Prison movies for December 2017

"The Dark Tower" (2017) - Dec 30

"The Emoji Movie" (2017) - Dec 29

"Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales" (2017) - Dec 25

"Spiderman: Homecoming" (2017) - Dec 23

"Churchill" (2017) - Dec 22

"Wish Upon" (2017) - Dec 16

"The Mummy" (2017) - Dec 15

"Denial" (2017) - Dec 9

"Pelé" (2017) - Dec 8

"Little Men" (2016) - Dec 2

"Batman and Harley Quinn" (2017) - Dec 1

The Stench of Our Understanding

We have not posted anything for a while because we have been contemplating the direction and purpose of our blog. We have always wanted this to be no more than an honest and open exposition of Joseph Duncan's thoughts and experiences, as a kind of glimpse into the mind of a human being that many call "monster". The idea - the hope - has always been that by doing this, then perhaps those who are ready will find for themselves that we are them, and that the only monsters in this world are the ones we imagine, and create for ourselves.

But it has come to our attention that by iterating with singular first person pronouns, we are inevitably giving the impression that this blog is about Joseph Duncan, when it has never been about him at all. His mind is no more than a psychological sponge that has soaked up the dross and drit exuded by all of us. The Fifth Nail has only ever endeavored to squeeze the contents of this metaphorical sponge onto the page, and let the pattern that emerges be read like an inkblot which says more about the person seeing it than it does about the one who has made the stain.

So from now on we will speak only using plural pronouns as often as we can in order to emphasize that this blog is not about one person. We will also attempt to shift our focus more on expressing our thoughts in a more general form, so they can be seen as thoughts coming from a sponge that has been used to wipe society's ass, and not from the mind of some "evil monster" that we imagine in order to convince ourselves that we're not the one's to blame for the mess. But prisons are the outhouses of the culture we live in, so we have no one but ourselves to blame for the offensive "smell" that wafts from within. Everyone has to shit, so no one is "innocent". So take a good whiff, my friend, because it is both you and I that are making this stench, not just "me".

In Haiti, workers empty communal outhouses at night and in the dark to avoid public scrutiny and humiliation.

Old Rules, New Rules, and the Rule of Law?

Last month, the warden announced (via Inmate Bulletin) that the original inmate property limits would be once more strictly enforced after a hiatus that had been going on for longer than I've been here (over at least the last nine years and probably much longer). The limit imposed by policy is five books per inmate, 25 personal letters, 1 laundry bag, etc. etc.. It is a well-known prison "management" tactic to relax certain policies so prisoners will take the leeway for granted. And then, when a "correctional staff" member needs to unofficially "punish" a prisoner, they can do so by arbitrarily "enforcing" the policy that has been previously unenforced, thus legally imposing a "hardship" on the prisoner otherwise not allowed by numerous state and Federal regulations. So, the fact that the warden is suddenly deciding that the leeway on inmate property limits is no longer necessary, must be an indication that he thinks he can control inmate behavior by some other means.

Of course it is all only a delusion of power and control in the first place. Regardless of what rules, laws, or regulations that are enforced or not enforced, the ultimate truth remains the same: You can't control what other people think, and if you can't control what they think, then you can't control what they do. They might let you think you are controlling them (when inmates do this, it is called "manipulative criminal behavior" - but, of course, the only reason we (prisoners) do it, is to avoid getting punished arbitrarily - and any prisoner will tell you that all punishment in prison, whether official or unofficial, is completely arbitrary; so the "the trick" is to avoid it and the only way to do that is to become "manipulative"), but, in the end, the only thing the warden and other "officials" ever manage to do is to sustain an illusion of control that serves to justify their fat paychecks and allows them to rationalize the inhuman ways they treat other human beings.

This latest decision to suddenly start enforcing a previously unenforced impingement on our humanity is a pretty good example of how this illusion is created. Here in the SCU (Special Confinement Unit, a.k.a. "Death Row") in Terre Haute, IN, we are confined to our cells 23/7 (or very close to 24/7 for someone like me who rarely bothers to ask to be cuffed up and escorted to a box-shaped cage with a ball in it that they call "recreation"), our books and letters are the only things we have that connect us to the outside (a.k.a. "real") world. Sure, we have small color T.V.s, but the program selection is controlled completely by the prison and consists almost entirely of brain-numbing (and "washing") cop shows and Christian propaganda (a.k.a. "feel good") programs. Only in my books do I find useful information that encourages me to think for myself rather than let others think (and form opinions) for me. And only through my letters do I get to discuss those ideas and exchange opinions with other people who are interested in the same sorts of things I am.

