Christopher Zoukis's Blog, page 18
April 21, 2015
Poppy von Frohlich
Haute couture is big business in San Francisco, the City by the Bay, a hip and with-it kind of place. Lots of money, lots of well-paid high-tech drones working for start-ups. Still, since haute couture’s business model revolves around super-expensive exclusivity that then trickles down to the masses by way of knock-offs and prêt-à-porter lines, even well-paid techies can’t afford the good stuff. The reigning business model either cuts them out of the running or relegates them to looking just like everyone else. Bummer!
Branding is essential to haute couture’s business model. The more exclusive the brand the more the lumpenproletariat lust for it. Everyone wants to feel special and be perceived as one of the elite. The appeal is emotional, which, as most marketing experts are quick to point out, is why people buy things. It’s what keeps businesses in business. Luxury car makers operate on the same principle – BMW, Mercedes, Lexus, Infiniti, Ferrari, Tesla, ad nauseam. People want what they can’t afford or can’t have. It’s human nature.
This means most people are doomed to unrequited lust. Unless they marry well or happened to invest in Google when it was less than $100 a share, it’s not happening. They should just resign themselves to shopping at Walmart, Target or Forever 21.
Maybe not.
Enter the mistress of mechanical advantage, whose name is Trudy Hodges. Ms. Hodges in not only a sorceress with needle and thread, she also has a happy knack for business. She created a unique business model for her own line of clothing, one that maintains exclusivity but doesn’t require customers to hock their first-born child or make a deal with the Devil or sell their body parts on eBay.
The company is called Poppy von Frohlich. And even though the name sounds like a cross between Pippy Longstocking and the Austrian army, the designs are anything but Teutonic. PvF’s clothing spans the spectrum from avant-garde to retro, including Italian wool coats with cotton flannel or thick satin linings and cotton crochet dresses. But no matter what, it’s just about fashion, always. And it’s green: no muss, no fuss, no waste; it isn’t a line in which half the garments are destined for the dump.
Von Frohlich’s distinctive business model is based on limited exclusivity. Every six weeks Ms. Hodges allows her Muse to envelop her. She designs her offerings and sews samples of them. The designs are posted on her website. One or two orders for each size – from 0 to 12 – are taken. The orders are taken to a local factory, where they are produced. That particular pattern is then retired, never to be produced again. Since each garment is one of, at most, 24 similar items, customers are guaranteed limited exclusivity. And they’re made in the good old U.S.A., in U.S. factories using homegrown labor. No outsourcing of jobs by Poppy von Frohlich.
As Ms. Hodges said, “I specialize in limited edition and quick turn-around times, so this format could only be accomplished by using domestic manufacturing. I enjoy the factories I work with and like to shake the hands of the people making Poppy von Frohlich. Working with factories nearby also makes it possible for me to run my business from home while being a full-time mom.”
The cost of Poppy von Frohlich’s limited editions runs from $90 to $500, with wool coats from $400 to $700. Techies can afford that. Plus, they get to support a local Mom & Pop outfit that invented a successful business model, thumbing its nose at the monoliths of haute couture.
Branding is essential to haute couture’s business model. The more exclusive the brand the more the lumpenproletariat lust for it. Everyone wants to feel special and be perceived as one of the elite. The appeal is emotional, which, as most marketing experts are quick to point out, is why people buy things. It’s what keeps businesses in business. Luxury car makers operate on the same principle – BMW, Mercedes, Lexus, Infiniti, Ferrari, Tesla, ad nauseam. People want what they can’t afford or can’t have. It’s human nature.
This means most people are doomed to unrequited lust. Unless they marry well or happened to invest in Google when it was less than $100 a share, it’s not happening. They should just resign themselves to shopping at Walmart, Target or Forever 21.
Maybe not.
Enter the mistress of mechanical advantage, whose name is Trudy Hodges. Ms. Hodges in not only a sorceress with needle and thread, she also has a happy knack for business. She created a unique business model for her own line of clothing, one that maintains exclusivity but doesn’t require customers to hock their first-born child or make a deal with the Devil or sell their body parts on eBay.
