God’s Gunner’s, Booty Bandits, & Bad Boys
By R25288 ( c ) 2006
Chapter Eight
Fuck God
“They shall take up serpents and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover.”
The Gospel According To Mark 16:18
“I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. I felt fear myself more times than I can remember, but I hid it behind a mask of boldness. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear…
“Man’s goodness is a flame that can be hidden but never extinguished…
“I knew as well as I knew anything that the oppressor must be liberated just as surely as the oppressed. A man who takes away another man’s freedom is a prisoner of hatred, he is locked behind the fear of prejudice and narrow-mindedness.”
Nelson Mandela, Long Road To Freedom
“Fuck God,” that was basically what I was saying as I lay in my bathtub, in my red swimsuit. I had my suit on to be more presentable in death. They were quite fashionable. Lord knows, I didn’t want to appear inappropriate in death, as if death cares.
“Someone saved my life tonight, sugarbear,” had just played on the radio. ”Daniel,” by Elton John, was now playing on the radio. “Daniel is leaving tonight on a plane…” The warm water is filled to the brim of my bathtub, as I slip my left foot behind my clock radio that I had sitting on the upper ledge at the foot of the bathtub. I had it plugged into the wall outlet, with an extension cord, so it wouldn’t come unplugged, as my foot pulled the radio into the bathtub with me, to end my life, through electrocution.
Zap, crackle, pop, and smoke, and I heard nothing more about Daniel. I was out one clock radio, but no closer to death. Another failure. Fear of prison I had, however, I had no fear of my death or afterlife.
It was 2am, Monday, October 8th, 2001, as I lay all wet in my Dunedin, Florida, condo bathtub, just hours away from my sentencing. I thought of my last failure just twenty-four hours earlier. I copied the late 1960’s radical, Abbie Hoffman, who offed himself by ingesting sixty Valiums. I figured that would be a neat, clean way to go out. In ninth grade, I had been voted the kid with “The Cleanest Locker.” I was into clean.
So I mixed sixty Valium with thirty Dalmane’s ( sleeping pills ), both legally prescribed to me, and a large quantity of Jack Daniels’ whiskey. I took them out of their plastic coated shells, and mixed them into the Jack. Of course, I used a large plastic glass. By the way, isn’t a plastic glass, an oxymoron? Do other people think of these things, too?
Oh well, I didn’t want any broken glass that might cut my body if I got woozy and fell down. Death was OK, but let’s leave out the messy blood, that might also stain the carpet, or furniture.
In the movie “Soylent Green”, with Charles Heston, which was also Edward G. Robinson’s last movie, my concoction might have been called, “A Sleeping Beauty.” It tasted sickenly pharmaceutical. Maybe, I should have used Southern Comfort instead of Jack.
In reality, when you’re offing yourself, God, grammar, and cleanliness really falls by the wayside. I sat on my queensize bed in my bedroom, with my HBO on, and emptied the contents from the pills into the plastic glass. They came apart easily enough, but I really hadn’t thought this through enough. What to do with the empty capsules? Well, I made as neat a pile as I could on the floor, next to my bed. It became like an ant hill, made up of empty half capsules, instead of dirt or sand.
Next, after emptying the capsules, which took some time, I poured in the Jack Daniels, which I had brought into the bedroom. Then, I used the spoon I had brought in earlier, to stir the “Better Life Through Chemistry” mix. Then, I put in three ice cubes, from the brown ice container, with the white lid, that I had also brought in earlier. I had it set up on the end table next to my bed. It was a $.25 garage sale purchase. Suicide can require so much time and preparation. I had now made a deadly concoction, literally.
I sipped it. Now, that was a mistake. Deadly concoctions were not meant to be sipped, maybe fine wines or cognacs, but not deadly concoctions. How was I suppose to know? It was my first deadly concoction. As this was my first attempt at suicide, I was a novice about offing myself.
This wasn’t going to work, so, I went into the kitchen and poured some sugar into a cup , and returned to my bedroom. I added two teaspoons of sugar to my deadly mixture, and sipped again. Still too bitter, and pharmaceutical. So, I added three more teaspoons of sugar. Still too bitter. I was getting discouraged. You might think that attempts at suicide are as discouraged as one can get. I’m here to tell you, that that too, is a false assumption. The better question might be, “Is getting discouraged while trying to commit suicide, a sign of mental health?” I don’t know, but it’s fun to think about, and I do know that fun, and laughter are good signs of mental health.
