Where is a condiment more than just a condiment? Federal prison. It’s all about CONTROL! How can the authorities exert control via condiments? Hot sauce. Yes, hot sauce. If you are a regular reader of this blog, you may be thinking that I’ve finally lost it. All I ask for is a little patience, and I will explain. This latest power trip started when the Captain and Warden instituted a policy mandating that the only item an inmate can bring into the chow hall is a bottle of hot sauce. Ketchup? No. Mustard? No. BBQ sauce? No way. Mayo? Negatory. Get the picture? And why? A logical question. My first thought was that it had to do with money. Maybe the BOP has some vast underground warehouse stocked with hot sauce that can be sold to us at exorbitant prices? I haven’t entirely dismissed this theory, but admit it’s unlikely. After all, it would save them money if for example we could bring our own ketchup to the chow hall on hot dog day, when they hand out cheapie packs. You’d think that less packs used = less packs purchased = more money saved, right?
Allow me to interrupt this blog entry to relay what just happened here in the library. The library – the hub of education, enlightened thinking, rehabilitation, and staff wanting to help us succeed. So a guy just asked a staff member for a pen or pencil, something to write with. He just got here today, his belongings haven’t arrived, and he has no money for the store. He has to fill out some paperwork, but doesn’t have any implement to write with. The staff person informed him that “WE” don’t provide pens or pencils for inmates. He asked why and was informed that it’s not in the budget. He pushed the issue a little bit, not being rude but expressing some frustration with the reply. The staff member loudly rebuffed him with, “Well, if people like you would stop being criminals, we might have more money for less people!” At that, a hush fell over the room. Even in a library, you’ve never seen 20 or 30 inmates so quiet. To you, of course, this may seem like an inconsequential moment. Just brush it off, you say. Ignore it. But to us it’s not that easy. All day all the little demeaning, humiliating things add up and eventually take their toll. I mean, all the guy wanted was something to fill out GED forms, a step towards bettering himself. Instead, he was reminded in no uncertain terms that he is just a criminal, an inmate, and “he’s got nothin’ comin’.”
Okay, back to my regularly scheduled blog topic: the hot sauce only rule. Could it be that we have a world-renowned culinary arts program that not only offers rehabilitation but career skills? Um, no. Allow me to save some time here. There is no reason for the hot sauce only rule. If asked, the reply is always that answer so well known to three year olds: “Because I said so.” And of course as with every ridiculous rule we do what we can to circumvent it. Enter Lieutenant ______, we will call him Captain Condiment. This guy roams the chow hall, using his eagle eye and incredible sense of smell to root out offending condiments. He is the scourge of mustard, BBQ sauce, mayo, salad dressings, etc. Oh his pride as he puffs out his chest and confiscates another bottle of contraband ketchup. I can picture him at home, binging on episodes of OZ or Prison Break, smugly bragging to his buddies about the Heinz he took off the dangerous 87-year old in the wheelchair who is serving time for driving drunk on federal property. Where does he put the seized condiments? A Batcave trophy room? I know we all feel safer with Captain Condiment on the job, making sure we know who has control around here. Even with something as inconsequential as hot sauce. Well, I’m off to dine on pancakes and oatmeal. Hmm, wonder if I tried the hot sauce on the pancakes?
