Monthly Archives: July 2012

“Hermetically Sealed”

Whenever I  consider “Hermetically Sealed for Sanitary Protection,” my mind travels to those days of television yesteryear, for it was in those years that I learned that hermetic sealing was for tampons only, at least from a commercial stand point.  I’ll be straight with you:  I lost many a good night’s sleep wondering why the hell tampons required hermetic sealing.  I’ll tell you folks that in a thousand years you could not convince me that the tampon factory could be less clean than the place those tampons are stuffed into.  I bet  one could make tampons in a fish processing factory and it would still be cleaner than a woman’s “pit of despair!”

Speaking of which that “pit of despair” reminds me of this pit of despair, a.k.a. Maine Correctional Center (M.C.C.)  It is my experience that inmates often feel that meds are served in a sanitary manner when one sees the med nurse using those blue latex gloves that were never likely hermetically sealed.  Let me tell you folks, the use of those gloves provide the “illusion” of sanitariness!  This is a straight-up illusion for this reason:  the fucking glove goes where the hand goes, it has no choice – it’s on the hand.

If a gloved hand scratches its owner’s ass, or picks someone’s meds up off of the floor, or dials a phone that was just stuck to a sweaty ear, or handles unsanitary medical records, carts, boxes or prescriptions or brushes hair out of the face, it is un-sanitary, glove or no glove.  So, pick your nose and scratch your ass, but deliver my meds on time – for it all adds up to nothing in the end.

Next, we have the use of those same blue gloves by C.O.s, whenever they storm a room for a search of contraband.  What the hell does a C.O. need gloves for?  Are the gloves needed to pick through an unsanitary pile of shit on an inmate’s floor?  Is it to protect themselves from possible contamination?  Or, could it be the gloves are worn because the light blue contrasts quite nicely with the dark uniforms?  Why don’t the inmates need those gloves?  Is the inmate likely to touch something that would harm him, but not harm the C.O.?

If there is a concern for protection, why are not the C.O.s made to wear those gloves 24-7?  Sanitary protection is an illusion for C.O.s, inmates and staffers.  Protection for all is the M.C.C. mantra, even if that protection does not include inmates!!!

Let me wrap it up with this:  people eating in the chow hall might think that a good job is done by those who hustle from table to table to clean it before the next people use that table.  People might believe the cleaning process has left sanitary conditions in its wake.  Nothing could be further from the truth, blue gloves or not.  With close attention one will notice that the table are being cleaned with a hand towel.  Wipe a table, wipe another, wipe another and then rinse that towel in the now-filthy water in the bucket by the door and wipe every table with the filth from the last table until every table top becomes bacteria-ladened-formica-petri-dish and that is only the beginning of the chow hall issues.

“Hermetically Sealed for Sanitary Protection” is an illusion, and one with possibly deadly effects.


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“The High Wire.” – Bob Wire – M.C.C.

Oh, my faithful minions, my true and ardent followers, your cries have not gone unnoticed, your voices were heard even unto the highest pinnacles of the highest heavens.  For the Most High has heard your cries and taken pity on the souls of men.  Yay, for just this day the Most High called, the Most High spoke these words:

“Jesus Christ Wire, wake up and write something, for Gods’ sake, there is only so much I can take from your whining-ass followers.”

I spoke:  “Oh, Most High, I have heard your call and I will bear this cross, this burden if it be your will.”

“Bob, bob, what do you want me to write it, too?  You’re the one who started all this, tell them whatever the fuck you want.”

“I hear you, Lord, I will obey, enough already.”

So, here goes, my faithful ones, in a little piece called, “The High Wire.”

First, for those of you who still recall the pissing and moaning of Mrs. Wire and how I fucked up her life by coming to prison?  And how I was so mu;ch better off, thank she… yeah, right.  We here it comes, my friends, hold on to your butts.

Mrs. Wire, Barb, has flown the coop, moved on, hit the road as she left me in the dust, while skipping out on me with a thousand dollars I’d swindled the state out of.  It works for me, folks. Now I don’t have to think of her sister, I mean, Mrs. Wire, when I masturbate.. whoo hoo!  Three day weekend!

Secondly, I don’t think the courteous flush does much, flush all god-damn day and shit will smell like shit.

Next, this whole washing ones hands after the fowl necessity of shitting and pissing.  That doesn’t do much for me either.  This is how I look at it:  I shower,  scrub the goods, and go on my merry way, touching this, touching that, scratching this, scratching that.  I mean, I have no idea where my hands have been half the time.  so, I take these filthy fingers, grab my nice clean junk and get it dirt y.  I t seems to me that I should be washing my dick instead of my hands… right?

Further, I think this round bar hotel which we affectionately call the Round-Bar-Hotel (the Maine Correctional Center) is a better place for my being here, for my contributions, my insight, my humor, my guidance and direction and tripping that guy with the walker thingy – the guy no one likes.  In all seriousness, folks, this little Hilton on the hill has gotten better since the dearly days, since those glory days, when Ol’ Bob Wire rallied the troops and shit on M.C.C.  Frankly I hope this place sinks to the depth of hell on December 21st…

Oh, by the way, if you happen to run into Mrs. Wire, tell her to go fuck herself.

Bob Wire

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