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April 27, 2003
A Strain on the Heart
They keep the inmates in cells alone. They refer to the inmates as guests. The added space required to keep the guests and the costs incurred by obtaining this space are off-put by the lessened incidence of violence.
In place of rehabilitation, the guests are kept bored and well-fed. Every morning, a fleet of bakers combines nearly two tons of refined sugar with flour and eggs and whipped cream. The confections are not pretty, but they get the job done.
The guests are not allowed out of their cells very often. They are allowed to have seconds. And thirds. Fourths, if they want them. Fifths are not unheard of among those in for life sentences. Donuts up and down the aisles, sealed tanks full of steaming hot coffee wheeled from cell to cell.
"Eat up, eat up!" is the order of the day.
Trouble-makers are dealt with. They are given butter. Melted butter in a sports bottle. No food, no lights until the butter has been drunk.
All this sugar slows the thought processes. No one cares to scheme when even sitting up gives them a headache. Some of the old-timers get stuck. The guards have to pry them out of the baths or wrench them off the toilets.
Butter, butter, butter and sweets. Society loves you the more that you eat.
Pay your debt by chewing and all will be forgiven.