NACHO MOMMA

In the science of captive management practiced by geo-corporation, merchant masterminds have discovered a mother lode of cost-cutting and revenue-enhancement.

Since materials cost money, they've shaved down the width of the racks so much that a fat captive can barely keep himself wedged onto one. These racks are so narrow that he almost has to get up to merely roll over.

Materials are saved in the doors, too: each one has six inches shaved off the bottom; they too, are exceptionally narrow, and they have five large, narrow holes in them. One is a locked food hole, put there as an investment in the future when each of its "medium" prisons is abruptly named into a supermax as the victim-inhabitants eventually go berserk as a result of the constant grind of daily harassment and mental torture.

The other four holes are filled with see-through plastic, giving each of the cages a fishbowl effect. Where hamsters and other rodents are provided shredded paper or a dark box to hide and sleep in, humans are prohibited this luxury. Human victims of commercial captive-ranching operations must be maintained in a high-stress environment to speed their death once they become too old to maintain their health. Cages are the commodity, not captives. Captives are more like the fuel that the industry burns to run the cages. More cages means more people must be branded criminal to fill them. The legislative lasso is limited only by the number of cages.

This being so, there is a premium on prisoner death, particularly in California, where prisoner-victims of medical neglect and deliberate malpractice is so unhidable that three judges finally chose to issue an "ultimatum." They said, in typical, mealy-mouthed legalese, "There are too many mothers, sisters, and brothers out there who simply will not shut up about your death camps! Worse, they've got this `alternative media' thing that we can't control! They are all over the damned net, talking amongst themselves, sharing horror stories, comparing notes and uncovering the truth! We can't hide your death rates any more, and it's going to get worse now that that Obama-kid got in. The same old PR-BS is not working so well anymore. We've got to change our tactics and pretend to do something. This is why we are giving you three years to `release' 57,000 captives. Now, even though this is three years in lawyer-time, it's still going to be very hard to stretch it over the eight years that it will take us to get the country back under our Republican boot-or even a true Democratic boot for that matter. The sad truth is, not even many of those gullible Christians trust us now, and too many people got smart enough to think for themselves. During the past eight years of mega-theft after mega-theft, people got tired of waiting for God to help them. Now some of them are taking his advice and trying to help themselves. Maybe we'll get some assistance from the FBI or the CIA like they helped us out of the Kennedy, King, Kennedy civil rights messes of the sixties, but we can't count on this. We've just got to lay low for a while and let our domesticated media-tools soften citizens' heads with pro-politician PR for a few months before we can get back to business-as-usual full blast. So! Pretend to do something positive for a while, and pray to God we don't lose the Supreme Court to people who suffer oppression instead of see it!"

This fishbowl effect helps the government/merchant alliance exploit their captives in at least two major ways. It sets inmate on inmate, and it helps hinder the intelligent, altruistic captives from their labor of agitating for humane conditions. The process that they capitalize on is this:

The majority of inmates are such self-aggrandizing individuals that their character prevents them from maintaining long-lasting social networks. Prisoncrats assist this process of social network disintegration through several means. One is by cutting off meaningful discourse such as by forcing captives to shout through thick sheets of Plexiglas, by moving captives to other tiny, alien environments every few months, by maintaining an artificial environment of extreme deprivation, or through use of any of one of hundreds of other techniques of harassment, distraction and time-waste.

Every time a captive is uprooted, a large portion of everything he has managed to accumulate is stolen by guard and inmate alike. They particularly look for the usual concealed stockpiles of stamps and envelopes that each forward-thinking captive maintains. Theft of essential supplies plus their usual addictions to sugar, caffeine, nicotine, alcohol and other drugs or vices creates a constant stream of beggars going door to door, vending sob stories with both palms out. The fishbowl door lets them windowshop. All the time that they are let out of their tiny cages to the big cage, you can see them stalking the run, performing low-speed gawk-by's, trying to quickly uncover who is the best prospect for begging. There is a competition and a technique. One must find the loot before he is tapped out by fellow beggars. One must be efficient at uncovering new sources of loot that have remained concealed to less determined beggars.

All beggars, whether casual or determined, are like ducks following their mother except in this case “mom" is the guy at the canteen window trying to fill his sack, and the ducks are the inmates crowding over each other to inventory everything that goes into that sack. The casual beggars will say, "My mom is in the hospital; can you front me a stamp?" (They don't say "please," as would a man.

They instead insinuate themselves into your "family" by calling you 'bro.' (This is efficient beggar-tech for use on targets younger than 50.) They beg a stamp from only three of their prison mommas; they race to the dope inmate and trade them for a toothpick sized cigarette. It takes them 30 minutes to find a place to hide and wheeze that down. Then they are back on the begging track, gawking into cages until they uncover a `bro' drinking coffee. Soon as they get coffee, they've got to get sugar. That's the cycle: stamp, cigarette, coffee, sugar, repeat. Dope is a luxury.

