Now let me explain. My wife is not really a fan of housework. She knows it needs to get done, but is generally happier when someone else does it (namely me). There are exceptions to that, but as a general rule, she avoids it whenever she can.
Not today.
I went out with my buddy and his son for a day of paintball in pre-birthday celebratory fun, and came back to find the house in order, the laundry done, and our bathroom sink (in desperate need of help for quite some time)was cleaned.
And this was all done during a day when she had 2 sugar-hopped little girls (our 7 year old and my friend's 5 year old) amped for their easter egg hunt.
My wife rocks!
B.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Friday, March 6, 2009
Texas, pay a dollar kill a convict
So I was talking to this co-worker of mine. I don't know how we got on the subject but he had the GREAT idea for a new kind of lottery. You take inmates, what ever kind, death row, not death row, it doesn't matter and give them the option of going into a lottery. A real lottery, where the average citizen buys tickets and basically bets on which inmates number comes up. When that inmates number comes up he gets killed. On TV. Those people who picked the inmates number win, 50% of the proceeds go to the winner, the other 50% go to the prison system. Now the inmates in the lottery are voluntary and get chosen say, once every 2 years or so or there are several lotteries run at once so that, the last guy alive at the end of that run gets a pardon. Don't worry peeps, these guys will end up back in, it's called recidivism and has an insanely high rate in California.
So here's what we'd end up with, an insanely high popularity rate for the lottery, lets face it, the American public will throw in a serious amount of cash if they knew they were killing a convict. Everybody is going to buy at least 1 ticket a month. Everybody. The tv ratings will go through the roof and the commercial time will be as expensive as during the superbowl. Even the people not buying tickets will want to watch a convict die, realtime. It'd be like the most successful tv show in history. The tree huggers/anti death penalty people can only bitch so much because the convicts go into it voluntarily. The prison systems would be come self sufficient within a year with the money coming in so these convicts would no longer be sucking off of society. Hell this would probably be the most productive these wastes of oxygen would ever be in their entire lives. Really the only down side is that occasionally there would be one let back out in society but lets face it, the convicted murderers, drug dealers, rapists and child molesters are already out among us. Hell most of them have already been convicted and let out once before.
Yeah so I'm sure there are probably no less than 2500 laws that prevent this from becoming a reality but dang, wouldn't it be nice? A new and interesting way to get out of the recession, no?
So here's what we'd end up with, an insanely high popularity rate for the lottery, lets face it, the American public will throw in a serious amount of cash if they knew they were killing a convict. Everybody is going to buy at least 1 ticket a month. Everybody. The tv ratings will go through the roof and the commercial time will be as expensive as during the superbowl. Even the people not buying tickets will want to watch a convict die, realtime. It'd be like the most successful tv show in history. The tree huggers/anti death penalty people can only bitch so much because the convicts go into it voluntarily. The prison systems would be come self sufficient within a year with the money coming in so these convicts would no longer be sucking off of society. Hell this would probably be the most productive these wastes of oxygen would ever be in their entire lives. Really the only down side is that occasionally there would be one let back out in society but lets face it, the convicted murderers, drug dealers, rapists and child molesters are already out among us. Hell most of them have already been convicted and let out once before.
Yeah so I'm sure there are probably no less than 2500 laws that prevent this from becoming a reality but dang, wouldn't it be nice? A new and interesting way to get out of the recession, no?
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
I'm convinced, I need to get back into teaching
I'm so tired of this ridiculous schedule, paltry pay, and utter lack of future prospects offered by my current job.
I miss teaching.
I don't think I'll go back to teaching kindergarten, but I think it's high time I get back into the classroom.
B.
I miss teaching.
I don't think I'll go back to teaching kindergarten, but I think it's high time I get back into the classroom.
B.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
"Don't ask me, I'm just improvising."
Today was my Friday, the 4th day of our semi-annual shakedown, as well as our fire safety/risk management audit. The offenders had all been receiving their meals in their cells, sack lunches called "johnnies" as I may have mentioned previously.
It was,oh I don't know...close to noon. We had fed most of the offenders in our building. Most rather than all because the FSM (food service manager) can't count. My desk boss Murray had a really funny argument over the extra needed johnnies with the FSM over which may later get its own post.
Sidetracked...
So anyway, I headed to the kitchen, grabbed the food and left before anyone could launch a lecture my way.
We handed out the normal meals, and I then stayed behind alone to distribute the "diet" meals to those offenders with sensitive dietary needs. What-fucking-ever. I got to the last cell with an open tray-slot and dropped the sack into the cell. It was promptly snatched up and was replaced by two arms as one of the offenders jacked the tray slot, insisting he needed a diet meal as well. I glanced past him at the wax paper bags that had previously held his dinner.
"Yeah, that's not gonna happen. You've already eaten and I'm done with the kitchen for now."
"Fuck you boss man. Call the sergeant."
"Yeah, that's not happening either. He's busy being not here."
At that point the newboot came back into the pod at a brisk pace, telling me the RM (risk management) auditor was on the way over.
I turned back to the source of my vexation. "Look Mr. Hubbard, you're wearing on my last nerve and I'm about out of time so here's what we're doing." Looking around the day-room I spotted a blade from one of their disposable razors.
I picked it up, pulled out my OC (chemical agent), and holding the blade where the offender could clearly see it, stated firmly in my best boss-man voice, "Mr. Hubbard remove that razor blade from your wrist".
I then placed the nozzle of the OC canister up against the open grate of their cell door. "Mr. Hubbard", if you continue, I'm going to gas you!"
