Spanish Art

J.J. loves and appreciates Spanish culture.  Today, this art arrived.  Enjoy!

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!

She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy

Growing up and through my high-school years my grandfather played a huge role in my life.  We were very close.  It was hard for me to lose him while I was here in prison.  My grandfather always wore a fedora.  Like an old gangster.

When he passed away, I only asked for one thing.  His hat.  There's no way I could fill his shoes, but with my big head that hat should fit.  One day I will totally rock my grandfather's fedora.  A couple of years have passed since he died.  Last week, my aunt and uncle came to visit me.  First time in nearly seven years I have seen my uncle.  Nearly three and half since my aunt last visited.

During our conversation, they informed me that my grandpa left me his tractor.  Now, we're not talking a yard mower.  This isn't your lawn tractor you pull in the garage beside the car.  You build a garage for this tractor.  This is a man's tractor.

This is the tractor every man wishes he had, but doesn't.  One man is proud to say he has a corvette in the garage.  Another man is proud of his Ping golf clubs.  One dude loves his bass boat.  These are all nice.  Why don't you add a fluffy poodle to the mix?  Pussy.

My garage will have Harleys, a mud truck, my muscle car, and now a tractor.  You know those reflective diamond things they put on the back of farm machines?  I'm getting one of those.

The government says that I can't own guns any more.  That's fine.  You piss me off and a tractor is headed your way.  Right across your lawn and all your sprinkler heads.  My tractor came with a bush-hog and a plow.  You know what those are?  That's enough testosterone to make Jose Canseco giggle like a school girl.

Piss me off and I'll make a few passes across your yard with my plow.  If that isn't bad enough, how about a brush hog across the flower bed?  I may just put on my fedora and ride the tractor up to the country club.  When I learned about my good fortune, I couldn't wait to get back and tell my lady about my tractor.

She answered the phone and I began to sing the country song "She thinks my tractors seeexxxxyyy."  She laughed and said, "Oh, Michael, is that what your calling your 'thingy' today?"  I replied that no, in fact I really own a tractor.  Bless her heart.  I have the baddest chick in the world.  I mean....what would you say if your man came home covered in tattoos, wearing a fedora and driving a tractor?  Talk about spicing things up a bit!  All these dudes taking Viagra because they can't rise to the occasion.  I say, "put some horsepower between your legs."  Then again....not every man can own a fine piece of farm machinery.

J.J. and Grandpa on the tractor that now belongs to J.J.

Caffeine & Sugar

Sitting here eating a strawberry pop-tart, sipping on a fresh cup of coffee, and rubbing some sleep out of my eye.  Before long, the sugar and caffeine will begin to course through my veins.  Breakfast of champs, I say.  I eat pop-tarts and shovel shit.  Day in and day out.  It's what I do.....time.

Not only am I eating pop-tarts washed down by coffee, I'm chewing on a 12-year prison sentence.  Instead of leaving a bitter taste in my mouth, it's like eating your vegetables.  Nobody really likes them, but you chew and shallow.  What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.  One day I will be a strong man. 

I kicked addiction's ass.  I kicked my demon's ass.  Sometimes I kick my own ass.  Today, I kick this pop-tart's ass.  I'm just an ass-kicking dude.  Come over here, I'll kick your ass too.  Nah...I'm just playin'.  The other day I kicked the MIDAS man's ass.  I won't ever get on that again.

Somewhere, along the line of all this 'ass-kicking' I learned to release emotion.  Not bottle it up.  That's the problem with today's society.  You let people walk all over you.  You smile like it's all good.  Then at night, you go cry on your pillow.  Ever seen a movie called "Falling Down"?  That's what happens when you swallow too much shit.  There's another phrase for that as well.  They say...."gone postal!"

Well, my pop-tart is gone.  now the rapper T.I. is telling me that I can have whatever I like.  And you can have whatever you like too.  Prison is a cage defined by tall fences.  Some people living life in the free world the same way.  Your walls are bills, probation, work, that MIDAS man in your life.  I remember.  Then I came to prison and my life changed.  I'm not gonna smile while you step on me, then go cry in my pillow.  Quite frankly, my dear..."I don't give a damn!"  Wishing the whole world would throw a middle finger in the air.

That's the caffeine and pop-tart talking.  I'm really a loveable kind of guy.  I adjust my mood as needed.  My new MP3 has my power anthems.  Right now D.M.X. is spitting, "Lord give me a sign."  Song says, "Give me a sign, show me what you want me to do, cause I'm gonna go through whatever you want me to."

