04-01-2010 (9:30 PM) The Adventures of the Mad Muslim – Part The First

My new cellie – The Mad Muslim Abdul Jihad Nasir – has decided that he needs to speak to someone in Mental Health, does he submit something stating his desire clearly? He does not. Instead he – in his infinite wisdom – decides to submit the following:

[I helped with the wording a bit]

In accordance to prophecy I, Abdul Jihad Nasir, a blameless and righteous man, have become an object of mockery; for it had been ordained that I should fall. And lo, though it has been these many years since last we spoke I come now to beseech your esteemed personages in ridding me of my ailments – many and varied though they be. Verily I say unto thee that my kingdom suffers from an infestation of Ninja most vile. Many a time have they afflicted me from my slumber.

Let thine ears be attentive to the voice of my distress. I humbly and gratefully thank you for your time and consideration on this, my most pressing of issues. May your days be free from Ninja and all the evil they bestow.

Read More »

2-18-2010 (10:30 PM) Words that Captain Dumbass Maliciously mispronounces at me:

Subtle isn’t very when you go around pronouncing it Sub-tul. It makes my eye twitchy but not nearly as badly as the word “fathom” which somehow acquires an “N” thus making it almost impossible for me to “fanthom” my inability to stab him in the face. Perhaps his inability to speak like a normal human is medical in nature and not entirely the result of his personality defects; after all he does go see the “psycho-oligists” several time a week. Perhaps there is some sort of schism -pronounce “shizum”- in his poor enfeebled mind that causes him to aggressively as an “S” to anyway and “T”s to across and once.

Of course, I can handle street. Street slang bothers me not at all as I consider it a language only loosely based on English. I can cheerfully listen to dudes say things like “Ain’t nobody can’t tell me shit about a motherfucker that I can’t see.” without batting an eye – not least because I honestly can’t parse that sentence… But trying, and failing, to properly pronounce normal words makes me all stabby.

2-13-2010 (8:07 PM) My Milkshake Brings all the Boys to the Yard

Its a crying shame that I’m not gay, because man, I could be set in here. It amuses me to no end that in the midst of all these twenty-something, super-fit, ghetto superstars the fat, balding, greasy guy is so sought after for sex. Seriously, I’ve had almost as many offers for sex as I’ve had extortion attempts. In all cases though, after being gently or forcefully rebuffed – and it is understood that I am not a scared little white guy on his first number, that I am in fact a moderately annoyed, fat, old, white guy who is only willing to share harsh words and violence – they back off and I am left to go on my merry way unmolested. All of them that is, except for the Mad Jacker. Read More »

02-02-2010 (11:45 p.m.) For That Special Lady In Your Life

Being that I now live in the Land of Misogyny, I hear a truly brain-melting number of invectives aimed at women daily. At first, it was amusing to parrot these things for my friends, mocking the inmates for a laugh. Then later it moved on to simply being wearying. Lately, I’ve moved back to the dark amusement stage, and to that end, I have collected a few of my favorites (guaranteed 100% quotes from inmates!) to share with you. Perhaps some enterprising person will turn this idea into a misogyny-themed greeting card and novelty business one day. (If so, please send me a lot of money. :) )

Flaunt your inner misogynist and pitch some serious woo at some bitches with these romantic lines! Read More »

01-01-2010 (8:00 p.m.) Clever Title Mentioning My Lengthy Silence, Possibly With Obscure Pop-Culture Reference

While I have actually been writing my daily account/summary/cryptic whine, I have (obviously) not posted them, for the simple fact that when I went back and read over all that I had written I came to the sudden and startling conclusion that my life is seriously boring.  Also, I am far too whiny for being damn near 2 years into this.

I am, I believe, finally coming out of my depression and insanity, and hopefully that will translate into less whine.  I wouldn’t count on it though.

I have pitched the whiny junk that I’ve spewed forth since October and will go back to writing only when the spirit moves me.

No Date/Title

Young Riv, who at 27 isn’t quite so young as his name implies, is a career criminal if there ever was one.  A constant hustler, Riv is a vain, temperamental, and surprisingly intelligent guy who – as he puts it – likes to “live on the edge”.  Nearing the end of his sentence, Riv vows to quit getting high and start up a security consulting firm to help large chain stores (like Wal-Mart and Home Depot) stop hustlers like himself.  As he spends the majority of his time here high as a kite, this casts some doubt on his ability to follow through with said plan.

Currently doing time for a string of charges – robbery, armed robbery, assault, possession of cocaine, fraud, ID theft, escape, and resisting arrest – Young Riv likes to tell stories about ripping off various large chain stores and taking long cross-country road trips while coked to the eyeballs.  The majority of these end with him shoving a pistol in some poor schmuck’s face. Read More »

12-17-09 (1:45 p.m.) Play Along At Home, Kids!*

For those unfortunate few who have heard me complain about my cellie’s stench and wondered what exactly he smells like, I have devised the following home experiment.

First, find and bribe the ripest, most urine-soaked and feces-encrusted “aint had a bath in nigh on thirty years” homeless guy that you can. Extra points awarded if he has vomit chunks in his beard. Next, have him strip down, stand in an extra-large tub, and using a squeegee and water (no soap), thoroughly scrape and rinse as much of the accumulated filth, funk and feces as is reasonably possible.

Remove your homeless dude from the tub (a couple of hot meals and some medical/psychological care wouldn’t go amiss, eh?). Toss into the mix his old clothes, a week-dead rat, and any bodily wastes you might have on your person, and stir until mixed. Strain the contents to remove excess fluids and place the remaining chunky bits into a large, clear plastic bag.

Place bag in the sun to bake for 6-8 hours. Carefully empty the bag, place the now-empty bag over your head, and inhale deeply. You may at this point wish to seek medical attention.

That, my friends, is my cellie. Three cheers for Captain Dumbass and his amazing odor!

*Please note that only you are responsible for your actions no matter what I tell you to do. Do not try this at home.

Oh crap!

I was doing some maintenance stuff and accidentally deleted a comment from Patsie… I am sorry :^(

10-31-09 (8:00 p.m.) Happy Halloween!

I did the boring thing and went as an inmate. Medical let us use the x-ray to see if any of the shanks and hooch we collected had been tampered with, so nobody would go stabbing someone with a knife that had a razor hidden in it. All of my phat lewt was certified razor-free, but I think that the hooch was bad…it smelled like rotten fruit.

10-30-09 (9:30 a.m.) Ten Thousand, One Hundred and Five

Played Red Light/Green Light with the roaches all night last night.  Kill the lights for 5 minutes or so (to lull them into a false sense of security), then turn the light on and kill! kill!  kill!

Fairly certain I annoyed my cellie, but as I live in a permanent cloud of his flatulence that defies description, fuck him.

Going to sleep (finally).  Right…….now!