Jailhouse Politick

The day after Trump’s election, no newspapers were delivered for inmates to read.  Polemic wanted to be avoided, I suppose.  Our open room we knew, anyway.  One of the guys had checked the pad at 2 am in the morning and read.  Informed the rest of us.  My blood pressure spiked, as I thought the thought of no longer living in the United States of America but rather Trumpville or The Trump States of America, Donaldacracy.  I thought of McDonald’s changing its name to TrumpDonald’s.  Pizza Hut being Donald Hut.  A conniving businessman eyes always open for a straight monopoly.  Eager hands and a ready heart.  I could hardly stomach the thought.  Lady guard came by for Towel Exchange Wednesday.  I asked her what she thought of being in the Trumpville America?  She said she had voted for him and was glad he got in.  She being a foreigner.  I offended her, I guess.  Wasn’t my intent.  Twould be hard to find anyone around here not a supporter of Trump.

In our open room (5 sides), there were copies of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of the United States.  I read them.  It was a good reminder of rights I was supposed to have but denied, of course.  Others wouldn’t pay much attention to me.  Never did, really.  Always been a loner.  Kept to myself.  A little hard to do in jail.  Guys get ticked at that.  But I studied all the same.  Read a few books, too, I suppose.  Injustices always set me off, and there were plenty of them.  Sometimes it seems like we were all born to get the shaft.

Before all this…

On the morning of Monday, August 29, last year (2016) I went to the office of the apartment manager and called her out as a liar and deceiver.  Somehow she did not take to it well.  I can’t imagine why not.  I read somewhere ‘Honor thy father and they mother, that thy days may be long.”  As she was such an honor to her father Lucifer, I couldn’t imagine what would set her off.  Low and behold, two hours maybe three, cop stands at my door.  “What do you want!”  Blah Blah Blah.  “What are you going to do, ARREST ME!”

–As a matter of fact, I am.–

Hrmmmph!  Jail.  Booking.  Stripping.  Showering.  Fingerprints.  Photos.  Arraignment.  Eviction from my apartment.  But I gotta look back now at the cost of calling out THAT WOMAN.  I don’t suppose she’s worthy of a name.  115 days in jail.  Hearings that were often discombobulated and confused.  A prosecutor that truly was a persecutor when he hounded me out to my holding cell after one of the hearings to harass me personally.  Shouldn’t he be addressing my lawyer!  Not me.

Some people get so pissed off at the truth.  Seems they look to the ends of the earth to do damage to someone who points out an injustice.  People prefer injustices.  They prefer wickedness to right.  They prefer evil over good.

‘Course if I were face-to-face with Donald Trump I’d say the same to him as to her.  Face the consequences, too, for it.  Just because.  And maybe finally die this wretched and miserable life. What a joy it would be to see it end!  Nobody wants to kill, anymore over disputes.  Only torture endlessly with harassments, including but not exclusive to, police and their open brutalities (gropings included).  And what for?  Is there ever any justice, anyway?  The news has shied away from Trump, now.  Too polemic.  Don’t wanna talk about ‘im, anymore.  They shifted focus to Melania, the first lady.

I had a hearing for December 8, just over 100 days in.  It was supposed to be my “trial.”  Didn’t happen.  In jail it’s hard to get news of anything, unless it’s given to one.  Generally, it’s just a waiting game between meals and court appearances.  But no one came for me.  No one explained why, either.  I had a few words for the officers.  A new guy came in that day, started trying to ruffle me a bit.  He’d served federal.  Done prison time.  But when I finished with the guard, (actually, guards–there were two), he backed away.  He got real friendly-like all of a sudden.  Said to me later that when I didn’t get the hole for what I did, he decided not to mess with me.  Others had not been quite so smart.  But those are other stories for another story time.  Basta para hoy.


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