Root Canal

A root canal means a trip to the dentist.  Something most people would frown on.  Personally, I used to dread the dentist.  That's precisely why I've decided to write about my trip to the dentist.

The prison I am currently housed at does not have the facilities to treat dental problems.  Or, even give X-rays for that matter.  Instead, they transfer you to another institution for all your dental needs.  Previously, I wrote about my need of dental attention.  Well, last week they called me in for a dental exam.

I was called into a tiled room where a middle-eastern dude was standing beside a purple felt chair.  He directed me to sit in the purple felt chair.  Then he asked me to lean my head back.  He switched on a coal-miners head lamp he had Velcro-ed to his head.  He leans over me and sticks his finger in my mouth.  He then states the obvious..."it appears the tooth is still intact."  I think he's talking to me, until someone gives a reply from the shadows somewhere deeper within the room.

I then see the detnal assistant holding a clipboard.  The whole experience was gangster.

The middle-eastern man, wearing the coal miners lamp, then tells his assistant, "We will need a new X-ray of his tooth since the last one was taken just over two years ago..."  Gosh, I hadn't realized that much time went by.  They send me on my way.  Honestly I wondered how many more years would pass before the X-ray.  Well, well....

The very next morning an officer wakes me up at 4:15 a.m.  A hell of a time to head to the dentist.  That was my thoughts exactly.  I'm taken with six others into a loading area.  We are told to strip nude, shake our clothes out, then hand them to an officer to inspect.  We are then told to spread our butt cheeks, squat and cough.  Obviously before the dental exam, they take a rectal exam. 

After being humiliated we are told to redress.  I'm the only white guy so obviously I feel humiliated....well, and it's cold at 4:20 a.m. for Christ's sake.  Now that our rectal exam is complete, we can be handcuffed.

Each time you are transported, quite the lock down takes place.  Feet are shackled together.  Then handcuffs are installed.  A chain is wrapped tight around your waist, so the cuffs can then be securely pulled close to you body and attached to your waist.  Once all these restraints are in place, and your circulation has successfully been obstructed, you can then begin transfer.  That's after you march half a mile across the compound to where the van awaits your pick up.

At the van, an officer identifies you with a file of you personal information.  He asks you questions like..."What's your mother's maiden name?"  "What's the place of your birth?"  "What's your social security number?"  And....if you're like me, you are never asked this shit.  Too much time has passed.  I'm cold, it's now only 7 a.m. and I have to pee.  My mother's maiden name?  I have no clue.

So that officer gets pissed.  Calls you a dumb ass, a= few other things, and then pushes you onto the bus.  From there the van drives a whole 200 feet.  Then your at some other gate and the officers get some guns and now we can finally blow this popsicle stand and get an X-ray.  Except instead you drive an hour, then arrive at another prison where you have to pick up two more dudes.

And the whole earlier process is reversed.  Guns dropped off, gate opens, drive onto compound, van stops.  You sit while guards smoke a cig, then load up the other guys.  Once again, you're back on the road and headed to get an X-ray.  At last you're moving down the road. 

At the first intersection I can see people pumping gas.  This makes me smile.  That used to be me.  Standing beside my car, pumping gas.  That person at the pump is free.  I used to be free.  And I forget that the circulation to my feet and hands has been cut off. 
 
I'm watching free people do free world stuff.  What I would give to be the man at the pump.

Don't take your life and freedom for granted, and make sure to brush and floss twice a day!  Doctors orders.           

Ink 180

A big shout-out to J.J.'s sister Ester!  

She found this awesome ministry this evening that is a MUST SHARE topic!

Meet Chris Baker, Ministry Director of Ink 180.

"I believe everyone deserves a second chance at life, and I want to offer them help to live their second chance."  

INK 180 is a ministry that covers gang and human-trafficking tattoos.  
INK 180 transforms painful reminders of destructive situations into beautiful art.
INK 180 works with law enforcement agencies to serve the least of these. 

