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5. A Badge of Honor

Okay, I finally received some questions, so I'm excited to answer those but first I want to apologize for not getting to the point in my last post.  I didn't realize it until I had sent it and have been kicking myself since.  I meant to wrap that up with the fact that we come to accept our life of incarceration and then become comfortable in it.  That is what makes rehabilitation impossible.  After a couple of years you don't "hate" prison, you accept it.  And just like any other situation you adapt and make the most of it.  In fact, the majority of men in here actually like it.

They wont admit it openly, but for some this is a badge of honor.  Media makes it that way.  If you're in prison, you're automatically tough (not true), a guy not to fuck with.  Free men respect it and unfortunately a lot of women are turned on by it.  I could get into the biological reasons behind this but it's nerdy and unimportant.  TV and movies portray the lonely rebel who didn't do it, or was imprisoned for an unjust amount of time and must overcome the odds and the animals.  Even if this were true, that still only makes one innocent man out of thousands of animals.  You think you picked correctly, girls?  Let me know how being on 48 Hours works out for you.  

Again, I'm straying.  Acceptance and rehabilitation goddamn I'm going to say it.  Prison is too easy in the long term.  Like I said, humans can get used to anything.  The first year or two here is hell.  There is a lot to learn and nobody to teach you.  If one could be dragged through this hell and then surprised with, "Okay, fucker, time to go.  Try to keep your hands to yourself and you won't have to have someone looking at your asshole every time you switch buildings."  we might have fewer returns.  Probably not.  The death sentence doesn't even deter crime.

Maybe acceptance has nothing to do with rehabilitation per-se as much as it has to do with forgetting.  It's easy to forget how much that first year sucked, that you wanted to die you missed your children so much.  Acceptance must be a form of forgetfulness.  I've forgotten what life was like with two arms.  I wouldn't even know what to do with two fucking arms.  (I would wipe my ass in tandem and grab two boobs at one time.  Wait.  Two different things, two different times of day.)

It's why heroin addicts return to the needle after countless times being sick, shaking with sweat and splintered bones.  It's easy to forget the hard parts when life gets soft and comfortable.  I guess I'll stop with this philosophical bullshit.  It'll lead me nowhere.  On to the fun questions.

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