God threw me a bone the other day.  I held a guitar in my hands for the first time in nearly six years.  Like riding a bike.  I still got it.  Smiled so big my face hurt.  Last time I saw a smile that big?  It was my sister opening a full furnished Caboodle on her birthday.  She was like 8 or 9.  I'm 33. 

Once again I'm getting high on life.  My life is not defined by the height of the fences surrounding me.  What's a fence anyway?  A man-made structure.  We do this shit to ourselves.  And we are the only ones who can change that.  Well....and God.

Was I wrong to say he threw me a bone?  I don't know, but I found peace in my life.  Guess if you don't like God throwing me a bone, perhaps the walls of your church have become fences.  We should all be careful of what we stand behind.

Did you see that map when you signed in?  That map started with just one star.  That star was my sister, Ester, from Alaska.  I want to thank you for the star YOU just put on that map.  Thank you for being a part of my life.  Can you throw a finger in the air too?  HA!HA!  Put some hooligan in your life!

What Would You Do?

Today, we share a powerful story From the Huffington Post about a man that chose love and compassion over hate and anger.  Could you do the same? 

This is the most powerful photo you will see all week.

The father of a car accident victim hugging the drunk-driving teen who caused the crash.

On May 20 this year, 18-year-old Takunda Mavima was driving home from a party after graduating from high school, when he lost control and crashed into an off-ramp near Wyoming, Mich., the New York Daily News reports.

Tim See, 17, and Krysta Howell, 15, who were in the car with Mavima, died in the accident that night.

At the time of the accident, Mavima had a 0.10 blood alcohol level, reported ABC News. At a courtroom sentencing this week, he tearfully addressed the families of the victims: "I’m so sorry that I took two bright, intelligent, wonderful people out of this world …. I wish … I’m so sorry."
He was sentenced to between 30 months and 15 years in prison after pleading guilty to all charges.
In a moving address to the court, both the sister and the father of victim Tim See spoke on behalf of Mavima, urging the judge to give him a light sentence.

"I am begging you to let Takunda make something of himself in the real world -- don't send him to prison and get hard and bitter, that boy has learned his lesson a thousand times over and he'll never make the same mistake again," Lauren See said in court.

See's father then hugged Mavima as he walked out of court after the sentencing.

To see photos from court visit Huffington Post.

Like Art?

J.J. hopes you like this!  Another piece to add his portfolio one day.  Another piece that helped click some time away. 

Art for Thrasher Magazine

J.J. loves his Thrasher Magazine!  Today, this envelope (yes....this is an envelope!) was mailed to Thrasher for the envelope-of-the-month contest!  Generally, the envelopes that win showcase bad-ass skater stuff or are covered in skulls.  J.J. decided to show some love to all the ladies out there that love to skate and/or keep some edge in their life.  So.....keep your fingers crossed. We think this will win the Thrasher Magazine Envelope Of The Month contest in a few months.  We will keep you posted! 

For A Limited Time....

I was just sitting here listening to my favorite morning radio talk show.  You know...when you really want to hear some music and instead all you get is blah-blah-blah.  Yeah.  So that's what I'm here doing when this ad runs.....

"For a limited time when you bring your car to MIDAS, 

we will visually inspect your tires, brakes and belts."

This made me laugh out loud.  What a line of complete horse shit.  What you'll get is some college kid fresh into some mechanic workshop.  Yeah.  He's gonna do some visual inspecting no doubt.  This is the thing.  Real men change their own oil.  That same man changes his woman's oil as well.  

These ads run for single mothers who have a piece of shit man in their lives.  And now they can drive to MIDAS and have some other piece of shit man inspect.  Question is....what's he really inspecting?  He's probably visually inspecting your undercarriage and your headlights.  Have you ever heard of a MILF?  (Mothers I like to fuck.)  Yep!  That's your MIDAS boys with too much free time on their hands.  

A 'visual inspection' is totally a man statement.  How lazy can you possibly get?  You ladies could seriously go on strike.  The next time your man asks you for a blow job......tell him you'll give him a 'visual inspection'.  See how he feels about that.  

Thank God you women are not like us guys.  You are sweet.  Well....most of you are.  

My lady was headed on a road trip the other day.  I knew better than to tell her to check her oil and tire pressure.  Yeah....I had to send her down to have her undercarriage inspected.  Fucking assholes.  I hope they looked at the car too.  

