Inmates Give Thanks Too

As a boy, my mother used to tell me to pick my friends carefully.  Back then mom would have never approved of my friends.  I look around me at my buddies and see the real Motley Crew.  These are my brothers.  While you are surrounded by your family and loves ones, I'll do the same.  Place my friends around me and try to make each other smile.  Deep down, each of us knows there is an empty chair in homes all across the world.  That chair is missing someones daddy.  A special lady sits down missing her man.  A mother is one child short.

Here we are.  And we are thinking of you too.  If you can look around your table and see every chair filled, then count yourself blessed.  I want to tell my friends and loved ones that I'll be home before you know it.  Ain't nothing but a hop and a skip and I'll be right back.

I think I speak for all my brothers back here when I say we can't wait to be filling that chair again at your table.  Happy Thanksgiving from all of us hooligans!

 Lynne & Larry, to a mother and father who I owe everything and so much more.  I'm sorry you must do this Thanksgiving without truly yours.  You will be deep in my heart and on my mind.  I will be home one day to share holidays and love that's hard to find.  

I love you both!  Happy Thanksgiving!
~ Ran~

 A shout-out to all my friends and family: Happy Thanksgiving!

This holiday is a time to be thankful for all the good things in your life and I'm blessed to have each one of you: Mom (of course you're first!), Jenna, and Alex; Aunt Bonnie, Uncle Hussein, Shawn, Brian, and Shirin; Aunt Randy, Uncle Billy, Danny, Mollie, Maggie, and Nina; Brittany, Ashley, and the rest of the Rucker clan; Alley and Angie; Jo; Matt; and everyone else, you know who you are.  Thank you for all that you do for me, supporting me, and just basically being a part of my life.  Both in the highs and especially the lows.  Hopefully this will be the last holiday season I will be separated from you all and next year we will celebrate together.  

My love to you all, Chris

Happy Thanksgiving!  Thank you all for everything you do to help me get through this.  

Love, James

I want to say Happy Thanksgiving to all my friends, family, and to the girl that's been standing by my side for the last seven years through thick and thin.  Bill, Garrett and Kenzie Cooey, Ryan Conley, and the rest of ya'll.  I really appreciate everything ya'll have done.  Thank you for going out of your way to do what you do for me, and wanting to come visit me.  You really do "find out who your friends are" when you are at a place that I'm at.  Mom, dad, granny, papa: thank you for all of your prayers, for putting up with everything I've put you through, and your love.  I've really learned how lucky of a person I am to have a family like you guys.  And to Alisha Lecourise, I really do want to say thank you for standing by my side for all these years, and holdin' on to what we have.  I'm really lucky to have a person like you in my life and to have you by my side.  Thank you for EVERYTHING you've ever done for me, and for your amazing love you share with me.  I know I've taken you for granted a time or two in our past, but you've somehow found something deep inside your heart to forgive me, and that's one reason why I love you so much.  Thank you for putting up with all my crap and giving me a chance to shine.  I've got a bad name, but a man can change. I'm living proof of that.  I hope to be home sooner than later to fill in that empty seat.  You guys mean the world to me.  And a special thanks to J.J. for being the guy he is, and caring for others who are also locked up.  And thanks to Brooke for taking the time to set all of this up for us guys who do have someone out there.  Until then, take care and God Bless.

Love, Forrest Robert 

From the depths of my heart to my two best friends, mom and dad: Happy Thanksgiving!  

Always with love, your SUN

 

For all of you out there that have someone in here that you support with love and/or friends: thank you!!!  You will probably never be able to comprehend just how much of a difference you make in your person's life - at least, I hope you are never in a position to.  Personally, I cannot begin to fathom going through this without the support of my family.  True friends, the unconditional love of family, and the real deal love of a special person will rarely be appreciated, or even recognized without experiencing and going through, the lowest of low times together and coming through them together.  Happy holidays to all of you!  

To the people who give my life its value: I am truly thankful, on a daily basis, for you all.  I am one of those who can

honestly say, "there is nothing equal to the love of my mother and father, save for the love of God."  A special prayer for my grandma Helen, who is 93 and very sick: I pray that you get to read this.  To my son, Cody, you are always in my thoughts.  To my jasmine-eyed snazzle: I M.U.T. and will 1221 always.  And one last big holiday holler to Brooke: thank you so much for making this possible; for giving us a way to make our people feel a little more special, a little closer, and a little more loved; and for being one of those super special, real deal ladies that are so rare. 

