After my years of living in prison settings, I’m not easily alarmed. But more and more, I’m seeing these prison settings as "death" camps. Inmates are packed-in here in these dormitory living quarters. There has been a recurrence of TB, a new drug-resistant strain which is proving to be deadly around the country. My understanding is that TB is a disease which is transmitted through the air. I have heard that the new strain became drug resistant as a result of infected persons not taking their medications to full term as prescribed. "INH" tablets were to be taken for a period of over a year. The reasoning was explained to me that on a cycle of every 7 days, the TB disease germs/virus would "hatch/split" and multiply. Each of the germs/virus has a different timetable, so the blood system needed to be saturated with the "INH" drug to kill each new "hatching." This was, why the infected person had to take the pills regularly and faithfully. I went through the medication period full length myself. I didn’t have TB, but I had been exposed to the live germ/virus I had been given a skin-pop test and there was a reaction.

After the initial reaction, I cannot be given a "skin-pop" test because the spot will ulcerate. So people like myself need to be tested through x-ray and sputum samples for laboratory examination. Since coming to Ohio at the Correctional Reception Center, I was tested properly. When I came to Orient Correctional Institution in May, 1993, I’ve not been able to take the "skin-pop" test each year. I haven’t been called to the clinic after those population tests to have x-rays and/or sputum tests to check for TB infection. This was the same at Belmont Correctional Instution from 10/95 thru 7/96. This lack of testing was the same for others in these institutions who have had reactions to TB "skin-pop" tests before.

My point is, people like myself could catch the TB germ/virus and could be passing it around in these poorly ventilated aormitory living areas. In late summer of 1994, I ran a fever of 104.5, from a lung infection and Strep/Staph infection on my left leg. The fever couldn’t be broken here, so I was sent to OSU Medical Center by ambulance and was placed in a "Contagious Disease Isolation Room" while tests were run to check for TB, etc. I came back cleared and was returned to this institution after 11 days of hospitalization.

I worry that there are many inmates now infected who will escape detection because of this lack of testing of those who cannot take part in the mass "skin-pop" testing. I am afraid tc complain about it to any officials because I don’t want to alienate myself with the "hospital/clinic staff/administrators." This would be dangerous for me if I should find myself in need of diligent medical attention from heart attack or stroke problems that may come to pass. I’ve had my life saved several times by diligent hospital/clinic staff. But I have seen inmates professionally "ignored" by the "I’ve got other things to do," "We’ll see him in turn, he ain’t no better than anybody else; I’m working on this inmate with an ingrown toenail right now," etc. Then, if I were to die, there is no one to challenge if everything was done for me that could have been done. My medical records would be held up as perfect defense as to why I had died.

Another of the issues which lead me to view these prisons as death camps is the increasing number of HIV/AIDS patients in these populations. The seemingly prevalent concept about the spread of HIV/AIDS is through IV drug abuse (sharing needles), primarily homosexual sex acts, and blood transfusions. Blood screening from donors has removed the blood transfusion threat of contagion. The general public would understandably be content to think of the matter of contagion being a matter of individual, personal choice regarding sexual acts and/or IV drug abuses.

A clarification might be in order regarding the difference in my understanding of "Gay" people and "Faggots." Most gay people I’ve met are usually somewhat sophisticated in being polite, sensitive (considerate), and usually unobtrusive. Most of these gay people are not particularly confused about their sexual gender, not do they attempt to act-out an "appearance, physical, and psycholoqical" sex change to justify or sanction their sexual preference.

Faggots, (mostly male) on the other hand, try to "appear, function, and behave" like the opposite sex. Prisons are primarily infested with these "penis vampires" who pass their death messages on through their saliva and fecal fluids. These homosexual types are not to be confused with "female impersonators." Faggots in prisons are loathsome because they continually try to sexually arouse the other males--of their choosing--and base their interactions on sex acts. The faggot is a "she" hole who takes a "load" off her man as many times as she can. Many of them "trick" (perform sexual services) for other inmates to make money (usually packs of cigarettes) for their "man." Many go from inmate to inmate for sex acts.

Some of the more pronounced of these faggots will pluck their eyebrows, put kool aid on their lips for coloring, wear skin-tight pants, talk and squeal like female hookers (whores/prostitutes). The nauseous squalling sounds they make while trying to emulate a female screaming for fear of sexual assault usually attracts the sex offender (rapists) element of the population. The young men in the prison population is their usual target, and are usually most vulnerable because of their libidinal frenzies out of general boredom and unconcern for safe-sex practices.

When these faggots play-out their seduction, they pretend they are the hapless victim of their "man" (victim). They will tell these goofy young "wanna be" pimps that they do not have "dat shit" or "thang," or "thizang’) (HIV/AIDS). If they are highly suspect for having HIV/AIDS, they will concoct some story that you can’t contract the illness if you wash your "thing" off right away with that strong "state" hand bar soap. Or another popular "story" is that you don’t contract the disease until after about 500 times of having sex. Another is that there is a "cure" already made for the stuff, and that a lot of people don’t die from the HIV/AIDS infection.. .which is true because it’s the other diseases that kills you.

