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Getting Even

Back before all this global warming took off into high gear, we used to have real winters, not just the extended fall that we now have in Oklahoma. Every year, right around Halloween, the temperature would drop to less than forty degrees and stay there til March. It would definitely snow by December, too, and not some little dab of windblown dust-snow that melted into mud by noon. It would really snow, covering every flat surface, thick and heavy. This kind of snow made squeaking noises when you tracked through it because it was cold and dry. It was deep, too, too deep to go to school but not too deep to play in!

This is what we did as soon as we woke up. Little sister was the first to notice. She ran through the house like the town crier, shouting “It snowed! Come look at it! It’s beautiful and sparkly! And I’m going to be the first one to play in it!”

The whole house shook with the slamming of the door behind her. The younger of us raced to get dressed and join her. My older two brothers and sister were a little less enthusiastic, but they were coming. Outside in the freezing cold, the dog ran in gleeful circles around us. We ornery boys scooped and flung snow at each other that was too cold and dry to pack into real snowballs. The spray of powder melted on our laughing faces. We tricked our younger siblings into standing beneath snow-laden boughs, then kicked the tree so it would unload on their heads, just as our older brothers had done to us. Then they ran off to find someone whom they could trick this way. We played hide and seek. We tracked each other through the neighborhood. The girls made snow angels and snow ice cream while we boys chased and wrestled with each other and the dog. When we got too cold, we’d slog inside to stand around or sit on top of a big black iron stove that our dad had hooked up to the natural gas line in the back.

This stove was huge! Two or more of us could sit on it at once, and it would knock the chill off of us fast, so we could run back outside and play again. It was during one of these recesses that Tony, my older brother and I came in at the same time to warm up. As we plopped down on top of this stove, he happened to mention what a sissie I must be for having to come in and warm up twice as often as he. I took offense.

“Maybe you can stay out there twice as long,” I told him, “but that’s only because you’re bigger! I’m tougher than you when it comes to sitting on the heater!”

“No you’re not,” he scoffed. “I can sit here much longer than you can!”

“Then we’ll see who’s king of the heater and you’ll see that it’s me!”

Challenge taken! The game was on! I’d probably never beaten Tony at anything because he was at least four years older than me. But how hard could this be? It only involved a little discomfort, maybe a little pain. I didn’t have to be stronger, bigger or quicker; I just had to be more determined. I was very determined. He had put snow down the back of my neck, and I hadn’t got him back for it, but I hadn’t forgotten. Since he was too big, fast and smart for me to ever get any snow down his neck, this is how I would get even!

We sat there, side by side. Paul, even older than Tony, waited and watched, smiling. Maybe he wanted me to win. Tony certainly didn’t want to lose to me in front of him. My sisters stayed too, one older, two younger. My little brothers wanted me to win. They’d gotten snow down their necks too. We laughed and told stories or played with the dog while warming up. Tony and I got warm much faster than they did as we hogged the heater. The warm waves surrounded us as they wafted to the ceiling. We took our coats off together. My legs were getting hot. I had only begun worrying about them, and my rump, for a few long minutes when Tony suddenly slid forward like he was getting off. I was glad that he was giving up, but not so glad that I couldn’t boast.

“See? I win! I’m king of the heater!”

“No, you’re not!” he corrected me. “I’m still sitting on it!”

He still did have the corners of both cheeks on the top of the furnace. If I’d been skilled at arguing, I would have declared victory by default. Instead, I only hastened to get my own legs out of the blasting heat from the grate. I took an equivalent position, balanced on the lip with just the minimum few square inches of bottom still in contact with the hot metal. It didn’t even occur to me that he had suddenly changed the rules. Big brothers can do this. We see them do this to us every day, and we just let them because it seems right and we, in our ignorance, know no better. We are smaller, our vote doesn’t count and it would require a concerted effort by many of us to make him get right one time. In the end, big brother knows that we will never get it together and that we are helpless against him.

In my mind, I had already beaten him, but no one else seemed to have caught the violation. Certainly no one mentioned it. I would just have to beat him again under the new rule of “lip only” sitting. And I would have to do it at a slight disadvantage, since I had cooked a bit longer and more fully, being momentarily incredulous before remembering to adjust my posterior to the new “cool legs” rule. Good as it felt to get my hams off the sizzling steel grate, my two cheeks kept up their urgent signaling to “Get off! Get off!” While they burned and charred, Tony told me something that I hadn’t thought of before making this foolhardy challenge.

He said: “You know, if you roast your butt, you’ll walk with a limp for the rest of your life. Once it cooks, it never heals. A skinny little butt like yours is probably already done.”

Since I was only in fifth grade, I didn’t know anything about psychological warfare, not even the concept. But I did listen in science class. It didn’t seem possible that you could cook your butt on something that didn’t even come close to frying pan hot. But, big brother would know better than I, since he’d been through a lot more school. They had just taught us the scientific method of reasoning things out. I used it to try and find the answer – was big brother mistaken? Or can my butt really be cooking at less than 140 degrees? While thinking hard on all the aspects of this problem, I got sidetracked and found the answer to a more practical and urgent problem. Or, at least a partial solution that would – should – allow me to either win or see if Tony’s butt would cook, leaving him with a permanent double limp. The solution was simple, so simple that Tony must be using it. How else could he stand this pain? But maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he hadn’t thought of it yet. Maybe he couldn’t use this method because his butt wasn’t skinny enough! This is what I wondered about to myself after I immediately employed this secret method that I had just thought of. Now that I knew that he could suddenly change the rules without consultation, it seemed just as fair that I could do the same. I would get even with big brother’s rule-change by initiating one of my own. I would go one better, now that I knew how things worked. I would change the rules. I would not ask permission. I would not even let my opponent know that I had changed the rules!

Surreptitiously, I raised my right butt cheek off the hot metal. This tiny little bit of clearance made a LOT of difference very quickly. My cheek cooled off so soon that in less than a minute it felt good enough to face the burner again to give left cheek a break. None of my audience seemed to notice my furtive movement or odd posture. I cycled each of my cheeks off the hot metal several times. While I did this, Tony kept telling me all about the bad things that had to be happening to a skinny little butt like mine: permanent injury, scars for life, even crutches or a wheelchair and paralysis from the waist down. He told me these things faster and louder. He got to sounding angry when I replied that none of these things were happening to me. I began to worry about them happening to him, because by now, it was pretty obvious that he hadn’t been using my method of airing out his butt cheeks one at a time. I told him, out of genuine concern, “You better get off before you hurt yourself!”

This remark made him very angry. I guessed later that it was probably because he thought that I was mocking him. In reply, he suddenly pushed me off the heater, then jumped off himself. He quickly declared himself the winner and ran outside, presumably to sit in the snow. The seat of his pants looked like it had been ironed so hard and thoroughly that it had toasted into a permanent curve of the lip of that heater. His pants had been polyester, where mine were cotton jeans. It looked like I had gotten a little more than just “even.”


