Growing up neither black nor hispanic, prison was the greatest test of mental resolve ever. Something unfathomable to those unaccustomed to it as a "part of life". I was recruited by the whites, although as is the case on the outside, neckbeards were cast aside and not part of any bonding rituals. Many refused to shower for fear of rape and when their stench made it's way to my nostrils, I was mortified. Food was basic, spritzers were unavailable. The horror. The horror. In a matter of hours I went from a heated toilet seat with a bidet to a rusty metallic one with no seat at all, and that's when it all set in. No point getting too high or too low, you just don't know how long you'll be here for. Regardless, after 7 long hours, I'm out stronger than ever (albeit, with a touch of ebonics in my voice). A little get down, with the get down, ya feel? Gotta be ready to walk anywhere during recess. The Vatos. The Homies. The Wife beaters. The Good Ol Boys. My gang is the yard baby. No boundaries. A changed man, ready to find redemption. What an exciting time in all your lives. -The Daddy
I would try to join the Muslims in prison. Prayer, hungerstrike, plan riots and most importantly not get bothered by the homeboys, essays or white power. #toomuchOz
You should of got hard. <iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/lEqrpuU9fYI" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
Tinfoil Theory: It's off season and Rox news gets really slow around this time of year when it's a few weeks before training camp and a few weeks after the draft. This is when Clutch let's Honey Bear out of the cage for a bit to stir things up in the forums. Then, poof, he's gone until late next summer.
