Hi!

     Solid feedback came yesterday - hard booty to shovel up, most inmates doing creative work can attest. I check analytics via my severely under-compensated proxy so I see where the most hanging out happens, but aside from some solvent writers notes the dear friend who's a right Nancy Drew, the incomparable Ms. Bush, when it comes to digital exploration was taken by the essay portion, particularly the diversity/segregation aspects.

     This is part love letter to an inmate called Lando, and I loved the shit out of him. He came here from a camp - a situation between serious lock-down like I'm in, and freedom, the in-between status earned after much good behavior or a nearing release, indicating trust which this young felon apparently breached. Probably got busted vaping or the like.

     The first discernibly amazing feature about Lando was his mop of thick, dark hair

 

 

 

 

 

 

that strongly resembled Tim Drake, the third Robin after Jason Todd, the child readers voted to have Joker beat to death with a crowbar. Grant Morrison, my favorite writer in comics introduced a fourth, Damian Wayne, Batman's kid and took him from horrid brat to lovable sidekick, then murdered him to show the audience what assholes they were. DC Comics brought him back, and though I like the kid fuck them for the lack of artistic cohesion.

     ANYWAY, before I spotted that squirrel - Lando's personality was as boss as his hair. Fun to talk to, I never had to speak down to him. Yeah, he was easy to love. You know who didnt love Lando, though? That would be Lando.

     On our yard, the youth embodied what I call "Afro-Casian". My joke of his ilk is that every night they pray to Black Jesus theyll wake up the right color. The gorgeous brunette wave became ridiculous ill-fit dreadlocks that screamed "Will suck a Black pipe". The accuracy of that statement

 

 

 

 

 

 

literally has no evidence, but trims who do carry this exact cosmetic bearing. Even with a non-urbane history, his clear path always led to the Ghetto. To be respected by incarcerated African-Americans became his full-time job, only giving serious time to Honkeys if they bore identical status. He carried out gangsta violence for cred, abandoning the pursuit of camp and splitting soon.

     It was a spectacle, and fruitless as the respect of pretty much nobody was garnered besides those who adored his precious little ass because he was a funny, affable, and upbeat person. Laughed at and not with often, as hed be slinging ebonics like a Best of WildNOut marathon (my hell on Earth), then get on the horn to Mamma and be "country as a chicken coup", quoting Ordelle, Samuel L. Jackson's gangster-boss in "Jackie Brown". Seeing him sit in the chow hall one day beside my bunky: a tall, very dark-skinned and confident guy with dreads pulled up, Lando aped the 'do precisely looking like a severe

 

 

 

 

 

 

jackass at all of 5'7 and White as coconut guts. Either a hilarious ventriloquist act or a defective Mini-Me launching eye-rolls by the table-fuls.

     The comedy ended when young'n got deep enough into his life of thuggin' with britches saggin' and freedom to drop N-bombs non-stop with the dawgs that he run up on the wrong one. It happened in a day's time that this cat wouldnt let up on whatever thing L said/did, but he wasnt letting it go. Beat his face in, both hit the hole, neither came out, and hes somewhere else now. Not this Serta Mattress of a prison, either. Likely somewhere not so allowing, especially for overly attractive young Crackers. I hope he's OK.

     Kentucky State University is on OUR campus, and that's a great thing. An Historically Black College, KSU has a robust selection of offerings course-wise, a challenging curriculum, and the most compelling feature in form of a Site Coordinator named Izlar. This individual shows in dynamic capacity a level of passion

 

 

 

 

 

 

for helping this population Ive rarely encountered in the last decade. Wearing a face mask guaranteed to not introduce foreign elements into a sardine-packed environment, on days she's not even scheduled - antonymous to anything we've seen from external bodies responsible for us EVER, this is someone who can help people on the road away from recidivism.