Be sure to read more about Ink 180!  Help in any way that you can.  In a few years, J.J. will be helping too.

CoverGirl

So, J.J. was hanging out, catching up on all the goods with Redbook....you know....learning all the trends in fashion and beauty, home decor and entertaining while brushing up on sex tips, marriage advice and career moves.  He came across this ad......

And created the newest piece of art "CoverGirl".......

Mail Room Part II

A few weeks back I decided to exercise my right to grieve the mail room.  Two weeks later my grievances were returned.  "Rejected" on all three counts I brought up to dispute.  If I thought their mail room sucked before, you should see the amount of suck I'm dealing with now. 

My mother's mail was rejected last week because she sent me too many stamps.  Another packet of my art was rejected for tattoo patterns.  Currently, a piece of my art is being held by this prisons security because of possible "gang" references.

If you will look in the art gallery you will see a piece of art that says "ALL IN"...a reference to gambling and the goofy street life of money as a "king".  Unknown to me, the dice in the picture have a visible three, a two and a five.  

Well folks, as you know there are 50 states.  Each state has thousands of three digit area codes.  Nearly every small town across the nation has a group of kids using their area code for a "sign".  I'll bet if you Google your local area code there is some article about local kids using it as their gang sign. 

Two years ago I had no idea I used an Ocala area code in the dice I drew.  And that I had unknowingly referenced a group of goat-fucking, cow-tipping, farm-hands from the rodeo town of Ocala.  Both me and my lady were surprised to learn that my art was confiscated for not a possible tattoo pattern this time.  Now it's graduated to gang paraphernalia.  

This has all of a sudden put me on some list of sorts.  If someone did their homework on me, they would find that I am a quiet man.  I stick to myself.  I like art, I have a sweet tooth, and I enjoy long strolls in the park.  I am not a gang banger.  I have no time in my life to try to do stupid shit to gain approval from a squad of pure idiots.  I'm trying to come home to my family.  So I was shocked when I was pulled from my prison cell the other day to meet the gang task force, where I was questioned as to whom I'm affiliated with, and why I have stars tattooed on me.

Where I come from, the stars and stripes represents a country that for centuries men and women have gave their lives for.  Many of my friends and family have fought for our freedom.  So how on earth has a group of Spanish guys taken our historical symbols and turned them into gang signs? 

The ironic part of this, is that there's a special force hired by the prison system to investigate guys like me.  And this, my friends, is your tax dollars hard at work.  They could save some time and money if they just monitored the reck yard activity occasionally.  Since all their gang bangers meet up out there to flash their gang signs in the wide open all reck.  They are not hiding their symbols in dice.  They make up these complex hand shakes so they know who's who.

If a man walks up to another man and grabs his dick, I'll assume he's gay.  If you grab my dick, I'll punch you in your shit.  And when you investigate my dice in a piece of art?  You're a dumb ass.  Thank you, and please come again.  

Dumb Turkey

I used to take my dog for a walk.  She would come to the edge of the bed and nip my leg, my butt, whatever was closest for her to grab.  If I told her to go away, she would jump into the bed with me.  So, I would get up.  Put on a hoodie and shorts and let her out.  And this started my day.

Now I'm in prison and my dog is gone.  I wake up to the hooligans instead.  They call me the Hooligan, but as I look around at them...they are hooligans as well.  I traded my pitbull for a handful of guys I call my dogs.

A couple of weeks back we started doing coffee and cookies in the morning.  Everyone comes to my place and we poke fun at each other.  Make fun of the guards while we eat cookies and drink mugs of instant Nescafe coffee.  In the free world, I met buddies at a Cracker Barrel or a local mom and pops breakfast joint.  Gets the day started off on a good note.  So I decided to do it here. 

I'm 34 this year and a well-oiled machine.  I understand the formula to crank this engine.  You don't jump in, turn the key and drive.  That's all wrong. You pump the gas twice....wait a second, then turn the key.  Repeat if necessary.  When the engine catches and comes to life you let it sit and warm up.  Rushing will get you nowhere.  But it took me all 34 of my years to figure this out.  I come with a warning label and a full disclaimer.  And my lady still chooses me every day.  Hope she doesn't secretly think she's gonna change me...hmmmm....

