When you’ve been sent back to prison multiple times for dirty pee like I have, you end up thinking a bunch about addiction—whether you’re a screwup or a bona-fide addict, and if you’re an addict what that means. Lots of people define addiction as a “disease,” but I don’t.
I’ve been watching some prison shows recently, and I can’t help but constantly call bullshit on them. I don’t know for sure that what I’m seeing is unreal, ’cause even though I’ve been jammed up in the slammer for long periods of time, I’ve never rested my head with the meanest of the mean.
(Source: Vice Magazine)
Usually I refrain from passing judgment on others, but she must be one burnt cookie. Over the years I’ve spent incarcerated, I’ve definitely run into a few slags working for Corrections, even a few nontraditional men lookin’ to get their dinky stinky.
Yesterday morning it was announced that Barrett Brown, a man who became a very public talking head for AnonOps (the brain trust that is arguably the cortex of the hacktivist group Anonymous, even though there technically isn’t one) is facing up to 100 years in jail for three separate indictments.
(Source: Vice Magazine)
The department of corrections in British Columbia made an uncharacteristic move this week when it warned the public about Kayla Bourque, a 23-year old violent offender with an “escalating criminal history” who’s been released and is planning on relocating to Vancouver.
In the popular imagination, the landscape of clandestine chemistry is a monotonous one, peppered with pastures of GBL saponification and bluffs of pseudoephedrine reduction. But there exist lone experimenters, tinkerers, gentlemen scientists, who seek to further the field of psychoactive-drug synthesis in the privacy of their own homes.
I’ve witnessed a few wigs get split in the middle of the night by a lock in a sock, I’ve heard stories about people getting boiling baby oil dumped on them, and seen guys walking around with these ugly scars. Revenge is common in here, so finish what you start.
A while back, we got a letter from a guy serving time in prison in Upstate New York for selling coke. He mentioned wanting to write for us, but most of the letter was an ultra-obscene freeform narrative about inmates eating fried chicken and getting jerked off by fat broads and jamming condoms full of drugs up their asses. We never saw anything quite like it, so we offered him a weekly column on the spot and we soon worked out a system that allowed him to write for us without alerting the prison authorities, who frown on inmates telling the public what happens behind bars for some reason. He wrote us pages and pages of stuff about being lonely in prison, jerking off (a lot about jerking off), cooking using a microwave, porn, and his life, all under the pseudonym “Bert Burykill” so he wouldn’t get in trouble. He’s continued writing for us after getting out of prison and while going through parole and rehab and we think he’s probably the funniest ex-con writer who specializes in masturbation stories in the world.
One of my besties, a modern recreation of a Clueless Valley Girl, just spent three days in a provincial prison in Ottawa. After some radio silence and a no-show at a party I was having, I received a text message from Sadie (not her actual name, BTW) that said “Hi, I have a legit reason for not coming out, I just spent 3 days in jail xoxox.”
The USA loves three things: violent sports, adding more patties to burgers, and executing prisoners. Forty-three prisoners were put down last year, putting us behind only China, Iran, Iraq, and Saudi Arabia. Lethal injection—an odd way of killing someone that is not cruel or unusual at all, according to the courts—was the most popular form of capital punishment. But it’s becoming more and more expensive. Lethal injection is normally a three-step process: The prisoner must be sedated and then paralyzed, before being shot up with potassium chloride, which stops the heart. In 2009, it cost prisons as little as $168.03 to knock off a wrongdoer thanks to the inexpensive, and now unavailable (thanks to some soft-hearted judges), sedative thiopental sodium. The replacement chemical became pentobarbital, which is $861.60 a pop, and raises the price of execution to $1,286.86 per person. Some frugal-minded death penalty states like Texas are wondering if they should eliminate the capital punishment altogether. But why not consider some other, cheaper execution methods first?