Tears? Not from me, a man hardened by decades of daily abuse and harassment from the most petty, vicious and greedy people that the Earth has ever spawned. But a less tempered man would have been bludgeoned to tears by the abysmal hopelessness of this catch-22 type situation, so I detail here, hoping that knowledge of it will help get this problem fixed.

It began with a scummy little twerp who, police say, got caught in the act of a daytime burglary and gunned down a man in his own home as his wife watched. He then bashed through a glass door, bled all over the porch, hopped a chain-link fence, leaving a trail of blood that a dog pulled the cops across for five blocks before losing the scent. This was the cartoon version sold to jurors for creating a false conviction of me. The actual facts were, as in most trials, much more complex and pruned down to a nub so as not to confuse jurors or let their minds stray from the goal of declaring guilt. I wasted 13 years for all local, state, federal and supreme judges to show their true colors and line up together on the side of injustice. Then I escaped, uncovered the killer for them, and proof of corruption in steering the two witnesses onto me, concealing their crime scene descriptions of the killer, and stealing eight samples of his blood and 23 of his fingerprints. Upon returning with a grocery sack full of signed police reports proving massive evidence theft, I found that a new generation of crooks had taken over and were so absurdly corrupt that they refused to try me for escape! I’d stupidly told them that I could not escape from a conviction obtained through fraud.

The hordes of appeals judges again proved to be impervious to facts proving wholesale corruption among their fellow gov-crats. They all refused justice, and instead garbled up the record, then cleverly ruled on their garblings instead of the facts. More than four decades into this fraud, they finally let me “meet” the parole board. As expected, this is another fraud. After a grueling 90 minute trip, hogtied, to another prison, and hours of waiting in a barren, windowless cage with no books, not even graffiti to read, I get my turn to see them. They are on TV! Their lead dog is a silk suited dandy that appears almost life-size. His minions flick into view when he pushes a big button. They are far away, dark and unrecognizable. They can easily be mannequins, jerked to lifelikeness by thin threads. The screen flicks by itself between whichever of two images that the dandy chooses, himself (mostly) and me. I have no need to see myself, but their camera depicts me as a vulture sees roadkill; from a height, looking down. It does this for 3 seconds every ten seconds for my entire 15 minutes.

The dandy, who I’ve written for years as if he were a real doctor (as claimed) and a learned man, open to new concepts and ideas, has never written back. None of them have. He begins with the standard lawyer system hypocrisy about swearing to tell the truth. Then he asks questions, rehashing the prosecutor’s case against me. The first snag occurs when I do not agree to be guilty for him. He actually lets me reveal a fact concealed by police at trial: their one eyewitness to the crime was noted by the cops to be heard still screaming hysterically inside her home when the cops pulled up to the curb. I, careful not to offend any of them, try to articulate, gently, the fact that hysterical witnesses are not as likely to be accurate as calm ones.

The dandy hotly disagrees and begins to seem to testify to his fellows, as if he must convince them that I am a liar. He says, “I know from experience, personally, that eyewitnesses are accurate!” The exact opposite is true: the most unreliable evidence is eyewitness evidence. Every type of evidence is more reliable than eyewitness evidence. I let him rant, uncorrected.

The Catch-22 here is that the parole board is nothing more than another ulcer in the same appendage that created this fraud. As such, they are determined to defend it against all facts and logic. Any attempt to lead them to the innocence-proving facts results in a volcano of bile against even the suggestion of non-guilt.

The next snag occurs when I tiptoe around the fact that the police, prosecutors and FBI lab are caught in the act of lying about the blood and deliberately concealing it, then destroying it, then years layer, causing the fingerprint smudges to disappear out of police vaults as soon as they became sources of DNA. (My appeal to have them tested caused them to vanish.) The doctor begins loudly overtalking me, as if he is afraid that his fellows may hear and be convinced to stray from his agenda. He begins hurriedly testifying about how hard it is to get clean DNA off asphalt. I correct him. DNA was not available then. Remarkably, he remains relatively calm and quiet as I explain the fact that police had collected many times the amount of blood required type it for over 300 antigens. The details are too complex for them to listen to for more than a few seconds, but I get most of my point across before the “doctor” can recover and interrupt with more prosecutor style testifying. This was so far over his ability to refute that he could only say that “typing destroys the blood.” This is when I realized that he is not a real doctor, but only a “doctor” of divinity. His bio says he is both a doctor and a pastor. Any first-year medical student knows that antigens did nothing more than cause blood cells to clump together. They destroy nothing, and it can be tested further. It was appropriate, however, that one of the most judgmental and intolerant types of people (a religionist) usurped the highest seat of power available to him for his machinations.

I let him get away with his ignorance, as ignorant despises correction. I had made my point. I had sent each of them all of these police report and a roadmap of how they refuted the prosecutor, police and witness. None had seemed to have read any of them. I was impressed with the shallowness of their grasp of even the prosecutor’s cliff-notes. I conclude that they emptied their P.O. boxes directly into the landfill.

The suit concludes his case against me by testifying to the others a bit of trivia that I had not considered important. “I see here that the victim picked you out of only the third lineup.” This was undoubtedly something extra cooked up from the prosecutor for them. It indicates that they feel the cracks made in their fraud by my publishing their police reports on my website, JamesBauhaus.com. The lineup nonsense is a cartoonish lie too. Police spent over three months muddying her memory by bringing her boxes and boxes full of school house yearbooks and other mugshot sources. Cops would pick their own candidate for her to convict. There were more lineups than I had bothered to count; certainly more than three. The cops gradually steered her to me, forgot to destroy her crime scene description of the killer. He had short hair that was blonde or brown. He wore no glasses. I’ve worn glasses since age 12, my hair is unmistakably black and it was, it turns out, at least 5 inches longer than the killer’s hair, proven by her drawing by a police artist and a newspaper photo of me taken after the crime.

So now I know one more hard-won fact about the government and its parole board: parole requires guilt. Innocent men are an abomination to the infallible suits in control of justice. Feeling the word “justice”in my mouth makes me want to vomit. And for this, we pay each one of these persons $80,000 per year for five days of work per month. Insufferable arrogance and mind-bending immorality such as this exhibited by the law-lords every day should bring strong men to tears; tears of frustration, in that we can’t do better than this to protect the weakest from the high and mighty!

Website Woes and James Still Imprisoned

The old site that James had for over a decade, back when it used to cost $70/year to register a domain name, was scooped up when renewal communications got lost in the shuffle. The old site was JamesBauhaus.org. Apparently a Japanese domain registration service thought it would be a great one to have because of it’s advanced domain age. Bummer…

Anyway, this domain name is more relevant and we are looking forward to a fresh start! The site is currently under re-design more content and updates are coming regularly.