And it's called growing up.  Learning about yourself and what makes you tick as a person.  Finding the difference between 'good' and becoming 'great'.  Whether it's a great husband, a dad, or visa versa. 

I see these young dudes come fresh in prison.  Think they run shit and you know full well it's only a matter of time before they crash.  You can lead a turkey to water and see what he does.  Prison is full of dumb turkeys.  I have coffee with four of them every day.  Except we call ourselves Hooligans.

You see...dumb turkeys think they're smart but are stupid as hell.  A hooligan figured out they're stupid and decided to roll with it.  And they call this being confident.  This is a trait Men's Health told me women love.

I must be rolling with a lot of stupid cause my woman loves me like crazy.  Perhaps I can make stupid start to look cool.  Like the guys who wear those skinny jeans.  That's dorkey, but put a skateboard and a shag haircut in the mix and it's a new trend.  Everyone's doing it.  In my case, I took stupid and tattooed the hell out of it.  Sweet.

My lady will be the brains behind the operation.  Just call me "Pinky".  That's one of my favorite cartoons of all time.  Second only to Ren and Stimpy.  My third choice could be Thundercats.

Well, I'm gonna go put on my skinny jeans and head to the water hole.  I have a turkey to meet.    

 

Inmates Share Their Love

It is so, so important to keep inmates connected to their loved ones.  It has been proven that the men and women that stay connected to family and friends are less likely to return to that side of the fence once they come back to the free world.  So, here at Judicious Jailbird, we are proud to share the space for others to connect to their loved ones.

This shout-out is quite a bit smaller than the Christmas shout-out.  Why?  Good question.  It is certainly NOT that the men hangin' with J.J. do not love their loved ones.  But rather, there are many men that do not have a special lady in their life anymore as time as moved them in different directions.  It takes a special woman (or man for the ladies!) that can stand tall through the time, distance and a fence. 

Be sure to give your loved ones an extra hug.  Stop and remind them how much they mean to you.  Be sure that they feel your love.  Today, tomorrow for Valentine's Day, and always! 

All my love to Jen, Taylor and Jalynn.  Happy Valentine's Day to my girls.  I love you and miss you.  Daddy will be home soon.

Love Always,
Tommy

A Message to Mi Reina: This may be a day for couples to show and share their love for on another, but since they very first day we've made us official my love from my heart has always been shared with you.  Everyday is a hard day for me to get through without my wife.  How can a man feel complete missing his other half?  After eight years of being together, through good and bad times, you've always remained faithfully by my side.  You've made a dream of mine come true when you brought my daughter in this world to always remind me of you.  I'll always say that I'm the lucky one.  With many more years to come, my love never ends, fails, or dies for you..."Keep it Q."  Happy Valentine's Day.  I love you always, Ashley!

Your Devoted Husband,
Travis

To live life without being loved by you would be like a beautiful butterfly gracefully flying on an early spring morning without its wings....it's truly impossible.

To express how grateful I am for having a beautiful, strong woman like yourself that has always protected me with an unselfish heart.  Someone who has always bestowed upon me your endless instructions of wisdom - often with gentleness - but sometimes stern.  Someone who has been through so much in life with me - and yet still remains by my side today.

After everything we have been through, you still love me without a doubt and I am very grateful to have you by my side.  I think about you night and day.  I sit and think how I love you more then I love myself, because I know you care.

I decided to try something a little different.  There would be no Valentine's Day cards this year.  It's time to upgrade.  :)  I hope you enjoy your Valentine's gift.  This goes out to the three most beautiful women in the world.  K. Bonner (my mother): without you, there would be no me.  D. Wilcox (my grandmother): without you, there would be no me also, but you're the person that has me on the spiritual path I'm on.  M. Gibson (my grandmother): you have all of these things I just said, but you're also the heart of the Gibson family.  I love you all.  Merry Valentine's Day!