Happy Holidays!!  G.

                                                                                              

I am thankful for my family.  I am also thankful for Brooke who makes this whole thing possible.  And I want to personally thank all of these guys who not only got involved with this shout-out, but helped me celebrate my birthday as well.  Never take those you love for granted.  Tell them what they mean to you.  When you do this, it will allow you to grow as a person.  We all need to grow as people, both in the free world as well as in here.  Not to mention, we should do this all year.  Not only one day a year.  Be blessed, The Hooligan. 

We put the 'ass' in class....

So, I'm trippin' out here.  It really blows my mind to hear the songs I grew up with are being introduced as classic rock.  Stone Temple Pilots?  Classic?  That makes me feel old. 

A car becomes a classic after like 20 years.  So am I a classic?  I don't want to be a classic.  Now, referring to my pecker as a classic makes me laugh.  Kind of makes me proud.  That's nearly bragging rights.  But me?  I'm not digging that too much.

Classic cars are missing parts.  They have holes in the floor boards and they leak fluids.  They are not reliable.  I don't like the sound of that.  Yet here I am listening to the classic rock station introducing Alice and Chains. 

Classic Rock!

This can't be right.  Seems I heard a saying about the older the berry the sweeter the juice.  Come to think of it...the saying goes "the blacker the berry...."  Well, just wait till they're calling Marilyn Manson 'classic rock'.  And why doesn't this apply to rap music?  Why only rock n' roll?  I have yet to hear of the 'classic' rap station.  As far as I know, they place Tupac long side with Little Wayne.  I mean....Jay Z has been around for like 30 years.  So has NAS.  The DJ isn't introducing these guys as classics.  "Here's another oldie but a goodie....a classic rap by Snoop Dog."

What about Easy-E?  Dude ran shit with N.W.A. That pimp would jump out da grave and pop-a-cap in yo ass for calling him a classic.  B.B. King may smile.  :)

'Classic' must be a 'white thing'.  White dudes restores a classic car and goes 'original'.  Mexicans restore a classic and installs hydrolics, a chain steering wheel and spokes.  A black dude jacks it up, puts it on 26's with bass in the trunk, T.V.s in the headrest and Louis Vuitton interrior. 
So, my question is.....what is a classic?

A car and a song becomes a classic at 20, but a person can't even buy a beer at 20.  Look back at the hair bands of the 80s.  I mean Poison, Motley Crue, Cinderella.....yep, all classic now.  I can see why Kiss would be considered a classic.  Just look at Gene Simmons.  All that paint did something to that face. 

What paint?

Yes.  Missing parts, bondo and leadking fluids all come to mind when I think Kiss.    

Should we address Bret Michaels?  Have you ever seen him without the bandana?  What's going on up there anyways?  My dad once had a ballcap that had a ponytail sewed onto the back of it.  When I see old Bret and his bandana collection, I can't help but wonder if the hair extensions are attached to his head, or the rag.  Whatever.  Even his lip-pucker-smile seems fake to me.

The bandana.  The lip-pucker-smile.

*GASP*  Bret with no bandana!  (I imagine J.J. will be pleased.)

For what it's worth, I hope to age peacefully.  I don't smoke, use drugs or even drink.  That should help.  And, if all else fails, I'll invest in the hat with ponytail. 

In case of a major overhaul, I would like to become a mexican lowrider.  In part to the Lowrider song from Cheech and Chong...but mainly because I love those little chain sterring wheels.



Can you see the little chain steering wheel he loves to much?

Then, if I could just get one of those little Taco Bell dogs to look out the back window.  Can everyone say, "Hot Chalupa?!" 

Ok.  I'm done here.

Music Moves Me

"So, I seriously thought I died and went to heaven.  …At least for the past hour.

One of my buddies came up to me and said “Put your radio on 101.5!”  For the past hour, the featured band was my all-time favorite (and Ester’s all-time favorite!), Pearl Jam.  Not only that, but all songs were recorded live.  …Just like being at a concert.  Three of us, all zoned out, rockin’ to one of the greatest grunge bands from the ‘90s.  We would look at each other occasionally, just nod.  Each of us was far away.  I could tell by the look on my buddies faces that they were front and center stage.  “Yellow Led-Better, Elderly Woman, Better Man, Alive…” - wow – they were playing them all.

