Wednesday, very early a.m. hour, it’s still dark.
…The reaper of souls flies high in the cold dark sky. Great black wings spanning 20 feet rhythmically beat against the innocent air. And he soars, circles and laughs a hideous laugh. His sinewy skeletal body possesses the strength of a thousand men. In his left hand he carries a syringe: silver needle, glass cylinder with intricately molded miniature gothic ironwork interlaced around it. He soars, circles, laughs. Death. Santa Muerte. The grim reaper of souls. He dances a macabre dance across the dark night sky. And the voices of a thousand demons bellows forth from his mouth as he laughs his hideous laugh…
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
“Always at every moment there will be the thrill of victory, the sensation of trampling on an enemy who is helpless. If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face—forever.” — The evil Party man O’Brien, from George Orwell’s 1984.
Imagine being in an environment where—to a large extent—everything is controlled by Orwellian O’Brien types and other assorted asinine imbeciles and wretched fools who can only think in Orwellian Doublethink. There are staff members that just go about their daily business not trying to make it hard on other officers or inmates, but there are always the Orwellian O’Briens, and also the Orwellian Parsons who Orwell described as a “…fattish but active man of paralyzing stupidity, a mass of imbecile enthusiasms—one of those completely unquestioningly, devoted drudges on whom, more even than the Thought Police, the stability of the party depended.”
Think of O’Brien at one end of the TDCJ employee spectrum and Parsons at the other,1 and imagine various amalgamations and assorted versions of others in between. To be fair, in addition to the staff members that just generally exist and do not try to add to the oppression of this environment there will always be a few who do actively try to make things better for everyone. And amongst this varying multitude lurks the Sarah Palin/Michelle Bachmann archetype.
Can you imagine Michelle Bachmann in a TDCJ uniform with a pair of handcuffs and a canister of tear gas on her hip?—With an extreme amount of control over the daily lives of prisoners? Now that you are shivering at the thought prepare to gasp in horror: such a being exists in the form of Death Row guard Ms. Sheffield. And for some unknown reason she has some fixation with me. She’s the one who decided to viciously attack my property on the 20th of last month and write me a fraudulent case, which landed me in the dungeon of disciplinary status where I still am.
And guess who showed up on the section with the special regional Shakedown Team from Huntsville a few hours ago? C.O. Sheffield. And where did they go? Right to my cell. They shook down my cell and of course found nothing and, although extremely through, the Region 1 team does not act like a whiny, bratty little vicious child-imbecile of a Sarah Palin, so they did not write me up for any fraudulent cases as Ms. Sheffield did. There was a time when oppressive buffoons would anger me. That time is a long time passed and now I just feel sad—so very sad—for such wretched and pitiful people.
But of course they must be challenged relentlessly so that the face of a future Humanity will shine bright with Love, Compassion, Truth, honor, dignity and mutual understanding. Speaking of which: Much Love and Solidarity to everyone who sent letters and e-mails, and made phone calls in protest of the situation that occurred on the 20th. The administration actually moved me up to level 2 status yesterday, and I’m quite sure this made Sheffield furious and led her to orchestrating the shakedown of today (which amounted to absolutely nothing). In the spirit of the thrill of our victories I’ll sign of with a shout of Venceremos!
And a warm embrace of:
Dionysian Love and Spartacus Strength