Love,
Mike

St. Valentine's Day is a time where we must reflect upon, but most importantly be thankful for the one we truly love...the one that loves us through our success and our failure, our rights, our wrongs....when it's easy and when it's not....the one that loves us through our today, our yesterday and through our tomorrow.  So that leaves me to say, Ashley, I love you.  I thank you for loving me and never giving up on this, on us, on everything.  You are my strength, my smile, my perfect.  Happy Valentine's Day, my love.

Forever under your spell,
Scott

On December 24, 2006, my whole life changed when God sent me one of his angels from up above.  Her name is Alisha Lecouris.  Since that day, I've been the happiest person I've ever been.  Yes, we've had our ups and downs.  But somehow we've managed to pull through it all.  She has stood beside me through this miserable time of my life here in prison, and plans on doing so until I come home, which I wanna thank her for, because the majority of the time, when a man gets locked up, relationships and friendships fall apart.  And I'm one of the few that's lucky or should I say blessed enough to still have that one person that makes my life complete.  It breaks my heart, not being able to see her on the weekends, due to the D.O.C. suspending her visitation.  But maybe that's just another test God is using to build our relationship stronger.  So, I wanna use this time to let her know how much I truly love and adore her.  Without her, who knows who or where I would be.  I wish I was there for you and able to do the things for you that you deserve.  But, unfortunately I can't.  I love you with all my heart babe.  And I want you to know, these past six years of your relationship, have been the best years of my life, and I plan on having many more with you, by my side.  I love you, and have a Happy Valentine's Day.

Love,
Forrest Robert

Not only is it Valentine's Day, its also my fathers birthday.  He's now 52 years old.  Happy B-day dad!  I love and miss you....I can't wait to see you again.

For my friends and family: Thanks for standing behind me through all my troubles.  And an extra thanks to my brother Jerry, my two wonderful sisters Merisa and Summie, my dad Richard and to my beautiful daughter Kelsey....don't ever forget how much I love you, and how proud of you I am.  Happy Valentine's Day to all of you.  Be home soon 2015.

Love,
Ricky          

Today is my day to be thankful for my children and before you look for cupid, look for me.  Steven Jr. (aka Lil J.T.), Isaiah (aka RU) and Miss Emma (aka Sweet Pea): Daddy loves all of you so much.  Each day that passes by like the wind, I sit here wishng I could have that next visit just to see your faces, to know that you y'all are alright, and just to see pure happiness in your hearts and love gleaming in your eyes.  Although the world has taken it's turn for better or for worse, I realize nothing matters more to me than the tree of you.  It's not over and I promise that soon daddy is going to get his freedom.  One thing I've never done and never will is lie to the three of you.  It's Valentine's Day and I want all of you to know that I love you more than anything in this world.

Mom (aka Miss B.), I couldn't ask for a better mother, and you don't know how thankful I am for you being there.  I don't know what I'd do without you.  Love You & Happy Valentine's Day, Your Son.

Why do we always chase after what's bad for us and what's good for us we take for granted?

Happy Valentine's Day.  We missed one, but we will enjoy many...cupid never lies.

Love, Yo Husband Terry

My name is Ivan Matthews, inmate #U04337!  To others I am the Ivanimal and to my loved ones I am a real person.  My mother's Baby Boy and my children's papa bear.  A best friend to my brothers and a little, big brother to my sister.  Let's not forget about pops!  I am Ivansky to him.  Some people look at me crazy because I'm tattooed from head to toe.  Deep down inside, I'm a very loving and caring person.  I do keep a lot of my doors closed, to keep the unwanted ones out, and the only ones with the keys are my children, my mother and close family members!  I do want to crack my door enough to let this out.