There are so many bad-ass, HAWT pictures of this band, but I had to pay homage 

to Michael's era with this 1994 shot from American Song Writer

At one point, I looked over at my buddy Lance and said, “I’m 16 and wearing a flannel again.”  He just smiled.  Anyone who grew up with me and was a friend of mine knows Pearl Jam is my favorite.  In high school, I wore a flannel, wore my hair like Kurt Cobain, and always had a guitar nearby.  Even through years of drug abuse, music remained dear to my heart.  There are a few of you who have heard me play and sing.  After the right amount of beer, I am not too shabby.  That’s when you’re drinking beer J

One of the things prison took from me was the ability to play music.  Notice I didn’t say they took music from me.  That’s the beauty of music.  It stays in your heart and soul.  Nobody can take that away from you.

So, like tonight, from time to time, we escape through the music.  Priceless.

Isn’t it amazing how music brings back memories?  Good ones and bad….  To this day, I hear certain songs and remember a certain car I had.  Along with a woman I was with, a place I lived, someone I loved long, long ago. 

Music is probably a prisoner’s best friend.  I have different programs I listen to.  Right now, I’m sitting here, laughing at my buddy H.A.  Perhaps you remember my big, rowdy biker buddy.  Well, today is Saturday.  Saturday nights are honky-tonk Saturdays for him.  …All that old country stuff.  He zones out.  H.A. is lying on his bunk, tapping his toe to some song saying, “She got the gold mine, I got the shaft.”   

(Thank you, YouTube!)

Across the room, I see Scottie.  He’s listening to some new-age techno stuff.  From the way he’s moving, he thinks he’s at the club.  I was telling one of my pen-pals the other day about music and its effects on me.  If I listen to techno to this day, I start thinking about DJs, colorful lights, glow-sticks and eating ecstasy.  Yeah, I should probably stick to my honky-tonk Saturdays with H.A.

One of my best memories as a kid was the time my dad and our Uncle Carl took me and my brother Aaron to see the Doobie Brothers.  That was long ago - I was a little boy - maybe 8 or 10.  Since that concert, I was hooked.  There is nothing like a live show.  My dear Uncle Carl passed away last year, while I've been down.  Whenever I hear the Doobie Brothers, I think of that drive from our house to Pontiac, Michigan.  If I recall, we went to Pine Knobb.  God, it was so long ago. 

(If he was 8 or 10, this is the ticket... I [Ester] even remember when the boys went to this concert, 

because we weren't even allowed to listen to rock and roll!  It was a pretty big deal!)

Then there’s the time when our family went on a vacation.  Dad bought a motor-home.  He declared we were all going to Florida.  I was the oldest, and talked him into letting me bring a friend.  That would be my friend who smoked that first joint with me.  Yeah, that one.  And we had plenty of that stuff, and some other stuff with us.  One of our overnight stops was in Biloxi, Mississippi: casino town.  My first country show was on that stop.  Aaron Tippin was playing some craw-dad festival.  My buddy and I snuck out of the camper, into the concert, and the cops brought us home at the end of the night.  We would have been about 16 then.  …My first taste of country music.  I don’t remember any of his songs, but the chicks were hot as hell!

(Sorry - should I have googled "Country girls?")

A few years later, my brother and I were in Florida visiting our grandmother.  They had just had all those bad wild-fires in the state.  It would have been 1997 or 1998.  The band Sevendust gave a benefit concert in Daytona Beach for all the fire-fighters that came down to throw water on the flames.  So we went.

I think our intentions were good.  After all, I’m an angel, you know.  But shortly after the show started, some cool-looking surfer dude came up and asked me if I wanted a hit of acid.  Of course, I said yes.  Until then, I had never tripped.  So after a half-hour, the guy comes by again.  I say, “Yo!  Let me get another hit man.”  He gives it to me, I stick it under my tongue and he does one of those Cheech and Chong things to me… “WOAH, dude – you just took a lot of acid!”  Get real, man.  How harmful can two pieces of paper the size of a pencil eraser be?

Welcome to my world a half-hour later:  It’s raining turkey legs.  Yes, you just read that right – turkey legs.  Maybe you have been to see Sevendust before, but if you haven’t, let me explain.  This is a very intense band.  They draw a crowd of heavily pierced, tattooed, crazy-dressing, gothic people. 