Big thank you to all those who have followed James’ story over the years!

He is now in his 60s and still in prison. He does his calisthenics each day and his writing. He was ready to let the website go because of cost and difficulty of maintenance but now he has new hope and a second wind.

Toothbrush, Pen Equals Security Nightmare

The guard’s fondest wet dreams came true not long ago. An idiot inmate got ripped off for a dollar by some Negro inmates one time too many and decided to get even. Since the guards have metal detectors, inmates now scratch, cut and poke each other with plastic. First time, it was a toilet brush handle whittled down to a point. The guards now do not permit clean crappers.

Next, a pair of idiot inmates poked a guy with a pen barrel. The Kops took away all the pens and pencils for months, then began selling limp noodle pens and 3-inch, eraserless pencils. The latest idiot inmate, appropriately going by the prison alias “Pot head”, poked a thieving Negro with a sharpened toothbrush. The Kops immediately began stealing everyone’s toothbrushes. After a month’s delay, they began selling half length, phony toothbrushes that are too soft to clean teeth, and too short to reach them. (Try cutting the handle off your toothbrush and using it by holding the remainder between your thumb and forefinger.) There’s going to he a lot of prison dental bills and toothless prisoners in the future because of this idiocy/sadism.

Because brainless prisoners can’t think 7 minutes into the future and grasp the routine, standard, mass-punishment the priscrats pull every time in response, everyone else has to lose their teeth to common rot we haven’t seen since the previous dark age 500 years ago. Such stupidity makes me want to sharpen a coffee cup or a snuff can and use it on the idiot inmate who thoughtlessly got our toothbrushes stolen. (Attention cops and prosecutors! The previous sentence is called “sarcasm” and should not be used by you to dupe parole board kops and juries into branding me with your favorite fear and guilt inducing word, “violent”.) I’d like to see the kops make these idiots drink coffee with their fingers and carry their snuff in paper bags.

Prison Legal Help Farce

Not long ago I asked prison lawclerk Bill Cathey, via paper request, “Please provide caselaw citations that rule that a court’s judge can be bypassed when he refuses to rule on the facts of a case.” A Mcalester judge (Barteld) had sat on a simple question of law for a solid year, simply refusing to rule that I was right and the law was irrefutably on my side. His plan was simply to ignore me and my Habeas Corpus forever and hope I was too stupid to go over his head.

Cathey typed me out a full page response loaded with questions trying to guess unimportant details of my case. He offered the standard suggestion (sue for a ruling from the Okie Supremes ordering him to rule or let me bypass the crook). Then he offered a single, partial citation of caselaw I was to cite to the higher court as precedent for my request for them to make him rule or let me past him. The citation was Picard vs Connor 10th circuit court of appeals. The book and page numbers were missing. This case could not be found by us without this information, and he knew it.

Weeks later I was able to finagle my way to the prison “law” library. This is where they put you in a cage only a few feet from the lawbooks and let you beg for a law clerk to find the right one of hundreds and let you actually touch and read it.

While there I told Cathey exactly how Okie McJudge Bartheld was screwing me to death with his particular brand of legal chicanery. I also asked Cathey for the numbers required to find his Picard vs Connor.

I never got it. Like a sleazy lawcrat, he began slipping sideways, changing the subject, dodging the question, and finally ran off promising to get it twice, then he just didn’t come back. Talking to other victims in adjacent cages revealed that Cathey and other prison lawclerks routinely save time by simply forgoing caselaw searches in favor of simply dreaming up nonsense and duping the ignorant prisoners into believing it is an actual bonafide law citation we can use in our petitions to judges. Having thus been reminded of the routine duplicity that ever occurs among highly-trained prison lawclerks, I realized suddenly the missing parts of Cathey’s spurious caselaw citation. The missing parts had more to do with his TV watching habits than his special lawclerk training. The complete citation is thus: (Captain) Picard vs (Roseanne) Connor.

Incidentally, the Okie Supremes did order this robed McMaggot to rule, and it was the only one of hundreds of lawsuits I “won”. Judge McMaggot promptly ruled a page full of complete and utter gibberish, deliberately incoherent, that had almost nothing to do with my contentions, then he lawlessly pre-dated his pile of semantic feces to make it appear that he’d vomited it months earlier. (see: C-99-207 in McAlester district court) His own clerk would not participate in his lie and stamped it with the actual date he dictated it to her. She sneaked this true date of creation at the bottom of the last page and signed it. I appealed this McCrap ruling to the Okie supremes. They are still sitting on it, but will eventually rule their own type of lawless, criminal gibberish. The club of powerful, robed vermin is so strong and immune to oversight and quality control that they could simply wipe their diarrhea-laden rectums on petitioner’s lawsuits and their cronies in the higher courts would merely accept and possibly repeat this behavior as a lawful “ruling of the court”. They are as crooked as they want to be, and no power on Earth can make them get right.

8-10-00: They did file a bag of self-serving crap. (see: OCCA “Order Declining . . . (out duty to uphold the law)” no. HC-2000-962

The case itself is so extremely simple that a child of 8 would immediately see the logic and agree with my contentions. Not so, a corruption of old, rich lawcrats in positions of power. First, there is the 14th amendment of the U.S. Constitution that, in theory only, “guarantees” equal protection of the law for everyone. This is supposed to keep judges, cops, bureaucrats, electocrats, etc, from passing out favoritism for money and other consideration, such as immunity to the law for themselves, sale of law to lobbyists, freedom from ever having to pay traffic tickets for them or their families, or hiring relatives to work with them at high-pay, low-work, perk-laden gov’t jobs.

As you can see, the equal protection clause of the 14th amendment works only in the fantasies of idealists, who often have jobs implanting this nonsense in the minds of ignorant schoolchildren.

The 2nd part involves a grandstanding prosecutor at my trial named Jerry Truster. (How ironic that a corrupt, lying, evidence-stealing lawcrat should wield “trust” in his surname.) He and a pack of crooked, lazy cops duped a jury of ignorant, patriotic fools into branding me guilty based solely on the word of two liars who saw the actual killer, but took the cop’s word that it was me instead.

The main liar, Mrs Dorothy Nell Hunt, inherited her husband’s pornography business when her husband was murdered by the porn dealers he was snitching off for the cops. It was an election year, and the local prosecutor, Buddy Phallus (again, how ironic!) was battling with Okie-city prosecutor Andy Coats, on who was to wedge themselves into the governor’s seat. Their means to this end was the usual “clean up our streets” pabulum in which they sucked up votes by attacking the scum who sold porn to perverts.