Dustin, I love you son...all the way to the back!  That was our saying when you was so young.  You are the strongest minded of my children, and the one that keeps it all together.  You have become such a gentleman.  I will be home soon son.  I love you!  Hunter, you are my wildest one that slowed down enough to make me a grandpa at a young age.  All of this is almost over son, and I will be home just in time to help you with your wild one.  I love you!  Lil Ivan, my little baby!  I feel you have felt the most pain from me being here.  Momaw has got your back's son.  Before you know it, daddy will have us all back together and we will be able to laugh about all of this!  We will not have to cry anymore!  Daddy loves you baby.  Mom, I owe you and pops so much.  You have been my rock, and the boys rock my entire sentence.  Never letting go, or looked down on me.  You have become our backbone that keeps us on our feet.  Next year mom, your baby boy will be home.  It has been a long road, but we are now at the end!  I wanted to tell you all "Happy Valentine's Day" in a special way!  So here it is.  Next year me, and the kids will have dinner with you!  LOL.  You know what my favorite foods are, so stock up!  LOL.  Mom, pops, Dustin, Hunter, Lil Ivan, Danny, Marion, Alvin (my twin), Brandon, Autam, Heaven, Ashliegh, Page, Haily, Jordan, Gage and Destiny: Happy Valentine's Day!  Everyone of you need to smile because angels don't know how to frown!

Love Always,
Ivan Matthews  

Would you be my Valentine?  

A Man Named Norman

Many posts ago I introduced two men who play a big role in my life.  One helped me prepare my legal documents for the courts.  The other writes me letters of encouragement and puts some funds into my canteen account.  Both are Vietnam Vets who served their country in one of the most controversial wars of all time. 

Mr. Magnotti was introduced to me on this same side of the fence.  A man named Norman writes me from the free side of the fence. 

A few weeks back, Norm said he was headed down my way and would like to meet in person, if that was cool.  I smiled and said, "Hell, yeah!"  They called me out to get my pass and head to the visiting park at about 8:50 a.m.  As I headed out my only thought was how do you greet a man you only know through letters?  Do you shake hand or have a hug? 

And a hug it was.  Followed by microwavable sandwiches and much laughter.  We talked about women, the war, playing golf and ice fishing.  There was never a dull moment.  Felt good to meet Mr. Norm in person. 

I would like to again say thanks for being a true friend to me.  Some days I look at my life here and wonder why?  Why am I here?  And why for this long?  Then I see the changes.  Norm and I spoke about sobriety and living life above the law.  I looked across the table today at a man who drove all the way down from Michigan to see me. Sure it helped I'm also in Florida....where it's just a tad warmer than Michigan.  Haha!

Thank you Mr. Norm, a true friend.  See you next time! ~ The Hooligan ~

Mr. Norm on the left, and J.J. on the right.

Laugh Now....And Cry Later

I'm not real sure how much that statement [Laugh Now and Cry Later] is used in the free world.  Seems people want to cry and whine all the time.  Whine when your coffee is served cold.  Then sue when it's too hot and burns your dumb ass.

Now I hear someone is suing Subway because their foot-long isn't really twelve inches.  False advertisement they claim.  Well, I'm still saying my penis is 6 inches, even if it's only 4.

I believe people spend too much time crying about silly, unimportant shit.  Long gone are the days of circling the wagons because a group of hostile Indians are out to take your scalp.  Everyone wants it their way, right away.  Back here, behind this fence, it is anything but your way.  So often times you hear the phrase, "laugh now, cry later."  You learn to shrug it off.  Move past the issue.  Waiting until later when the lights are out and you're by yourself to grieve a lost loved one. 

Many men get a smiley-face with a sad-face tattoo on them.  Since I came to prison, I have been seeing this.  Hell...I live this.  It's my life.  When I get out of here, I'm not headed to Disney to ride roller coasters.  I'm headed to a graveyard to pay my respects to the man who taught me half I know.  The man who died while I was in prison.  Many times I laugh now.  Shrug it off.  Act like I don't hurt, knowing full well I will pay the bill later.