Well...that did get a reaction. With his celly (cell-mate) screaming at the top of his lungs to get away from the door, Mr. Hubbard relinquished the tray slot post-haste. I dropped the razor, closed the tray slot, and walked out of the day-room. The other officer asked me as we entered the sally-port, "Where the hell did that come from?"
To which I replied...
Out,
B.
It was,oh I don't know...close to noon. We had fed most of the offenders in our building. Most rather than all because the FSM (food service manager) can't count. My desk boss Murray had a really funny argument over the extra needed johnnies with the FSM over which may later get its own post.
Sidetracked...
So anyway, I headed to the kitchen, grabbed the food and left before anyone could launch a lecture my way.
We handed out the normal meals, and I then stayed behind alone to distribute the "diet" meals to those offenders with sensitive dietary needs. What-fucking-ever. I got to the last cell with an open tray-slot and dropped the sack into the cell. It was promptly snatched up and was replaced by two arms as one of the offenders jacked the tray slot, insisting he needed a diet meal as well. I glanced past him at the wax paper bags that had previously held his dinner.
"Yeah, that's not gonna happen. You've already eaten and I'm done with the kitchen for now."
"Fuck you boss man. Call the sergeant."
"Yeah, that's not happening either. He's busy being not here."
At that point the newboot came back into the pod at a brisk pace, telling me the RM (risk management) auditor was on the way over.
I turned back to the source of my vexation. "Look Mr. Hubbard, you're wearing on my last nerve and I'm about out of time so here's what we're doing." Looking around the day-room I spotted a blade from one of their disposable razors.
I picked it up, pulled out my OC (chemical agent), and holding the blade where the offender could clearly see it, stated firmly in my best boss-man voice, "Mr. Hubbard remove that razor blade from your wrist".
I then placed the nozzle of the OC canister up against the open grate of their cell door. "Mr. Hubbard", if you continue, I'm going to gas you!"
Well...that did get a reaction. With his celly (cell-mate) screaming at the top of his lungs to get away from the door, Mr. Hubbard relinquished the tray slot post-haste. I dropped the razor, closed the tray slot, and walked out of the day-room. The other officer asked me as we entered the sally-port, "Where the hell did that come from?"
To which I replied...
Out,
B.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Oh, and that most recent cell phone I discovered...
Neither of the two offenders/inmates/prisoner/oxygen-wasters admitted to ownership so they are BOTH getting charged with the crime. Incidentally, it's a felony to possess a cell phone on the premises of a Texas state penal institution, one that carries a 10 year sentence.
In case you all think I'm being unkind, one of these two was convicted of capital murder and the other of molesting multiple nieces and nephews.
Not.
Nice.
Men.
Out,
B.
In case you all think I'm being unkind, one of these two was convicted of capital murder and the other of molesting multiple nieces and nephews.
Not.
Nice.
Men.
Out,
B.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
It looks as if the Connally prison has passed its ACA audit
Good job 1A.
Now we have proof of what we're always saying, we ARE the best shift on the farm!
:-)
B.
Now we have proof of what we're always saying, we ARE the best shift on the farm!
:-)
B.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
And speaking of cell phones...
I found another cell phone my last day on shift. This makes my 3rd phone found (4th if you count one assist). These have all been on the same building, by the way. It's a medium&high custody building.
I was conducting my usual cell searches when I found this beat-up little phone, charging in a (get this) empty sugar substitute box. It was perched on top of the multi-plug outlet on the wall near the cell's desk. Imagine my surprise. Actually it was just the last wrinkle in an already crazy day.
It's funny, how every time we find a phone in the possession of one of the offenders, it becomes a community victory...a reminder that we do score our share of wins against this 2800 strong community of largely devious and nefarious men.
And every time I pull contraband out of a cell, whether it's a phone, hooch, speakers, knives, tools, stolen food, or tattoo paraphernalia, some offender invariably asks me the same question.
Aren't you proud?
Proud?
I suppose I take pride in doing a good job, even if I'm not particularly enamored of my work. And I am certainly pleased to be removing from the hands of dangerous felons a tool that could be used against COs, their families, or other persons of interest.
But do you know what my real sentiment is?
Fuck them.
They are the rapists, murderers, child molesters and drug pushers.
They are the ones who put themselves in prison and they are the ones who continue to ply their criminal tradecraft inside said prison.
Fuck them.
They are just bitter about being outsmarted by a wimpy little Californian.
B.
I was conducting my usual cell searches when I found this beat-up little phone, charging in a (get this) empty sugar substitute box. It was perched on top of the multi-plug outlet on the wall near the cell's desk. Imagine my surprise. Actually it was just the last wrinkle in an already crazy day.
It's funny, how every time we find a phone in the possession of one of the offenders, it becomes a community victory...a reminder that we do score our share of wins against this 2800 strong community of largely devious and nefarious men.
And every time I pull contraband out of a cell, whether it's a phone, hooch, speakers, knives, tools, stolen food, or tattoo paraphernalia, some offender invariably asks me the same question.
Aren't you proud?
Proud?
I suppose I take pride in doing a good job, even if I'm not particularly enamored of my work. And I am certainly pleased to be removing from the hands of dangerous felons a tool that could be used against COs, their families, or other persons of interest.
But do you know what my real sentiment is?
Fuck them.
They are the rapists, murderers, child molesters and drug pushers.
They are the ones who put themselves in prison and they are the ones who continue to ply their criminal tradecraft inside said prison.
Fuck them.
They are just bitter about being outsmarted by a wimpy little Californian.
B.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
