Love in prison

Okay, it’s time to do a little myth-busting here. I’m a little bit tired of friends and loved ones working under the assumption that my “male virginity” has been in danger since I walked in the front door of this place. Some of them have even been bold enough to ask (and you know who you are) if I’ve turned gay yet. Or better yet, if I’VE BEEN TURNED gay yet.Listen, people, no matter what HBO and your local wacky morning DJs say, I have never been attacked by a gang of bikers looking to steal my “treasure.” Maybe 50 years ago there were gangs of bull queers roaming the prison hallways looking to burglarize someone’s britches, but nowadays it just doesn’t happen like that.Am I saying there’s no man-on-man action in here? Absolutely not. But it’s consensual. Homosexuals get arrested too....

Getting drunk behind bars!!!

We’re going to lighten up this time. I figure after my last couple entries, you could use a drink. So I’m going to tell you all what you need to know about making prison wine. We call it hooch.First and foremost, let me say that what I’m about to tell you how to do actually shouldn’t be done, is almost certainly bad for you, and may not even be legal. Further more, if you are under the drinking age, you shouldn’t even read this, something resonates about “contributing to the delinquency of a minor.” With all that said, here’s how we get drunk in prison.What you’ll need: A 5 gallon containerA straw 2 Heavy Duty trash bagsA rubber band3 lbs. sugar 24 pieces of fruit (oranges, grapefruit, bananas) A 16 oz cupMakes 3 gallons !Okay, the first thing you need to do is make a...

Dinner with a Cannibal

I never thought I would have dinner with a cannibal. I suppose that life could have taken me down a different path that involved a trip to a South American rain forest to study the Yanomamo tribe, but it was unlikely. So I figured the closest I would come to cannibalism would be to see Hannibal Lecter relishing some one’s liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti. Then I met Buzz.You never want to ask too many questions around here. Minding your own business is the key to survival. The less you know, the less you can be held responsible for. Plus, hey, there’s just some things you don’t WANT to know.When I first got here, some of the guys introduced me to an older fella named Buzz. He was in his 70s, and seemed to have all those qualities that usually come with age: wisdom, patience,...

Artemus Ward

There’s an old story told by Artemus Ward, about a baby-faced fourteen year old kid from Arkansas, who killed his parents with a meat ax. He was convicted by a jury, but before he passed his sentence, the judge asked the young fella if he had anything to say. “Why no,” the boy replied, “I don’t think I do, but I hope yer honor will show some consideration FOR THE FEELINGS OF A POOR ORPHAN!”This sentiment is echoed all throughout the prison system. Most of these guys have the biggest sense of entitlement I’ve ever seen. It’s almost like once they get here, they forget they even broke the law. They think they’re at a bed and breakfast in the Hamptons or something.You see, the truth is that we get taken care of pretty well in here. Our meals are always waiting for us, they never run out...

Around here....

Around here, you don’t often have a choice about who your cellmate will be. They don’t mix races together, and generally don’t put two guys from rival gangs in the same cell together, but other than that, almost anything goes.Me? I’ve got a cranky old bastard. The guy used to fly planes full of Pablo Escobars’ money back and forth, and had the world at his fingertips out there. Now, he’s never getting out.This can lead to some uncomfortable situations. There’s some things you just don’t talk about around a guy like that. For a guy like me who gets out fairly soon, it’s hard to bite your tongue sometimes. I mean, I’m looking forward to the future, and this guy feels like I’m rubbing freedom in his face every time I start fantasizing about my first cheeseburger or the hooker I hope is...

Do you know what you're obligated to do as a convict?

You’ve got to hate “the man.” You know, the hacks, the screws. It’s almost cartoonish how some of these guys in here run around trying to convince each other how wrong they're being treated. I’m half convinced that Ma Beagle is going to come bust some of these guys out of here any minute.But you know what the truth is? We get 3 square meals, clothes, sheets, a shower every day, and everything after that is gravy. And most of the cops in here treat us pretty decent. There’s just one problem: You’ve got to talk greasy to them to get what you want.No, the polite police aren’t allowed to patrol this town. You say please or thank you, and you’ll be waiting until you hit the streets again to get your roll of toilet paper or your bar of soap. But you tell that dirty son-of-a-something that...

Do you know what's going to happen on May 14th of this year?

If you follow the news, you might think you do, but let me tell you. Our prison economy is going to CRASH. It’s going to be just like it would for you if the government came out and told you a dollar bill wasn’t worth a dollar anymore. Fiduciary chaos.You see, the price of stamps is going up on May 14th, and everything in prison here costs stamps. Let me explain.Everything is for sale here. From a piece of chicken out of the chow hall to a piece of “Pretty Ricky” over in D-Block, there’s a black market for everything. So we’ve got to have some sort of currency, and we’re not allowed to have cigarettes anymore. Besides, cigarettes went out of style a few years ago anyways, they’re too big and bulky. Some of these guys do big-time business, and it’s hard to hand over 100 packs of cigarettes...