Both failed, and when they had no more use for Mrs Hunt’s snitchery and porn, they nailed her too. She sold her porn biz and bought a lawcrat who “won” an appeal in the Okie Supreme court. They cooked up an “out” for her, saying that she should get 2/3rds off her obscenity sentence solely because it was now not fair when the prosecutor re marked on how porn increases the crime rate. This whole river of lawcrat sewage can be found in Hunt vs a cr ap 601 p.2d 470 1979. The 5 powerful (and richer) judges said,
‘. . . this (improper comment) can not be allowed”.

This is exactly opposite of what they said to me about the exact, same grandstanding prosecutor’s remark in Bauhaus v Ok cr ap 532 p.2d 434 four years earlier.

When people purchase legal loopholes such as this, the Judges rarely let it be pub lished in any lawbooks; somehow this got into the lawbooks, though it was only one ex tremely convoluted snippit of judge-vomit buried beneath an alp of more judicial ravings. Even so, the judges did reverse their opinion on this particular bit of standard prosecutor’s closing argument bilge. The word quickly spread amongst the prosecutors and they quickly stopped raving at juries about the crime rate and instead adopted a slightly different emotionally charged rave to induce the 12 fools into conviction mode.

Not having a well-oiled machine of numerous clerks, paralegals, lawyers, prosecutors and judges to warn me of when and how the judges change their minds and the law: in doing so, I didn’t blunder across this for 20 years. Soon as I found it, I took it to the same judges whose throats had erped it. They ducked their jobs, probably because I didn’t have a sleazy porn biz to convert into cash and hand over to one of their bag-men. In H-98-1269, it “only” took about 50 days for them to say, “Don’t bypass the Tulsa court.” Thus they forced me to waste more months of my life asking the same crooks who lied me into prison to give me the law they stole from me to get me convicted.

There was only one possible outcome to this, and they stalled around as long as possible. I had to sue them to make them rule, and they stole another year of my life before issuing the “no” that was the foreordained conclusion.

Knowing the Tulsa judges were crooks, I simultaneously petitioned the McAlester judges for the same justice. This is the same McJudge I railed about earlier in this essay, and he also took a year to issue his expected “no”, proving he is a crook too. Worse, he (and all judges) was a crook with immunity, so he can never be punished no matter how often he gets caught stealing, lying, or selling lawchanges for money.

To shorten a long, agonizing story encrusted with judgecrime, it took at least 5 lawsuits and almost 2 years to leap through all the legalistic hoops and force corrupt, illegal, justice-stealing decisions out of the throats of 7 judges in 3 courts.

In the final state-judge vomit-orgy, the 5 okie supreme judges completely dodged the only question I put to them, “Why shouldn’t the same justice you gave Hunt apply to me?” They had nothing at all to say about the fact that the favoritism they sold to the pornseller had finally come back to haunt them, ever-so-slightly. They declined to do their duty and uphold the letter of their own law. They threw precedent into the garbage along with the 14th and other amendments of the constitution. Why? Because they are paid to keep people in prison, especially innocent persons like me who prove with their own words how extremely corrupt their law monopoly is. They have to conceal their corruption inside specially isolated prisons so they can keep their taxherds duped into apathetic submission. No matter that these judges are actively assisting the real killers in escaping their wizened claws o’ justice. If too many people uncovered the fact that corruption is the rule, not the exception, these robed bacteria and their bag-men would be dragged out of their ivory towers of opulent splendor and thrown into the same sadistic cages they’ve so gleefully consigned others to for millions of man years.

The next step is to (again) plumb the depths of federal judge-corruption. (see: 00-5146, 10th circuit) Since the state judges are so secure in their immunity that they can concoct the law any way their whim strikes, T sent this same, exact question to the Denver judges. They will duck their duty too, aligning themselves with the kil ler and against this innocent man, the law and the constitution. Nothing is more important to them than rubberstamping the corruption of the single lying cop who started this mess and the train of lawcrats who chose to assist him. The law means nothing to the cops and lawcrats but a slight obstacle to their plans. They must merely pay lip service to the law as they connive-up ways to get around it to achieve their sordid goals of self-aggrandizement, continued influence-peddling and power over others.

I also appeal McJudge Bartheld’s gibberish past the okie supremes to the okie fed court in Muskogee. This will lead the judges there to also being forced to display their allegiance to the killer when they parrot the same thing the lower judges said; (“Too late! You Waive:”). After this, the 10th circuit Denver judges will get it and have another chance to demonstrate their contempt for the law by protecting the killer. Eventually the U.S. Supremes will get 2 more chances to parrot their contempt for the law too, as they also protect the killer.

What else can I do but make these maggots-of-law show their true colors? They suffer zero quality control now, but maybe after their monumental corruption fills enough records they will be put in the cages they so richly deserve. I can dream, but the line of grafters standing up to replace them is infinite. Like Gore, Hush and McCain, they talk a load of reform, but none of it ever manages to occur after they’ve duped their ways into office.

Corrective Debilitation

Today, (9-15-11), the Pew Center announced the results of a study in which it found that, after three years, 408 of ex-cons suffer recycling through the state’s conviction machine. What, specifically, may be some of the causes of this?

Perhaps the major cause, behind the obvious lack of moral character, is the fact that they are easy targets for lazy cops to recycle. Their names are already in the cops’ databases. The cop-computer spits out custom ized lists of names for each crime typed into it. Each name is of a target previously convicted of that particular crime. Jurors are easily led to re-convict persons who are already forever branded as criminals. Why expend effort to uncover new criminals when old criminals are so easy to re-convict? (DNA proves that, in the case of death sentences, which are the gold standard of the lawyer’s system, fully seven percent of its convictees are completely innocent, having nothing whatsoever to do with the crimes for which they were scheduled to die. This failure rate is compounded by the fact that it encourages the lucky criminals who got away to perform more, worse crimes in the future.)

This 40%, (3 year) failure rate of “corrections” industries may also be partially explained by its systematic undoing of its “corrective” function by its “Security” apparatchik. E.g., the corrections industry, though full of programs, is very anemic in rehabilitative substance. Many of its programs are faith-based, which constitutes taking advantage of a free service in lieu of providing a costly professional approach. Other programs, such as “Cognitive Behavior Therapy” and its many positive thinking variants, have a slight, discernable effectiveness and basis in psychology, but are taught by guards who have accepted the title of “counselor” rather than by trained professionals in the field which invented the theory. In fact, real prison psychologists are reserved for chronic and emergency care, such as suicide prevention.

Captives are forced to attend such classes through threats and inducements. Some accept the value of what is taught. More seem to simply feign belief to obtain what feeble “goodtime” that is offered. Captives are realists, learning better ways of manipulation while suffering manipulation. They learn and practice a set of behaviors designed for dealing with their captors, and practice a different set of behaviors required for dealing with fellow captives.

