A plague of miserable memories makes sleep uncomfortable many nights. Lots of bozos in prison suffer the reality that a step to the left instead of the right would have saved them from unimaginable oppressive grief and that instead of sitting behind bars complaining about gettin’ no pussy they’d have some pudenda in their mouth. Then the self-torture expands upon realization that said pudendum is probably getting passionately porked ragged by someone so awesome that they’re not in prison. In fact, as days go on, the pussy becomes a mythical fig of some lonely loser’s imagination.
Our guys in the military go through the same longings for smashbox while their families are 10,000 miles away, but there’s the added layer of misery because their lives are in danger. Our military men and women are truly amazing. They put their lives on the line to look out for our country’s best interests, and they live through circumstances that make the most hellish prison life look like washing dishes.
I always strive to keep everything in proper perspective when I’m locked up. It’s very easy to get self-centered and stuck in only my own thoughts. It was easy to build up a big ego in jail, ‘cause my people had to do so much for me. I couldn’t really do shit for them so in a way they were just serving me. To use a rehabilitation word, my family “enabled” me largely ‘cause they love me and, at first, felt extremely sorry for me that I was locked up with a raw deal, 3- to 9-year sentence. I inadvertently became the center of everyone’s focus by default. However, for those serving in the military the respect and love they receive from friends and family is justified and admirable.
It doesn’t really matter who you are, if you go to prison, you will complain. I’m not a super-whiney douche-lick in the grand scheme of things, but I get my grumble on quite frequently in thee ol’ clink-clink. Ever since I did a six-month boot camp called “Shock Incarceration” in 2004, I’ve been very aware that no matter how shitty my situation is, it’s nothing compared to those who serve in the military. Memorial Day reminded me of just how huge a sacrifice those in the armed forces make. There’s a bizarre fascination with prison culture and quite a few heads actually give respect to those who did time, but this same culture largely ignores the heroic deeds of the military.
Many liberal-minded folks don’t necessarily agree with what our military has been doing over the past decade, so the men and women who serve get shunned. All the bullshit I went through in prison, our soldiers go through lots of the same struggles and it’s truly admirable ‘cause they are volunteering to do it. They give up their sweet black pussy or gigantor cock waiting for them back home, they eat food that might make the average jackass vomit, and most impressively they put their life in imminent danger all, in theory, to protect our Red, White, and Blue pride. Everything I sacrificed was strictly for the dollar bill and hedonism. Really, I am a piece of shit, and every time I complained in prison about how unbonerable I was living, I tried to remember that there were so many people in worse situations than me who didn’t even do anything wrong to deserve suffering. Other than not having sweet black pussy and alcohol, prison is pretty easy-livin’. Everything is done for you. Institutionalization is an asexual, lazy man’s paradise.
While me and some of my boys walked circles around the yard, we used to romanticize the days when criminals got arrested and were offered the chance to serve in the military rather than go to jail. I would have joined the military in a heartbeat if I were allowed to. I truly don’t understand why that option isn’t available for non-violent offenders. All I ever did was fuck with drugs, so let me join the military and drug test me so you know I’m clean, and then I’ll be a normal soldier. I’ve had dreams about this before, and I’m quite sure I woulda been one monster asset to our first-world security. My name would be MadDog Burykill and I would eviscerate the bad guys with unadulterated visceral rage. VIOLENCE! VIOLENCE! VIOLENCE! It’s what criminals do best, right?
It’s a shock to me that the criminal-minded can’t go to war for the US. However, people with criminal records aren’t supposed to be able to serve either, but ex-cons are receiving waivers allowing them in AFTER they’ve done their time. It’s still regrettable to me that I was as useless as tits on a bulldog reindeer for six years behind bars, and I wish I could’ve gone to the military to learn how to blow people up, or maybe even been vanquished to the island of Saint Helena so I could at least bone a native or something… learn a new language, eat mushrooms, masturbate under the clear blue skies, and find GOD.
Previously - (Don't) Let Them Eat Cake