My worst job? Every job that pays is a good job. American Jobs are so fabulous that people are digging tunnels to get past our worthless politicians and take jobs we "wont" do. (These are jobs that do not pay enough.) One job like this was forced on me by the prison cops became their record on me indicates that I have the Caucasian's work ethic on me bad. I hated this job with a passion. This job sucked so badly that it was all I could do to force myself to go ahead and do it for 30 days, before t could finally twist the prison bureaucrats enough to let me out of it. For a prison job, it was deluxe, It paid top dollar. Ordinary jobs paid $8-16 per month. This one paid $35! Plus, it paid some kind of incentive too, like good food every so often, it was clean. The work was not hard. The hours were short, and I’m sure the cops who ran it would bring you stuff from the outside, within reason.

So, what was the snag? You had to torture and murder animals, then slice and grind them up into beer and pork products. Every day they had me blowing the brains out of 20 cattle and slitting the throats of 40 hogs. We'd string them up, hack their guts out, rip their skins off and chop away their heads. One of the most macabre sights on the kill floor was whoever had to run the monstrously huge, clattering electric chainsaw to split the carcasses in half, lengthwise, down their spines. The day they were told to let me go, the boss came over and offered me a pep talk and a raise. While he tried to get me to stay, the Negro who was to replace me listened intently. At the end, when I still declined to stay, he became very excited at being able to grease into my place. Even so, his good fortune, courtesy ofme, was not enough. He decided to heighten his happiness with a tear at me. He said to me, "Can't handle it, huh?"

I had to laugh, and then told him, "No slick, I don't want to handle it!"

My worst job was the best job to him. Considering the unemployment rate for young Negroes, it may have been the first and only `real' 'paying' job he had ever had. He managed to keep it for almost six whole months before finally being thrown out for stealing. Meanwhile, I escaped the state's torture and harassment facility and worked a string of jobs that only the most desperate of wage slaves.. would do. A big Indian and I unloaded 100 lb bags of potato flakes out of boxcars. Breathing the thick clouds of dust that this produced took years off our lungs as it strengthened our muscles.

I worked for a pack of heroin addicts who ran a carpet cleaning business. The pay was so bad that I was paying them to take my labor, but I still enjoyed the work. Later, I almost died trying to keep up with youngsters on a Fort Worth city trash truck in 100-Degree heat. After I left, a guy fainted while hanging onto the side of the truck, which backed up over him.

A team of us ran house to house for miles in a rainstorm delivering advertising flyers no one wanted stuck on their doors. This work often tore up peoples feet so badly that they had to take days off to heal, making the wage into a loss. (For more on these jobs see my free online book, "Jail-Break").

In Branson, t worked for years at a job that most people would wretch at just thinking about. I dug up sewage pits, replaced the pipes and hauled the feces away to farmers' fields.

Every one of these jobs was beneath my capabilities and paid far less than the utility they provided. Government and merchants have always sabotaged wages, unions and collective bargaining, and they always will.

Even so, no matter how unpleasant the job, every one of them beats the hell out of mooching off someone, standing around trying to sell drugs or watching for something to steal. Even the most disgusting job I ever had, torturing and killing farm animals, still gave me a sense of pride and accomplishment because I learned to do it well and efficiently, as a member of a team working toward the same goal. I feel sorry for all the animals I've killed, but I feel just as sorry for the people who have never had a job, have lived on welfare, lived off stealing or people that lived off selling drugs for a living. Despite all the rap songs that try to glorify, it, this is not a life anyone would want unless he was seriously misinformed. Anthropologists call this type of life mere `subsistence'. The culture that celebrates it is defective. Who would actually choose a short, uneducated, hate-filled life of poverty, handouts, and prison over a long life of buying a home, educating your kids, watching them prosper and eventually dying among hordes of grand children and great grand children to pass on your love, endowment and legacy?

The job is the difference. All my drug-selling friends are long dead. The thieves rot in prison. Any outside contacts they have dwindle to nothing as the years elapse. A steady paycheck is what makes you rich, not a pocket full of 20s from selling coke crumbs. True friends are made at work. False friends are the drug addicts on the comer and the thieves prowling through the night. They'll drag you down if you let them.