So I sat down to draw these faces.  Each time I draw a new piece, there is a meaning behind it.  Sometimes deeper than others.  Could be I just see a picture and think that I could do it better.  I sit down and do just that.  But other times the meaning is deep and is personal to me.  Those are always my favorites.

I won't ever have "laugh now and cry later" tattooed on me.  No, I live this life.  I'm reminded of how little control I have over feelings and emotions all the time. One day I'll be free and I need this life to end then.  It's over.  Until then, I will make like a Roman while I visit Rome.  I don't need any more reminders.

Still, I chose to make this art.  Perhaps when someone in the free world sees it, they can be blessed.  Blessed that you can hug your kid.  Blessed you can sit down to visit your mom in her living room.  Blessed you can surround yourself with loved ones to celebrate your birthday.

Don't forget Valentine's Day is right around the corner.  Your woman won't forget.  Tighten up guys.  Go get her a card and some chocolate.  Make a reservation at your favorite restaurant, pick a corner booth and light a candle.  Bring her breakfast in bed.  Offer to watch the kids while she gets a massage.  This is one day of the year you can shine on her.  Let her know she rocks your world.  Do something for her that will have her bragging to her girlfriends about her man.   

This is your heads up guys.  You blow this one and you won't get blown for a month.  Not that I'll feel bad for you.  Last time I got blown was five years ago.  Can I sue for that?  Cruel and unusual punishment?  What happened to "my way, right away?"

Fuck it.  I'm out.  Peace!

Update from Ester Jean

(Many of you know Ester......she J.J.'s younger sister who founded this blog.  For those of  you that did not find us until more recently, meet the sister that started it all.)

 

Hey ya'll. I asked if I could write an update post. It's been a while, and it's awkward because... I disappeared over a year ago. Just kinda went AWOL and you and I didn't even get any closure. I've missed you.

Let me tell you what happened.

I got pregnant. It happened. For real. 

Andrew and I... you know... we made a baby.

(baby-maker)

(baby-maker)

Remember when you last knew me and my husband and I lived in a camper? ...In Alaska? We lived in that camper in Alaska for 7 months. And I was pregnant. And I freaked out. Just a little bit. I was like, 'Oh my god, I am an under-educated, pregnant, unemployed 27-year-old, and I live in a 19-foot-long camper in Alaska, and it's winter, and all I do is talk to my dog all day and type a blog for my brother and how the hell am I going to be a good mom if this is the only thing I know how to do?'

Isn't that horrible? What a whiner! What a negative Nancy! But it happened. Almost exactly like that. I started trying to map out my future as a mom, and - like any rational pregnant person - trying to figure out what would happen if I gained like 100 lbs or if my husband left me and I had to fend for myself and a baby and I really freaked out. And I gave up on J.J. 

...Not my brother, but the blog. I wrote my brother and told him I was freaking out. And he was like, "Durrr... you think?" We both realized that I had a lot going on in my head and in my life, and I needed to figure it out. In the meantime, I wasn't going to be any great use helping J.J. to blossom like the beautiful flower it is. The blog, I mean. Though Michael is also a beautiful flower :)

(Really poor quality MS Paint collage about my life pregnant, in a camper, in Alaska, in the winter, and yes, 

we had to store food in the bathroom. It wasn't all bad. The cinnamon roll, for example. Because YUM.)

...So what we did was we made this diabolical plan where I would find my smartest and sweetest friends and test them typing, and then I would tell them how I was going crazy and make them feel real sorry for me, like tell them how I was pregnant and living in a camper and was practically homeless and how I didn't have an education and didn't know how I was going to take care of a baby if my husband left me and, you know, just make sure they realized what all was on the line. And if anybody stuck around for all that and still wanted to become pen-pals with my brother, who was in prison, well, she'd be just the gal we were looking for.

Lo and behold, Brooke took the bait. 

Aw, that's not really what happened. In fact, she realized that we were struggling without either of us saying much about it, and she offered to help. And she has done an amazing job. And I sat on my ass in a camper, eating bon-bons (and pickles, and dried mangoes and moose-meat) and gained 75 lbs. 

