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MCC: The Kiddy Camp of Sex Offenders

Hey blog readers, it’s Sundog stil coming to you live at MCC, the kiddy camp for sex offenders.

It’s still unreal to me the special treatment they get. But my venting today is not about the skinners, it’s about another crazy roomate, well, cellmate. I come home today to find a message for me. It said, “I hate Faggots.” Yes in 2010 we still live in an insecure world. Fuckin hick named “Mike Monk” He is a lobstering fool. He is twenty-five years old with a girlfriend who looks like a man. He’s fuckin bipolar just like all the rest of them that I’ve roomed with. I have two months left. Maybe he’ll get a leg caught in a lobster trap and drown. Prejudice mother fucker. Why is haters still alive? Stop the fucking hate! I do not hate him, I loath him. I despise him! But I don’t hate him. Good luck buddy on the probation. Karma’s a bitch like I’ve said before. I strongly believe in “what comes around goes around” That goes for Mr. Back Stabber and all the ignorant workers of MCC. If you’re a bigot CO please go back to your little lives. Take a fuckin bus to the land of Fuck Yourself. I have to put up with COs making gay remarks. Not to me but standing directly beside me. Gotta have to say hey “Eclaire” lay off the free meds. I see you high all the time. Karma brings closure for me! You know, “eclaire” hasn’t been getting high any more, it was just in the summer.

Do you think they (the state workers) get drug tested? Probably not. Go away, bigots, the world doesn’t need your impure thoughts and racism anymore!

There’s always a rainbow after the rain.

Yours truly,

– Sundog

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Hey everybody out there,

I just got done facilitating a class.  I have another class at 9:30 to 11:30.  Then the rain closet.

I just want to talk about some stuff to try to sell on the internet so I can get some money.  I need money in the worst way, too.  My boss is on  leav4e for a while and I am trying to save the stamps and phone time untill next month.  She didn’t put in 9our hours or anything so I don’t even know if we are going to be getting paid the whopping twentyfive hours I got in July.  Fucking sucks.  Got a raise to 80 cents and hour,  but, 35% comes off the top before I even see any of it.

Sorry.  I am bitching again.  Just stressing about stuff, you know.  As far as selling stuff I have: a paintings on canvas: “tulips,”  “space,”  “chickadees,”  “a spooky tree with an evil moon in back,”  “a big eyeball with yin-hang for the pupil,”  “a city scape at night reflecting on the water,” and, last one: “a shack on ocean front with clouds.”

I can also crochet stuff.  Like, to order.  I can bang out hats in two hours with stuff grafted onto them.  Actually, everyone wants hats with their MDOC# on them.  Also with their children’s names on them.

We get two free mailing a week here, but that’s about it.

Hope to hear from someone soon.

Love: Arline

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Mama Love insisted that if we were home that the boys would eat together.  Most nights she would eat with us, the exceptions being if we had pissed her off severely or if my father was home.  If he was home, then they would eat together in the living room or the study.  As a family we spent a lot of time around each other.  I can remember wondering why, when I went to my friend’s houses, why they didn’t eat together, or spend as much time around each other.  A big reason behind learning to cook was just wanting to be around Mama Love.  My younger brothers had no desire to learn; their interest in food began and ended with the placement of food on the table.  I selfishly wanted to,and got to, spend time with her that was ours alone.

When I first moved in with the Fortunes, there were already two older boys there, Nate and Mark.  Nate was long-term foster care – he had lived with the Fortunes for around eight years.  After I’d been there for a year, Nate graduated from high school and moved back with his biological family.  Mark was adopted by the Fortunes exactly a year before I was and was the oldest until he graduated and moved out (well, he stayed for a year after graduation, “finding his way” and all that.)  For about four years after I was the oldest son and with my father spending more time out of the house than in it, I was the de facto head of the household, with most if not all of the responsibilities that came with it.

