The Claw-Shank Detention (What is Prison Like?)

I often get asked the question, “What is prison like?”…because, well, I’m in prison. (eye roll) I’m never quite sure how to answer this question. Do people want a philosophical answer?

(Prison is a place where buried treasure is waiting to be discovered by the hands of time.) [cringe]

Maybe people asking “What is prison like?” are simply curious about daily prison life.

(“Prison life is the same as outside life except, you can’t leave your home, the coffee isn’t fresh, your “job” pays ten cents an hour and all of your furniture is made of concrete.”)

Perhaps people asking “What is prison like?” just want to hear about sadistic guards and listen to chow-hall horror stories. If that’s the case, the answer is:

(“Prison is a place where REALLY MEAN people serve REALLY BAD food.”)

One general rule of thumb (assuming you’re NOT a mob informant and you still have thumbs) is this: “In prison, the only thing that’s consistent is inconsistency.” What prison staffers have WRITTEN down as “policy,” what prison staffers SAY and what prison staffers actually DO are THREE ENTIRELY DIFFERENT THINGS! To further illustrate “the inconsistency principle” I’d like to note that I’ve done time at a medium security prison and at a low security prison. Between those two “joints” the low security prison had WAY MORE FENCING! (shoulder shrug) It’s also worth mentioning that the medium security prison I was locked up at was nicknamed “Camp Cupcake.”

All of this is to say, if you’re looking for an “Alcatraz: The-Whole-Shocking-Story” type of memoir/(slash) narrative, you’ve come to the wrong place. My prison experience is more in line with something that one might call “High School Musical: The Whole Shocking Story”…but the question still remains:

What is prison like?

If someone asking me this question seems to have a few moments on their hands I will answer with this:

Picture an average high school (assuming an “average” high school has a thousand or so students). Now remove all of the girls from this “high school,” and replace them with dudes…really ugly dudes. Take note though. Among your population of “really ugly dudes” there will be a few dudes that look like chicks. DON’T LET THEM FOOL YOU! THEY’RE ALL DUDES!

After this “student body” has been transformed to all-male, the staff at this high school (of sorts) will need to be transformed as well. All of the “high school staff” has to go! Teachers, principals, cafeteria workers, hall monitors, administrators…the whole lot of them…they all need to go! At this point you will need to bring in an elementary school staff to manage this high school (of sorts). The reason for this is simple. A high school staff will tend to treat its student body with some degree of respect. By nature, an elementary school staff will be a tad more patronizing. This is important because if one ever settles for working at a prison (NOT recommended!) you will need to be proficient in (and have a demented preoccupation with) treating everyone you encounter like a six year old!

Nevertheless, after the “students” and “staff” of this “high school” have been replaced you are left with a gelatinous mass of ugly dudes and elementary school level oligarchs. Now it’s time for the last step:

Take the whole gelatinous mass in your hands, squeeze it down so it’s flat…then slide it into an ant farm.

That’s pretty much what prison is like.

If the person asking “What is prison like?” seems to want a somewhat shorter answer, I will reply with this:

“Prison is a lot of empty carbs and a lot of reruns of “The Fresh Prince of Bel Air.”

If the person receiving that answer wants me to elaborate, I deliver the same answer again. However, this time I say it slower and overemphasize the word “lot” both times.

“Prison is a “LOT” of empty carbs and a “LOT” of reruns of “The Fresh Prince of Bel Air.”

The express answer to the question “What is prison like?” is this:

“Living in prison is kind of like living at a highway rest stop along the New Jersey Turnpike.”

If I’m asked to elaborate on THIS answer I will reach into my “sack-of-similes” once again and pull out this “metaphorical masterpiece.”

Prison is like a Jersey Turnpike rest stop because the guy in charge never seems to be around; there’s a lot of steel and concrete; the paint is peeling; “visitors” don’t seem to understand “the-trash-can-concept;” “visitors” also don’t seem to know how to aim; it smells; a lot of people come and go…literally! The faucets drip. The toilets are sticky. Whatever comes out of the soap dispenser is brown. There are lots of stains. There are lots of flies. Sketchy things happen in dark corners…

I could go on.

If the person I’m explaining prison to doesn’t seem to be following my “Jersey-rest-stop” analogy, if they’ve never seen an episode of “The Fresh Prince of Bel Air” AND if they don’t know what an ant farm is, I will then try to describe prison using an entirely different approach. This is when I break out my “Claw-Shank-Detention” metaphor:

“Living the life of a prison inmate is about the same as living the life of a domestic cat.”

If someone wants me to elaborate on “the cat metaphor” they’d better sit down. As for you (the reader) consider yourself warned.

The similarities between “prison life” and “cat life” start early. Some unknown group of people will surround you. You will be grabbed by the scruff of your neck. You will be forcibly removed from the surroundings of your family. You will get stuck in some type of “cat carrier.” After that, you will get dragged away to live “someplace else.” Then, at this new place you will find yourself surrounded by another group of unknown “cats.” You’ll be given a flea bath, then you’ll be given a “cat bed,” then you’ll be forced to share a room with another “cat.” As you walk into this room, (holding your cat bed and smelling of Lysol) the other cat will give you the same look that a domestic cat likes to give its “owner.” This look says, “The only reason I’m letting you live with me is because I’m too small to eat you.”