At any rate, there is the more "rational" element of the male population who will become homosexually involved with such faggots saying that, "We all gotta die someday, anyway!" When such stalwart hearty-hearted young men do become HIV positive, their philosophy changes into one of fear, rage, and a need for revenge against the rest of the "uninfected world."

The added horror to this situation is the other seldom discussed factors of beatings/assaults and rapes as means for infecting a part of the population who would avoid the temptations of sex and shared IV drug use. Not just the "effeminate" element of the homosexuals are infected with HIV/AIDS. More of the "Stud" faggot partners can still go around with their macho pursuits of beating weaker people up and raping some of the same when the opportunity presents itself. These "living dead" go around with no fear of consequence of prison sentence or even death itself. They are dying and their banner slogan is, "I don’t give a damn!"

As more and more of these "studs" become infected, they present a new danger to the prison population. They will become the ghoulish damned in the prison yard, the prison cells, and the prison dormitories, and even when they return to the larger communities with their internalized prison values/attitudes. They will, I predict, raise havoc among the docile in the free world. Many of them will "blame" the system/public for their misfortune and impending premature death.

These are the ones who may survive their "flat-time" prison sentences and will be released as mandated by law. But this may all serve a higher ideal by the gatekeepers and playmakers of the high and mighty in our land. This dilemma will serve to "reduce" populations of "undesirables" (prisoners; past, present, and probably future....), and if a few decent people must fall victim to such vermin, then it is for the "greater good." The loss of the "decent" victims will be mourned and avenged by tougher laws and measures against the other "fake" human beings who will come through the prison systems to perpetuate the "Corrections ‘Kovorkian’ Final Solution for Criminals." Eventually, all that will survive the net of the prison network will be only the "law-abiding," and their forgiving sponsors--if they can afford one in the times to come. (As F. Lee Bailey said many years ago, "The greatest crime you can commit in America today is to run afoul of the law and have no money... and that "...you can get. just as much justice in this country (America) as you can afford...!")

All this sounds so negative; almost like some warped sociopathic prattle, but on my very soul, it all appears frightening and true from where I view it. One of the keys to my psychological and philosophical survival in prison has been the ability to invoke a will to meaning like Victor Frankel in the Nazi Concentration Camp.

And the key to keep from becoming entirely bitter was to maintain the skill to discern and derive "positive" meaning in the life I lived in prison. Part of that positive meaning was in how I performed at my work assignment in the spirit of "...earning my daily bread...," trying to be valuable to my part in the overall scheme of things at work and play; with both the "cops and robbers" in my prison environment.

I basically kept peace with the "cops" by not being a robber, and kept peace with the "robbers" by not being a cop. It took strength not to bow to the will of either group. I attribute my success in this area not so much to any particular intelligence I might of possessed and utilized as much as the ability to behave like a psychopath who was trying very hard not to hurt anybody anymore by acting like a very nice guy with everybody. I was easier for the "cops" to handle when I was "acting" like a nice guy, and I was easier to "read and predict" by the "robbers" who didn’t particularly want to know if I had really changed yet or not. So I stayed on the perimeters of both boundaries, with the ability to understand and communicate with nearly all elements of my prison environment.

My "credentials" honored by both cops and robbers were my violent past. Violence that was documented and violence that was "enhanced" by storytellers and ass kissers. This was by both cops and robbers alike. I was no "Al Capone or John Dillinger," but I was a verifiable jerk who knew how to frighten people into "seeing things my way," in the relatively small circles I traveled in.

Naturally, there were times that I became bored with the "dangerous" veneer that I wore casually through each day and night. Deep inside, I longed to just be humble and kind genuinely without a hint of dangerousness in my character. I could do this with Christian Clergy, Catholic and Protestant, and with my parents. Sometimes, I could add some prison staff and inmates to that list of confidants. I could let my guard down and not worry about being victimized. One therapist, Mrs. B, at the Nebraska State Penitentiary worked with me when she was 24 and I was 44. She brought me so deep inside my core by "being real" for as long as she could; it almost physically killed me because of my inflamed emotions. It was the most painful experience in my adult life, but it was also the most joyous and exciting.

Although I found her to be extremely attractive physically (sexually), I developed feelings for her that went far beyond libidinal concerns. I believe in retrospect that she was the only woman I’ve ever really loved, and I didn’t know how to do that in an acceptable manner (keeping those feelings to myself). She was married and was a young professional who hadn’t quite learned how to "externalize" her deeper interactions; she was too intelligent and real at that point in her development to be a functional-but-ineffective therapist in a maximum security prison setting. Although our "closure" was brutal and professional by the authorities, leading me to suffer endless hours, I believe she taught me how to really love. She taught me--inadvertantly, perhaps--that love is sacrifice; giving, and dying to "self."

My point is that I had survived a collection of experiences which culminated in my coming in touch with my real feelings. I never could have grasped the depth of impact this kind of experience can have on a man who had strayed so far from higher power in dealing with his fellow human beings; male and female, old and young, friend and foe alike.