Mama Love had over fifty foster kids during her time working with DHS, so I have spent more time wiping butts, giving baths and telling bed-time stories than some parents I know.  We used to get looks when we went out because of how many of us there were and the fact that some of us were lack and some of us were white.  My father is 6’6″, 280 pounds and black and Mama Love was a red-headed, short, white woman.  Mark was around 5’9″, stocky, almost pudgy white, with short, spiked hair.  I was and still am a 5’9″ dark, full-blooded Haitian, Leo (another adopted-brother) a 6’6″ light skinned half-Jamaican.  James, a biological Fortune, was young, white with bright red hair (think of the kid from “Jerry McGuire,”) glasses and freckles, while Tony (adopted brother) was young, half-black / half-white with green eyes.  I never looked at my upbringing as different.  It was just the way my family was.

My mother was the keeper of my secrets, hopes and dreams.  She was the one person in my life that has ever loved me unconditionally.  As my father and I were too similar to talk, share, or even like each other much, she was by default, my mother and father (him not being around much helped as well.)  While, in fairness, my adopted father did teach me some aspects of how to be a man, some lessons I needed (like to always take responsibility,)  other lessons that shaped me at an early age have left me wondering the cost, i.e. the ones about how men never show emotions like pain and hurt, or how men never cry and rarely apologize.  It was Mama Love who really taught me why it is important to be a man.  How it is your actions and not your age that make you a man, and that the two best things that I can do for my loved ones are as follows: firstly, if you really love someone then you are there for them at all times, not just when you’re needed, and secondly that it is more important to make sure loved ones have what they need rather than what they really want.

I remember walking into the house after school or practice (I played three sports: football, basketball and baseball, so almost every day after school I had practice or games and wouldn’t get home until four or five at the earliest) and being greeted by the smells of cooking food and the sounds of my brothers.  It was as if when I opened the door to my house I entered another world.  The sounds would hit me as soon as I opened the fake wooden-paneled door, depending on the time my brothers would be in the room on my right, “the library” (which is where we had desks and computers for homework or personal use) doing their homework quietly.  Well, it was supposed to be done quietly, but, when have boys ever been in a group and ever done anything quietly?  In fact, it was when we were quiet that we were up to something.  As soon as we stopped making noise you could count on Mama Love coming to investigate.

When I would shut the door the smell of cooking food would permeate my nostrils.  It was as if my house was a cocoon that opened itself up and embraced me with sounds and smells of love, like they were just waiting for me to come home and now my night, my family’s night and our house’s night was complete.

(More to follow.)

As I am,

Prince

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For all who don’t know me I am Pastor Dudley right now  I am working in pat with Maple Tree Ministries on Christ Mission Prison Outreach Project

So far what we have been able to do is pass out books and bibles we also pass out the prisoners free list which gives people opinions for different things that they can have sent free of charge to help them grow in Christ.

I have also done my best on helping inmates who have no support on the outside of the prison when it comes down to getting stamps and hygene items for what I have come to find is that when you are an inmate you need to hope you get money from the outside world.

It has been a blessing for so many inmates here in the B.O.P. I pray for Gods help to come up with more funds for as of a few months ago Christ Mission has run out of funds for the copys we make of the free list, supplies to type out the four news letters we write a year.

I keep doing gods work none the less by working with inmates spreading Gods word. I ask for your prayers and help with funding for Christ Mission even  $2.50 a day could go a long way when it is used for gods work.

Thank you for your prays

Pastor Dudley

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Hey, ,readers.

This is all I got left to say about what one needs in order to be a philosopher.

E = Exploration.  So, what happens when we run into questions that we cannot answer, or if we are in a situation where it looks or feels hopeless?

For me, this is why Allah and hope are the most important things in my life.  Both my life and the history of the world are littered with mistakes and no-win situations, but this is only possible because we refuse to stay beaten and accept things the way they are.  Philosophy has taught me that I must continue to search for answers, yet understand that some questions cannot be answered, and a lot of situations are beyond my control.