Psychology, as a whole, is known for its nebulosity: its effectiveness can not be accurately measured, as can the exact sciences. What effectiveness it may have is easily destroyed by outside factors, such as, in prison, daily, petty harassment and mental or even physical torture by guards, prisoncrats and administrators. E.g., in all prisons, there is a constant, continuing fixation on counting all their victims, day and night, every hour or two. This occurs in extreme forms that border on the clinical definition of insanity. Two guards count each captive twice each time. One guard bangs on each cage to wake his victims when his flashlight in their eyes fails to do so. He can see two victims in each cage. It is never dark, as the lights are always on to some degree, and the cages are specially constructed to be like fishbowls; there is no place in the cage that his eyes can not see. Yet he or she will not go away and leave their victims in temporary peace. Sometimes they will even demand a “Stand Up:” count. The reason for these mental tortures are never revealed. Their victims are left to guess, because any explanation of this behavior would be indefensible.

One of my guesses is a deliberate policy of “Corrective Debilitation”. This strategy is linked to the 1998 findings of University of Pennsylvania Professor Martin Seligman, and his work that amounted to torturing dogs with electricity. These dogs, he discovered, went into a state of abject submission. He called this process “Learned Helplessness”. This appears to be exactly what the guards of prisons, particularly corporate-profit prisons, are teaching; helplessness in the face of their terrible, uncheckable power to harass and torture, 24 hours/day, seven days/week, for decades.

Teaching helplessness would seem to counteract the corrections industry programs that teach positive thinking. Is it possible to think positively while enduring constant harassment and torture from people who are determined to teach you helplessness? Almost all the captives in my researches respond according to the conditions of their sentence. The ones who are lucky enough to have escaped the lawyers’ system with an end date to their sentences try to survive with their mental abilities intact by focussing on this end date. The ones who have had their lives taken away either suicide or try to make pretend-lives within prison around the constant harassment. They exhibit abject submission and learned helplessness toward prisoncrat observers, yet often appear to their fellow captives to possess a death wish or display psychopathy or psychopathic tendencies.

Corrective Debilitation arises from the stereotyping and hatred of prison employees determined to add extra punishment to persons sent to prison as punishment and needs to be itself corrected if successful reintigration is an actual goal of “Corrections” industries. This needs to occur because laws change at whim of elected officials and due to sudden onset of pressure from the mal-governed.

Innocent Prisoners Released

A Texas man was proven innocent after 30 years. He had several chances for parole, but refused to admit guilt. The Innocence Project says only 2 other men have served more time than Mr. Cornelius Dupree, Jr. has, before proven innocent. Under TX compensation laws for the wrongly imprisoned, he is eligible for $80,000 for each year behind bars, plus a lifetime annuity. He could receive $2.4 million in a lump sum, not subject to federal income tax. Other exonerated inmates from the Dallas area who collectively served more than 100 years in prison upheld a local tradition by attending the hearing and welcoming the newest member of their unfortunate fraternity.

Ohio agreed to give $1.1 million to a man who was in prison for 18 years for a rape he didn’t commit. Robert McClendon, 54, was released in 2008 after he was cleared by DNA testing. He’s grateful for the settlement, but it doesn’t make up for time spent in prison.

A Florida man was set to be released from prison this week after his defense says DNA evidence shows he was wrongly convicted of murder and rape 26 years ago. Anthony Caravella, 41, was found guilty in the 1983 attack and sentenced to life in prison. Caravella, who is mentally retarded, was 15 at the time. Prosecutors had sought the death penalty for Caravella, who was accused of raping, strangling and stabbing 58 year old Ada Cox Jankowski. She was found dead near a Miramar school. His defense says new DNA tests exclude him as the suspect.

Caravella is expected to be released this week. He confessed to the crime, but his attorney says police beat him to coerce the admission.


This is the best example, so far, of why public defenders are so often
harmful to justice:

1991: Corsicana Texas; police were directed to a fire. Three children burned to death or died of smoke inhalation. One firecop, a Mr. Vasquez, declared an arson, justifying it by simply mumbling vague, nonscientific phrases such as “…pattern of burn indicates arson.” The regular cops assigned to catch the proposed arsonist immediately attacked the survivor, Cameron Todd Willingham, as is standard police practice; start close in, work outward until convictable targets are acquired. Guilt is not required, only conviction. The imaginary crime established, the cops are assigned their task: get a conviction.

The sanitized, courtcrats’ version of this is found in Willingham v.
Cockrell, 61 fed, appx 918 (2003). Trace this backward in time to find
the truthier parts left behind. Every word of Willingham’s appeals are
excluded from this record. From this caselaw you can only see what the
cops, lawcrats and their dupes claim. The lawyers’ edition may
provide more detail and less lawcrat propaganda, if we could obtain it,
because it is supposed to contain documents from the accused’ side too. If I ever find the citation, I’ll include it here.

The cops found Willingham to be an easy target. Other cops had apparently previously convicted him of some minor crime of undisclosed type. Cops love it when their target is someone whose reputation has already been blackened because this makes it easier for jurors to believe their primary conviction tool; character assassination. This tool is essential when your only ‘evidence’ is nothing more than a state employee simply declaring, without any proof what so ever, that a crime occurred, and lying that an accelerant had been used.

Fact is, no crime occurred except possibly negligence in babysitting. It turns out that Willingham slept while his kids set the house on fire. He might have been sedated by overwork, alcohol or other substance, but we will never learn the truth for two reasons: the state killed him, and the state scared him off the witness stand by giving him a public defender who gave him the standard harmful advice of, “Do not defend yourself to the jurors because the prosecutor will make you admit to any and all previous crimes the state has put on you, (and do not talk to the media)”.

Easy as it is to convict a person who is convinced to, insanely, remain silent during a lethal attack, the cop/prosecutor team took no chances Cops came up with numerous ‘confessions’ which they put in Willingham’s mouth for the jurors, in order to prop up their declarations of arson. Cop after cop claimed variously: Willingham beat his wife (and kids) while pregnant; he wanted to trade one of his kids for a VCR; he killed a dog and bragged about it; he explained away the cops’ lies about finding a flammable liquid used by claiming that he had spilled flammable perfume all over the place without cleaning it up before going to sleep; the guy burned his house down to cover up child abuse, and; he burned his children to make it look like they’d set the fire. Also, “He refused to go rescue his children”, (as if firecops or ordinary cops would allow this, which is the firecops’ job, who are dressed for it and have the air tanks, face masks, infrared viewers and other equipment that makes this possible). The cop/prosecutor team produced no evidence of any type of flame accelerant being used. (Willingham and his jurors didn’t know it, but back then, firecops had hydrocarbon sniffers to detect arson sped by chemical accelerants. This was given to them by scientists years prior to this case.) Incidentally, Steve Barret ran into a fire to warn people sleeping in the basement in Cleveland, Ohio. The firecop chief called him a hero, but the regular cops fried him with their tasers and charged him with ‘misconduct at an emergency” Colbert Report, 11-10-2009.) The cops went door to door and connived the neighbor-ladies to help them assassinate Willingham’s character. Cops are grandmasters at manufacturing ‘evidence’ by manipulating witnesses and their emotions. Caselaw books and my site are full of examples of cops caught in the act of doing this and how they do it. (See Innocents’ Guide, Cop Culture and Training, Officers and Identikits, Eyewitness This:, et al.) Most telling are the twin lies of “…to cover up child abuse” and the outrageous “…burned his children to simulate their playing with fire.” Cop/DA teams commonly use accusations of child abuse to foment in jurors the unthinking hatred that they require to induce mindless convictions. This tactic is standard in all courtrooms. Not so easily believed is the accusation of torturing children to simulate their playing with fire. By applying minimal logic, we can notice that, in order to have a crime of arson, we must somehow explain away the fact that all three children died of smoke inhalation, and that one had burned hands and arm, exactly as if playing with fire.