I used my left thumb, and my left index finger to hold my nose, as my right hand guided the fatal drink to my lips and I chugged it. That was the ticket. I finished it, and carefully place the oxymoron on a coaster, so the sweat wouldn’t stain the wooden end table. It was right next to my then working clock radio, which I hadn’t killed yet. My twin sized pillow and the head board of my bed were just inches away from the end table. The radio was next to my brass table lamp, with the beige lamp shade. Everything was nice and neat, and in its place, except for the ant hill of capsules.
I laid back on my pillow, and channel surfed, as I petted my cat, FIPS, who I had rescued from the Pinellas Park Food Stamp parking lot, thirteen years earlier. FIPS stood for Federal Intervention Program System, designed basically to catch food stamp frauds.
FIPS was an independent cat, like most cats. Every time I took her to the veterinarian, he always wanted to pull one of her teeth. I figured it was expensive, but I also figured he knew best. After he had extracted all but seven of her teeth, I figured as her Dad, that I finally knew what was best. I continued to take her for her annual examination and shots, with the strict instructions of, “Pull no teeth.”
I turned off the light as FIPS purred on my stomach. I had placed one of my pillows under my knees, as my Dr. had always recommended, due to back problems. No need to put extra stress on my back during my last few hours of life. I wanted to be comfortable when I approached the light. I was fifty-one years young, and had lived a good life. My eyes closed, and I slipped away.
Then, I saw the light. It was blurry, like a fog, a mist. Slowly, I struggled to open my eyes. I had no hangover, pain, or negative feelings, as I slowly realized that the light was the morning sun shining through my bedroom window. The white curtains were closed, but I had forgotten to close the dark blue cloth curtains, so the room was bright, and I was still alive.
I always knew I was different. I never had had a wet dream, and Abbie Hoffman could pull off what I couldn’t. Damn God!
So, now, here I lay, all clean, in my bathtub, with my red swimsuit on, not dead, and with nowhere to go, no one to see, nothing to do, and no radio left to listen to. I got up, unplugged the bathtub, and dried myself off, as I looked into the mirror, above the sink, the length of the wall, across from the bathtub. Another failure, two within twenty-four hours. I wasn’t sure my ego could handle it. Then again, how strong is an ego that accepts death, willingly? I wonder what Socrates would say about that?
God wasn’t going to let me die now. He was going to make me contend with my greatest fears, and face the music, and not the radio type. It was all part of the plan. It was a plan I hadn’t arranged, so, naturally, I fought it. I had so much to learn, and so much yet to go through.
Death, to me, was more manageable and acceptable than my fears, because I had lost my faith. The cup had quit being half full, and had become half empty.
Two months ago, I had become a convicted felon, and today, I faced fifteen years in prison. I knew I might get raped in prison. I just wasn’t into big black men sticking their wee-wees into my butt. The movie, “Deliverance” with its male rape scene, played through my mind constantly, and fear controlled my life.
So, my third, and final attempt at self destruction, occured at the Pinellas County Jail, where I told the other inmates I was just trying to lose weight, so the nine days there (October 8th to October 16th, 2001 ), I ate nothing, as in nothing. I just gave my food away. Needless to say, the other detainees were quite happy to eat my food. I heard if you didn’t drink any liquids for three days, you’d die. So, I didn’t drink anything for my last three days there. I experienced no discomfort, nor did I die. God protected me, and I no longer have a desire to destroy his creation, but, rather to celebrate it.
I spoke of one other revelation in my life, in the last chapter, besides prison that liberated my mind, body, and soul. It was on the back roads of Iowa in 1973. I was driving alone, and I was exhausted. It was the middle of the day. I said out loud:
”God, I need help, please help me?”
I looked over to the passengers side, and I saw an angel of the Lord. It was a vision, an image, a light, a soul form, and I said:
“Will you drive?”