The job is the key to success, and you can even succeed in prison with a job that you make for yourself. I speak of writing, for one, which is my favorite job. With it, I improve society, the highest work, by pointing out its faults and proposing better ways that benefit everyone. Some of my best work is in my proposals to powerful political figures, all of which are posted on the net at www.jamesbauhaus.org. Thousands and thousands of people read them, agree with them, and write these politicians themselves saying, "These are great ideas! Why aren't we doing this?" This is a force that is always pushing politicians to do right. Your own prisoner express site does the same when you let it! Most of our writers seem to forget we were given such a powerful tool for social improvement. We can't dial it up and read our efforts off a computer, but it's there. Want to see how well we're doing our job of attracting an audience? Ask Gary to tell us how many hits and visits we get. Hits are readers, and visits are persons who have downloaded copies for sharing with others. The intemet service provider collects all kinds of statistics on the efficacy of each website. Maybe he will publish these in the newsletter as an incentive for us to write mom accurately and effectively.      .

Our job is to write more effectively. Effectiveness is not re-living the past, it is about learning from our mistakes and effecting a better future. This is what Gary and his band of altruistic university students are allowing us to do. Let us all make good use of everyone's time, effort and good will by doing this job the best we possibly can.

My worst job is kicking these greedy, malicious politicians, bureaucrats, cops, lawyers, judges and citizens off our necks. Captives and our families are easily exploitable gold mines for anyone with a generic grudge against everyone branded `criminal' by any authority figure. State politicians are particularly cunning in creating ways to profit from this target population of the universally hated. State politicians have no foreign policy to exploit, making them turn their predatory instincts toward citizens. trapped within their state political boundary. The safest people for them to target are the people already raped of our rights and the people who are connected to us yet too ashamed of us to stand up and say, "No! This is one outrage too many!" For example, one of these perpetual wealth-chasers is Oklahoma senator Kenny Corn. He saw some greedy politicians in Nevada vote to simply steal 25% of every dime a convict's kin sends him. These slick-lipped legislatures excused this crime by claiming they are entitled to pick your mom's pocket because of the cost of keeping you caged for years and years. This is what happens when single-minded fanatics with common goals gather to connive without any outside, moderating influence. They justify any type of social depravity, same as any other torch lit mob with hounds abiding. Corn copied this law and brought it to Oklahoma, same as other members of the silk suit mob brought it to every other state. Like children voting for candy and pop, Corn's fellow esteemed legislators voted to empty your mom's purse into their pockets. This was in 2005. It took us prison activists three hard years, but we finally prevented these legislative dim wits from enforcing their shiny new law. It sits in the dark, still enacted, and waiting for a time when they judge they can spring it with acceptable backlash.

State tax-scientist stay busy. The corporate prison industry, spawned by politicians, actively buys politicians and writes captive-exploiting legislation for them. Our politicians take these millions and enact these laws with machine gun rapidity. This is why we captives now pay $45 per pound of salt, $135 per pound of pepper. This is why we are forced to pay 50 cents for a 15-cent bag of noodles with flavored sludge. This is why everything we buy costs about 60% more than it costs citizens who do have the U.S. constitution (equal protection of the law; due process of law) and the Sherman Anti-Trust Act (outlaws monopolies) and the Clayton act (outlaws price gouging and corporate collusion). This is why we are forced to eat poisonous food (sodium nitrate laden processed scrap meats) that gives us digestive system cancer after a few years. This is why they force us to buy their sub-standard, high priced prison-made clothing instead of supplying it themselves.

While I'm researching, writing and mailing. hundreds of letters, most of my `peers' are watching sports, scheming a mooch or actively collaborating with the ones feasting off us. These traitors are slaves to drugs, cell phones, sex and food, All of which they obtain from their captors. They sell everyone into the stewpot so that they can make special private deals benefiting themselves alone.

This is what makes this my worst job. I try to make our rights fly away more slowly, while multitudes of shortsighted sellouts steer us over the cliff at high speed. My only consolation is that, after their third or fourth trip to prison, they would experience the fruit of their labor, far worse daily torture and harassment at the whim of their masters.