The company is called Poppy von Frohlich. And even though the name sounds like a cross between Pippy Longstocking and the Austrian army, the designs are anything but Teutonic. PvF’s clothing spans the spectrum from avant-garde to retro, including Italian wool coats with cotton flannel or thick satin linings and cotton crochet dresses. But no matter what, it’s just about fashion, always. And it’s green: no muss, no fuss, no waste; it isn’t a line in which half the garments are destined for the dump.
Von Frohlich’s distinctive business model is based on limited exclusivity. Every six weeks Ms. Hodges allows her Muse to envelop her. She designs her offerings and sews samples of them. The designs are posted on her website. One or two orders for each size – from 0 to 12 – are taken. The orders are taken to a local factory, where they are produced. That particular pattern is then retired, never to be produced again. Since each garment is one of, at most, 24 similar items, customers are guaranteed limited exclusivity. And they’re made in the good old U.S.A., in U.S. factories using homegrown labor. No outsourcing of jobs by Poppy von Frohlich.
As Ms. Hodges said, “I specialize in limited edition and quick turn-around times, so this format could only be accomplished by using domestic manufacturing. I enjoy the factories I work with and like to shake the hands of the people making Poppy von Frohlich. Working with factories nearby also makes it possible for me to run my business from home while being a full-time mom.”
The cost of Poppy von Frohlich’s limited editions runs from $90 to $500, with wool coats from $400 to $700. Techies can afford that. Plus, they get to support a local Mom & Pop outfit that invented a successful business model, thumbing its nose at the monoliths of haute couture.
April 15, 2015
Mac Baller Brims: Teaser from Forthcoming Book
This is a teaser, an excerpt, from the upcoming I wrote with John Lee Brook: United Blood Nation: The Untold Story of the East Coast Bloods, Headpress. I hope you enjoy it!
By Christopher Zoukis
The New York Post recently designated the Mac Baller Brims “New York City’s most dangerous gang.” In one of its articles, the newspaper equated the Mac Baller Brims with the Mafia. Naturally, almost immediately a number of other journalists took exception to the Post’s depiction of the gang, calling the writers at the Post “drama queens” and “hysterical pansies.” And admittedly, even though the Mac Baller Brims are nasty, vicious and brutal, they are not in the same league as the Mafia. The Brims lack organization, size and wealth.
That being said, there were some similarities: just like the Italian gangsters, the Mac Baller Brims had their own language and customs. And the Brims had a narrative history, too, just like the Italians. Of course, the Mafia traced its roots back hundreds of years, whereas the Brims could only trace theirs back to 1969, to a group in California called the L.A. Hat Gang. The Hat Gang changed their name to the 5-9 Brims in the 1970s. Their home turf focused around 59th Street in South L.A.’s Harvard Park area. So when they decided to change the name of their gang, they went with the 5 and the 9 of the street address. The name change provided them with a geographic identity rather than an abstract identity, a la the L.A. Hat Gang.[i]
When Omar Portee established the United Blood Nation in 1993, one of the original New York sets he established was called the 59 Brims. Portee knowingly borrowed the name from the West Coast Bloods. The 59 Brims had no affiliation with their California namesakes, just the same name. Over time, the New York 59 Brims grew so numerous that they divided the set into four subsets. Collectively, the four subsets called themselves the New York Blood Brim Army.[ii]
One of the four subsets was the Mac Baller Brims, which formed in 2001. The ‘Mac’ part of the name was a tribute to Omar Portee, while the ‘Baller’ part of the name was gang slang for gangster or drug dealer.
The “don” or “godfather” of the Mac Baller Brims (MBB) was Larry Calderon aka “O.” His nickname was the capital O of the alphabet, not the numerical 0 or zero. Calderon’s right-hand man was Eli Rios aka Blood Eli. Together, Calderon and Rios comprised what was called the “Board of Directors.” This Board of Directors functioned as a Mafia-like Commission. In fact, it was blatantly obvious that the entire command structure of the Mac Baller Brims mimicked the Italian Mafia. Like Marlon Brando in the Godfather, Calderon had the final say-so, but he never made a unilateral decision; he always discussed things with Rios. Then he made the call.
The New York Police Department identified 525 confirmed members of the Mac Baller Brims, but were the first to concede that the number was in reality much higher what with hundreds of “associates” and wannabe “YGs” or young gangsters, who, although technically prospective gang members, functioned as the real McCoy.
