Luke wants to go to prison for a while to catch up on sleep. I got some decent sleep in the joint, but the problem is you have to go through county jail first. I turned myself in, admitted in open court to 38 bank robberies and it still took seven months to get to an actual prison.
As far as relaxation goes King County Jail makes up for overcrowding with loud, echoing acoustics. As a bonus, they force you to get up at six to eat a small, terrible breakfast. This is when most fights happen. It was actually a relief when plastic trays started flying and the goon squad came rushing in because it meant lockdown and a little more time to rest on the concrete slab. If you have a good book and a quiet celly a lockdown can be lovely.
In KCJ I learned to make "jailhouse earplugs." Wad up two small pieces of one-ply toilet paper, pop them in your mouth for a second to moisten, then wad and stuff them in your ears. This blocks out about 75% of noise. Look for these on my Pinterest board, along with tips on how to vomit in the sink. If you have a garbage disposal, the sink is actually the best place to throw up. Seriously.
Andrew Walsh claims he doesn't see color. On episode #8 of Takedown Podcast we prove that he is a liar. I love the Cuyahoga Clam, but his misogyny, racism and counterfeit drug dealing are getting to be too much. He was very winning when we had him back on episode #21 to tell embarrassing childhood stories, though.
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Luke made a lot of people upset with his CBS commentary when he suggested that folks might want to go outside once in a while. But has anyone else noticed the proliferation of services where items selected by someone else are shipped to your house? BarkBox, NatureBox, Trunk Club, and Warby Parker to name just a few. I'm not against shopping online for things we're sure we need but now we're getting stuff shipped to us just to look at? I don't like shopping but I hate wasting time and money even more. Hang on I have to go yell at a cloud...
All of the talk of the Guns N' Roses MTV trilogy, Soundgarden's Spoonman, and Temple of the Dog brought back fond memories of singing Hunger Strike with my first wife. In 1992 we went down to the beach in Discovery Park where the video was shot and after making sure no one was around we belted it out. The twist we put on it is she grumbled the Eddie Vedder part and I screamed the Chris Cornell part. Our four year old daughter was appalled and refused to be Mike McCready even though we brought a stupid hat for her to wear.
The video for Estranged made it clear that Axl Rose was a trailblazer for Kanye West. The man swimming with dolphins in that video to his eventual rescue by helicopter was an artist who hadn't heard the word "no" in a very long time. And in an odd podcast chat coincidence, Axl and Renee Zellweger have settled on the exact same face. Except she can probably grow a thicker beard.
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One of the things I keep a close eye on are white people embarrassing themselves. From plane crash looters in Ukraine to #Gamergate to pumpkin-spiced riots on the mean streets of New Hampshire, white folks can give anyone a run for their embarrassment money. And if you happen to be a student at Keene State College taking part in the riot, congratulations! Now all anyone will ever associate your education with is douchebags in backward caps overturning cars.
A question we don't ask ourselves often enough is "how embarrassing is the action I'm about to take?" And if the answer is "a lot to very" we still have time to stop. The problem is that shame seems harder to come by these days. Somehow "shame" has become a pejorative term. Let's take back that word, folks. We need shame. Shame is what keeps polite society functioning. Shame is what keeps us from blogging about how we warm cheese to optimum eating temperature in the crook of our knee while watching Monday Night Football. Wait....
This weekend was pretty bad for us Seattle/UW guys. The Huskies getting hammered by Oregon and the Hawks losing to a division rival should probably get me down. Instead I turn to the philosopher Kdude1021 who once said… "Marshawn Lynch, beast mode with his dreadlocks rolls and passes the ball to the end zone, touchdown, Sea-yuck, Sea-yuck, Sea-yucks!" It takes me to a place where I no longer understand how football or the running back position works. Bliss. (Emily thinks marble-mouthed Kdude is saying Wilson instead of rolls and)
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Last Friday, after Luke mentioned how much Dan Savage disliked Keillor, I did some thinking as to why I have come to truly hate Prairie Home Companion. While it's true that I've always hated banjo music, I used to like the rest of the show. What bothers me is that it is a show aimed at my generation (I am almost 50) and it's the exact same show it was 25 years ago. It's funny enough, but we've heard all these jokes. I hate it for the same reason I hate classic rock. Yes, it's good, but I know it backwards and forwards. Please try something new. Even if it's terrible it could be interesting.
At seven o'clock on Saturday night KUT breaks free from the PHC marathon to broadcast Wits, a show done by Seattle's native son and current Minnesota resident and heir to Keillor's "Life Alert" demographic. It's a clever show with younger guests, but I feel it going down that slippery slope of pandering to white, middle America. It's a lucrative slope, one that might soon see Moe in "wooden boat ownership" financial territory, but I don't think us older folks should give in without a fight.
After Wits comes LiveWire and all is right in the world, at least for an hour. Luke is funny without pandering to the Whitest Common Denominator, the writing is sharp and so far the show hasn't bowed to pressure from Big Banjo. I'm usually out of the car by the end of Burbank's show, but I imagine during this two hour break they've managed to free the rest of PHC from Keillor's eyebrow tendrils and it starts up again at nine o'clock.
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Prison is a difficult place, made even more difficult by the lack of a short seminar or pamphlet explaining what happens there. You spend a few days in a segregation unit while you're processed in, then you're pushed out onto the compound without a clue as to what to do or how to act. I kept my mouth shut, watched everyone, tried to do the right things and still almost got thrown in the hole for not knowing the rules.
It was probably more difficult for me, initially, than most of the guys at FCI Sheridan because I had never done time before. I turned myself in at age 27 without ever having been arrested so it was all new to me. And the prison economy is pretty fascinating. While the administration turns a blind eye to most of it, making occasional token "busts", illicit commerce hums along day and night. Why do the guards sit on their hands? Most of the business doesn't hurt anyone and taking things away from prisoners makes them unhappy. And unhappy prisoners do bad things to each other and to the staff.
I arrived at FCI Sheridan less than a year after a riot happened. I didn't ask a lot of questions about it because I was already under suspicion as a college educated white guy doing time behind razor wire. But there were two constant reminders of the riot. One was the building the prisoners burned had been rebuilt in a different style and the other was one of the guards who worked in the metal detector shack who had some gruesome scars from a struggle with an inmate.
Don't go to prison. It was good for me. I needed it to grow up, learn how to live a clean life, and to make amends for all of the terrible things I did. But you're all nice people, except Jo Ellen McCawley. She a basic bitch, yo.
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