a knight was lost.For the want of a knight, the war was lost.
For the want of a brain, we listen to this drivel.
HISTORY IS BUNK
Arnold Toynbee surely must have looked the other way when writing his masterful A Study of History.
His research, as we all now know, found that in 1353 Marco Polo brought spaghetti to Italy from the Orient. He also brought back a wondrous new discovery from China-gunpowder!
Why Toynbee would suppress the fact that, for the first seven years after Marco Polo's return, the Italians thought they were supposed to sprinkle the gunpowder on their spaghetti is beyond me.
For me, the "Age of Bronze" was between 15 and 19.
THE HONOR FARM
Warden Coots always made a point of greeting new prisoner arrivals at Allenwood so there would be no misunderstandings about how he ran things, and to explain, in no uncertain terms, what was expected of them.
This morning's new arrival was different. It was the crew from the television show, 60 Minutes. Cameramen, soundmen, lighting technicians, makeup artists, and correspondent Morley Safer himself.
Safer graciously introduced himself to Warden Coots and added, "Call me Morley, please, Warden Coots."
"Call me Bubba, Mr. Morley, please," said Warden Coots, "I want you to know it's an honor to welcome you to Allenwood Federal Prison. I watch you all the time. You're on Sunday, right? You know, Geraldo Rivera wanted to do his TV show here too. But he was mainly interested in transvestites, animal fuckers, and cross-dresssing stockbrokers. I turned him down even though we do have quite a few of those types here."
Safer was amused but not surprised, "Warden Bubba, what we'd like to do on this segment of 60 Minutes is sort of a 'Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous in Prison' piece. Many people have the perception that Wall Street crooks go to 'country club' prisons. You know, the Club Fed thing. So we'd like to find out just how many insider traders, stockbrokers, and savings and loan people you have here at Allenwood Federal Prison Camp."
"Well, we got our share, there's no doubt about that, more than our share if the truth be known, Mr. Morley. We got our doctors and lawyers too, plenty of 'em. We got senators, we got murderers, we got movie critics, and everything in between."
"Warden Bubba, Allenwood Prison is 4,000 manicured acres-no fences, no bars, no guard towers. You have a billiard room, a gym, a racquetball court, tennis courts. It's West Virginia and the Appalachians, not the Catskills. Can you understand that the public perception is that you run Allenwood more like a resort than a prison? Would that be a reasonable interpretation?"
"Well now, let me ask you, Mr. Morley, if you had to keep 1,200 prisoners busy twenty-four hours a day, don't you think your acres would be manicured? That's the whole point. Keeping everyone busy. Everybody works here. Not many people know it, but we make all the jockey shorts for the U .S. Army. All of them. Every soldier in Desert Storm was wearing a pair of our shorts, even General Schwartzkopf. It made us real proud that when our fighting men were bravely defending the New World Order, they had their prunes securely cradled in a product we make right here at Allenwood.
"We also make fine walnut executive desks for the government in our furniture factory. They're in every U.S. embassy in the world, and there's a waiting list for them. Our prison workforce earns eleven cents an hour to start, forty hours a week; thirty eight cents an hour after three years; last year we had $4.6 million in sales. If our people meet their quotas, their stays here may not be that unpleasant. If not, they don't get to use any of those little goodies you mentioned. Plus nobody wants to get transferred to Rahway or Attica and end up being someone's 'June Bride' and I do mean 'end up,' if you know what I mean."
"I think we get your meaning, Warden Bubba."
"Here's a story for you," said Warden Coots. "We got 'Pop' Scales transferred here from Leavenworth a while back. He was eighty-six years old, and had just six months left on a fifty year sentence, so they sent him here before he would be turned loose. He had been a model prisoner and seemed harmless enough, and after a half century of hard time in the slammer, you couldn't help but wonder if he could cope with life on the outside. We had planned to use that last six months to train him for a career as a busboy so he could earn an honest living in a competitive economy. But you know, here at Allenwood we don't have fences and that old fuck escaped. Can you believe it? Eighty-six years old and he walks right off the grounds and goes out and robs a 7 -Eleven store within twenty-four hours. They say he had a touch of Alzheimer's and that that's all he could remember how to do, so he went out and did it. Died in a shoot-out he did. Hard Copy did a piece on it on TV. Real poignant, but they really didn't know how mean that old prick was. Getting poked in the boomer since 1936 can do that to a man, I guess ."
Safer thought for a moment, probably about how many bleeps would be in the final telecast, "Hmm ... yeah ... maybe so ... yes, kind of ironic ... Well now, Warden Coots, what we'd like to do today is photograph the grounds and facilities here with your commentary as we go. Sort of a voice-over. Do you have any problem with that?"
"Fuck no, I'm real proud of Allenwood. A couple of our inmates have been on the cover of Forbes magazine for chris-sake, four of them have books on the New York Times bestseller list, and a couple of them have had TV miniseries made about them already.
"I'm sure you make pretty good dough, Mr. Morley, but how would you like to match financial statements with some of these crooked buzzards? I don't think so. We got a guy here who robbed an auto workers' pension fund in Michigan. Just wiped it out. He was fined $400,000,000. He paid it out of petty cash and has plenty left over for when he gets out, which will be in ninety days or so. Of course he's going to have a lot of elderly, penniless, vengeful auto workers after his ass, but I don't think that will bother him too much on the French Riviera."
Coots adjusted his shorts. "Over there is our baseball diamond and miniature golf course. See that guy cutting the grass? That's ex-Supreme Court Justice Orlin Spencer. He keeps the field real nice. Used to umpire our games too but we had to stop that-too many bad judgment calls.
"We got a goddam Hall of Fame baseball player in here right now. But you know something? He can't hit a slow pitch softball to save his ass. Swings like a goddam girl. Now there you got an angle on a story- 'Home Run' Baker can't hit a beach ball thrown by a Wall Street faggot."
With the camera crew taping their every move, Safer and Coots walked past the vegetable garden where several dangerous looking men were spreading manure on the tomatoes. They entered the back door to the the mess hall kitchen.
"Tell me about the food here in prison, Warden Coots. "
"Well, I wouldn't claim it was Denny's or Sizzler's or anything fancy like that. You see that pansy at the grill over there? He's a fruit, gayer than ice cream, but he can really cook! He was the pastry chef at the White House during the Nixon administration. He's been here for eleven years. For what, I've forgotten.
