I choose death. Death for me, DEATH DEATH DEATH DEATH DEATH DEATH DEATH. Would you? If you were convicted of something heinous, and you had a choice of solitary confinement for life, or the death penalty, you would choose life? Not me.
Believe me; I think this awful terrorist should die. I’m annoyed that this country doesn’t use the death penalty more often either. I wish they would use the death penalty for crimes that don’t involve murder; I got a couple assholes that cut me off in traffic yesterday that should disappear.
Even better, have someone you care about disappear. That’s how I would run "Ray’s America." Ah, yes, I like the sound of that. “Ray’s America.” A fascist democracy. Live free, until you cross me. Do something I don’t like, and overnight, your wife disappears. “Why is there so much room on the bed? Why is there only a pillow where my lovely wife’s head should be?” Enough of my worldly ambitions, back to the task at hand.
You’re in solitary. Stuck in a room. Eight by Five feet. A closet. You can’t walk in it. 23 hours a day. Underground. Everything is concrete, including your “sleeping area”, which is nothing more than a concrete slab extending out of the wall, no pillows. A couple of books, but restricted. There’s TV, but you had more options of what to watch in the 50’s; it’s 4 channels of “religious programming.” One hour a day to go out and walk around. And the area you walk around in is small, and guarded, with a small window where you can see the sky.
And no companionship. In jail for life, no chance for parole, you would adapt and probably have sex with men. It’s not even a gay thing; it’s just a lack of options. In the general population, I would be a HOT commodity. Admit it, you think I'm cute. But totally by myself? I remember being nineteen, a virgin and alone, practically ready to throw myself off of the Throggs Neck Bridge. I’m not going back there again.
So solitary confinement, no thank you, I have a date with a syringe and some potassium chloride. Inject me with those needles, let the cool sting of the chemicals rush through my body, and let me dream.
Believe me; I think this awful terrorist should die. I’m annoyed that this country doesn’t use the death penalty more often either. I wish they would use the death penalty for crimes that don’t involve murder; I got a couple assholes that cut me off in traffic yesterday that should disappear.
Even better, have someone you care about disappear. That’s how I would run "Ray’s America." Ah, yes, I like the sound of that. “Ray’s America.” A fascist democracy. Live free, until you cross me. Do something I don’t like, and overnight, your wife disappears. “Why is there so much room on the bed? Why is there only a pillow where my lovely wife’s head should be?” Enough of my worldly ambitions, back to the task at hand.
You’re in solitary. Stuck in a room. Eight by Five feet. A closet. You can’t walk in it. 23 hours a day. Underground. Everything is concrete, including your “sleeping area”, which is nothing more than a concrete slab extending out of the wall, no pillows. A couple of books, but restricted. There’s TV, but you had more options of what to watch in the 50’s; it’s 4 channels of “religious programming.” One hour a day to go out and walk around. And the area you walk around in is small, and guarded, with a small window where you can see the sky.
And no companionship. In jail for life, no chance for parole, you would adapt and probably have sex with men. It’s not even a gay thing; it’s just a lack of options. In the general population, I would be a HOT commodity. Admit it, you think I'm cute. But totally by myself? I remember being nineteen, a virgin and alone, practically ready to throw myself off of the Throggs Neck Bridge. I’m not going back there again.
So solitary confinement, no thank you, I have a date with a syringe and some potassium chloride. Inject me with those needles, let the cool sting of the chemicals rush through my body, and let me dream.
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