The prison bus always arrived later in the day. Some guys made it a big deal. I didn’t. The arrival of the bus, usually on Wednesdays, meant a few new faces. I glimpsed at one of those faces. He seemed scared, more so than the rest. Weak. I was sure he’d have a tough time here.

His face changed overnight, though. He looked like one of us. Word soon got around, like it always does, that he was serving 7-10 for trafficking. First time.

A couple months later, some of the sisterhood cornered him by the laundry. I’d seen it before, and it was never pretty. Nothing anybody could do. They made him get on his knees. I figured when I saw his face, it would again be filled with fear. I was wrong.

I’d lived with murderers, rapists, all the worst kinds of scum on the planet. This kid’s face turned from a neutral, don’t-give-a-shit to one of tempered steel. Immediately after the change, a razor appeared from under his arm. He didn’t stop slashing until two sisters lay gutted, and one no longer possessed a sexual organ.

I never knew his real name, but after that we started calling him Charlie, after Manson. He never talked to anybody. I don’t think he ever saw my face.

A new guy transferred from upstate one day. His name was Collins. Cowboy-looking. About 6’ 7” or so, and solid. In the cafeteria, some guys dared him to mess with Charlie. I sat two tables away. No one ever sat close to Charlie.

Collins approached, and Charlie didn’t seem to notice. I didn’t see exactly what happened next, because everybody was standing and the guards rushed in. From what I could tell, Charlie bit off Collins’ thumb, broke his arm, and a couple of ribs. We never saw Collins again.

The only time I ever talked to Charlie, or heard him talk, was a week or so after that, while we were both washing dishes.

“You know if you don’t make some friends here, you won’t make it,” I said.

“You’re full of shit, you think I wanna make it here,” then he spat. “Think dyin’s worse than this? Fuck no.”

Less than a month later, they found him in his bed. Strangled.

Am I missing something? I listened to the debate last night, from beginning to end. Today the talking heads are talking about what a skilled debater our president is.

I wonder if these people saw the same debate I did. To my eyes, it appeared that one very articulate, intelligent and confident man was sharing a stage with Alfred E. Newman. Everything Dubya had to say can be summed up in one sentence: John Kerry sends mixed messages.

Outside of Reagan toying with Carter in 1980, this was the first debate in which I genuinely laughed out loud. Every time Bush began to speak, I expected a “Weeeeeee Dawg!”, or maybe a “Why don’t you and me take this outside?” “I done told you, you stupid idiot; bilateral talks won’t work with North Korea! We need CHINA! CHINA! CHINA! Ain’t you listening?”

In all my years, I’ve not seen nor heard such a bumbling idiot posing as president as I did last night. You can say what you want about Reagan. Yes, there were times when I wondered if he was all there. But, when the pressure was on, Ron would shine. With Dubya, he just stammers.

I can’t fathom how anyone could even remotely compare the quality of the offerings of the candidates from last night’s debate. Yet, one journalist even mentioned that because Bush looked into the camera and Kerry preferred to meet Jim Lehrer’s eyes, that Kerry would be viewed as less effective. My God; anybody with working ears would be able to tell who was the only candidate worth even listening to.

This is in no way an endorsement of Kerry. Policy wise, I think both are reprehensible. Bush, however, is a certifiable moron. Period. If Karl Rove can keep him in the White House, then he could put Nixon back in office, decaying flesh and all.

Quote of the day:

Unjust laws exist; shall we be content to obey them, or shall we endeavor to amend them, and obey them until we have succeeded, or shall we transgress them at once?

Henry David Thoreau

Quote of the Day:

Balance against each thought its exact opposite. For the Marriage of these is the Annihilation of Illusion.

Aleister Crowley

I've not talked, written, or even thought about politics or government for a few months. The subject angers me so. Almost all my energies have been directed toward Magick. I read something the other day, though, that made me think.

What if John Shirley is right? I mean, everybody's so sure that Bush invaded Iraq for oil, or because Saddam tried to kill his dad. What if his motives weren't so noble?

Say back in 2000 neocons approach Bush and make him this offer: "We'll see to it that you win the election, provided you invade Iraq. We don't care what reasons you give, as long as you invade."

The scary thing is, I wonder what kind of deals are on the table for this election?