Both Calderon and Rios topped the tape measure at just below 6 feet. Calderon shaved his head and wore a neatly trimmed goatee, providing him with an appearance of ruthlessness which was by no means merely cosmetic. He really was a bad ass. On his part, Rios wore his hair cropped short and sported a wispy moustache, along with a patchy chin-beard. Although Rios didn’t project the malevolent menace of Calderon, he was a stone-cold killer who knew how to take care of business. Rios killed without feeling, deliberately and with forethought. Calderon, on the other hand, was a hot-head subject to temper tantrums and explosive emotions. He was most dangerous when angry or jealous.
Home base for the Mac Baller Brims was the Morrisania section of The Bronx. But the gang had a long reach, stretching into Brooklyn, Staten Island, upstate New York, as well as New Jersey. And they dominated Rikers Island, where at any given moment there were dozens of Mac Baller Brims being held for one crime or another.
One high-ranking law enforcement official called the Mac Baller Brims, “Top dogs in the city. There are more of them than any other Bloods, and they’re highly organized, extremely violent, very powerful. Other gangs fear them.”[iii]
The Mac Baller Brims were loosely organized into two groups or divisions: a money group and a murder or enforcement group. Don’t misunderstand. The money group was not a bunch of accountants keeping track of income and expenses, putting together profit and loss statements or auditing the books. Remember, these were gangbangers. The term money group referred only to the fact that the group’s primary job was to make money. They made money by means of criminal activity.
And business was good.
_____
[i] The name change provided them with a geographic identity rather than an abstract identity, a la the L.A. Hat Gang. http://www.rapdict.org/Brims
[ii] Collectively, the four subsets called themselves the New York Blood Brim Army. http://blood-knowledge.com/
[iii] “Top dogs in the city. There are more of them than any other Bloods, and they’re highly organized, extremely violent, very powerful. Other gangs fear them.” http://nypost.com/2014/09/07/the-mac-...
By Christopher Zoukis
The New York Post recently designated the Mac Baller Brims “New York City’s most dangerous gang.” In one of its articles, the newspaper equated the Mac Baller Brims with the Mafia. Naturally, almost immediately a number of other journalists took exception to the Post’s depiction of the gang, calling the writers at the Post “drama queens” and “hysterical pansies.” And admittedly, even though the Mac Baller Brims are nasty, vicious and brutal, they are not in the same league as the Mafia. The Brims lack organization, size and wealth.
That being said, there were some similarities: just like the Italian gangsters, the Mac Baller Brims had their own language and customs. And the Brims had a narrative history, too, just like the Italians. Of course, the Mafia traced its roots back hundreds of years, whereas the Brims could only trace theirs back to 1969, to a group in California called the L.A. Hat Gang. The Hat Gang changed their name to the 5-9 Brims in the 1970s. Their home turf focused around 59th Street in South L.A.’s Harvard Park area. So when they decided to change the name of their gang, they went with the 5 and the 9 of the street address. The name change provided them with a geographic identity rather than an abstract identity, a la the L.A. Hat Gang.[i]
When Omar Portee established the United Blood Nation in 1993, one of the original New York sets he established was called the 59 Brims. Portee knowingly borrowed the name from the West Coast Bloods. The 59 Brims had no affiliation with their California namesakes, just the same name. Over time, the New York 59 Brims grew so numerous that they divided the set into four subsets. Collectively, the four subsets called themselves the New York Blood Brim Army.[ii]
One of the four subsets was the Mac Baller Brims, which formed in 2001. The ‘Mac’ part of the name was a tribute to Omar Portee, while the ‘Baller’ part of the name was gang slang for gangster or drug dealer.
The “don” or “godfather” of the Mac Baller Brims (MBB) was Larry Calderon aka “O.” His nickname was the capital O of the alphabet, not the numerical 0 or zero. Calderon’s right-hand man was Eli Rios aka Blood Eli. Together, Calderon and Rios comprised what was called the “Board of Directors.” This Board of Directors functioned as a Mafia-like Commission. In fact, it was blatantly obvious that the entire command structure of the Mac Baller Brims mimicked the Italian Mafia. Like Marlon Brando in the Godfather, Calderon had the final say-so, but he never made a unilateral decision; he always discussed things with Rios. Then he made the call.