My sweet lady.  The boys down there at the inspection shop asked her to pop the hood.  She had to look in the owner's manual to find the hood release.  And that's why I don't need her under the hood of the car.  

At some point along my life's journey I grew up and have began to see women for the wonderful people they are.  Instead of giving visual inspections myself, I feel for women that are overlooked.  If you're a dude out there who has a woman raising your kids....go check the oil in her car.  Check the pressure and the treads on her tires.  Make sure she has some of that window-washy-stuff to clean her window with.  Drive her car for a few miles and see if anything sounds like it's about to fall off.  

Women don't seem to notice this shit.  They have kids killing each other in the backseat, the phone ringing off the hook and places to get to on time. They don't realize they are dragging their bumper and the transmission is about to fall out.  

So what if you don't like her any more.  She's driving your kids around for Christ's sake!  Come on dude...you see those kids in the backseat? That's proof that she was doing much more than a 'visual inspection' for you.  Don't be a MIDAS man, be a REAL man.   

To Australia We Go.....

.....with J.J.'s baby sister!!! 

J.J.'s baby sister, Grace, recently came back to the states.  She headed back to Australia with the Saltwater Junkie bumper sticker.  She met some people along the way.  Looks like those people met Saltwater Junkie!

To our Aussie friends, raise your Foster's for a cheers!  Be a junkie.  A Saltwater Junkie. 

Happy Birthday to Phillip!

Phillip is the bad-ass little bro. 

This week Phillip celebrated another b-day, so he has been on J.J.'s mind and heart a little extra this week.  Here is a recent picture of J.J. and Phillip from a recent visit. (You will hear more about the visit from Phillip himself soon!)

Phillip, your big brother loves you!  A lot.  Happy Birthday to you!!!

CHOKE

I read a statistic that states...

"People who read blogs tend to spend 3-5 minutes before they lose interest."

Consequently I began to shorten my speeches.  Still, I must ask...what were you doing prior to reading this?  I hope it wasn't productive....since this won't be! 

There is an ad for Rosetta Stone that states.....

"In the time you spend listening to this ad, you could have learned a new language."

Then the bastards go on to remind you that indeed you did not learn a new language.  And you should consider that possibility in case you want to talk to the guys cutting your grass.  I won't remind you of what you are not doing.  Instead, allow me to say THANKS!  Thank you for giving me three to five minutes of your time.

With reality TV you can actually watch a prisoner's life.  Here, you only read about me.  Then again, who wants to watch a prisoner talk shit and do push-ups for two hours?  Looks like I only have about two more minutes of your time.  I should move on.

Last week I was looking for a way to kill some time.  My buddy suggested we try the library.  We entered the multipurpose building before realizing the library is closed.  Then we discover the exit door is locked.  That's when the music starts, and the choir begins to sing.  My friend's eyes get big and all I can say is "Hallelujah!" That was our first service here and my friend says his last.  

I was surprised to see my name under the schedule to meet with the chaplain this week.  Church last week, now a personal meeting?  Did I piss off God?  So I show up to the meeting....the chaplain does not.  I do the logical thing and slide over to the library to check out new books.  Since I finished Crank, I decided to grab two more.  Books with short titles grab my attention.  Short, simple and to the point.  My new book is Choke.  My next choice wasn't short...How to Kill a Florida Tourist.  And I just had to have this one.  Wouldn't you know it....as I leave the library I see the chaplain finally showed up. 

My choices are to run the other way or face the music.  I walk into his office.  The chaplain wants to know if I am interested in signing up for a faith based prison.  That's what I just left.  So, I look at him to see if he's serious.  Staring at me over the top of his coke bottle glasses, I realize that he is indeed serious.  At which time I drop my latest reading material onto his desk.  I continued to explain to him that my last prison was faith based.  I am not interested in going back.  Would he like me to put that in writing for him?

Was it the book titles strategically facing him?  Perhaps the words CHOKE and KILL stood out.  He reaches into his desk and produces a sign out sheet.  My faith and character have been tested ever since I came to prison.  Ironically, the biggest tests came during my stay at faith and character camps.  All I want to do is catch up on my reading.

Looks like our time is up.  I stretched the three to a five.  You did not learn a new language.  Nor did this accomplish anything productive.  If you have enjoyed doing nothing, then you too may want to check out the book Choke.  Chuck Palahniuk is the author.  You better know him as the author of Fight Club.  Hang on for one wild ride.  As is my life.  Thanks for joining me.         

  

Guns n' Roses

Some new art from your jailbird friend!