1. The first thing I noticed is how the world didn’t stop while I was away. You kind of fool yourself into thinking it did while you’re in and, in a way, for you it does. You expect your loved ones to be exactly the way they were when you went in, but they’re not. And you’re not. It can be hard to deal with. Like when they tell you about movies they saw, video games they played, concerts they went to…and you get so jealous. You know it’s petty, but life stopped for you and you get pissed off that it wasn’t waiting exactly where you left it.
The hardest thing to cope with is all the movement and people invading your personal space. I freaked out the first time I went to Walmart and someone reached from behind me to get something off the shelf. After constantly having to have my head on a swivel my first reaction was to fight. I had to stop and remember I was in the free world again, that people were just acting like people and I was the one who needed to adjust back to society, not the other way around.
2. The main thing when you get out is how fucking busy the world is. The people are running around doing so much “stuff” that it’s very overwhelming. Initially the penal system is very boring and you are trained with a Pavlovian response to do certain tasks at some signal. Beep. Line up for chow. Beep. In your cell for count. Beep. Line up for chow. And so on. You build a program around that and become used to the pacing. Upon release you lose all that structure and there doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the frantic pace of the world.
You get over it after awhile but it’s a striking contrast.
What did you go to prison for?
Well, I was just in federal prison for importing chemicals from China. I had a website and was importing a particular chemical, MDMC. The chemical actually because Schedule I ten days AFTER I was indicted, I was indicted in 2011 with violating the “controlled substances analogues enforcement act of 1986”, which actually charged me with importing MDMA.
Why exactly were you importing MDMC for ? Is it similar to MDMA?
DMC is very similar to MDMA. It is the same molecule, but an oxygen atom added
How long were you in prison for?
I was sentenced to 92 months, which was dropped to 77 months thanks to “All Drugs Minus Two” legislation that was passed. Then I was immediate released less than a week ago pursuant to a motion the government filed on my behalf.
I work for a for-profit education company. There are a few things I have to get off my chest. The industry is a complete joke and I’m sickened by what we do.
First, we accept anybody. A student is merely a conduit in which student loan money flows from the federal government, to us. We could give two shits if we think a student will succeed. A student is a revenue unit (and is referred to as such). We’d let everbody in if we could. Unfortunately for us, we can’t.
Why? Well, the federal government only allows us to generate 90% of our revenue from their loans. Last I checked, we’re at 89.something. We are “private, for-profit” and nearly 100% government subsidized through their loan program. Think about that. Almost 90% of our revenue comes directly from the government and we can keep as much profit out of that as we want with zero obligation. Oh, there’s this thing called gainful employment floating around that’s a feeble attempt to regulate us, but everybody’s pretty sure most of the regulations will be stripped away or watered down to the point of uselessness.
1. Life sucks. (37 years old). Most days, I consider killing myself for being such a waste of human existence. Ashamed of being a male human. Feelings of inadequacy.
Like I can’t believe I was the fastest sperm that came out of my father’s balls. Unable to attract a woman (despite no physical defects) in an age where casual sex is not just the norm, it is like breathing air. It feels like I wish I had some sort of disease or crippling physical defect that would at least give me an excuse for not having done it.
It has affected my confidence and self esteem (from work, to relationships with friends and family) and basically shattered me in ways not many would understand. The longer time passed (I am talking about my early 20’s), the more anti-social, afraid to just interact in the society I became. Women could sense the awkwardness, the shyness, they could sniff it out. Like I had a tattoo on my forehead that said “VIRGIN”
In my later 20’s, I became extremely bitter, full of hatred for myself, women, successful normal men.
In my 30’s, it became less about the sex and more about the not having any intimacy of any kind. Not knowing what it feels like to kiss a girl, make out, cuddle, anything.
So far I have refused to pay for it as then I think of it as being unable to naturally get a woman. It would still make me a freak. I have no issue with people paying for it, but usually people who pay for it, have already attracted women normally without it, and just want physical sex without effort of dating and etc…. So it is not the same.
The world of fuzoku or pink (commercial sex) is Japan’s second largest industry, raking in over 10 trillion yen ($85 billion) a year. For a fee, men can live out their fantasies in elaborate sets including no-panty coffee shops (with mirrored floors!), mock subway cars crowded with schoolgirls, and harem-themed bath houses. Japan’s sex workers and intricate fantasy rooms have been largely hidden from the rest of the world—until now. Joan Sinclair, a lawyer from San Francisco and an unlikely candidate to document this underground sex industry, is the first journalist to expose what really lies within Japan’s exotic clubs.