It goes downhill from there.

If you’ve ever taken time to study “the ordinary domestic cat” you’ll notice it spends an UNordinary amount of time sleeping, eating, staring out the window and licking itself. A cursory study of the ordinary prison inmate will reveal that he does, more or less, the same thing. The only difference is that the prison inmate’s window is obstructed with bars.

The diet of an ordinary domestic cat is a tempting array of small woodland creatures. Those “appetizers” were once adorned with claws, horns and/or beaks. DON’T GET AHEAD OF ME! On special days the ordinary domestic cat might be placated with some sort of mysterious processed “Beeph”-related food product. THAT “savory treat” will make a disturbing, wet sucking sound as it oozes out of its can. That can will boast one or more of the following labels:

Not fit for human consumption

Contains the U.S. recommended daily allowance of innards and/or

Now made with 25% more mouse parts!

This, of course, is the same diet of your ordinary prison inmate. It’s only different in that the inmates “food” is served on a plastic tray and eaten with a spork.

Cats visit “the vet.” Inmates visit “the prison doctor.” “The vet” and “the prison doctor” are roughly the same. They both finished last in their class at medical community college. They both possess a creepy amount of knowledge on the topic of mange, and they both get their jollies by sticking thermometers up a cat’s behind. [shoulder shrug]

“The inmate” and “the cat” both have keepers too. On top of this, both “the inmate” and “the cat” have a rather bleak view of “the keeper.” Both “the inmate” and “the cat” see their “keeper” as an incompetent buffoon with no ambition, no talent and no charisma. “The keepers” major life accomplishment was graduating middle school, moving into his mom’s basement and getting to third base with his inflatable girlfriend. He can’t get a regular job because he has no “people skills,” no references, and no one wants him around. So he ends up owning a cat….and/or working at a prison.

“The keeper” is typically a lonely male, but not exclusively. Female “keepers” are not able to escape this “keeper phenomenon” either. However, it is important to note that “female” prison keepers are only female in the academic sense. When they were little girls, their little dollies didn’t have any heads. What they lacked in “sugar” and “spice” they now make up for with “attitude” and “girth.” They chew tobacco, they talk about “the Bears” and they scratch themselves. They have images of “Rosie-the-Riveter” and Eleanor Roosevelt tattooed on their arms and they stand up when they go pee. [shudder]

I will, however, say this: most “female” prison guards DO maintain a neatly trimmed beard. [sigh]

In grade school, “the future prison keeper” was probably a safety patrol…and/or a bully. “The future prison keeper” had dreams of growing up and working “special-ops” or “secret service.” Maybe they were going to be a SWAT team member or work for the C.I.A. Needless to say, those application processes didn’t go so well; so “the future prison keeper” was going to have to settle for the next best thing: becoming a regular police officer. However, the police academy psych evaluation and emotional stability exam only served to show that the applicant should DECIDEDLY NOT be working as a police officer and should instead be committed.

In a last ditch effort to find some kind of work that was remotely related to law enforcement “the future prison keeper” submitted applications for “security guard” and “mall cop”…and…well… “the FUTURE prison keeper” inevitably became: “the PRESENT DAY prison keeper.”

At least “the present day prison keeper” can pretend they’re working in law enforcement. They get to wear a dapper looking utility belt with all sorts of neato gadgets: nylon cable ties, pepper spray, a flashlight and a walkie-talkie. The prison keeper also carries more keys than a high school janitor. Of course, the prison keeper has absolutely no idea which key goes in which door but [loud whisper] that will be our little secret.

“The prison keeper” has a nifty badge too! Well, it’s not really a “badge.” It’s an iron on patch…but hey! It LOOKS nifty!

Who says a middle school diploma can’t get you places in life? [eye roll]

As important as “the prison keeper” thinks he is, the prison keeper is really only responsible for two things: opening doors and opening cans of food; which, ironically are also the only two responsibilities of “the cat keeper.”

Inmates (like cats) always want to be on the other side of whatever door is nearby. If inmates (or cats) are locked IN, they want OUT. If they are locked OUT, they want IN! Domestic cats will scratch on closed doors while unleashing a frantic string of anguished meows. Prison inmates will bang on closed doors while unleashing a psychotic string of angry profanities. Eventually the door will open and the inmate (or cat) will go through. And then…AND THEN! As soon as the inmate (or cat) gets to the other side…THEY WANT BACK THROUGH AGAIN!

Evidently, being on the wrong side of the door is something that can really rub a “cat” the wrong way. [rim shot]

Cats have the “evening crazies.” Inmates have the “crazy jailhouse argument.” Crazy jailhouse arguments will encompass such absorbing topics as money, cars, sports, guns and Bitches…you know? All the important things in life. You will hear people arguing their case about the moon landing hoax. You will hear people arguing their case about how the Earth is flat. You will hear people arguing their case about the Kennedy assassination, ancient aliens and about government conspiracies involving embedded microchips. You will hear arguments between “Biblical scholars” about what day the world is going to end.

