Monday, November 30, 2009

Memours from a State Prism.

Keep and eye out for the words: "Correspondence" and "Shit-heel".


Dear Jeffrey,

     These dreariful days go by like years on the inside. It's so hard trying to get by hour-by-hour knowing my mind is molting like hot bacon grease. Dripping away into a burnt-out pan that used to be my imagenation. For months the only thing keeping me going has been our corduroyspondence. These letters have kept my body and soul strong and for that I thank-you. But now I've got something else to look forward to! That's right friend, you guessed it. I've got a parade hearing scheduled for the end of the month and that means I'll get realized and finally get to see my special little girl! I've been going over and over in my mind exactly what I'm going to say and do to her when I first see her but I fear when the time comes I'll freeze up and just let my longing take over. It's her birthday soon. She'll be about 10 and a half when I get out and for the love of god I am not going to screw things up this time around.  I can assure you that I'm going to make sure the little bitch doesn't live to see her 11th year! She's going to pay.

     But enough about my troubles. How have you been? How did the big move go? Look at you, little guy in the big city! I was glad to get your letter the other day, it's been so long since you've written. I was about to start thinking you had forgotten me, but I know you're too good for that. I swear I'm not trying to butter you up but I need to ask a small favor. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind writing a letter of recommectadion on my behalf for the parole board? I know it seems like a lot vouchering for a guy you've never actually met but the 'Letters To Prisoners' programs are viewed as an important step in the reabilitation of big lugs like me and a good word from you would be really good for my case.

     That's about all I've got to report to you right now. The food still stinks here but overall rape is down which is good, (but with my amazing meat powers it never has been a problem for me). Warden Chalmers is still a complete shit-heel. Since I've been here he's had less need to eat his hats which is good news for him, I suppose. But as soon as I kill that little slut he's next. 

     Always nice to hear from you, buddy. Keep your fingers crossed that I get out! Maybe we can finally meat and hang out like I've talked about? Get up to some real trouble, eh?

Always and Forever,
'The Butcher'  


Dear Wordgirl,

     My name is Jeff Williams. I'm 25 years old and recent college grad. Recently I moved to the big city and in my search for something meaningful to do with my time I decided to participate in a correspondence program where I write letters to a pen-pal in a correctional facility. People have always told me it's a nice thing to do as it really helps these men and woman out and I've been enjoying my conversations with these people very much but the other day I received some pretty strong warning signs from one of these men and I'm afraid it involves you.

     If you recall not too long ago you foiled the plans of the notorious Butcher during his daylight robbery of Ye Olde Fancy Schmancy Jewelry Store. Well He's recently been approved for a parole hearing at the end of this month and it seems that he's determined to play the part of a rehabilitated man in order to be released and harm YOU! I know you're young and I don't mean to frighten you but I just think it's something you should be aware of. Perhaps you can talk to your friend the Warden and let him know of the Butcher's plans? 

Thanks a lot for your time and keep up the good work cleaning up this town!


Jeff Williams 

P.S. I've enclosed a copy of the Butcher's letter for your further examination and records. 




     What the fuck is wrong with you? Seriously dude. If you're a 'pen-pal' (gay) to those kiddy-diddling monsters in jail and one of them writes that he intends to defraud the judicial parole system and commit further serious crimes then YOU have a responsibility to take the evidence to the appropriate authorities. Don't just come whining to me. I mean how stupid can you really be? I'm a busy girl, I've got other shit to deal with! Why today alone I had to stop and army of giant robots from destroying the financial district, my monkey/sidekick had the super-craps like you wouldn't believe and I had to sit beside a smelly Mexican on the bus! I don't have the time or patience to sit down and deal with your pathetic bullshit. Are you trying to piss me off or are you just looking for attention? I can have you arrested just for sending me this letter, you know. How would it look to the authorities that you're keeping up secret correspondence with a ten-year-old girl, hmmm? Maybe I should just contact Police Commissioner Watson about this? Do you know what they do to child molesters on the inside??? 

Deal with your own problems shit-heel! Don't write here again. 

Beck... I mean Wordgirl

P.S. Your overall grammar is worth shit and for a college grad your vocabulary is frankly, non-existent. I hope you can find gainful employment at a car-wash or crack-house.   

-Dictated but not read- 



Dear Sir/Madam;

My name is Jeff Williams  and I am writing this letter on behalf of my friend , The Butcher,(ID 396-21A). This letter is to ask that you vote positively to grant him parole when he appears before the Parole Board, on Nov 30th 2009.

I understand, and I will never forget, that The Butcher was sent to prison for committing crimes that will have lasting negative effects on the lives of many innocent people. I would never disrespect the seriousness of his behavior by offering an excuse to the board members. All I can say is that The Butcher  has worked very hard while he has been incarcerated to make himself a better person, deserving of another chance in society.

Should you decide to grant him parole, his family will be there to support, encourage and motivate him through a successful transition and progression into a positive member of society.

Thank you for your time and consideration.


Jeff Williams



     Dear Butcher,

     Congratulations on your recent release. Feel free to look me up if you need anything. In the meantime.... you know what you have to do. 

Have fun out there. 



Will The Butcher finally find and destroy Becky B... I mean Wordgirl?

Will Jeff Williams ever improve his grammar and letter-writing abilities?? 

