Prison Pen-Pal #001

     Yo Visitors - glad I could book you a prison hang without a background check! I started this love letter over my morning mud, Instant Boston's Best Freeze-Dried Colombian, the finest available from our commissary window. Day opened at the ass-crack of it doing my aerobic thing. I've busted dirty old men whacking off to it, so I move extra early as we have a high concentration of sex offenders. Still, pushing 60 its hard to be too pissed. Last time I went to the Hole, a thirty year old wanted to see the caboose through the window for "selfish love". I about cried in gratitude.

     Last night's excitement was a brawl resultant of a swath of unexpected bed-moves. The sheet of switches carried by Brandi, our transgender dorm-runner, was not from the usual Unit Administration, but higher-up. The reason given was " racial balance", and Honkeys were indeed bartered out for The Community. All were aggrieved, as you'll never hear either group

 

 

 

 

bitch about an overabundance of their "kind"

in their wing, and if anyone's tender eyes think they stumbled on racism, nary one of my teems of Black peers disagrees with this statement. We all thought this to be bullshit. Anyway, one particularly mouthy feller, my side-bunky until the dreaded sheet decided first to run his vittle-box at the Internal Affairs guys and nearly got dragged straight to Chez Hole. For the afterburn, Brandi, simply doing their gig asked if he was packing his shit, it being almost count time (where we ritualistically get treated like a number four times a day, more if there's a miscount which leads to all kinds of general kvetching), so he takes it out on them. Coulda ended badly because under that makeup and stuffed brassiere is Spider, a redneck with a White Pride tattoo (that almost exclusively gets with Black guys now - Dr. Kings legacy lives!), who might've hauled off and smashed this orangutan's teeth in (my rule of shirtlessness, that it's never the ones

 

 

 

 

 

 

anyone WANTS to see applies here - hairy, floppity man-udders gagging up the joint (for more on this rule read "All Messed Up With No Place To Go"). This being the preview, the movie came when his bad attitude arrived upstairs and Blabbermouth ran afoul of my trim pal James, a pussycat until you mash it's tail. Apparently Duke's got 3 swings in and busted J's lip and freed up a dental space, but afterwards the hellcat whooped the actual shit out of him. Sanitation was swabbing up human juice for an hour. I was whipping up a lasagne of BBQ corn chips, refried beans and taters, fried garlic vermicelli, sausage and beef fried rice infused with fruit punch, with a surface layer of cheesy potatoes, onions, and bell peppers, all topped with more crushed BBQ corn chips. It filled the foot-tub to the hilt and fed five ambulatory garbage disposals.

     I'm busy as a bee right now working on a Government and Politics final about the Southern Poverty Law Center, Hate Crimes

 

 

 

 

 

legislation, and Westboro Baptist Church - I'll probably put it here. After that I'll have a break. I'm gonna finish the continuation begun with "All Messed Up..." quickly as possible. I've been working on my book for the past year, and had nine chapters of material, then gone in a nanosecond. We've no cloud for the Office app supplied for college programs, so works in progress get gone forever if there's a glitch or tablet replacement - the latter happened this morning, and I lost four of the 10 pages of my SPLA report, and the beginnings of this note.

     Anyway, what's on my bookshelf right now non-comic style is Killer Looks by Zara Stone (Prometheus, 2021), a mind-blowing narrative of plastic surgery's secret history as a reformation tool for inmates. Preceding psychotropics (read about the Hell they wreaked on me in the story here I keep referencing), a mechanism for treatment of the incarcerated that WORKED as far as elevation of self-esteem and lowering of

 

 

 

 

 

 

recidivism. Reading about meetings where the importance of physical beauty was discussed as facts is shockingly pragmatic, but look at the effects gained. In a day with the expectation of calling the dreadfully ugly "beautiful", we solve nothing except suppression and unexceptional results. Conversely, the original impetus was to cure non-White features, those including Latino and Jewish beyond Black.

     On the comic tip, I got a trade from 2008, Marvel's The Hood: The Saga of Parker Robbins by Brian K. Vaughn, Rick Remender, and Jeff Parker. I've been intrigued with this figure for a spell so I'm excited to play catch up with a volume encasing his origin mini, the Cabal Dark Reign piece, and solo venture from the event, too. The opener is TITS, with a credible and habitable space in NYC full of vulgarity, moral conflict, and balanced action, horror, comedy, and drama. I'm wondering how the other 2/3 will hold flow with the very adult vibe spinning into the 616 proper.

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Tonight is the :30 on that moving picture paperweight a beloved friend shucked out 300 bones for, that goes for 30 clams on the streets: "Ghosts". Being stuck with retirement home fodder otherwise (all these others watch is TLC - " the Learning Channel" - how many college credits does one get for "1000 Pound Roomies"? - and "Ridiculousness", which I cannot watch another second of, I'm done, fuckers), we can rent TV shows on the tablet, but the pickin's are slim, Sister, and gouging of course.​

     The words on the majority smackers is "MAT Program", State-sponsored Suboxone, the opioid replacement in that story you should stop now and fucking read so the world makes sense again. Anyway, it was first being given to those months from parole, but now to anyone with a documented background in substance abuse. This is vitally important and overdue beyond the intoxication factor for two reasons: once immersion occurs, in-house

 

 

 

 

 

crime bottoms out which for numerous inmates, particularly the elderly, it's the only route to palliative care, as genuine pain management is virtually unobtainable. Doctors and nurse practitioners advocate for patients often to be denied by the apex prescriber employed by WellPath, an insurance company gone bankrupt servicing the Department of Corrections' contract. However the dope-fiend fanfare has caused cops and clinicians to enact cease-and-desist maneuvers on discussion of the topic, as they're sick to ten tiptoes past death hearing about it to the point of punitive repercussions for one of these zombies again mentioning the program.

     The joke de jour comes from Hippie, one of my absolute best buddies, like ever: What did the buffalo say when his son left home? "Bison!" OK, heres my homemade insensitive joke from week before last: Why was the Asian couple denied their Caucasian baby by the agency? Because two Wongs don't make a White!

 

 

     

 

 

 

 

 

OK, back to the books! Good to holler at you cuties! Gimme some words...

Todd Batman Hiett.

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