Christmas in the SHU. That’s right, we did Thanksgiving in here, and now closing in on Day 50 of protective covid quarantine. We blew through Christmas, and it looks like we are going to hit the Trifecta and sail past New Year’s (not a corona-free unit with space for us). For dinner Christmas Day, a malnourished Cornish game hen – had to be small enough to squeeze through the tray slot – green beans, corn, rice, and a slice of wheat bread. What a feast! But beats our bag lunch of mystery meat, PB&J and two mini-pies. All while locked in the box for God only knows how much longer.
Phone call home? Nope! A temporary moratorium on the 5:45 am wake-up lights? Nope! Worst Christmas ever? You bet. At least the pies weren’t bad. The highlight of the week was cell rotation, done for sanitation purposes, so an orderly can clean the cells while they’re empty. Everyone in the SHU is on quarantine, so none of us could have Covid, but even so, they slap on handcuffs and move us to different cells in a new wing. The cleaning is no great shakes, either, consisting of a Styrofoam cup full of liquid cleaner. The previous resident of our new cell clearly did not rank cleanliness very highly. Took me an hour to scrub the place, with one orange sock on each hand (it was either the socks or my washcloth). My cellmate thought the place didn’t look too bad. He was right, if we lived under a bridge!
I have had enough! Enough of the ill-fitting orange clothes. Enough of the bagged meals pushed through the slot. The freezing-ass cold stainless steel toilet. Drinking out of an old milk carton, because we have no cups. Enough with the plastic sporks! The random screamers, door bangers and cell-block philosophers at 3 am. Enough with the flashlight under the door every half hour at night. The cheap-ass razors (might as well just pluck every hair from your face), the lack of sunlight (some of the fairer-skinned guys are nearly translucent at this point). AHHHGG!!!
My cellie’s hillbilly charm is starting to wear thin, too. He explained today how he gets that the law allows “them queers” to get married, but they should make it illegal for them to kiss in public, “unless they are some hot-ass broads.” This after explaining that “White Pride” isn’t in any way related to racism, it’s just about keeping the race pure and strong, not “weakening” it through “mixing.” I give up. Funny thing, as I’ve written before, he is nice to everyone, regardless of color, but he has some messed up beliefs. I could title the saga of the past fifty days “My Life with MAGA.” Dude definitely buys what Trump is selling. At times, as he drones on, I could swear his voice morphs into that of Sarah Huckabee Sanders, explaining, “What the President means to say….”
Speaking of Sarah Huckabee Sanders, and yes, at this point I do know that I’m rambling, ranting and digressing, but it’s my rant, so any teachers with degrees from high-falutin’ schools founded way back in like 1693 be damned. Enough with themes! Enough with topic sentences! I shall meander through this piece like Stephen King getting paid by the page! Was I just channeling Opus from Bloom County? (If you don’t know who Opus is, look it up on the Interwebs (Berkeley Breathed also wrote a great youth/adult book entitled Flawed Dogs)). You can thank Al Gore, because you know he created the Internet, just ask him (look it up). He said it about the same time he was ginning up the “Climate Change” nonsense. I heard that Coast to Coast is about the release a secret Trump report that those island nations in the South Pacific are not disappearing from rising sea levels. They are actually being flooded by Tipper Gore’s tears. She’s still upset about how her music censorship backfired when someone told her “Greased Lightnin’” isn’t really just about cars. Forced her to cancel the annual “Tipper and Friends do Grease” holiday spectacular. And she had finally beaten out that bitch Hilary for the part of Sandy. Who knew the Monica Lewinsky Halloween outfit would be so appreciated by Director Bill Clinton?
Uh, where was I now? Sarah Sanders, right! But first we have to discuss Sean Spicer. Remember him? Feels like sooo long ago. Although he was providing the world’s comics with pure gold material, he eventually realized that the Trump Presidency had “jumped the shark” (if unfamiliar, Google “the Fonz + Shark”) and his podium had entered the express lane to career implosion. Dude hit the ejector switch, quit and then tried to pull a Shatner What’s a Shatner, you ask? A Shatner is when you realize the joke is on you, embrace it, and resurrect your career, as famously demonstrated by old Captain Kirk himself. (A political entertainment example would be Bill O’Reilly going on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, proving he could laugh at himself, thus gaining new fans.) So Spicer pulls his Shatner and we get Sarah Huckabee Sanders. Poor woman. You could see how defending Trump’s insanity wore her down. By the end of her tenure, she looked as if she had just gone five rounds with Rhonda Rousey. Drawn and limp. I expected Sally Strothers to pop up and tell us that we could help for just a dollar a day! But she, too, got out before it was too late.
Okay, I’m finished. Feel much better.
Finally, to tie this all together: Enough of this crappy, blotting, ink-stingy flexi-SHU pen!
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