I awoke hours later on a side road, not part of my planned route. The car was parked on the side of the road, and I was laying down on the front seat. I knew then that I was immortal. That there is more. That the story doesn’t end here. I raced home to tell my two roommates that we were immortal. They looked at me in disbelief. I have kept this to myself since then, because maybe, we all are not immortal.
All I know, is he wouldn’t let me go yet, and medically I shouldn’t be here, but I am, and so I will dedicate myself, and my energies, and my life to…
“Because he hath set his love upon me, therefore will I deliver him: I will set him on high, because he hath known my name.
“He shall call upon me, and I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, and honour him.
“With long life will I satisfy him, and shew him my salvation.”
Psalms 91:14-16
“In acknowledging the prison walls, I had also determined that I would be courteous to the guards. So, “Yes sir,” “No sir,” “Please,” “Thank you,” “Excuse me,” “You’re welcome,” and all other polite phrases were in constant use whenever I spoke. That astonished the guards, who represent the bottom 7 percent of the human race, people with little intelligence who make their living using force and fear to warehouse human beings and violence to purvey a point of view.
“Following my dad’s advice, I sought to turn a bad thing into a good thing by learning what makes the white man tick. I spent most afternoons in the prison law library reading, mostly about criminal, Indian, and prison rights cases.”
Where White Men Fear to Tread, The Autobiography of Russell Means, with Marvin J. Wolf.
In confinement, August, 2002, I wrote:
I.M.U. ( I am You )
I.M.U.
I am an inmate, I am a thug
I’m the governor, the man with a plan
I am the guru, the teacher, the stockbroker
I’m your worst nightmare, and you’re greatest hope
I.M.U.
I’ll abuse you,
Use you,
Forget you,
Fuck you…
and Love you…
I.M.U.
I am a criminal, or so I’m convicted
I am oppressed, and I’m angry
I hurt, and I hurt
I receive, and I give
I.M.U
U.R.I.
I fear, you fear, we fear
I.M.U
U.R.I.
I hope, you care, we love
Action creates reaction
Violence begats violence
Hate engenders hate
Forgiveness is hard
Anger is easy
I.M.U.
Prison is liberating
Who would have thought?
Who else knows?
Put a lid on it!
Can’t let it out!
Too many would come
For Secondary Gains
We can’t afford it…
Stop the Madness!
I.M.U.
Scared, fear pops its ugly head again
Anger, competition, one-upmanship
Laughter, what a concept
Happiness, what a joy…
Silence
Imprisoned in my mind
I’m free to roam
You can’t hold me in your fears any longer
I will be free
I am not alone
Thank God…
We will be free
I.M. Free
U.R.I.
I.M.U.
Welcome!
“As long as the world shall last, there will be wrongs,
and if no man objected and no man rebelled,
those wrongs would last forever.”
Clarence Darrow, Lawyer, 1930
On July 27th, 2003, at 4:40 am, I wrote:
21st Century Inmate
i am a human being
a man by nature
a woman by nurture
i once was a bird
i now am a worm
i played your game
your rules
i lost
you sent me to the wire; beyond the razorwire
to punish me
your system
you stripped me
you shaved my head
you yelled
you threatened me
your system
you showed no mercy
you said once that
i was an asset, a treasure
now, you say i’m
a malfunction
i’m broken, and you
and your system
don’t tolerate malfunction
or diversity
so, like the broken Christmas toy
you threw me away
behind the wire
with all the other broken toys
that you don’t want to fix
just punish
Father, forgive them,
for they know not what they do
you stuck me
you took from me
you prodded me
you violated me
your system
once, when machines were broken
we fixed them
i am a human being
a man by nature
a woman by nurture
like Jonah
i am in the belly
of the beast
out of sight
with no constituency
power you have
and power you abuse
teach
fix the malfunction
rewire the toy
you’d do it for a machine
just do it
the power of Christ
commands you
fix the broken toy
fix me, and my broken brothers
the power of Christ
commands you
do the right thing
your system
our system is broken
i didn’t know
it was broken
until i got here
i’m sorry
the circle of life
brought me here
you are just
a cog in the wheel
in the system
a puppet
a pawn
what you do to the least
of thee
you do to me
the power of Christ
commands you
i am a human being
a man by nature
a woman by nurture
you caged me like
an animal in a zoo
you fed me on schedule
the lights go on at 5:30am
and they never totally go off
yet i live in the darkness
of the belly of the beast
in your hell, you call prison
the Darth Vadar
of your broken system
Nelson lived here
Alexander, Martin, Gandhi, and Jesus
all lived here too
they understood, they knew
you don’t know,
you don’t understand,
but, it’s OK, you see,
you’re just broken
you need to be fixed
so, you’ll know and understand
i stand in lines
all i have is time
so, i’m rushed to hurry
to get ready
to stand in one line
to scurry from one point
to another
i am your house mouse
in your cage
i’m forced to choke
on your food
or lose it,
for lack of time to chew it
so, i can get back in a line
to walk in a straight line
to go and lay on my bunk
to await the next light flickering
and the blare of
“Chow Time,” or
“Education, Inside Grounds, Law Library Clerks”
to rush, to stand in another line
routine
“Sick call, lower bunk, upper bunk”
“What we got here is a failure to communicate.”
