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!

Start Your Engines......

The Giants won the Super Bowl.  Kelly Clarkson nailed the National Anthem.  Madonna did her thing.  And companies spent millions of dollars on commercials.   Yep, football season is a wrap.  That means only one thing......NASCAR SEASON!  Dayton 500 is just around the corner.  Cheers to cars driving around in circles!

~21~

Last week I was introduced to another prisoner's blog: The Death Row Poet.  I read the article.  He has been on the local news and he is making quite a splash. 

This man has a name.  His name is Ronnie.  Ronnie writes about how corrupt the prison system is.  Ronnie is also quick to point out the side effects his writing has caused him to experience at the 'Hilton' (a.k.a Raiford Corrections Institute).  I noted that he stated you have to choose your battles carefully.  I agree.

(Ronnie Clark from his blog)

However, Ronnie has balls.  This man is single handedly taking on the prison system.  A world to itself.  Sure, these prisons may be in your backyard, yet they make their own rules.  On your side of the fence, you are suppose to be innocent until proven guilty.  Step on this side, we're just guilty.  Sadly, 80% of these guys will just sit back and eat the shit sandwich fed to them each day.  Not Ronnie.  No, Ronnie is standing up. 

Ronnie, your gonna get this message.  I'll see to it that you do.  I'm a fellow brother in blue.  Your voice is not only heard on the outside, but we hear you on the inside too.  I don't need to tell you what it means to be 21.  (For those of you that do not know....being 21 is a statement in the chain-gang that means 'I am a man.'  I still have a set of nuts between my legs.  When push comes to shove, I'll stand up.)  Ronnie, X53314 is 21.   

There is good sense in choosing battles 'wisely'.  I know full well what happens behind these fences.  Things that you, out there, will never know because we are a world to ourselves.  I handle what's handed to me the best that I can.  I also have a mother, three sisters, a 14-year old daughter and a woman - all who want me to come home.  So, these days I remind myself of this when I choose my battles. 

At my very first prison, I was given the tour.  The full tour.  I waited two weeks before I called my mom and told her.  Now, we have a system...if I don't phone home every three days, them my mother calls the warden to find out where the hell her son is.  It's possible to get lost back here.  Many dudes get lost in confinement.  So me and my people set up safeties.  My people don't play.  They get involved.

I'm lucky to have this.  It saves me all the time.  Plenty of dudes back here have no one.  No one to help them.  I do.  I also have a voice. For this very reason I will step up and let Ronnie (a.k.a The Death Row Poet) know that his voice is heard.

I read his article in a Jacksonville newspaper.  After reading it, I called my girl and asked her look it up.  She then sent me some of his material.  Just reading his blog lets me know he has people who care.  Ronnie's mat on Death Row may quite possibly be the only comfort he has.  Yet that will keep you warm.  Yes, knowing that you are not forgotten will indeed keep you warm.  Even if the food sucks! 

One of the biggest points I would like to make is how good it is to feel supported.  It's good for the guards and staff to see that we have family, friends and even strangers who care.  This will cause them to hopefully rethink and consider what form of punishment they decide to hand down. 

There is a set of rules.  For both guards and inmates.  Ours are constantly being revised and changed to rule over us better.  But who enforces their rules?  Ask them and it's all under control.  Ask Ronnie, myself, or any other person who has done time...you'll get a different answer. 

It's a spark that creates a flame.  That flame becomes a fire that begins to burn.  Nascar says...."Gentlemen start your engines!"  The U.F.C. says...."Let's get ready to rumble!"  I like the way my girl says it the best..."Let's throw some rocks, Baby!" 

Well, baby, we're throwing rocks.

Bottom line, I'm 21.  We named the project the Judicious Jailbird.  I want it to also be 21.  We will stand up.  I see you Ronnie.




------> (Psst!  Remember to follow the blog for a chance to win great J.J. merchandise!)