Pains
‘There is no satisfactory explanation of style, no infallible guide to good writing, no assurance that a person who thinks clearly will be able to write clearly, no key that unlocks the door, no inflexible rule by which the young writer may shape his course. He will often find himself steering by stars that are disturbingly in motion’ (Source: E.B. White, The Elements of Style by William Strunk Jr & E.B. White, Chpt. 5)
I recently received some books that caused me to think about my writing. Maybe I should have added studying English literature and language to my New Year’s Resolutions, as there seems to be plenty of room for improvement.
This self-assessment began when I started to read Remembrance of Things Past (3294 pages) by Marcel Proust. The three-volume set was thoughtfully sent as a Christmas gift by one of my sister’s colleagues, Jill Shiel. My first impression of Volume 1 was negative, the pace seemed to be too slow. I wondered why Jill had chosen Proust, but after reading over 100 pages I began to suspect that Jill wanted me to read a style of writing par excellence.
Despite my initial doubts I quickly began to enjoy the genius of Marcel Proust. I found myself in awe of his figurative language and I began to reread the sentences that mesmerised me the most. Here are some descriptions I enjoyed.
"…the heat of the day was falling and settling, as though in a vase along the sides of which the transparent, dusky jelly of the air seemed of such consistency that a tall rose-tree, fastened against the dim wall which it veined with pink, looked like the arborescence that one sees at the heart of an onyx."
"…the churches of Criquebec which, in the distance, surrounded by water on every side because you saw them without seeing the town, in a powdery haze of sunlight and crumbling waves, seemed to be emerging from the waters, blown in alabaster or in sea-foam, and, enclosed in the band a variegated rainbow, to form an ethereal, mystical tableau."
After reading Volume 1 of Remembrance of Things Past, I started F. Scott Fitzgerald’s, Tender is the Night.
I am envious of the talents of Proust and Fitzgerald. I have now set about improving my
English.
Unlike my sister, Karen, who has studied English her entire adult life, I have not studied English since high school.
Despite my shortcomings, I am endeavouring to use all of the resources at my disposal to improve my abilities. My father kindly sent me The Oxford American Writer’s Thesaurus for Christmas and I am seeking approval from the prison’s education department to do some correspondence courses with www.riosalado.edu/ci who provide non-Internet courses for prisoners.
ENG213: Introduction to the Study of Language, would be beneficial. It is described as the Study of language as code: phonetics, phonology, morphology, syntax, semantics, language acquisition; historical and socio-linguistics.
ENH275: Modern Fiction, also interest me. It is described as including "novels and short stories for modern writers which reflect significant themes of our time."
20 Jan 05
Under Pressure To Pee
The following conversation took place between thirteen inmates in a small holding cell at Medical. Six of us sat cramped on a concrete ledge on one side of the room, facing another six on the opposite ledge. A thirteenth inmate was in a wheelchair in the middle of the cell. A dozen of us had seen the doctor and we were ready to leave. The only inmate waiting to be seen was a baby-faced Chicano who stood less than five-and-a-half-feet tall. He had a plastic urinalysis container, but he was unable to pee. The inmates thought that none of us would be transported back to our units until the Chicano had performed.
“Can you pee yet?” asked the African American guard stood in the hallway.
“Nah.”
“Tsk-tsk. I must o’ asked you ten times by now. Alright, let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll take you to the restroom.”
“Why do they want your pee?” asked an inmate.
"'Cause my backs been hurtin’. They think it's my kidneys.”
“You’d better take a whiz soon 'cause you're holdin’ us up. We won’t get a transportation bus until you’re done.”
“Yeah, hurry up and pee.”
“I can’t!”
“If you don’t take a leak soon, they’ll strap you down and shove a catheter into your prick and then you’ll wish you had peed earlier."
“Yeah, they did that to me at Florence and it fuckin’ hurt like hell. It was sore for seven days. I ain’t ever lettin’ 'em pull that shit again. They shoved it in and worked it right up to my kidneys. It’ll bring the pee right out of you.”
“It ain’t that bad now. They’ve got a pump – it’s a bag they squeeze. They shove in the catheter and squeeze the bag, and your penis spits the pee right out. Still, you’d better pee before they strap you down.”
“I’ll try right now,” the Chicano said, nervously shoving the plastic cup down his orange pants.
“The catheter wouldn’t hurt so bad if the goddam end of the tube that they stick in ya wasn’t made so wide, like the flat end on one of those slurpee straws.”