Is Captain Huggy-face trying to write a letter to PETA by smearing feces on a piece of paper??? 

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Uh-oh Kids! It Looks Like Rainbow Six Is Going To Las Vegas!

     "Rainbow is an international counter-terrorism operation hosted by NATO and funded by money funneled through the U.S. Department of the Interior." - Dr. You Don't Need To Know.
     As most of you know the job and life of a professional journalist is a lot of fun but sometimes it can get very hairy, even dangerous. Danger there my be but it all needs to be taken in stride for the common purpose of getting the big scoop! Completing the story, nailing the assignment and bringing the truth to the readers. However on the odd occasion the writer might find he doesn't know which direction the threat is really coming from. 

     In the summer of 2007 I was given, (what I thought at the time) a great opportunity to tag along with the illustrious Rainbow anti-terrorist team on one of their routine training missions. It was a simple hostage situation where a casino had been captured by a crack team of Mexican terrorists. Many were dead, the city was in panic and there was a bomb threat that had the potential to return Las Vegas back to the dessert from whence it sprang. But how could I care when I couldn't understand what the hell anyone was saying!

     The team had all these little phrases and sayings that they would yell all the time and it got me really confused. So killing and fire-fights and defusing bombs took a back seat to a story I found at the time to be much more relevant and interesting:

The Unnecessarily Frequent And Confusing Slang Of 
The Rainbow Six

     The first team member I interviewed was a young British man named Michael Walters. He was something of an expert in demolition or demo-tapes or something dreadfully uninteresting. I tried hard to listen to his story but these little catch-phrases were getting on my nerves. So I put my hand on his thigh and got right to the point. 

Ridiculous Rainbow Quote Alpha:  
"Anyone keeping score?" 

Tedious Anti-terrorist Translation: 

     I've managed to kill a lot of terrorists in the last little while. Has anyone been counting how many of them exactly because I need to know exactly how many times I get to have sex with my wife this evening. You see the other day before agreeing to go on this mission we came to an accord. For every sinner I bring back to God's good justice, she will allow me one pelvic thrust into her nether-region. I realize you're busy keeping alive and saving hostages and what-not but we haven't made love in over three months and I think Cindy might leave me. You can see how important this is to me. 

     Two terrorists brought down by the right-handed frag grenade of God equals only two pelvic thrusts and then she'll pretend to hear the phone ring or tell me the dog is looking at her funny. You gotta help me, fellas! I only blow up two terrorists and I'm only blowing the mood. If I can manage to bag thirteen or fourteen bad guys depending on how slow and deep I go that might be enough for me to uh ... finish up. And me finishing up has been a long time coming! (Get it?) 

     Heh, Heh, Walters, always the joker. However this next soldier I talked to appeared to have a few more things on his plate than he really seemed able to handle. But I would never tell him that to his face. He might beat me to death.

Ridiculous Rainbow Quote Beta:
"Fragged and Tagged."

Tedious Anti-terrorist Translation:

     It means I just blew another human being to bits with a little hand-held explosive and now to celebrate I'm going to say this cute little rhyme. In fact while sitting down to a nice steak dinner tonight I'm going to "accidently" say it in front of my family. I'll ask my wife, without looking me in the eyes to pass me the casserole and I'll yell,  "Yeah! Fragged and Tagged," while accepting the dish. 

     Then my faggot son will squeak, "What's that mean, Sir?" Of course I'll only tolerate this question if he's not looking me directly in the eyes. After slowly chewing my food and staring him down for approximately one hundred and twenty seconds I'll reply, 
     "Well Junior, that's what Daddy says when something good happens to him. Like when Daddy scores a touchdown at football, or when his beautiful sex-pot of a wife passes him some delicious broccoli casserole. It's also what I say after I blow a beaner terrorist half-way to Tijuana with a fuckin' grenade! Boom!"

     Hopefully by now my little girly son's crying isn't so loud that he, (pffft! More like she) can't hear the rest of my hilarious antic-dote. 
      "Your father also likes to yell this little saying at the dead Mexican's corpse a few dozen times, getting louder and louder while kicking the pile of bloody, anti-freedom flesh over and over until Daddy's partners have to pull him away. Fragged and Tagged!"

     That ought-to straighten my son out. Get him out there playing some more sports instead of taking all these girly math classes. Freaking gays and their fractions and multiplications. The only math my family needs is division. The division of those left-wing faggot nut-jobs from my clean, all-American family unit!  

     Officer Logan went on at length after this about proper family unit hierarchies and why it's important for no one but the President or your son's high school gym teacher to ever look you directly in the eyes. One might think that conducting this interview while in a moving helicopter would be very boring as the interviewer literally has to sit through the whole story and can't go anywhere but believe me, after about an hour and a half of this tree of a soldier readying my mind for the upcoming 'war on musical theatre'  unhitching myself and jumping to my death was seeming more and more like a logical option.   

     Running around, being shot at and trying to understand what these gigantic crazy men were even talking about was a little too much for me. I mean do you all realize how heavy a bullet-proof vest really is? They're massive! I took mine off after five minutes of being there, I didn't care.

     So retiring to the casino bar for a much deserved cappuccino I decided to let some other press hacks take over the interview. Of course they only wanted to talk about 'hostages' and 'death' and all those unpleasant things. I say let them have their little stories. Mine is much more interesting.