Exotic Magazine Online Uncovering adult entertainment online since 1993
xmag.com : March 2002: Zen Dolls

Most of the men in F-pod arrive with numerous drug charges on their records. Jail time gets them off drugs for a spell, and Dr. Kure's Safe Space allows them to consider the implications of a hit of acid, a line of coke, or a blast of smack. At the end of the session they mutter the Serenity Prayer, walk back to the pod, and talk about pumping a needle in their veins as soon as they get out.
I'm sitting in a circle next to Smackfiend, a 37-year-old carpenter who picked up the habit from his girlfriend about a year ago. He tells Dr. Kure he wants to quit, but knows he will not. "When I get out, next train stop is Druggie Junction," he says. "Last night I dreamed of a gumball machine dispensing gumballs of heroin, and I was scooping them up as they poured out."
A late arrival walks in. I groan. Maggothead. He apologizes for his tardiness and starts unloading about the intruders in the shower who are very aggressive at this hour. I say: "Those maggots are carrying the remains of Al Capone's syphilis from Alcatraz into this place." Smackfiend laughs, adds: "Wish they'd carry some heroin in."

Dr. Kure throws us a frown, raises his forefinger across his lips, his gentle way of telling us to stuff it. Maggothead, his mouth twitching ferociously, reiterates that the loathsome cankers are not giving any quarter. "Nobody in here cares about this but me. My health is at stake, and so's everybody else's," he whines.

"Many of the jailbirds have told me the authorities are determined to keep the pods full because this is a source of cash flow for the city."

Dr. Kure commends him for his concern. I gag, almost make a crack about goiters, which keep popping up in The Vicar of Bullhampton, but don't. Dr. Kure turns his attention back to Smackfiend, explains that the problem is "not the drugs, but the thought that you can't get off drugs."
He always comes back to this point, which lines up perfectly with a belief shared by almost everybody in the pod: Mind is all; the body is accessory baggage. Incarcerated drug addicts sound like New Agers blended with Mary Baker Eddy ("What is Matter? Nothing.")
Hard for my venomous brain to believe all this mind power will do any good, but what do I know, all dressed out in orange like everybody else and thinking tomorrow's morning could be a year or two away?
In an orientation session where we're given reading and writing tests, a professor from a "second chance" program at a nearby university talks to us for quite a while, directing most of her remarks to the black inmates. She is one of numerous Human Resource people under contract with the city. She's articulate but throws off some remarks which buzz loud on my skeptical radar. Many of the jailbirds have told me the authorities are determined to keep the pods full because this is a source of cash flow for the city.
The professor confirms this notion in spades. She rambles on about all the people from clerks on up to the high sheriff whose jobs are dependent on filling up the jail and says "the system" is designed to make a profit off prisoners. She says it costs about $70,000 a year to house each person in F-pod. I recall figures for jail and prison inmates closer to $30,000. I don't wish to quibble about the amount. But the idea that our crimes are secondary and the goal of the criminal justice system is full employment with much overtime is shrieking nonsense.
The professor then launches into a hot case in New York where the cops put forty-one bullets into an unarmed suspect and were found not guilty of murder at trial. This segues into something she heard on the news this morning. "A bicyclist on the Bay Bridge was killed by two policemen," she says, shaking her head in disgust. She gives no more details. Many in the room grumble about cops blowing away innocent people.
Back in the pod I pick up the San Francisco Chronicle, one copy a day which we all share. The prof failed to mention the bicyclist pulled a gun and fired at two Highway Patrolmen who had stopped him. They returned fire and killed him.





2002 X Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved. copyright | trademark | legal notices
Join Adult Friend Finder - largest Adult Personals with over 10 million registered members!