Now, no cop saw Willingham prepare for his no-motivation “arson” by burning his child’s hands. No witness testified to this. So, where did this arson-saving crowbar come from? It came spewing at jurors directly from the prosecutor’s mouth as he testi-lied to them during his closing arguments. Funny how the very thing that should have counted toward his innocence and simple, common reality somehow got twisted into a sinister tool for causing murder and political gain. Only the prosecutors could pull off such a brobdingnagian deception, and the anonymous judges help them get away with it by allowing cops and prosecutors to sue character assassination to replace truth, facts and proof.

Willingham had only his wife to deny this, which she did, but the jurors were suckered by the quantity of evidence, not the quality. The parade of cops, firecops, a conniving jailrat, the gullible neighbor-ladies and the incessant media amplification, was a bandwagon that they could not resist jumping upon. The complete, total lack of real evidence had no effect upon the carnival of hearsay and fingerpointing that the conviction team had created. The jurors all slapped their guilty buttons and raced back to their busy lives to brag, then almost immediately forget what they had been so cunningly duped into doing; allowing the state to legally murder an innocent man for a crime that did not occur.

The cops and courtcrats commonly hide their crimes by shoving them in the graves of their victims. Willingham was different. Before they killed him, he was weighed down by an anvil of a public defender named Dave Martin. For death-seeking prosecutors, accusees are often saddled with two public defenders, just to make it look extra legal when they get their death sentences. This second PD was Rob Dunn. Not any PD’s name is mentioned in the caselaw where I read of Willingham’s appeal. Apparently, PDs are able to expunge their names from cases that they wish to dis- associate from. It’s bad for business when lawyers can be too easily traced to murdered innocents. Judges help the culprits of law conceal these legal atrocities by marking them ‘not for publication’, and by making citations from them problematic for the ones who would dredge up criminal rulings.

This murder by cop/DA/Judge/PD would have been safely concealed forever except for the victim’s family. They worked tirelessly for 5 years after his fraudulent execution and finally obtained media attention. Somehow they got nine real arson experts to check the facts. They found the obvious, then declared their findings: Vasquez and his two underlings lied; no accelerant was used; the burn pattern did not indicate arson; Vasquez and his two yes-men were arson investigators merely by claiming to be so, with no real training in the physics of fire.

Willingham’s family and friends then managed to attract the attention of Steve Mills of the Chicago Tribune. He managed to find someone at CNN who would interview him about the case. CNN got interested in the case when they were shown that at Texas Gov. Rick Perry let the innocent be killed because he had a re-election to win. CNN pulled in Scott Cobb, a death penalty moratorium activist. On 10-4-2009, they revealed that Vasquez was some kind of “mystic” instead of a competent arson investigator. It was also noted that Willingham’s PD, Dave Martin, is an ex cop: (No wonder Willingham tried to ditch this guy, even if it meant having No lawyer: No one escapes a swamp by standing in the crocodile’s jaws.)

All these little dribbles of fact interspersed with layers of media inanities piqued interest enough for editors to assign it to Anderson Cooper, their prime time host. They also dug up the PD, Dave Martin, for a gabfest broadcast on 10-15-2009. Martin revealed himself to be the worst nightmare for Cooper, taking over his show, shouting him down, testifying instead of answering questions and generally covering his ass by incessantly spewing loud declarations of his client’s undeniable guilt. Not one shred of any type of real proof exists in this case. Willingham was murdered simply because of the emotional ravings of a determined group of masterful public- and self manipulators hell-bent on ‘justice’ for three children fascinated by fire and unsupervised. It is astounding how a multi-million dollar legal catastrophe can mushroom from a chain reaction beginning with one incompetent gov’t employee. Vasquez’ incompetence was even admitted to by a nameless judge, but the judge, like gov. Rick Perry, decided to ‘err on the side of (political) caution’. He declared that it was “harmless error” for Vasquez to create a crime out of nothing.

Every case that is so vacuum packed that cop/prosecutor teams go get some jailrat and trade leniency for lies under oath tells rational people that abysmal corruption is occurring. Our lawyers’ system is exploding with these no-proof; only fingerpointing frauds that ethical people who should vomit at their discover instead gaze away and gag, yet remain silent. Do we really want these overpaid, underworked professional flimflam artists to lie people to death for political gain? They’ve got billions of dollars to waste and every high tech advantage ever created: It is not too much to ask that the usual one-sided battle of the courtroom liars contain some particle of real proof before they slaughter some poor fool in our name!

Prison Survival Techniques

When a prisoner discovers that he has an infected sore from having to sleep on a plastic pad, it is a serious matter that could result in scarring, sickness and death. Prisons breed supergerms this way that are resistant or immune to antibiotics. Such infections need treatment immediately, not after many days of wrangling with recalcitrant medic/bureaucrats over proper papershuffling procedures. Save your skin and possibly your life by always maintaining a small horde of asprin and replace it quickly each time the prison guards steal it from you. Asprin is very useful for many reasons, one of which being that it is a mild acid. Soak two asprin in a little water and gently rub it into infected sores once a day or so until the prisoncrats decide to render real medical treatment to you. This will slow or even cure infections before they can kill you or cause you to lose toes, fingers or limbs. This is especially important for diabetics to know. But don’t let this slow efforts to force adequate medical treatment from the ‘crats. You could still easily die without it.

