Lessons learned: Ex-con finishing school

If I could bottle the success I’ve experienced since re-entering the free world there would be no recidivism. It would be my duty to stand at the prison gates and give away free samples.

So, I’ll give it a go. Here’s my free sample:

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about finishing school for ex-cons. Social graces learned, in preparation for re-entering society. For me, slow and steady wins the race. Instant gratification is a thing of the past, and the race will never end.

One of the first things I did after putting down the multitude of poisons that I had commissioned to kill me, was learn to read. I don’t mean that I didn’t know how to read at all. Sure I did. Freak Brothers and Zap Comic books, and High Times magazine. I started feasting on books and, lo and behold, my vocabulary expanded as did my place in the world. I believe the two are closely related.

My finishing school has plenty more where that came from:

 

  • Why say, “that mother-fuckin’ shit’s the bomb,” when you could say, “that’s delicious.” The bomb squad won’t show up, and people will take you seriously.
  • Here’s another one: Walking like a rooster is no longer needed.
  • For those of you still inside who walk with both your hands down your pants, nobody out here will try to steal your wiener. Let it go.
  • Another thing I’ve learned out here is that shirts have sleeves. They were named wife-beaters for a reason so even wearing one raises suspicions.
  • Considering getting that tattoo of a naked woman on your arm? You better really love her, because it’ll probably be the only naked women you see from here on out.
  • You now have more than ten minutes to finish a meal, so, no need to build a fortress with those elbows. You can get them off the table now.
  • Please speak in complete sentences. For example, “fuck you, you fucking fuck”. It’s all in there.
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