So the limit of five books in my cell, with no access to the Internet or even a prison library (see: Note 1) very effectively and quite literally cuts me off from my most valuable source of "intellectual stimulation" (as they call it). And the 25 letters restriction reduces my ability to effectively and meaningfully correspond with my family and friends by limiting the depth of our "discussions" to what I can retain in my immediate memory (plus 25 letters), which isn't very much.

To give you an idea of what I'm talking about, because of the leeway on the number of books and letters we have been allowed to keep in the past, I had previously been able to keep a small collection of reference books in my cell (20 to 25 books at most) on various subjects, from Quantum Physics to Religions of the world, including a few books on how to draw, and even several books I am using to study foreign language. Learning another language is very important to me, even if it's the last significant thing I learn before I die, because it is the language of my one true love - the person who my entire life was meant to acknowledge (yes, my "soul-mate" - which even I have!) So, I will keep three books to help me learn my love's native (human) language, which leaves me with only two more books that I am allowed to have. If I want to have something to read, then I must use these two slots for "current interests" and essentially get rid of all my "reference" books, including my NIV/KJV Bible, my Webster's College Dictionary, My Philosophy and Religion Dictionary, all of my other "Religion" books (Hindu, Zen, etc.) and all my "textbooks" (calculus, biology, physics, etc.) that I use as additional reference while reading (I generally don't keep a book as a "reference" unless I actually reference it frequently).

But, worse still is the restriction imposed upon the numbers of personal letters I am allowed to keep. My fiancée writes me at least twice a week, and has been for the last several years. I've already gone through all of my letters from her alone in the past and gotten rid of more than half (just to reduce the number of letters to a few manila envelopes full). But now I must go through those and select fewer than 25? (I'd like to keep some letters from my mother and a few friends, too.) That's not just heartbreaking, it's heartrending. It takes away my most valuable possessions, and reduces my connection to those whom I love (and whom I know love me) to what I can hold in just one hand.

The result, of course, is a powerful urge to revel against the "authority" that is causing me this pain. It is an urge for retribution that all prisoners feel. It is what drives them to be so "manipulative", and to find other ways to keep their humanness alive. It was this "urge" that ultimately drove me to do the insanely violent things I did that got me on "Death Row" in the first place. And even though I knew my "retribution" would put me here - and subject me to more of their "delusions of power and control" over my life (and what I think). To me, the satisfaction of proving they controlled nothing (they didn't stop me from raping and killing - all they ever did was make me want to rape and kill even more!) was (and still is) worth it.

So, I'm not "crying" about the way I'm being treated now. Make no mistake, I'm only trying to point out the way all their efforts to control me, and those "like" me (other human beings who don't value what "they" value") only end up doing the exact opposite of what they contend (and pretend). It's not about me or what I did, or what "they" do to me at all. It is a "mentality", a "sickness" that spreads and contaminates all of us. The wardens in this world (as a metaphor and literally) will always seek to rationalize their power and justify their insanity. They will push for more and more "control" over their "wards", as they have always done and will continue to do (see: Note 2). The Texas Department of Criminal Justice (TDCJ) has recently imposed a restriction on prisoners in Texas prohibiting them from "maintaining active social media accounts for the purpose of soliciting, updating, or engaging others, through a third-party or otherwise". In other words, Texas wards - in response to the threat that the truth (information) about conditions in prison imposes upon their illusion (and delusion) of power and control - have responded (as they always have in the past) by once more attempting to "gag" the prisoners. Whether they succeed or not will be telling (it is, of course, being challenged by numerous "human rights" groups). If they can get away with such a restriction (and it's simply a matter of time before they can get away with anything they want, because the illusion must be maintained at any cost), then it will spread quickly to other states and I'll soon be restricted even from expressing my thoughts here on this blog. Why? Well, like they say, if you have to ask... then you're not likely to understand the answer.

[J.D. May 29, 2017]

Notes:
(1) There have also been newly imposed limits on the total number of books available for ILL (Inter-library loan) requests, which was the only already extremely limited library access we had.

(2) It is an established tactic of those in authority (a.k.a. "Big Brother") to instigate disobedience before they attempt to institute a new and potentially controversial means of control. This not only creates a kind of distraction, but it also serves as a demonstrable justification for the new rule of law that they intend to impose.