(Thanks, Maximum Ink!)

…In other words, a bunch of freaks.  Let me tell you, I wasn’t the only one trippin.’  There was a concession stand selling big-ass turkey legs for a buck a piece.  The band starts, mosh pit is going balls to the wall, and then some dude chucks a drumstick [turkey leg-version, that is] into the air.  That fucker started a movement, man.  In a couple of minutes, the turkey legs are all bought out, and they are all flying through the air.

Maybe you’ve seen a harmless beach ball batted around the arena at, say, a Jimmy Buffet show.  Well, this is not a Buffet show!  This is a Seven-fuckin’-dust and we’re throwin’ turkey legs!  …And I’m trippin’ balls!  No shit.  There were a lot of turkey legs flying through the air, but I saw thousands of turkey legs.  Then it starts to really rain.  I’m now seeing purple, green, and pink turkey legs.  Then I start to swim in turkey legs.  I’m wasted.  That was Sevendust, and I was 18 then.     

That same year, I went to Ozzfest.  One of the best line-ups they have ever had.  This was my first time seeing TOOL.  To this day, TOOL is The Shit.  This is the first concert where I saw people just walking around naked.  The stage behind TOOL had a gigantic toilet.  I’m talking an exact replica of a toilet that stood like 30 feet tall. 

(I'm sorry - were you trying to eat breakfast?)

It even flushed during their set.  They all came onstage wearing brief underwear.  They stole the show, since Ozzy was so drunk he couldn’t even stand up.  I still love Ozzy.  My cousin was with me – one of our crazy-ass times together.  She’s an Ozzy fan.  I won’t say her name on here – she would kill me – but she turned me on to 80s rock’n’roll.  I will forever love her for doing that.

I’ve been to a shit-load of live shows.  I love concerts.  But the 80s stuff is so cool.  Those dudes can really put on a show.  To me, they mean rock’n’roll.  Well, except for the time someone dragged me into KC and The Sunshine Band.  With a name like that, I should have known better.  And I probably just offended somebody by saying that – whoops!

My point is, at 50+ and fat as hell, ol’ KC should not be wearing leather pants is all.  That’s OK, it did something for the woman I went with, and we had sex in the parking lot after the show.  …Or maybe it was in the bathroom?  Can’t remember.

It’s great to see all these 80s bands firing back up.  Not long after that, I went and saw Danzig.  Ha!  Every time OI think of them, I think, “Mother, tell your children not to….”  OK, I’ll stop.  That was a great show, but that audience was full of satan-worshippers for real!  Like, swaying back and forth and stuff.  Kind of freaky.  Not my thing. 

(That’s also what I found in the search results for Danzig images,

so I settled on this cute, cuddly one…) 

  (Thank you, Stereogum!)

Now Motley Crue!  Yeah!  Do I have some 80s rockers out there?  Thanks to my cousin, I got to experience:

(W.A.S.P.)

 (Cinderella)

 (Motley Crue)

 (Scorpions)

(Oh my gosh, Ester had to take a laughing-fit break after that 5-minute Google search.
NO KIDDING.)

Maybe this is sparking some memories for you as well.  I get excited just remembering the shows I’ve seen.  I’ll forever remember Blackie Lawless and the show they put on.  Now there’s a dude who can rock leather pants at any age.  His voice cuts through a room full of people and will reach your spine and make in tingle.  What happened to music that touches you like that?

Lately it’s been country music that touches me deep down.  Don’t even call me names, cause I can hold my own, and country dudes are some of the baddest dudes I know.  From time to time, I listen to honky-tonk Saturdays with H.A.  It’s peaceful l – makes you want to put your arms around your girl, pull her close and watch a sun set.  Can’t say I ever feel like throwing turkey legs while I’m listening to Keith Urban or Brad Paisley.  I do feel a lot like that “Stupid Boy” Keith sings about.  I can relate to Garth Brooks when he speaks of his “Friends in Low Places.”  God knows I have some.  …Seems there is a country song for every occasion.

Don’t worry!  I didn’t go all soft on ya!  I still bang my head to Disturbed, Godsmack, and Nonpoint.  Can’t exactly work out to country, and who wants to hear about that dog that ran away – or was it that woman who ran away?  I forgot, but if it was country, then something probably ran away.

I guess bottom line is I have a lot of love for music.  Music makes you feel.  That’s exactly what I’m trying to do – make you feel."