That doesn’t mean that I must curl up and give up.  With hope and faith, I can and will not be broken by any circumstances that I face.  I have the tools to make any situation better, and to endure.  There is a reason why miracles are so special, it is because they are beyond human purview.  They are not meant to be understood or explained.  Yet are miracles possible without faith and hope?

In moments like this I think of the Serenity Prayer:

“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

The study of philosophy has reinforced my faith and hope by making me realize how much I don’t know, and by extension how much humanity doesn’t know.

It is because of how small my world and life is; I have to be reminded just how strong and powerful hope and faith can be.

As I am,

Prince

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Well,

No one’s been killed yet.  No, I have not padlocked or stabbed anyone.  I heard there’s a lot of people in here with hepatitis C and I don’t want any part of that at all.  If it comes down to it, I’ll either hit somebody with a chair or kick them in the manhood.

Anyway, during the lock-down they took our padlocks away and they found quite a few weapons in other pods.  Our pod was the last one they searched, so everybody got ample time to get rid of their weapons,.  Lots of flushing was going on during the lock-down.

Been looking at the town populations somebody sent me.  It’s hard to believe that “Hardshell” only has a population of twelve people.  Must be located in a remote place (really remote.)  Now you got me curious about the history of Hardshell.  I might end up changing the name to “Hardsell,” as in it’s a hard-sell to get people to live there and put it on the farthest frontier island, probably just make it an old hideout for certain people or a place of exile.  Plus “Nooseneck: and “Pelican Point” would be it’s nearest neighbors (30 miles away.)

So Monhegan Island has seventy -five people on it?  Thought it had more.  Guess they don’t get many tourists in the summer.  Sounds like a great place to get away from it all, being so far away from the mainland..

Well, goodnight, everyone.   Can’t believe it’s almost August.

Kenneth McDonald

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Hey, Circle,

Today would have been my Bampi’s birthday.  But, since he has passed on, I guess he won’t be getting older, huh?  I called you guys around 7:30 pm earlier, but no answer.  Don’t know if there is a specific time I should call or what, but I tried and I will again in a day or so.

When I didn’t hear from anyone for a few days I was worried that I had did something to piss you guys off.  But, thank God, just a big worry wart, I guess.

As far as writing goes, I do, or did take writing classes, but I have always loved to write, even before I got arrested.  I am working on a memoir of the Arline Lawless story.

My son, Damien, is doing good.  He starts tutoring on the 11th.  He is a little handsome devil.  He looks just like me.  When I get rich and famous I will send you guys a picture of our visit in May.

I have P.T.S.D.  When a door slams, it sends me into a panic attack.  Guess that has to do with the gunshot wound to the face, but hey, I am also afraid to get into a relationship for fear that the same thing will happen.  I talk to mental health a lot.  I think I might have sensory problems too.

What do you think of that?

Love,

Arline

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Circle,

How are you guys?  I did get your letter today; I guess you could say I am great for now.  I will write you a news letter soon, plus another blog entry for you guys (I guess you could say this one’s just ho hum.)  Sorry.  Had a lot going on around here.

As I told Dark Star in my letter to her, if I had a number I could call her, but, I guess if she really wants nothing to do with me then whatever, I just lost a lot of friends.  I just thought she was at least a little different.

I did try to call you guys a few times today.  As you know if takes alot to get stamps for anything, unless you guys have money.  So I will send you this letter, but I will finish my newsletter-blog and see what I can about getting it copied and sent out.

I still don’t know yet if I can see or even speak to my kids yet.  I should know after tomorrow, for if all works out I should be on the phone for court at 3 pm.

Lori still does not send me pictures and mom has to fix her printer first before she can.  I guess you could say same old same old, right?

I guess you could say any pictures of Dark Star, Arline, my kids,  or anything else you want to send.

I’ll write again real soon.

Father Dudley

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Political Prisoners

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