Culture and Psychology Insights

Here is some psychology and culture: They just moved a youngster into my cage who is a Salvadoran who slipped into the US to indulge in our technological and economic superiority, and to escape the poverty inherent in his own culture. (Jarin Trochez, 609540, who, I discovered, too late, is infected with one of the toughest, antibiotic-resistant strains of tuberculosis and is not taking his medicine, ensuring that his occasional use of them, when the nurse is watching, his strain of TB become even MORE tough for future victims to beat.) Today is 7-5-2010. He seems to be a shy kid, steeped in ignorance and tradition, yet knowledgeable enough to speak, yet not read or write, english. I have done nothing but be polite to him, and let him play with my TV, since he has nothing else to relieve the incessant boredom of the total lockdown. In return, he pushes his stuff closer and closer to my stuff, as if he is a dog whizzing on my territory. Knowing that this is a common practice of all minorities that I have been forced to suffer, I ignored it, as I hope that my mature attitude will cause this petty, cowardly, sneakily challenging behavior to eventually cease. (Indians, Negroes and Hispanics all pull this “disrespectin”‘ stunt on each other and on Caucasians.) This strategy seldom works. Polite ignoring has only caused him to try new aberrant behavior. E.g, he picked up his cup, (one of the objects he is using to crowd out my cup and soap dish) and asked, inanely, “IS this your cup?” Equally inanely, I replied, “I thought it was yours.” and then made a production of pointing out that the styrofoam cup behind all his objects (cup, spoon, picture and frame, jar, letter, bracelet and now, a bag of coffee) is mine.

My amateur psychologist opinion is that these obstreperous cultures pull these erratic, pushy maneuvers to gauge the extent to which they may safely exploit their target. In fact, I had one of them, (an Indian kid) explain how he was taught his ‘dissin’ techniques by a Negro. He explained how he would start very carefully by slightly nudging his intended victim’s shoe out of its normal position. He later tried this on me. I detail this and how this person is a series of disasters in my essay “Bred for Crime: Michael Mitchell” and “Chimp Culture…”, which is on my netsite, along with other examples.

Politeness, along with the tactic of ignoring such pettiness, is usually taken for weakness, and often results in less and less subtle attacks until the victim is outraged enough to retaliate. In the case of young punks trying to uncover exactly how far they can exploit their elders, the age of the victim is not completely calculated by the tender young mind. The only side of the victimization equation that ignorant, impulsive young minds can deduce is, “I can win a fight”. The other side of the equation appears to be invisible to their version of reality. Older persons know that their strength, stamina, endurance, etc, may not be up to par with those of a young, acquisitive punk. Older persons often accept the fact that training, if any, and fighting skills may not be sufficient to overcome the youth advantage of their attacker. Older persons also realize that they sustain injury easier, and that their healing powers are less and take longer. Knowing these conditions exist, intelligent older persons try avoidance strategies first, which normally work for only very short times because minorities crave attention, especially from: Caucasians. Caucasians are their measuring sticks and the ideal to which they grudgingly aspire and secretly wish to emulate in selected aspects. Caucasians “ignore” impoverished minorities largely because the two groups have little in common, time is limited, Caucasians achieved their positions of wealth, power and social and technological supremacy through hard work, learning and by limiting wasted time spent on unprofitable enterprises. All persons have a tendency to gather around successful persons. When persons perceived as successful limit the time that success-seekers have to possibly learn secrets of success, an affront is often assumed. This is why avoidance strategies seldom work, or only work temporarily, and often result in further, more brash attacks. Next, the victim of such attacks should try common ‘defusing’ methods, the most famous of which is the Bill Clinton, “I feel your pain” schtick. Politicians work this empath/sympathy angle with great success. Every successful politician has obtained his position of power in large part due to his ability to feign and protray empathy with voters and his elite fellows. This same strategy works well against needy cage-sharers, but tends to cost much time that could be spent much more profitably than stroking some underachiever’s ego. When trapped into baby-sitting such people, it is of great utility to learn and employ methods that gradually wean them away from depending upon you for their entertainment, subsidization of their addictive habits and any other exploitations that they attempt. My own experiences in this regard are instructive. One extreme parasite I was forced to endure was Jack Hawkins. He landed in my cage after a very stupid Tulsa convenience store robbery where the idiot he had paired with disobeyed orders to leave their getaway car running, After Hawkins finally screwed up his courage enough to snatch and run, they simply sat in the dead car until the police arrived, pretending to be innocent.

Hawkins, like most inmates, tended to cultivate a large group of ‘friends’ to mooch from, particularly cigarettes. I finally got tired of it and told him, “You know what? You and I are going to quit smoking”. Then, instead of giving him the cigarette he craved, I threw the whole pack out the window where no one could get them. I did the same with snuff and coffee.

Now I do not have any vices except for salty snacks, which I strictly limit. The inmates’ incessant search for mooching targets, and my anger at it, caused me to live a much healthier life.

Hawkins’ reaction was passive and disbelieving. Instead of running for the soup-ladle handle “dagger” that he kept hidden in the broom, he ran out to mooch off some other target. Though he put on a good-natured facade, he was a cur at heart, and frightened for that day when he would meet the fate he knew he deserved. Hence his need to have a weapon nearby. One day of reckoning came when he told me that he had seen the 3rd man of our cage engaging in homosexual behavior and wanted my support in telling him to move out. I don’t even remember the guy’s name, but I liked him better than Hawkins. I told Hawkins to go find another place to live.

He made a move for the broom behind me. I kneed him in his face. He moved out, and I threw his dagger out the same window to join my tobbacco in no man’s land.

More subtle, less dangerous methods of weaning parasites and ‘disrespecter/exploiters’ exist. You can try to play one off against another of his kind. This works more often than one would think, because they share many characteristics. When they gradually gravitate back to you and where their vices are supplied, it is often helpful to shame them or put them to work. Sarcasm, artfully applied, works for me. It is especially effective when used by Caucasians against cultures that harbor jealousy and envy toward American culture. In the example of the shoes-moving, possession crowding types of pettiness, when it persists too long, I will loudly note some disagreeable proposition as a ‘joke’, such as , “Your possessions seem to have an affinity for my possessions; crowding around them like momma cats in heat. Why are your possessions so fascinated with my possessions? Oh, I figured it out: they are just trying to be like that pizza commercial, and “gather ’round the good stuff:”, hoping that some of my success will rub off on them.”

This works because you have changed their perception of their behavior from “I’m testing whitey” to “Ugh; Whitey thinks I want to be like him, and he is not intimidated like I wanted, he is entertained by my foolishness.”

Realize that these are dramatized examples, exaggerated for effect, and not subtle as most social interaction needs to be, which is why we have aphorisms such as, “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.” You win also because he has not thought much or any beyond his goal of provoking a reaction from you, while you have taken the time to tune your reaction perfectly and to make it lengthy enough for him to remember his inability to provide a worthy, studied response.

Of course, sarcasm, parody, irony and related verbal and literary skills can easily provoke aggressive reactions in the less educated, as well as more jealousy, envy and hatred. One must always strive to present these concepts in a lighthearted, good natured, friendly manner in order to get them to work most effectively. “Defuse” means to avoid escalation of the conflict, and humor does this work best.