Sinclair first learned of Japan’s "image clubs" while teaching English near Tokyo in 1995. She heard rumors of women dressing up like nurses, policewomen, and commuting secretaries to provide men with fantasy services acted out in elaborately decorated playrooms. Curious, Sinclair visited Kabukicho, the world’s most lucrative red-light district, where the club exteriors hinted at a sex industry unlike anything in America. Although Sinclair itched to see exactly what happened inside, as a woman, a foreigner, and a photographer, she was told she’d never be allowed to enter the clubs.
1. I work in a juvenile detention facility. We had to put a kid in a secure room (think padded walls with a camera) because he was self-harming. When you do that you remove everything they can self harm with, so like no pencils or shoelaces or whatever. Dude pulled his braces out of his mouth and started self harming with the wires.
2. The new trend at my prison is the dudes tie a string around their dick and then attach it to their big toe going through their pants. Then when they’re talking to myself or other female staff they’ll sit there and tap their foot to get off.
I was told if I see anyone tapping their foot to ask them to pull their pant leg up and see if there’s string. Lol ridiculous Who knows what they’ll think of next”.
3. I work at a level 5 supermax prison in a small southwestern Virginia town and we had this guy. Wow, this guy. He kept getting his ass kicked and normally we kind of know why it’s happening but in this case, we didn’t. Come to find out, other inmates thought he had drugs. One day we caught him with white looking powder on his nose so we had to take him out and drug test him and cavity search him as well. This happened 4-5 times over the course of 5 months and he passed every test and search every time. Well one day we caught him. This guy was beating off, letting his jizz dry, crushing it, and snorting the shit. Good times.
What’s it like to be a member of the Triad?
My involvement began in high school. There was nothing dramatic about it, I just became friends with a bunch of people I thought were cool and one thing led to another.
High school gangs are like triad training schools. They are not part of the triads per se, they’re more of a triad Mickey Mouse fan club where a group of young wannabes strut around pretending to be something they’re not. You’d be surprised at just how many of these there are.
The leaders of these high school gangs are usually affiliated with a low ranking triad member, called a 49 in triad lexicon. These are the foot soldiers. The 49 functions as big brother whose help the boys would call on in case of trouble, but big brother is also a scout who kept an eye out for promising young talent.
I must’ve seemed like one, because I was soon introduced to the 49er’s tailou (big brother), who was also a 49er. We met a few times at a local disco, snorted cocaine, gargled ketamine, popped ecstasy, and soon he trusted me enough to put me in charge of a few high-school gangs.
The triads are structured like a MLM scheme. At the lower levels, the more followers you recruit, the more powerful you become, the higher up you climb. The people above your rank are referred to as tailou or ____ ko which means elder brother, and your followers are referred to as DauGei, or children.
It’s all about the organization. So we organized.
We recruited the same way ISIS and Al Qaeda does: by giving disaffected and disenfranchised young men a sense of belonging. We start off by convincing the kids that we were cool by bringing them alcohol, drugs and other illicit goods. Then when they have issues they’d come to us for help and we’d help them. Many of the kids I recruited were bullied in school and looking for some revenge, and we’d give the kid’s bully a thorough trashing.
Why did you get into this line of work?
I was kicked out my parents house at 18. I had no real friends at the time, so the few people who let me stay at their place while I got back on my feet usually just let me stay for a few days, then had to send me on my way again. I had to get work quickly, but I lived in a Canadian city that was hit really hard by the recession a few years ago and there was no work to be found. Someone jokingly suggested I sell my body on craigslist. I thought it was a good idea, as I was quite desperate for money and I didn’t really think hard about what I was getting into.
After a few failed posts in the dating section, I learned about the adult advertising part and in a week, made enough money to rent out a pretty decent studio apartment to work out of and live in.
Why did you parents kick you out?
So in my family my dad’s always been abusive and hard on me and it’s been hard to deal with. I was his punching bag (sometimes literally, sometimes emotionally) during my little brother’s time battling leukemia (he has since beaten it twice, and is fine now) and I was ignored a lot and really forced to grow up earlier than most of my friends. I became rebellious and turned into one of those annoying Good Charlotte/MCR fan girls and went goth. I smoked pot, did E a few times, skipped school. I was a typical teenage punk. Hell, still am. Realized I was typing that while playing with my piercings and I’m resting my laptop on plaid ripped pants.