Merry Christmas From Death Row

I haven't really written much for 5NChronicles because not much really happens here on Federal death row; at least not much that I can write about without getting someone in trouble. I generally "lay low" and don't do anything to draw attention to myself either from the guards or other prisoners. Most of the really "bad" (small-minded trouble-makers) guards have been moved out of the unit (not by my doing, since I've never formally complained nor mentioned any names the few times I wrote about their antics here on the Fifth Nail --- oh, except for counselor Edwards. I couldn't really avoid mentioning his name because he was the unit "counselor").

Right this minute, the other prisoners are arguing over who's after who in the "line" for the phone. This is "normal". They act like it's the most important thing in the world, yelling at and insulting each other constantly. The "line" is just an informal agreement for who's next. If someone wants to use the phone (a black old-fashioned push-button phone with handset and receiver from the 1970s that has a long cord so it can be passed by the guards from cell to cell) then they must yell out, "Put me in line for the phone!" and then whoever is last in line is supposed to yell back, "You're after me!". But, what usually happens is someone forgets where they are in the "line" and so they yell out "You're after me" when they're not last, or maybe someone else yells, "You're after so-and-so", and the line gets all "messed up" and then the arguments inevitably ensue when someone realizes they got "bumped" out of "line". It happens several times a day. I try to avoid the arguments by not asking to use the phone when there is a long line, or a line with certain people "in" it that never remember who they are after who's after them, nor do they even pay attention to who's asking to "get in line", until they suspect they got "bumped" (because they weren't paying attention). It's a typical madhouse. (And if I ever get in the middle of one of the arguments I always just say, "Never mind, I don't need the phone that bad", and let them argue among themselves; which they seem to enjoy.) (Note: The Inmate Telephone System, or "ITS", is set up so each prisoner must "log on" to make a call using a sequence of numbers followed by a voice recognition validation. Once they are logged on they can only call numbers that have been approved for each inmate, and then they can only talk for 15 minutes before the call cuts off and the prisoner must wait 30 minutes from the end of their last call before they can make another call. That's the reason the phone gets passed so much between cells, and the reason prisoners "get back in line" over and over, so they can talk to their friends and loved ones for more than one 15 minute session, which is barely enough time to even say "hello" in terms of any real meaningful conversation. The "ITS" is designed to "thwart" abuse of "telephone privileges". But, all it really thwarts, as usual, is prisoner social contact --- the one and only thing shown to be more important for reducing recidivism than even education. Go figure...)

I know I seem to complain a lot about being in prison. But, the truth be known, I don't really mind being here at all. I told a friend (pen-pal) recently that being on "death row" is just another place to be. The food is terrible, but much better than it could be --- if you consider history, for example, which I usually do. The cells are cold, but I can take a warm shower any time I feel like it (each cell has a stainless steel shower stall), even in the middle of the night if I want. I am thousands of miles away from my family, friends, and fiancée, whom I can barely afford to call 15 minutes at a time (prisoners must pay 90 cent for local calls, $3.10 for national calls, and $14.85 for all international calls; so it gets expensive; and, of course, prohibitive). But, I know I am loved, and I can write my heart out (stamps are cheap and stationary is free) anytime I feel a little lonely. I don't get bored easily, so the T.V. (13' HDTV with about 20 channels, all provided and paid for by the prison to keep the prisoners pacified) and my books to keep me "entertained". I also have an MP3-player with over 400 selections of music and meditation tracks that help me relax and/or "escape" into my mind anytime I want as well (which is very helpful when I don't want to listen to the telephone arguments, for example) by just putting on my headphones (KOSS CL-20s) and turning up the volume.

All-in-all, I think I have it "pretty good", considering. My state of mind is steady and quiet most of the time. I have few worries, since death (as something to worry about) is "off the table" as far as I'm concerned. In fact, the two biggest worries in my life right now are losing my health, and losing contact with my fiancée; both of which are "problems" that death could in fact easily resolve! (And I mean that in only the most serious and upbeat way --- since, for me at least, death is a perfectly valid "solution"). If my health goes south, I can just "volunteer" to be executed, and hence be rid of my useless body. And if something happens with my fiancée, whom I love with all that I am, then I would not even need to "volunteer" in order to know that we will be together again some day --- because that is the promise that love makes.

So, I might even say I am "happy", at least relatively speaking. I am loved, I am comfortable, I am entertained, and I am not confined (within my own mind): What more could anyone want? Christmas dinner, of course! And we get that once a year, too. A feast fit for nearly any king (in history at least), thanks to the modern miracles of agriculture and commerce. So, I'm not complaining at all really. I'm just trying to record things as they are. And if that sounds like I'm complaining... well, that's not my fault either; it's just the way things are.

Merry Christmas!

[J.D. December 24, 2016]