BRED FOR CRIME: NUNIO MORALES

Just to show you what kind of miseducated people prisons contain, I offer 'Villa' as an example. He's a 44 year old San Antonio Mexican who had a judge take 18 solid years of his life because he was drunk among friends, one or two of whom decided to steal a watch off the arm of a fellow drunk. (Of course he'd been previously enslaved for drunken hooliganism and had a judge take 11 years of his life then.) This means he was 15 when he first went to prison and subsequently had virtually no other contact with civilized society since. He gets out in February, and the first thing he will do is go get drunk.

Being short, as all Mexicans usually are, Villa (whom I've named after Pancho, the guy who gave the US govt so much trouble at the beginning of this century) has both the little-man's complex and suffers cultural affectations of machoism. This makes him a loud, obnoxious Chihuahua easily set to barking by sleights, mostly imagined, to his manhood. The Negroes love to bait him all the time while the gates are locked and no one can get to them or anyone else. The same scenario ever repeats: him barking death threats and insults while the Negroes laugh and guffaw at their cleverness at belittling him. Before the gates are opened, the Negroes all apologize to make sure he doesn't find a way to slice them up. Soon as they am all safely back in their cages and bored, the Negroes repeat this cycle.

A disgusting little-man/machismo-induced behavioral flew he exhibits is a thing he performs after urination. Part of the diabolical torture of the scum who design and run prisons is to force people to shit and piss in public. When Villa excretes, his back is only ten feet from me, and in front of him is anyone strolling the corridor and the prisoners in the cage across the way, who are always draped in the gate, staring and gaping at any movement in the hall or in nearby cages. With an audience on both sides, Villa ends his pissing with many diggings and gropings to his crotch, as if he is sexually abusing himself or is having some great difficulty stacking his genitals back into his pants just right. Then he violently slaps his organ to and fro a few times; more if someone is watching. In doing this, he makes loud smacking noises that attract attention, and sprays urine far and wide, sometimes causing him to wipe off his legs, but not the sink or anything else. If he is angry at me, he does this slapping routine both before and after urination.

Villa is fairly intelligent and he doesn't harbor the hatred of white culture that most Negroes and Hispanics have. He can't read English very well, and only reads the Bible. His main occupation is pacing and hollering for tobacco and coffee. He has done this and little else for 29 years. He takes at least four pills twice a day, and claims he has bipolar disorder, which is likely, as well as schizophrenia of some type. (He also rocks back and forth at times, indicating either autism or a reaction from the drugs he takes.) I think that schitzophrenia is a term that the psychological sciences are phasing out as having become too stigmatising. I've met many schitzoids in here on schizoid medication that call their disorder 'bipolar'.

Villa makes 12 ounces of coffee with three tablespoons of instant crystals and slugs them down one after another until he has drank the whole bag or fallen into a sleep of fatigue after up to 48 hours of apparent wakefulness. During these manic stages he does calesthenics as well as paces, and smokes with much hacking and gagging with each inhalation. He eats this prison food with relish, almost throwing the stuff down his gaping hole. (All prisoners I've seen eat extremely fast, like dogs with worms.) He even eats the poisonous ground gut-meats and is glad to have mine too. He has almost constant diarrhea as a result, as do most of these prisoners, yet appears to think such is normal. He likes to emit loud farts as a way to demonstrate his power and make up for his minimal stature. Just last week I gave him my mound of macaroni and gutmeat. About 18 hours later he tried to squeeze out a loud fart and shit a curtain of diarrhea down his leg and onto the floor. His subsequent defecation sounded like a torrent from Niagra. Apparently he hasn't connected the bubbling gut-pains that rotten meat gives everyone as a signal that diarrhea is forthcoming.

During his manic episodes he sometimes determines to clean tables and floors. In this he is meticulous and detailed. A common source of worry for many prisoners is a dirty toilet bowl, and Villa zones on it more than most. Worse than his piss-flinging is his proclivity toward grabbing a rag and diving into the toilet with both hands, scrubbing away. This he does first, then, as an apparent afterthought, he took this same rag and rinsed it out in the sink, wiping every surface, then headed for the floor to mop with it, sans soap.  (Adequate quantities of soap are very hard to obtain in prison.)

Trying to enlighten him about septic procedures is a lost cause. He immediately takes offense though I use every art I know to bring him to discover for himself how he is spreading infection rather than cleaning it up. To him I represent the smug, know-it-all oppressor race that stole his life.

He will be returned to jail and prison within one year of their release of him, solely due to alcohol induced crime, such as petty theft or assault. A sanctimonious judge/DA will read that he grew up in prison, and on this information and little else, see that he dies in prison. The courtcrats will congratulate themselves in costing taxpayers over $200,000 on this one alcoholic alone so far. They will celebrate costing us at least another $200,000 on this one alcoholic during the last segment of his life.

I'm so proud to be an American, but I'm embarrassed to feed these lawcrat crocodilians so profusely.