     Why am I not ecstatic then about this? Because Im not with KSU but Louisville's Simmons College, a different animal altogether. At my Associates Graduation ceremony last week, I arrived at the gathering spot to learn I was valedictorian. Hearing this from the Doctor in charge of the second chance program, you can imagine my befuddlement at 10:30, graduating at 11. The other three of our quartet sequestered to begin the procession into the visitation center confirmed my outstanding GPA the question - would I need to speak impromptu? Quickly I arrived at what Id said here, the day before: "Rejection creates a space, which is

 

 

 

 

 

the birthplace of opportunity. Rock bottom is the most solid foundation you can get." What better to address a group of graduating felons?

     Into the ceremony after the keynote, the first of us to enter was brought to the front where he delivered a speech. I shouldn't maybe, but I'm going to mention this individual scoring lower than myself interestingly is Black. Germane to this topic? Let me continue.

     The event continued and concluded without a single mention of me nor my accomplishment. I guess hard work really IS its own reward. I sought feedback from the fellow who conveyed lead status to me back when I sent him the essay about Hate Crimes litigation I put here, as I worked my ass off in this interesting Government class, only to have the whole semester's work graded in two hours without comment one for my effort. I closed with "Happy Thanksgiving". The complete response was "Same to you".

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You might think "OK, bitch, this guy has a big job and it ain't all you", and Id offer fair point BUT theres more here, see. Since the abdication of the founding site coordinator and his superior, a marked decrease in the harmony between Northpoint and Simmons has occurred.

     A woman who teaches English in their program using thirty year-old articles declaring that the word "Black" is implicit of racism and other regressive fare repeated semesters replaced them both, and did an abysmal performance at all. Unclear expectations, no-shows, courses to be charged to Pell Grants that werent taken on transcripts, and belligerent emails with withdrawal forms letting a body politic once felt wanted now estranged. In person, however, a sweet grandmotherly figure who smiled and stared into the eyes of us each and every as if we were her own. The shitty used-car industry missed out on this dame.

     Help arrived with a new site person who appeared to be my rescuer from the now

 

 

 

 

 

 

multiple times Simmons had forgotten me, leaving me out of classes and entire semesters, and repeatedly losing my Degree Declaration for my Bachelors in Sociology.

     I wanted this particular degree for a plan involving further pursuits, but when I found out about Kentucky State University arriving I immediately investigated their offerings. Id become aware of KSU through Poly-Sci professor Wilfred Reilly's great book Hate Crime Hoax, its subtitle decrying the political left despite the works condemnation of the conservative aisles bad actors (I believe Regnery, the publisher, played a hand in this). This contrast to the ideological consistency of the Louisville camp, with articles constantly laying blame on slavery for any and all issues personal and otherwise, even in coursework not relevant to the topic at all. One article even suggesting robbery by Blacks acceptable as reparations. Often, Simmons seems to tell inmates "youre not responsible for your mistakes or misery", antithetic to healthy

 

 

 

 

 

 

recovery every damn time, through their classes while spouting uplift publicly.

     I've delved deep into all curricular matter on the yard, from GED to Simmons to BCTC to KSU. The last is teaching about "Grit and Growth Process" along with astringent demands for structure. BCTC offers a 10 month package giving a General Studies degree combined with a welding certification - economists pick for having a skill-balance for tomorrow, plus that Degree required stamp. Their courseworks are exciting, particularly the English Ive delved into, using cool authors from Lamott to Sedaris, which I think are choice picks for this community.

     The quandary became lesser degree/great school v. perfect degree/a crying damn shame. Meeting the amazing Ms. Izlar, I said "Sign my ass up for that Liberal Arts degree I always never wanted!". Sold, American. I told our affable principal here about my decision, and not a week later came a special visitor from Simmons.

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The good Doctor I mentioned earlier whose feedback for my 14 pages of research on the Southern Poverty Law Center, Matthew Shepard, and Westboro Baptist Church, was in a nutshell "dont fill up on stuffing" met me at Academics aware of my exit strategy and wanted to chat. We spoke for about 45 minutes. He praised my intellectual prowess, was fascinated by my goals and the ties to my Bachelors, and gave me a short laundry list of items to email him about so he could personally guarantee me a new day rising, with my academic needs made priority. Concierge service, motherfucker! This diva renewed the contract.