What we’ve got here is a clusterfuck
“Oh, the horror, the horror.”
you want to break me
you want to break a broken toy
you want to punish and break the broken toy
to cure and save it
remember Vietnam?
remember the Golden Rule?
who is the truly broken toy here?
Father, forgive them,
for they know not what they do
“Seven o’clock meds”
my brothers lay on their bunks
with their hospital folds
dressed in their blues
darkness outside,
artificial light in here
as they await the words
“Chow Time”
so they may rush out, to stand in a line,
to rush to eat, only to rush back here,
to again lay on their bunks,
to sleep, perchance to dream,
in hopes for brief fleeting moments,
to escape these bars and razorwire
these are my brothers,
and i am their kin,
i accept them
In Acceptance, Lies Peace
many are indeed broken toys
and some are beautiful spirits
“give me your huddled masses, yearning to be free”
my brother puts his pants on
one leg at a time
wipes the sleep from his eyes,
and unlocks his combination lock
to his locker, the box of his life and worldly possessions
on this side of the razorwire,
his deodorant, that the state doesn’t provide
his toothbrush, toothpaste, and his toilet paper
which the guards withheld from me
more than once in confinement
because it was their zoo
and i was only an animal to them
i am not an animal
i was never an animal
i am a man
i am a human being
a man by nature
a woman by nurture
Father, forgive them
for they know not what they do
“Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.”
Philippians 4:11
Probably one of the best events in prison occurs in February, because it is Black History Month, and you get to see and hear beautiful talent. Due to being locked up in confinement, in February, 2002, due to my medical condition, I missed it that year. The following year, the theme was, “The Souls of Black Folk, authored by William E.B. Dubois, 1903. I gave a speech that I had memorized, in front of about one hundred inmates in the Chapel, with the Warden in attendance, on February 10th, 2003, where I said:
“I’d like to thank Mr. Jones for inviting me, and the Warden, Mrs. Smith, Mr. Green, and the DOC for sponsoring this event.
“Gentlemen, the struggle for civil rights, human rights, and prisoner rights continues. If you’re not already a member, join the struggle, gentlemen.
“A year ago I couldn’t participate in this event because I was in Disciplinary Confinement for fifty-eight days, and I lost all of my gain time. Today, DOC computers have no trace of that Disciplinary Report, or that loss of gain time, because I struggled, and used the power of the pen through a grievance to overcome that DR, and loss of gain time. Misunderstandings and oppression will always exist, and continue, unless we try to change them, gentlemen.
“The Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King Junior, who faced oppression and tried to change it, influenced my marching for human, and civil rights, starting back in 1963, before many of you were even born. It was his, Mahatma Gandi, and Jesus’ interpretations of non-violence, and civil disobedience, that led me on Thursday, December 16th, 1965, to wear a black armband to Theodore Roosevelt High School, in Des Moines, Iowa.
“This had been expressly forbidden to do, by the school officials. I still wore it to protest our United States involvement in theVietnam War, and to mourn those who had died in that conflict, on both sides of the 17th parallel. On the morning of December 16th, 1965, the Vice Principal of Theodore Roosevelt High School, asked me to remove my black armband. When I refused, he asked me if I wanted a “busted nose?” I didn’t want a busted nose, but I still refused to remove my armband. It led to my suspension, and began over a three year struggle for justice through our courts, that finalized February 24th, 1969-approximately thirty-four years ago, this month, with a United States Supreme Court case, a 7-2 decision, in my favor. It was a victory that set a precedent for all student rights across America, and which still stands today.