The New York Police Department identified 525 confirmed members of the Mac Baller Brims, but were the first to concede that the number was in reality much higher what with hundreds of “associates” and wannabe “YGs” or young gangsters, who, although technically prospective gang members, functioned as the real McCoy.
Both Calderon and Rios topped the tape measure at just below 6 feet. Calderon shaved his head and wore a neatly trimmed goatee, providing him with an appearance of ruthlessness which was by no means merely cosmetic. He really was a bad ass. On his part, Rios wore his hair cropped short and sported a wispy moustache, along with a patchy chin-beard. Although Rios didn’t project the malevolent menace of Calderon, he was a stone-cold killer who knew how to take care of business. Rios killed without feeling, deliberately and with forethought. Calderon, on the other hand, was a hot-head subject to temper tantrums and explosive emotions. He was most dangerous when angry or jealous.
Home base for the Mac Baller Brims was the Morrisania section of The Bronx. But the gang had a long reach, stretching into Brooklyn, Staten Island, upstate New York, as well as New Jersey. And they dominated Rikers Island, where at any given moment there were dozens of Mac Baller Brims being held for one crime or another.
One high-ranking law enforcement official called the Mac Baller Brims, “Top dogs in the city. There are more of them than any other Bloods, and they’re highly organized, extremely violent, very powerful. Other gangs fear them.”[iii]
The Mac Baller Brims were loosely organized into two groups or divisions: a money group and a murder or enforcement group. Don’t misunderstand. The money group was not a bunch of accountants keeping track of income and expenses, putting together profit and loss statements or auditing the books. Remember, these were gangbangers. The term money group referred only to the fact that the group’s primary job was to make money. They made money by means of criminal activity.
And business was good.
_____
[i] The name change provided them with a geographic identity rather than an abstract identity, a la the L.A. Hat Gang. http://www.rapdict.org/Brims
[ii] Collectively, the four subsets called themselves the New York Blood Brim Army. http://blood-knowledge.com/
[iii] “Top dogs in the city. There are more of them than any other Bloods, and they’re highly organized, extremely violent, very powerful. Other gangs fear them.” http://nypost.com/2014/09/07/the-mac-...
April 5, 2015
Prison Censorship in America: The Ashley Jean Arnold Case
When Americans think of prison censorship, images of prison guards throwing away letters come to mind. So too do images of books and publications like Prison legal News being rejected for being a “threat to the good order, orderly operation, and security of the institution,” which covers about any number of theoretical penological objectives.
And for serious prison writers, such as myself, images of retaliatory incident reports, delayed or destroyed mail, ever-constant shakedowns, complete monitoring, and prison transfers come to mind. All of these images are true at times. Prison censorship in America is alive and well.
My Personal Experience with Prison Censorship
As someone who regularly writes for online and print publications from the confines of my prison cell, I am no stranger to censorship or retaliation for my writings. Usually there is a trend. When I write about vanilla stories, nothing much occurs. When I write about Federal Bureau of Prisons officials — even worse, when I write about prison officials here at Federal Correctional Institution Petersburg — I can expect some harassment. This usually takes the form of the above-mentioned censorship.
But when I write books, I inevitably receive a few incident reports for writings surrounding the promotion of books, not to mention manuscripts becoming “lost” in the mail. Needless to say, my publishers now send all manuscripts via certified mail so we can track them.
The long of the short of my experiences with prison censorship is that I’ve had my fair share. I’ve collected some 7 incident reports, 5 months in the hole, several years of lost privileges like telephone and email (of which I’m still on), and the seizure of 10 copies of my own books, all as a result of retaliation for my writing efforts. The pattern is clear.
After I receive a few meritless incident reports, my attorneys — Alan Ellis, Todd Bussert, Jeff Fogel and Steven Rosenfield — come in and fight the FBOP until they leave me alone. Of the last 7 incident reports, 3 have been expunged upon appeal, and of the other 4, which we are currently appealing, there have so far been 4 initial hearings, 1 partial expungement, and 4 ordered remands for rehearings. It’s a dance, one that is designed on one side to dissuade me from writing and on the other side to enable me to write.
