CURRENT EVENTS UPDATE

Apparently, my recently published article in the Daily Beast has come to the attention of at least one old high school friend who I haven't heard from in over 50 years and one inmate at MCC whose parents are educated, knew the name of his bunky, and told their son about what they'd read.

So because I'm not allowed to "associate" with convicted felons as per my probation conditions, I feel I can convey updates and current events here.

After the CO came and told me to "pack out" that morning, I was picked up by the NYPD and bounced around harshly in a tiny plastic cubicle located at the rear of a Ford van. (Now I know how that kid in Baltimore died.) Any kind of accident on the highway to Rikers Island and I'd have been face-planted severely. As it was, I hurt my back from the pounding owing to (in part) the officer not taking the time to fasten my seat belt.

While packing my bags and going down to R & D (so out of pocket), I was informed that a) I couldn't take any of my shit with me...and b) my commissary money would follow me to Rikers (yeah, sure). So freaked out was I that I forgot to ask for my glasses and didn't even realize that mistake until I arrived at intake at Rikers. Hence, no reading for my stay.

Rikers had some advantages. Numerous free phone calls. And an hour a day outside in the yard. The first day there I paced the track and dimensions and told one of the guards that the yard was exactly 2.25 acres and the track .15 miles. To which he asked "What are you OCD?" To which I thought "You don't know OCD until you roomed with my last bunky!"

Surprisingly, Rikers boasted very few of those musclebound knuckleheads that were so prevalent in 5 South. Not that they weren't knuckleheads. They just weren't musclebound. 

Drugs at Rikers differed from MCC. No chinita nor tobacco. But tons of weed (I was invited to a shower room pot party within 30 minutes of my arrival). And the guys ground up Lyrica (for fibromyalgia) and snorted it. Half the jail was on methadone.

Food at Rikers blew chunks. And there wasn't much of it. I got a job in the kitchen ASAP so I could eat. There was a crazy Russian version of Y who took me under his wing. One of my fondest memories of Rikers was dumping garbage on the loading dock at dawn with a purple sky featuring the Manhattan skyline to the right and airplanes taking off from the Marine Air Terminal to the left. Sweet! I Stopped for a minute simply to take it in knowing I'd never see this vista again.

Work at Rikers paid much better than MCC. The first guard took a liking to me after I told him all about Manafort and Epstein. He offered to put $50 on my books if I'd sweep the unit and mop and clean the bathroom. Figuring my money from MCC would either arrive late or not at all (not at all as it turned out), I took the job. It was a good decision. Maybe I worked 5 hours for that $50. CEO pay compared to MCC I'm sure you agree.

As you can imagine, I told everybody within shouting distance all about how I was falsely imprisoned and of course, nobody paid much attention. But eventually after 18 incredibly boring (nothing whatever to do at Rikers especially with no glasses) days, I was brought before the judge who apologized for the error and assured me I'd be out soon. And on the night of November 26th, I was finally released to go home.

And yes, I'm suing. The papers have been filed. And yes, it's a slam dunk win. Just depends on how much - not if. A guard at Rikers told me the city usually pays $1000/day for false imprisonment. My lawyer is asking for 400k. Hey! Shoot for Pluto and settle for Saturn, right?

It wasn't easy finding an attorney who wanted to take the case because whether it's for 18 years, months or days, the footwork is all the same. Fortunately, I know a landlord tenant lawyer from the escort business who told me he'd take me on if I did all the footwork. 

If nothing else, I now know my way around 100 Centre Street. At some point, he remarked "You're a pretty good paralegal." And on the phone, the court reporter addressed me as counselor. "Counselor my ass," I exploded. "I'm the fucking defendant." She told me I'd missed my calling and might reconsider my career objectives. Not happening sister. If I looked in the mirror and saw anything resembling the shyster who relieved me of 150k, I think I'd kill myself.

Even after almost 3 months, I still cherish that time at home during which I can "depth charge" at will with little regard to potency, "hang time," or how long it takes. But life is boring for the moment. I can't travel. And I can't consort with my old set (at least the escort set). 

Watching the videos of my favorite country tunes was orgasmic. Runaway June are waaaay hot! And that Eric Church song I liked so much has a video with a plot about a prisoner going in - and getting out at the end of the vid. Gave me chills. Almost like "Rednecker Than You!"

I went back to volunteering the day after the night I got home and was welcomed with big hugs, kisses and sincere warmth. Hey! Who doesn't appreciate free labor? My favorite girl at Meat Loaf fell off a mountain, broke a bunch of bones, and got married all in the span of a year. A lot of people were worried about me and wanted to visit. But that visiting room was the worst. I explained I didn't need visitors at MCC. I just needed to get the fuck out.

I have spoken with nobody from MCC except Noble and Plorde. And that's because 3 months later, I still don't have my $1300. Now there's a surprise! MC fucking C. Just amazing!

As far as the media exposure on Daily Mail...that came about from that music business guy I know. He called them and pitched me and my story. The fee I charged paid my entire year's rent. How's that for turning lemons into lemonade? And I have Fox Nation and Discovery ID appearances coming, both part of Jeffrey Epstein documentaries. 

Naturally, I'm working on a book deal. A few people are trying to help. The beauty of the situation lies in the low expectations media people entertain concerning criminals and ex-cons. When they meet me, it's the old "What the fuck was a polysyllabic guy like you doing in prison?" I couldn't agree more.