“You can’t pee in here! What’re you doin'! The guard'll think that one of us peed for you and he’ll make you start all over again.”
“Don’t pee in here, dawg!”
“If he can’t pee, then he needs to drink some water.”
“They ain’t gonna let him go back to his house either.”
“That’s right. They’re gonna strap him down and catheter his shit.”
“I had a catheter once. I was hopin’ that it would make my dick bigger, but all it did was make it sore – real sore.”
“I’ll make you pee real quick. Let me hold yer dick and I’ll aim it at your neighbour, Boxer, right there.”
“You ain’t goin' nowhere near my dick! I’m never gonna pee!”
“When they put the catheter in, they make you hold yer dick. It wouldn’t be so bad if they held it for you.”
“We’ve all seen the doctor apart from you. You’re holdin’ us up. The sooner you pee, the sooner we’ll be goin’ back to our houses.”
The cell door slid open. “Whoever’s seen the doctor, lets go!” the guard said.
We all departed except for the Chicano. I am still wondering about his fate.
Send comments to writeinside@hotmail.com
Under Pressure To Pee
The following conversation took place between thirteen inmates in a small holding cell at Medical. Six of us sat cramped on a concrete ledge on one side of the room, facing another six on the opposite ledge. A thirteenth inmate was in a wheelchair in the middle of the cell. A dozen of us had seen the doctor and we were ready to leave. The only inmate waiting to be seen was a baby-faced Chicano who stood less than five-and-a-half-feet tall. He had a plastic urinalysis container, but he was unable to pee. The inmates thought that none of us would be transported back to our units until the Chicano had performed.
“Can you pee yet?” asked the African American guard stood in the hallway.
“Nah.”
“Tsk-tsk. I must o’ asked you ten times by now. Alright, let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll take you to the restroom.”
“Why do they want your pee?” asked an inmate.
"'Cause my backs been hurtin’. They think it's my kidneys.”
“You’d better take a whiz soon 'cause you're holdin’ us up. We won’t get a transportation bus until you’re done.”
“Yeah, hurry up and pee.”
“I can’t!”
“If you don’t take a leak soon, they’ll strap you down and shove a catheter into your prick and then you’ll wish you had peed earlier."
“Yeah, they did that to me at Florence and it fuckin’ hurt like hell. It was sore for seven days. I ain’t ever lettin’ 'em pull that shit again. They shoved it in and worked it right up to my kidneys. It’ll bring the pee right out of you.”
“It ain’t that bad now. They’ve got a pump – it’s a bag they squeeze. They shove in the catheter and squeeze the bag, and your penis spits the pee right out. Still, you’d better pee before they strap you down.”
“I’ll try right now,” the Chicano said, nervously shoving the plastic cup down his orange pants.
“The catheter wouldn’t hurt so bad if the goddam end of the tube that they stick in ya wasn’t made so wide, like the flat end on one of those slurpee straws.”
“You can’t pee in here! What’re you doin'! The guard'll think that one of us peed for you and he’ll make you start all over again.”
“Don’t pee in here, dawg!”
“If he can’t pee, then he needs to drink some water.”
“They ain’t gonna let him go back to his house either.”
“That’s right. They’re gonna strap him down and catheter his shit.”
“I had a catheter once. I was hopin’ that it would make my dick bigger, but all it did was make it sore – real sore.”
“I’ll make you pee real quick. Let me hold yer dick and I’ll aim it at your neighbour, Boxer, right there.”
“You ain’t goin' nowhere near my dick! I’m never gonna pee!”
“When they put the catheter in, they make you hold yer dick. It wouldn’t be so bad if they held it for you.”
“We’ve all seen the doctor apart from you. You’re holdin’ us up. The sooner you pee, the sooner we’ll be goin’ back to our houses.”
The cell door slid open. “Whoever’s seen the doctor, lets go!” the guard said.
We all departed except for the Chicano. I am still wondering about his fate.
Send comments to writeinside@hotmail.com
16 Jan 05
The impact of Blogs
Matthew, who is doing a dissertation "on the impact of blogs on wider society" asked for my view of what I am doing and how I feel about blogging.
I will answer with a recap. Jon's Jail Journal came about as a method of disseminating information about life inside the Madison Street jail to my family and friends, who were
increasingly interested in what was going on. As I had limited access to stationary and postage, by blogging, I was able to conserve resources whilst getting the message out.