     One month later, imagine my titillation at getting a message from Big Daddy asking what my major was. Yes, in 2025 when lots of folks have boxes with windows on em that do shit, I've now FIVE TIMES had to report my Sociology status, this time to the man who bullshitted with me for almost an hour about our impending educational sameness-es. Before the graduation, they'd lost my

 

 

 

 

 

 

financial aid paperwork so I had to fill it out again, too. You know that guy, ladies, who chases you to pieces making you feel like a diamond and the nanosecond you tell him OK the charlatan lights up a smoke, puts his clodhoppers on the desk, and never does anything worthwhile again? Eerily reminiscent this was, clearly wanting to keep that Pell revenue with over half the graduates from last week abandoning Simmons for KSU and the Divine Miss I. Even the faux valedictorian told them to kiss his Black ass and split, furthering my immediate contempt.

     At the ceremony to the back sat Islar, watching the baby chicks walk from the hen-house to her now. She was even granted voice, and demurely took only a moment to give a lovely encouragement. Ive never heard this person inject herself into the narrative. The Simmons person whose actions have been sub-par and inadequate? He loves to mention how he brought college to prison, how the Simmons presidents book will blow my mind,

 

 

 

 

 

 

the degrees hes obtained I know a hell of a more about him than vice versa clearly. Izlar and I are disconnected, but she remembers every detail about me. That's the nature of the selfless, and why one Historically Black College at Northpoint shoots for success stories while another aims for more victims.

     Last item in Batmama's (not affiliated with DC Comics, its subsidiaries, nor Wayne Enterprises) Diversity Festival 2025 is a political endorsement. Thank you once more, Kentuckys self-designated diversity capitol Louisville for gift-basket-ting us with Representative Sarah Stalker. As a layman who again, sleeps with 3 Black Muslims nightly and thats only STARTERS (seriously, nothing about this remotely sexual, Im dead serious), Sarah has so much to teach me about being White in a multicultural Kentucky.

     I turned on late-night TVs astronomical ratings-topper nobody watches but Republicans even though the numbers call

 

 

 

 

 

bullshit, "Gutfeld!", and theres this angel from my state in the House telling her colleagues about how as an ashamed White woman we need to shame the children, too. Go tell it on the motherfucking mountain, Sister! Finally, a fresh, urbane voice in this hillbilly dump. These privileged Honkey brats coming to school with name-brand juice boxes and thinking life's all crayons and learning shit. I'm here for you, girl.

     I officially declare myself Sarah Stalker's personal Education Projects Assistant. I've prepared a teachable activity I call "Re-Paration-Cess", which as Sarah recommends takes children away from their safe delusions and allows them empathy with the oppressed, ostensibly their victims. This requires time given on the (former) playground. Jump-ropes will be used to one at a time tie a White child to the side of the monkey bars. A Black child will be given another length of jump-rope. Following this example script the African American child will read loudly for the others: "Cletus,

 

 

 

 

 

 

y'all done put a tiny piece'a mint in my TAY an' I told you what I'm'a do iffin at happened aggin!". Next, have the Black child viciously whip the White boy or girl for approximately five minutes while the teacher calmly explains that Whites used to do this to Blacks, but its STILL our fault, Crackers (substitute "their fault" if the teacher is other than Caucasian). Repeat with similar scripts until every child receives their turn.

     Anything else you need SS, Im here. Like my granddad used to say about some Blacks, and I'm sure you want some to say about you, "Youre one of the GOOD ones". You and me both, "Sister".

     For anyone who misconstrues this as me going full-Skinhead, sorry if you failed to follow me. I've had to calm down to write this considerably. The people Im pissed FOR, as usual, are kids. Shooting their classmates, each other in city streets, killing themselves in record numbers after being masked for no good reason and always fodder for egomaniacs. A kid killed Kirk engorged with confusion, Im surrounded by the Lost Boys, and no one seems to give two shits about them that's supposed to. If that stung, good.

     Lastly, a new essay about segregation in Essays today. Ciao!