Prison Food

I heard a man once say his old lady’s cookin’ sucked so bad the flies pitched in and bought them a screen door.  This makes me think about the food they expect us to eat around here.

You know that toast and jelly, cereal and milk, and salt and pepper go together.  A steak and potato, a soup and salad, garlic and butter….I’ve been hearing these dishes go together all my life.  But prison?  Not so much. 

I’m not real sure who made up these menus but they fit together like water on your cereal.  Who thought of giving full-grown men two pieces of bologna and no bread?   Just roll up the meat and eat it.  Sometimes I wonder if this is some twisted joke!

Here you can see one slice of bread on the tray.  Today the bread is no longer added.

One of our dinner trays is referred to as “tacos” on the DOC menu.   Instead of taco shells, they give you two pieces of bread.  Taco Bell?  I say Taco Hell!  Can you imagine the mess?  Two pieces of bread….

Where I come from we call that “shit on a shingle.”  They took the “taco” off the tray.  They only thing Mexican about the meal is the Chihuahua dog they got the meat from.  Tacos my ass!

Whoever department of corrections has doing their meal plans is smoking crack.  They serve us the same patty and it changes names each time.  Some soybean-cardboard patty is southern fried on Monday.  The patty is a “zesty” patty on Wednesday and somehow turns into a Salisbury steak on Friday.  This is a bigger lie than most men saying their Salisbury steak is ten inches!  It is false advertisement folks.  Plain and simple.

I told my lady the other day I’ll eat anything….well…within reason.  You either eat their food or go hungry…especially when you’re in confinement.  When I first came to prison you got a carton of milk with breakfast.  That was your dairy serving.  You also got a fruit; either an orange or a banana.  The food director decided to do away with both dairy and fresh fruit.  They found it’s too hard to stretch an orange.  When you step on it, there’s a big mess.  Same with the bananas.  They found it’s easier to water down and stretch a fruit juice.  Now we get our fruit serving in a cup that’s been cut down so bad by water there is no nutritional value left.  This is worse than telling someone O’Doul’s will get them drunk.  It’s all a lie. 

How’s that song go...women lie, men lie?  That’s right…and so does the food director.  It’s a shame.  Back here we love to hear there’s an “inspection” coming up.  That’s the only time of year the food trays have proper serving sizes on them and the juice actually tastes like juice. 

Really, I’m not bitching.  It is what it is.  But it’s all false advertisement.  Even the flies won’t eat this shit.  They don’t need a screen door to keep them away.  Prison food make 7-11 chilidogs look like a gourmet meal.  Yep, even that 4-day old weenie that someone forgot about.   That one that’s been turning on that rack and has shrunk into a piece of beef jerky.  Put some chili and cheese on that shit and grab a Coke Icee.  That’s five star dining! 

Shout Outs

This is amazing!  I'm so excited that instead of watching the Country Music Awards, I'm sitting here writing you.  Earlier I walked by the TV room and saw it packed shoulder to shoulder with white dudes.  So, I knew it wasn't football or basketball.  Who needs a TV guide? Just look at the crowd.  White dudes mean either NASCAR or CMA's.  So, here I am.

Today at mail call I got a packet of Jailbird stats from Brooke.  I hadn't seen the overall map of hits in nearly a year.  The states blew up, but so did everywhere else.  For real!  Who is reading the Jailbird in Germany?  God, I hope you don't work for MIDAS.  We may lose you as a reader.

What about Spain?  I didn't think I knew anyone in Spain.  Well, we haven't had a beer, I haven't given you a tattoo....yet.  In some way we may be great friends.  Perhaps I make you laugh and help lessen your load.

Ahhhh.....Brazil.  Now there's a good one.  Thank you whoever you are.  You put Brazil on the map.  That's cool.  I'm a big fan of the Brazilian wax.  And that's about all I know about Brazil.  Well, they say Brazilian women are beautiful.  I should ask my lady if she's from Brazil.

That's funny.  Isn't there somewhere over that way where women don't shave?  This also interests me.  I find that kinky.  I won't address that any further.  MIDAS can go screw themselves, however, I don't want to upset any woman who doesn't shave.  That's got to be a hairy subject.

Russia is on the map as well.  I read a lot and they say the mafia is alive and well over there.  I suppose it is here in the states too.  They're just all super old and involved in those ponzi schemes.  Stealing old people's money so they can eat more pasta.  They say the Russian mafia is not to be fucked with.  They are the real deal.  Matter of fact, I don't even know why I'm talking about them.  I wasn't talking about them.  Mafia?  I never said mafia!  You're silly....

Anyways, I saw Russia and smiled.  To realize you all log in and read about little ole' me, the silly American who talks shit from his prison cell.  Speak of talking shit...."What’s up Gracie!!!"

Yep, my baby sister Grace moved to Australia.  She’s on a safari hunt.  Not for wild animals, she’s in pursuit of an Aussie.  Or is it bloke?  Truly I don’t know.  And when in a foreign country you shouldn’t say shit you don’t know what it means.  I may have just called her boyfriend a bastard or a fucker.  Didn’t mean to do that.  Can we start over?
 
“Hi.  My name is Mike.  I’m Gracie’s big brother.  Nice to meet you Hugh.  We will meet up later down the road and have a Fosters.”

Aaron, Grace, The MOM & J.J.

Ok, so I will stop.  Last time I included my sister in a post she disowned me for like two years.  She was livid that I would dare to put her life on blast.  She called me an asshole and told me I was a terrible big brother.

And, for those that do not know, Fosters is an Australian beer.  It may be kangaroo piss for all I know.  I told a Mexican I would drink a Corona with him one day.  He had some choice words for me.  I stereotyped him, and he was ready to fight.  Perhaps I should meet him at Taco Bell instead.

Check it out.  I see you.  And I wish I could give you a hug.  Here I sit trying to make you laugh and enjoy life, but all the while you are helping me.  You help me do my time here.  I give you a sincere thank you.  May God bless you.  As you go about your day, just know you are a blessing to this crazy American prisoner.

Much Love!