“My name and actions are outlined in every law library in America, along with my friends, John and Mary Beth Tinker, under Tinker v Des Moines. It is also in many history books, along with two books specifically written about our case, by authors, Doreen Rapaport, in 1992, and John W. Johnson, in 1997.
“The 1960’s were a time of drugs, sex, and rock and roll, but for many of us, it was also a time of struggle for justice, for human rights, civil rights, gay rights, and prisoner rights.
“Martin Luther King, Jr., wrote from jail in Birmingham, in 1963, and I’m quoting some of his writing from that time that were originally written on the margins of a newspaper, and scraps of paper a run-around provided him, before his attorney was finally allowed to give him a pad of paper. And I quote:
“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere…I would agree with St. Augustine that ‘an unjust law is no law at all’…Oppressed people cannot remain oppressed forever…I suppose I should have realized that few members of the oppressor race can understand the deep groans and passionate yearnings of the oppressed race, and still fewer have the vision to see that injustice must be rooted out by strong persistent and determined action. I am thankful, however, that some of our white brothers in the South have grasped the meaning of this social revolution and committed themselves to it. They are still all too few in quantity but big in quality… I have no despair about the future…I have no fear about the outcome of our struggle in Birmingham and all over the nation, because the goal of America is freedom…Before the pilgrims landed at Plymouth, we were here. Before the pen of Jefferson etched the majestic words of the Declaration of Independence across the pages of history, we were here…If the inexpressable cruelties of slavery could not stop us, the opposition we now face will surely fail. We will win our freedom.” End of quote.
“United States Supreme Court Justice Abe Fortas writing for the 7-2 majority, in my case, also penned some strong words in 1969, and I quote:
“It can hardly be argued that either students or teachers shed their constitutional rights to freedom of speech or expression at the schoolhouse gate…
“In our system, undifferentiated fear in apprehension of disturbance is not enough to overcome the right to freedom of expression. Any departure from absolute regimentation may cause trouble. Any variation from the majoritys’ opinion may inspire fear. Any word spoken, in class, in the lunchroom, or on the campus, that deviates from the views of another person may start an argument or cause a disturbance. But our Constitution says we must take this risk, and our history says that it is this sort of hazardous freedom-this kind of openness- that is the the basis of our national strength and of the independence and vigor of Americans who grow up and live in this relatively permissive, often disputatious society…
“In our system,state operated schools may not be enclaves of totalitarianism. School officials do not possess absolute authority over their students. Students in school as well as out of school are: ‘persons’ under our Constitution. They are possessed of fundemental rights which the state must respect, just as they themselves must respect their obligations to the State.
“In our system, students may not be regarded as closed-circuit recipients of only that which the State chooses to communicate. They may not be confined to the expression of those sentiments that are officially approved. In the absence of a specific showing of constitutionally valid reasons to regulate their speech, students are entitled to freedom of expression of their views.” End of quote.
“Another one of my heros was United States Senator Robert F. Kennedy, who often said, and I quote:
“Some men see things as they are, and ask, ‘Why?’ I dream things that never were and ask, ‘Why not?’” End of quote.
“Dream gentlemen. Never give up your dreams. Racism lives in our White House, our Senate, our state, and within the DOC. Your job, gentlemen, if you choose to accept it, is to fight racism. And the tape will not self destruct in five seconds. Racism will continue to thrive until enough good men and women of conscience stand up, and stop the bricks of racism and hate from being thrown anymore.
“The struggle continues for civil, human, and prisoner rights. Black or white, Hispanic, Indian, Oriental, gay, or straight, we’re all in this together. In recognizing our similarities, we’ll overcome our differences. If we help build each other up, and not tear each other down, we can make a difference here at Liberty and beyond. Gentlemen, the struggle continues. If you’re not already a member, join the struggle. Thank you.”
I received a long standing ovation, except by maybe the Warden.
‘Never believe that a few caring people can’t change the world. For indeed, that’s all who ever have.”
Margaret Mead, United States Anthropologist