Another strategy is to put these limited minds to work. People who gravitate to you or follow you around or watch you work often will not wish to hold things for you, sharpen your pencils, make you coffee, spell words for you or run errands. If there is competence and utility in them, they can be put to actual, profitable work in return for what they mooch. Otherwise work tends to drive them away or make them find other sources of business for themselves. working them also has the disadvantage of causing them to increase their mooching behavior due to a sense of entitlement. Psychologists who only know abnormal psychology from a free-world perspective may tell you that negotiation is a viable possibility. It is, but only just barely, and often not, in a captive setting. Attempts at negotiation are taken as a sign of weakness to be exploited, especially in cooperate prisons, which are designed to enslave the worst of the poorest, most mal-educated, most labor-exploited hordes from backward countries and foreign and domestic ghettos. Persons fleeing their own corrupt govts and enticed here by our own are adept at detecting weakenss. Even in international relations, it is a common truism that negotiation is most effective when performed from a position of strength. (This is less negotiation than dictation.) In corporate ghetto prisons, a willingness to negotiate causes the opponent’s demands to increase. The bureaucrats who run both govt and profit prisons are gradually waking up to the fact that the animosity between races, ethnics,cultures and religions are both real and incurable. They have had this reality rubbed into their faces where it can not be ignored or talked away. This is because their costs rise dramatically when they cause stabbings, beatings, and other injuries by forcing ‘multiculturalism’ upon the people that they oppress. Gradually the voting public is becoming too knowledgeable to much longer accept the propagandist’s nonsense of “gangs did it”. What the cops, politicians, judges and media “news” sellers call “gangs” and “terrorists” are actually races, ethnics, cultures and religions. The first officials in America to recognize this fact, or at least unconsciously act on it out of necessity, were California prison administrators. They recently defied simplistic civil rights law that dictated that minorities must be interspersed with Caucasians so that they can eventually obtain “equality”. Despite many decades of forced equality, all people still tend to prefer the race, ethnicity, culture or religion that is their own. At best, the lawyers who devised this artificial environment have accomplished little more than tolerance in Caucasians of a certain few minorities. When the noise or other annoyance level rises high enough, Caucasians will retire in an attempt to find a more pleasing environment, and the minorities will attempt to find and follow them to their richer pastures, when possible.

The California prison bureaucrats found that, by defying these civil rights laws, they could drastically reduce their medical costs due to a sudden and continuing decline in violence. By illegally separating the Negroes in one wing, the Hispanics in a second wing, and the Caucasians in a third wing, medical costs decreased so much that the state could fire much of their medical staff, saving millions that could be diverted to building and filling more prisons. That this resulted in a court order to eventually expell 90,000 captives for lack of medical care is unfortunate as it was incompetent.

Despite the obvious common sense of this practice, captives should not expect it to move far or soon to where it can be enjoyed by others. Only high prison medical costs cause this practice to occur, so far, and only in progressive states with excessive prisoner warehousing operations. When or if these strategies fail to work, there remain the methods of Count Machiavellian, which can be obtained through libraries and bookstores, as can the writings of Sun Tzu. In worst cases of youthful captives abusing older captives, options are severely limited. All prison administrations have operations manuals that profess to provide ‘safe’ environments for their captives. Their definition of ‘safe’ merely means that they will minimize the chances that you will die of negligence that can not be easily concealed or blamed on other causes. In their ‘safe environment’ you can still suffer daily physical and psychological injury and abuse such that will cause insanity, murder and suicides. They will almost never receive any type of punishment for this, or much incentive for improvement. Your defense and well-being is your task, and may sometimes require quick, decisive retaliation designed to disable your tormentor with the least risk of injury to yourself. This brings us back to the side of the equation that youth, in its ignorance and laziness, can’t seem to calculate to the proper degree; the surprise attack.

A properly planned and executed surprise attack can force the largest, most dangerous individual to cease his attacks. Weapons are not needed, but physical fitness is. Becoming physically fit entails a daily exercise regimen. Performing fitness routines in the cage tends to intimidate the other inhabitants. Watching you work out and gain fitness and stamina changes their perception of you from weakness to a possible threat. Psychological warfare is common in prison too. Captives tend to use protective coloration by feigning the personality of psychopaths. By working out and talking viciousness as a lifestyle, you may well convince your enemies to forgo further attacks, obviating the need for any surprise attack. A disadvantage is that this gets back to the prisoncrats and they mark you down in their files as a vicious psychopath, which is their tendancy anyway. An advantage of having to take time out to get fit is that the problem child will often shoot himself in the foot and be dragged off by the kops for other offenses.

When one is forced to take extreme measures for defense, one must also plan for the consequences of permanently injuring or disabling the person who insists upon torturing, harassing, extorting or stealing from you.

The kops tend to punish all the participants in a conflagration, thinking that this universal disincentive will lessen recurrence of violence. If months of lockup, extra harassments by the kops and thefts of purchasing rights are less important than peace and relief from inmate predation, then a surprise attack may be warranted.

Most inmates who enjoy sadism or practice theft or parasitism still adhere to the unwritten code that fights must be ‘fair’ and that certain practices are forbidden. In the case of an older captive being attacked by a younger person, these rules may be ignored. The older man has too much to lose, and the aggressor forfeits the right to fair play. His testicles may be smashed, his eyes gouged, wrists or knees broken, whatever it takes to make him cease, including death, in serious enough cases. When prison officials fail to provide the required safe environment, you are fully within your rights to make up for this deficiency yourself. E.g, a big Indian friend I worked with, the morning mess hall liked to stick his finger in my mouth when I yawned. In retaliation, I’d grab his chin. He escalated by doing something else; I forget what. I got him in a headlock. He began breaking my back over his knee. I told him several times that I give up. He persisted. I gouged his eyes. My back was saved. He learned a valuable lesson that made him more thoughtful of the consequences of his actions. Surprise attacks are last resort responses to intolerable situations. They qualify as defensive only when all other avenues for relief have failed or been refused. In most or all of the states’ slow death camps, guards often develop symbiotic relationships with selected inmates who are adept at creating fears within the guards’ minds, then pretending that they can or will protect these guards from the danger fantasies that they have concocted, in return for special treatment. (See the court case of McAlester prison’s captain Bess, recently indicted for bringing narcotics to inmates.) They and the administrators also depend on inmates for information on who is disturbing the smooth flow of corruption between the guards and inmates. (California kops have recently been caught in a decades-long practice of causing inmate death matches, filming them, then murdering the winners with rifle fire.) They are annoyed when one of their victims is forced to maim or kill another in order to survive. You will be lucky if they only try to convince a jury to slam you, so the decision to fix the problem yourself should be thoroughly examined and not taken lightly. When survival is at stake, do not hesitate to defend yourself physically, and also be prepared to defend yourself later in court, because they will prosecute if they think you are too stupid to bring them to task to the jury over their incompetence in administering their prison death camps.

Good luck.