My favorite “crazy jailhouse argument” was something I like to refer to as: “the great whale/dolphin ‘debate.’” One party argued: “whales are dolphins.” The other party argued: “dolphins are whales.” In an attempt to settle “the great whale/dolphin debate” I was consulted (because I had a dictionary). Some cursory investigation led us to the word “cetacean.”

“An order of marine mammals that includes whales and dolphins.”

However, a trip to the dictionary only served to intensify “the great whale/dolphin ‘debate’”…which eventually ended in blows.

During “the evening crazies” cats will chase their own tail. During the “crazy jailhouse argument” inmates do the exact same thing. [sigh]

If you’ve ever kept a cat, you’ve probably noticed there is a lot of pointless meowing: “meow” (I’m sitting here). “Meow” (I’m walking here). “Meow” (look at me). “Meow” (don’t look at me). In a nutshell, the domestic cat is announcing: “I’m a cat and I can meow.”

In prison there is ALSO an insane amount of “pointless meowing.” In a nutshell, the prison inmate is announcing, “I’m an inmate and I can make noise.” Inmate noise can come in the form of inmate “singing.” However, inmate singing is really nothing more than (if you’ll pardon the expression) “caterwauling.” Inmate “singers” only seem to know every eighth word and every song is about money, cars, sports, guns and Bitches.

Prison noise also comes in the form of inmates yelling: inmates yelling down the hall, inmates yelling in the bathroom, inmates yelling out the window. They yell across the table, they yell across the chow hall, they yell across the yard. Inmates yell at each other, they yell at the phone, they yell at the T.V.

Let me tell you: prison is nothing if not a lot of yelling.

Prison noise also comes in the form of inmate games. Let’s see? There’s “W.W.E. Spades,” “Full Contact Poker…”, “Chess Pounding,” “Helter-Skelter Scrabble” and, of course, my personal favorite: “Slam-Inos.” You play “Slam-Inos” like regular dominos, but you slam them…AND YELL! DON’T FORGET THE YELLING! [eye roll]

Cats mark their territory. Inmates have pissing contests. As you might imagine, this kind of stuff will lead to fights. Cats will fight over a catnip mouse; inmates will fight over a dime-bag. Cats will fight over their spot in front of the window; inmates will fight over their spot in front of the TV. Cats will fight over a mating partner; inmates will fight over a tranny prison wife.

Yup.

The elements of a “cat fight” and a “prison fight” are about the same too. Lots of biting, scratching and clawing. Tufts of fur will fly. There will be plenty of high pitched squealing sounds. At the end of the fight both parties will declare themselves the winner. This, of course, will start another argument, which leads to more yelling, which leads to another fight. [eye roll]

Important note: If a normally withdrawn “cat” suddenly begins to act friendly towards you, this should serve as a warning sign. The “cat” may want some food. It may want its litter changed. It may want you to play with it. It may want its tummy rubbed. It may want to play “mousie under the covers.” It may want to sit in your lap. It may want you to give it a bath. It may want a “fourth” for spades.

The “cat” may want help writing a letter to its “kitty-on-the-street” because you can spell words like “kitty” and “street.”

The “cat” may want a “shot of coffee.” (translation: the cat wants multiple heaping spoonfuls of coffee, and, oh yeah, it wants creamer and sugar too!)

The “cat” may want to “borrow some stamps.” But don’t worry. He’s gonna “pay you back.” His money is gonna “hit” soon. He will explain that “Skeeter,” in the next block still owes him from last nights poker game. “Skeeter” is supposed to pay him back “after count.”

The “cat” wanting to “borrow some stamps” will continue to plead his case with this: “Come on man…you know I’m good for it…I’ve got you.”

Also, be weary of glassy-eyed “cats” with unsettling smiles who go around asking anyone and everyone if they’ve “got any of the good stuff.”

I also recommend avoiding any “cat” who is looking for someone to help him “bury a dead rat.”

[long silent pause]

Wait a second. Where was I going with this? Oh yeah. I was trying to answer the question “what is prison like?” [sigh]

As you can see, I’m never quite sure how to answer this question. Anyway, all of this is to say, if someone can’t bear the thought of a high school full of dudes; if they can’t picture themselves living at a travel plaza along the Jersey Turnpike; if they don’t know what an ant farm is and they can’t imagine eating nothing but rice and ramen over and over again with Will Smith, Carlton and Uncle Phil…I’m left with only one way to describe what prison is like:

Behold! Look to the cat!

However, before I leave you, it’s important for me to mention two major differences between “the domestic cat” and “the prison inmate.”

Most domestic cats are neutered. Most prison inmates are not.

It’s noteworthy that prison inmates (except for the mob informants) have opposable thumbs. Domestic cats DO NOT have opposable thumbs. This is good news for me. It will disallow any of those disgruntled little fur balls from ever writing some sort of rebuttal to this piece.