The determined beggars are looking for moms who are new and unaccustomed to being moms. Their beggartech begins with an introduction rather than an abrupt sob story about their mom. The fishbowl lens on the door gives them the courage to fake-knock, sleaze inside and begin their spiel, knowing that the cage has only one occupant who is probably not armed. "Wuzzup, bro!? Ahm yoe new neighbor! Mah `name' is be `shawt dawg.' Wacho name? Dey jus took all-uh mah property an thew me in heah! No reason! Mah momma doan even know Ah been moved! Gimme stamp til draw day! I pay you back!"

This is the standard, advanced beggar-tech spiel. Persons wishing to avoid being drafted into mom status by determined mom-seekers will notice how swiftly the momseekers move from "Hail! Good fellow!" to the "Feed me!" point of their visit. The phony name tells you that he has worn out his real name and possibly other phony names. You really do not want to be his prison-momma when his reputation catches up with his newest name. The prison guards will tell you his reputation if you ask or even make one up. Also, though the state has learned that guards regularly team-up with inmates to mutually exploit or exact ‘societal’ revenge upon other inmates, it still provides this information on the net for all for free. But you don't need this information. Just as he marks you as rich because you have a watch on your wrist, you can tell he is too sleazy to commerce with because he has to hide behind a phony name. Don't shake his hand or bump knuckles. Instead, pretend to tip your imaginary hat. If he's too young to understand this gesture, tell him it's like a salute. Ignore his request for your name. Giving him your name will be taken as friendship, the same way a claw-hammer is friends with the doornail. He will be hollering it at you over long distances and giving it out to his mom-seeking pals as a favor to be returned. Your name is much too valuable to spend on him. You get a troupe of beggars to chase you, and you don't even know the man's name that set them on you. Instead, make him get your name by begging it off a third party. His phony friendship scam should be a cost, not a benefit. No matter how enticing and polished his sobstory, refuse politely to become his supplier. He will busily search your cage with his eyes while he is inside, looking for less costly things to beg for, such as a bar of soap, squirt of shampoo, deodorant, pencil, pen, paper, anything of any value. After his first mooch is escaped, it is vital for him to move down his list until he finds something you will give up to him. He will try one or two more begs before he gives up for that day. More than three attempts to mooch at one encounter risks alienating the target by revealing the scam. Simple politeness is used up after the third mooch even in prison. If you successfully resist his act three times, he will move on to easier targets.

You get about a three-day respite before he returns. This time he `visits' to obtain `free' stuff, such as a bit of toilet paper, for an `emergency,' or he wants a piece of trash that you have already thrown away, which he can turn into drug paraphernalia. It's very difficult to refuse to render emergency sanitary supplies or ordinary trash, but unless you are prepared to become his mom for the duration, you must find a way to avoid servicing him this second time, too.

If you succeed, he may give up. More likely is that he will return a third time. The most skillful of momseekers will have, by now, determined enough of your habits to execute a sophisticated "Plan B." This is where they bring an inexpensive, often utilitarian, item and attempt to give it to you. The purpose is to, at minimum, set precedent that can be used as a social hook for future mooching.

If the target can resist this third attempt at conversion to a mom-figure, he is generally safe from further attempts from that one person. There is, however, an inexhaustible supply of other mother-seekers, so one must continually practice techniques for trumping their schemes. Eventually, you will get more peace and fewer interruptions. If you give them anything, they will spread word of your hospitality, and your cage will become beggar-central.

Yes, the mere addition of fishbowl windows in the doors of cages vastly increased mooching accessibility, which forces faster tumover/replacement of supplies by the mom-substitute, resulting in higher sales/profits by the geo/keefe symbiote/monopolist parasite. Additionally, the increased mommie-seeking traffic creates an incessant distraction for social activist captives to contend with, which slows our work to a glacial pace.

This situation is unacceptable, and it begs a counter effort. In this spirit, we at THINC are instituting a new program designed to help expend the minds of these shorttimer, mommie-seeking "good-time-Charlies". We are making subtle efforts to direct them to larger goals than servicing their every-twenty-minutes addictions. One essay on how to accomplish this is “Why Write?” which is already posted on www.jamesbauhaus.org. More will follow shortly.

Simultaneously with our efforts, we challenge others to write seriously and creatively on solving the problems of confinement as a state program of gleeful deprivation and mindless revenge. Put the mommie-seekers to work at some useful enterprise. Show how you did it. We will help spread the word to the thousands of newsletters, organizations, and institutions that assist or study captives and our psychodynamics. This task can drastically cut down on needless interruptions and the number of times we thinking, goal-oriented social improvement addicts have to tell some grinning, foolish stranger, "Beat it, kid. I'm nacho momma!" With Obama and the Democrats back in power and public outrage at an all-time high, there has never been a better chance for successful improvement than now! THINC!