While the old joke may have it that the most dangerous thing on earth is a gorilla with a machine gun, any prisoner can tell you that is wrong. The most dangerous thing is a dim-witted screw armed with a prison rule.
In this instance it relates to porn, which we are not allowed. And on that basis a screw confiscated a DVD of Superbowl Thirty. Why? Because the title said "Superbowl XXX", and with that many X's on the cover then it must have been porn...
Showing posts with label porn. Show all posts
Showing posts with label porn. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Friday, March 5, 2010
Pornographer in Chief
All prisons have a smattering of prisoners who are the porn-merchants. These are the men who collect porn, swap it and lend it. They are a social and economic nexus.
Porn is more than merely an item in prison, it is a commodity in its own right. Porn is swapped and traded, it is a secondary medium of exchange both for other goods and for the staple of prison economics, "favours" to be called upon in future times.
For most of my sentence, I was one of these pornographers. Books and magazines, and later DVD's, gravitated towards me. Some I bought or swapped, some were donated or found. The role of pornographer is a socially useful one that provides a service to the general community. Honest. It's not just that I'm a degenerate.
This stash of filth was eclectic, from Fiesta, Escort and Mayfair through to Club, Whitehouse, Colour Climax and Private. This ranged from the benign girly-mag available in the newsagents through to foreign hardcore.
Staff knew it existed and used to watch me scuttle around the wing, bundles of mags being delivered and collected. On cell searches, or periods of boredom, they would park themselves in my cell to read my merchandise. It is vaguely disturbing to return from work to find a screw sitting in your cell, rifling through your porn for the newest additions.
Being a pornographer gave insight into the psychology of other men. In order to ask for a particular magazine or book, they had to reveal their sexual preferences. This ranged from spanking to schoolgirls, Black to White, bondage to gerontology. The whole of human life resides in our sexuality and I find its span and complexity fascinating. And it reinforces my broad belief - men really are dogs!
However, those days are long gone. The shift in the official view of prisoners and their sexuality makes it dangerous to hold any quantity of pornography. Gone is my collection of Victorian erotic novels, my stash of continental filth has long been dispersed. For a while, I did move into DVD's as they are easier to hide, but such is the wrath of the institution on discovery that I decided it just wasn't worth the effort.
The danger comes from the Psychology Department. If one is busted with a stash of porn the inevitable question arises, are you obsessed with porn? It then follows your sexuality is malign and therefore dangerous. The accusations inevitably include having a poor attitude to women and relationships, of objectification and unreasonable expectations. It returns to the familiar ground, everything prisoners do is viewed through the lense of criminogenic needs, and never as just plain human.
Porn is more than merely an item in prison, it is a commodity in its own right. Porn is swapped and traded, it is a secondary medium of exchange both for other goods and for the staple of prison economics, "favours" to be called upon in future times.
For most of my sentence, I was one of these pornographers. Books and magazines, and later DVD's, gravitated towards me. Some I bought or swapped, some were donated or found. The role of pornographer is a socially useful one that provides a service to the general community. Honest. It's not just that I'm a degenerate.
This stash of filth was eclectic, from Fiesta, Escort and Mayfair through to Club, Whitehouse, Colour Climax and Private. This ranged from the benign girly-mag available in the newsagents through to foreign hardcore.
Staff knew it existed and used to watch me scuttle around the wing, bundles of mags being delivered and collected. On cell searches, or periods of boredom, they would park themselves in my cell to read my merchandise. It is vaguely disturbing to return from work to find a screw sitting in your cell, rifling through your porn for the newest additions.
Being a pornographer gave insight into the psychology of other men. In order to ask for a particular magazine or book, they had to reveal their sexual preferences. This ranged from spanking to schoolgirls, Black to White, bondage to gerontology. The whole of human life resides in our sexuality and I find its span and complexity fascinating. And it reinforces my broad belief - men really are dogs!
However, those days are long gone. The shift in the official view of prisoners and their sexuality makes it dangerous to hold any quantity of pornography. Gone is my collection of Victorian erotic novels, my stash of continental filth has long been dispersed. For a while, I did move into DVD's as they are easier to hide, but such is the wrath of the institution on discovery that I decided it just wasn't worth the effort.
The danger comes from the Psychology Department. If one is busted with a stash of porn the inevitable question arises, are you obsessed with porn? It then follows your sexuality is malign and therefore dangerous. The accusations inevitably include having a poor attitude to women and relationships, of objectification and unreasonable expectations. It returns to the familiar ground, everything prisoners do is viewed through the lense of criminogenic needs, and never as just plain human.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Many Moons Ago
"Having blagged a TV, video and stash of porn tapes I bang up for a long weekend of self abuse.
Saturday morning, and mates are drifting in and out to catch a peek of Holland’s best filth. I'm still lying in bed. James pops in and, seeing a woman on the screen delivering ferocious head to some guy, says to me, "I can do a better job than that." Before my brain can process the implications of this, he continues his pitch. "If ever you get frustrated, give me a shout. I even take it up the a**e ".
I mean, what DO you say to that before breakfast..?"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