(That's not even all 75! And to answer your question, 

NO, I did not have a 75 lb baby, smartass.)

...Oh yeah, and also my husband got out of the Army and we (he) drove our little house - and our little dog too - through the Canadian Rockies in the dead of winter and moved back to Michigan.

...And I had our baby.

(Gold stars if you know who designed my one and only tattoo)

    

...And we bought a house! We don't live in a camper anymore! 

I am still under-educated, which just gets a shoulder-shrug from me these days instead of a weepy break-down. My kid is awesome. We named him Gus. He thinks I'm awesome, too. It's totally obvious. Andrew did not leave my fatass. 

(Gold stars if you know who designed Andrew's tattoo)

I wrote to Michael around his birthday and told him that this summer I went to my 10-year high school reunion (I know - gross, right?) on my 28th birthday. And I was nervous when I was getting ready to go. I was thinking about how all I do now is hang out with a baby. ...Which is perfectly awesome! ...Only, in the movies, 'those women' are made fun of. Like, 'Good job, so your uterus has done something recently, but have you?' I don't have any regrets. But I was worried about being surrounded by a bunch of college grads looking down their noses at me. 

Then I realized that I have done something. I started a really cool project with my brother. I lived in Alaska in a camper in the winter and I worked on a blog with my brother. And I trademarked "Tattoo'd Hooligan," which was a big deal for a non-lawyer to understand all that jargon and still get it done right. So I went to my reunion and knew I had at least one interesting talking-point. 

We all just talked about our babies anyway.

And why wouldn't we?

(By the way, that's Michael's tractor)

I have missed working on J.J. I've missed the eager trek to the post office, opening my mail, reading the latest bit of writing, and studying the latest piece. They really do look a hundred times more complex when you hold one in your hands. I miss interjecting smartass remarks on the blog. Sometimes I miss feeling part of something that is bigger than the tiny town where I live. I miss writing back and forth with my brother, mile-long letters that poured right out with no effort at all. We were both working on something, and I was almost always there waiting for him at mail-call. Now the project has moved on, and my world and Michael's have shifted.

Brother, I am proud of you for keeping on with this project. I remember many nights over the last 9 months when I was up late, feeding the baby, reading J.J. on my phone, laughing and crying with you, just as I used to do when I was working the graveyard shift at that hotel in Alaska, or in the camper, getting ready to type up a piece. Now I know what it's like to just be a reader. Sometimes I leave comments and sometimes I don't, but I'm always reading. I always love you.

Brooke, thank you for graciously stepping in right as I was breaking down. Your business savvy far surpasses what I could ever be capable of. Thank you for helping my brother get published, to say what he needs to say. Thank you for typing up those long-assed holiday greetings from the other guys! Whew! As the former-typist, I was blessed by their words and simultaneously felt sorry for you having to type it all :) You are a true blessing to us. Thank you a hundred times!

(Brooke and Ester Jean, baby-shower-style)

Thanks to both of you for letting me log in to say hello and a proper goodbye.

Lowrider Arte

Here it is!  J.J.'s art has been published in the February/March 2013 Lowrider Arte Magazine!  For those of you who have been reading, you know that I (Brooke Messing) am not the artist. I am the typist.  Haha!  I am sure that will be corrected in a future publication.

In the meantime, check it out: art by the Tattoo'd Hooligan (yes, here we call him J.J.) published in the February/March 2013 Lowrider Arte Magazine.  Be sure to pick up a copy today!

Daddy Daughter Dance...in JAIL!

Please, please, please take the time to watch this video!  It has a very special message!


Richmond City Sheriff  is a very special sheriff!  It is uplifting to see that others DO believe in the power of men and women on the other side of the fence staying connected to their loved ones.  Check out what the Richmond City Sheriff allowed at his facility!

Wicked Clown

Copyright by Tattoo'd Hooligan 2013