It was after I was sentenced and moved from the jail system that the Guardian newspaper published some of my blogs and interest in the blog increased further. Since then, I have received encouragement from various readers of my blog, so, I am happy about what I am doing and I feel that blogging is worthwhile. The feedback is helping me better deal with my punishment, and I now feel as if I have an obligation to write about things that otherwise would remain untold. I have been contacted by some prisoners'-rights organisations who urged me to continue blogging in the hope that the public will become more aware of prison conditions. In general, thanks to blogging and the Internet, some people who would have remained oblivious to prisoner issues are now more aware of what is going on.
Prisoners' voices are seldom heard but the Internet has challenged the mechanisms that control information flows. I am taking advantage of this opportunity and I hope that the Internet continues to be a forum where alternative viewpoints and discussions freely occur.
I am out of touch with how blogging has progressed since my arrest. I used to read a blog authored by a female friend of mine named Susan prior to May 2002, and whilst incarcerated I read Salam Pax’s blog about living through the war in Iraq, which has been published as a book.
When I am released I will scour the Internet for interesting blogs, but in the meantime, I have no Internet access. I send the hand-written blogs to my parents in the UK and they type them up and post them. The prison allows me to receive computer printouts, so, if any readers who write blogs want to take the trouble of mailing me their own or any other blog entries, I would be glad to read them.
I hope that my answer addressed your question, Matthew.
Cheers! Jon
The impact of Blogs
Matthew, who is doing a dissertation "on the impact of blogs on wider society" asked for my view of what I am doing and how I feel about blogging.
I will answer with a recap. Jon's Jail Journal came about as a method of disseminating information about life inside the Madison Street jail to my family and friends, who were
increasingly interested in what was going on. As I had limited access to stationary and postage, by blogging, I was able to conserve resources whilst getting the message out.
It was after I was sentenced and moved from the jail system that the Guardian newspaper published some of my blogs and interest in the blog increased further. Since then, I have received encouragement from various readers of my blog, so, I am happy about what I am doing and I feel that blogging is worthwhile. The feedback is helping me better deal with my punishment, and I now feel as if I have an obligation to write about things that otherwise would remain untold. I have been contacted by some prisoners'-rights organisations who urged me to continue blogging in the hope that the public will become more aware of prison conditions. In general, thanks to blogging and the Internet, some people who would have remained oblivious to prisoner issues are now more aware of what is going on.
Prisoners' voices are seldom heard but the Internet has challenged the mechanisms that control information flows. I am taking advantage of this opportunity and I hope that the Internet continues to be a forum where alternative viewpoints and discussions freely occur.
I am out of touch with how blogging has progressed since my arrest. I used to read a blog authored by a female friend of mine named Susan prior to May 2002, and whilst incarcerated I read Salam Pax’s blog about living through the war in Iraq, which has been published as a book.
When I am released I will scour the Internet for interesting blogs, but in the meantime, I have no Internet access. I send the hand-written blogs to my parents in the UK and they type them up and post them. The prison allows me to receive computer printouts, so, if any readers who write blogs want to take the trouble of mailing me their own or any other blog entries, I would be glad to read them.
I hope that my answer addressed your question, Matthew.
Cheers! Jon
15 Jan 05
Prison Book Program
Today, I received a letter from Pam, a Prison Book Program volunteer. Her organisation has been sending donated books to US inmates for over 30 years. More information is available at:
http://www.prisonbookprogram.org/
Inmates can write to them directly at:
Prison Book Program,
C/o Lucy Parsons Bookstore,
1306 Hancock Street, Suite 100,
Quincy, MA 02169.
They also provide a National Prisoner Resource List which contains numerous contact addresses for free-book programs, educational and legal publications, prisoners'-rights organisations, prisoner-support groups, prisoner family and friend support groups, pen-pal services and religious organisations.
Inmates can request books twice per year. Requests should include any prison-imposed book restrictions.
Keep up the good work, Pam!
Appreciatively yours, Jon
Prison Book Program
Today, I received a letter from Pam, a Prison Book Program volunteer. Her organisation has been sending donated books to US inmates for over 30 years. More information is available at:
http://www.prisonbookprogram.org/
Inmates can write to them directly at:
Prison Book Program,
C/o Lucy Parsons Bookstore,
1306 Hancock Street, Suite 100,
Quincy, MA 02169.
They also provide a National Prisoner Resource List which contains numerous contact addresses for free-book programs, educational and legal publications, prisoners'-rights organisations, prisoner-support groups, prisoner family and friend support groups, pen-pal services and religious organisations.
Inmates can request books twice per year. Requests should include any prison-imposed book restrictions.
Keep up the good work, Pam!
Appreciatively yours, Jon
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