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.

Captain Dumbass is a 20-something undercover sex offender who, as far as I can tell, has almost no redeeming features.  He is also almost totally harmless, unless you factor in the horrid, evil stench that he seems to exude in an oily cloud around his person.  And as I have to live with him, I do indeed factor it in.  Captain Dumbass, the undisputed king of idiots, practices “the Craft” as seen in the movie of the same name, and has opined that Hitler did some cool stuff by convincing a bunch of dark-haired guys that blonde and blue were the way to go.  He uses unsolved mysteries as proof that the supernatural exists, denies evolution as impossible, has claimed to have been in the Army (Base?  What!  MOS?  Huh?), and has claimed to have an associate’s degree in abnormal psychology as well as an associate’s in sex offender therapy.  He very carefully does not discuss his charges, but spends all of his time hanging out with the Madison crowd, or rather, the most obvious child molesters.  (My guess is that he did something very, very bad.)

Heavy D, an anorexic 50-ish child molester, is one of Captain Dumbass’s friends and part of the Super Creepy Trio, which consists of Heavy D, Whitey, and Creepy Cane Guy – all very obviously child molesters and all very, very disturbing.  Heavy D is doing medium time (8 plus) for molesting his granddaughter and beating his wife.  Appropriately enough, his wife hired someone to tune him up before his arrest, but they were unfortunately only able to cripple one of his legs before he called 911.  Money well spent, in my book.

Whitey, part two of the Super Creepy Trio, is, as far as I know, doing a zillion years for the rape and murder of an infant.  He’s 20-ish, short, with pale skin and white-blond hair (hence the name), and seems almost normal, at least until you talk to him.  Any conversation with Whitey lasting more than 30 seconds should clue you in that he’s a slimy, evil, crazy fuck.  He appears to be too creepy even for my cellie to hang out with.

The final member of the Trio, Creepy Cane Guy, has been down for somewhere around 20 years on a zillion-year sentence for doing Something Very Bad.  Unfortunately, he attends the Buddhist services, and so I am exposed to him far more than I’d like.  Creepy Cane Guy isn’t a Buddhist, he’s what I call a religious beggar – one of the guys that signs up for each and every religious or spiritual class, service, or event in the hopes that he’ll get something out of it.  He attends Christian, Jewish, and Muslim services in addition to the Wednesday Buddhist services, and he WILL, if you give him any encouragement (i.e., not telling him to go away), start in on this litany of self-pity and victimization at the hands of the justice system that is so full of obvious lies and self-pitying bullshit that it makes you wonder why he hasn’t been shanked yet.

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.

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!

Nurse said I looked tired. I giggled uncontrollably for a few minutes. She moved away. Will sleep TONIGHT. Dammit. Day 5.

Day 4 (???) no meaningful sleep – minor nap from 1 to 1:45 today. Will sleep tonight.