Hi Kay and pals,I hope everybody had a nice holiday. This was my seventh behind bars and personally I’m glad it’s over. The season isn’t much fun in prison, sort of an exercise in misdirection. Here at River Junction Work Camp (and throughout the Florida State Mental Hospital grounds around Chattahoochee), the Christmas decorations were everywhere, so overdone as to be somehow desperate. They begged for a believer in the face of much sadness, and the images that came to my mind were better left untapped.
As many of you know I’m pretty powerless here in the Florida system. All I can do is write. I can write about power, though; I can describe it perfectly. All kinds of power. Big power, little power, the absence of power, the loss of power by erosion…. What has happened lately in Tallahassee has exceeded the legal limits on power. I was personally affected this past month, and eventually they provoked me enough to write the following story. Happily, by the time I was finishing it up, the authorities here at River Junction were taking steps to correct this latest try by the famous Michael Moore to bamboozle the plebes. I rewrote the ending to reflect their efforts.
Still, the problem solvers here may be an anomaly. The DOC may not be inclined to fix things statewide. So I offer you this ridiculous sermon, hoping the families of Florida will fight this latest DOC exercise in unfettered power. I call it
There will be a show tonight…”
Dear Paul—Sorry for being brief but I’m in trial. Unfortunately there is nothing I can do in regard to your problem. They have their own rules, as you well know.
$10.00 -- Super-pneumatic Susie doll.+ $45.00 -- Automatically updated canteen+ $45.00 -- Automatic rollover monies for the automatically updated canteen fund.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -=$100.00 -- Eventual delivery of duck…er, I mean, Susie doll.
I began to choke. My stomach hurt. Biker Bill Wagener walked up.
“Look, Waid, this is my goddamn mail!”
I fell off the bunk. Tears exploded from my eyes. Biker Bill burped.
“Who runs this circus anyway?”
I got the hiccups. Biker Bill farted.