My 3 year visit at an exclusive, private, gated community……The Prelude. Part one.

Just found this the other day…… the inspiration for writing this……

I mentioned in an earlier post that I have been in prison. Here’s my story, in all it’s glory…….actually it really f***ing sucked…..but here it goes…..I wouldn’t recommend anyone this route. It’s a danger to your freedom!

The year was 1989 and I had been into some shady s*** since my high school days, always trying to make a buck. So, you have probably already guessed how I did it…….selling DRUGS. Now, let me go on to say that this is not a part of my life that I am proud of , but I’m also not embarrassed of it because I feel that it has made me the man I am today. I honestly feel like I am much more mentally strong, resilient and adaptable because of my prison experience. Definitely a survivor…….

In college I had always managed to get by with a part time job working in some shi**y bar or restaurant stocking beer and ice or covered in grease from a fryer, and a full time job supplying the filthy rich, stuck up frat boys with a steady supply of “party favors” to amplify their weekend keggers and sexual exploits. I had absolutely no problem taking their rich daddys money and I had a “connection” with every frat house on campus. I never thought of myself as a drug dealer, more of an entrepreneur ……. Just like Economics 101. The simple rule of supply and demand. I had the supplies, and they had the demand…….

During this time I discovered the band “The Grateful Dead” and began spending every break in my studies to go see a show where ever they were playing at the time. It was fun, but now I live by the motto that “Jerry’s dead, Phish sucks, get a job, and take a bath.” I’m just a hard working stiff who gets up every morning and tries to give a good account of myself. Just a number two trying to be number one.

This is when it started to really get weird…… I met some heavy hitters and quickly had access to more illegal substances then you could shake a stick at for bargain basement prices if you bought it in quantity. I met people from the Emerald Triangle (Humboldt and Mendecino counties) in Northern California which was the best bud in the world at the time and San Francisco for the strongest LSD known to mankind……Soon thereafter I had hot college girls on the payroll, driving the goods cross country, and the money was WAY better than working waiting tables in some crappy restaurant. They were so hot that no cop in their right mind would ever even think about searching their car, and none of them ever got pulled over, THANK GOD! I had a stash house in Colorado and distributors in several states on the East Coast……. And I was hoping the road would go on forever and the party would never end!

Fast forward to 1993, the party did end, in a big way. It all started with this s***bag in Corning, New York. His name was Brad Scott ( real name, it’s all true and I can’t get sued for telling the truth!) and I should have known better, but the temptation of cash was just to strong to resist. I always had a strong inclination that even if he had never sucked a d*** he had seen one eye to eye. Let me add that I am not prejudiced, I am a pretty live and let live guy and I really don’t care what you’re into! But, If you are a piece of s*** , you’re a piece of s***, no ifs, ands, or buts. And that guy was a spineless punk. It taught me a life long lesson……If I have the slightest inkling you’re a scumbag , I WILL SHOVE YOU OUT OF MY LIFE…… I have lived by this motto since ’93 and it has served me well. I even looked him up on the internet before I wrote this and he’s a sleazy insurance agent….. Go figure!

Well, this is how it went down. One of Brads people got busted for being stupid. He got caught with some “product”, and I guess he rolled on Brad. The DEA picked up Brad, and Brad snitched on the rest of us before you could bat an eye. (in prison a “rat” is the lowest creature imaginable , right in line with child molesters, they usually end up hurt, or worse… he probably wouldn’t have made it a week inside.) I guess now looking back on it, it is not surprising. He sung like a canary and the feds had me under surveillance for 10 months before they dropped the bomb. The feds DO NOT make mistakes…….. 85% of the federal prison population are non violent drug offenders and with minimum mandatory sentences and a 97% conviction rate it’s a big business. There are more inmates per capita in the US than anywhere else in the WORLD! Think about it? Money makes the world go round, and people need jobs. What a great way to stimulate the economy in dead end towns. The prison industry is huge in the states….. And everybody needs cash to blow at Wal Mart right?

By this time I had a suspicion that something was awry and had cleaned up my act and was laying low, working in construction banging nails on a framing crew, trying to figure out what direction to go in life. But I guess the feds had already made that decision……. And they had me dead to rights.

Brad was a good little bitch. He sung his way right out of a prison sentence, and handed all his “bros” over on a silver platter to save his own a**….. He set us up like bowling pins. Wore wires to meetings, recorded telephone conversations, even gave his own people up back home. He had no morals except to save himself. I still, to this very day, have no clue how someone can actually look at themselves in the mirror every morning after selling their soul to get out of the s***storm they created. But, I guess the only one f***ing with you is YOU! So when they finally kicked in the door I knew that I would end up dead if I ever breathed a word. So, I kept my mouth shut, bent over, and took it like a man…..

My judge was Richard P. Match. The same guy who sentenced Timothy McVeigh to death for the Oklahoma bombing. It was f***ed, and he really had no discretion anyways, thanks to good old Ronnie and Nancy Reagan and the “war on drugs.” Remember “just say no?” Now, I prefer to say “no thank you.” Much more polite! He gave me a five year sentence for being an “uncooperative” defendant, even though I had never even had so much as a parking ticket prior to this….. But I would not rat, and this pissed them off….. Forever more I may be branded a felon, but nobody can ever call me a snitch. And with this being said , I will hold my head high and wear it like a badge of honor…..


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