To this point in my career as an incarcerated writer, I have only been afraid a few times. I’m rather stubborn, after all. The first was when they locked me in solitary in 2012. The second was when my unit team artificially inflated my custody and classification points and attempted to transfer me to a maximum security federal prison from my current medium (the attorneys stopped it). And the final time is now, as I share the story of Ashley Jean Arnold.
Ashley Jean Arnold
For the past few years, I have worked hard to help a transgender inmate named Ashley Jean Arnold. Along with another prison litigator (whom I won’t name here due to the threat of retaliation), we have pushed the FBOP and, in particular, FCI Petersburg to provide Ashley, and her transgender sisters here, meaningful treatment for their gender dysphoria.
The process has not been an easy one. It has included filing grievances, a state lawsuit, and a federal lawsuit (Arnold v. Wilson, EDVA 1:13cv900). Over the years we had a few successes, but almost all tempered by either severe delays in care or failures.
During this process, Ashley was subjected to harassment and retaliation not by inmates, which would be expected, but by prison officials. They lodged 4 incident reports against her (3 of which were obviously retaliatory and 1 of those was administratively thrown out), locked her in the hole for a month, took several privileges for months on end, fired her from her job, and filed false treatment notes in her Psychology Department file. These were the tangibles.
The intangibles include gender-based harassment from virtually all levels of the administration. She reported harassment on the part of the FCI Petersburg Prison Rape Elimination Act (PREA) Compliance Officer, a unit manager, a case manager coordinator, drug treatment specialist, and a treatment specialist.
These are in addition to the “regular” harassment by line cops. It was ugly, and when we filed administrative remedies concerning this abuse, they were largely ignored by prison officials.
Ashley’s Suicide; My Call to Action
While I worked hard on Ashley’s case, it wasn’t until Tuesday, February 24, 2015, that I decided to pull out all the stops. This was the day that she hung herself in her prison cell, the day that the calculus changed. From that point on, and as I told a senior prison official shortly after her death, I was going to hold each and every one of Ashley’s abusers accountable for their actions. They killed my friend, what more could they possibly do to me? Well, as it turns out, a lot, at least mentally.
As the war machine heated up, I, along with several others, started to pump out articles, letters to our representatives, attorneys, fellow activists and friends, and even a Department of Justice complaint.
Prison administrators at FCI Petersburg were not amused. They quickly administratively cut off email for Sangye Rinchen, Ashley’s best friend and fellow transgender prisoner. They followed this with an incident report and within 24 hours, a quick disciplinary hearing which found Ms. Rinchen guilty and sanctioned her to 90 days loss of email. The meaning was clear: write about Ashley and we’re coming for you.
The issue is that Ashley’s supporters, including me, are alleging hefty misconduct on the part of FCI Petersburg prison officials, some of which might constitute criminal activity. Needless to say, prison officials aren’t pleased with this narrative getting out.
It would be more convenient to simply silence those who are trying to expose the manifest injustice in Ashley’s plight. This is exactly what they are trying to do. I have personally been told by a lieutenant that we are not permitted to tell anyone outside of the prison about Ashley Arnold’s suicide. Another prison official told a friend that the word from on high was that anyone who speaks with the media will be issued an incident report. The battle lines have been drawn.
Waiting for the Gestapo to Arrive
Those of us who knew Ashley best refuse to back down and capitulate to these illegal and unconstitutional tactics and demands. To do so would be to allow Ashley’s abusers to win. That would soil her legacy. That we are not willing to do.
For me, I’m going to keep on writing and advocating until it is literally impossible for me to continue. These days that means when my hand gives out from writing, but the day is coming when they will snap my pen, shred my pages, and throw me in some dark hole to serve my final 3 years in custody. That is a cost that I’m willing to pay.
Last night at around 11 pm three prison guards came to my cell. They unlocked my door and escorted me into the unit team offices area. As we walked I wondered when the cuffs would go on, and if this was the fabled beating for those who dare to speak out. The whole time I was waiting to be pulled into a tile cell and stomped for my offenses. It never happened. After leaving the Lieutenant’s Office, the story was they grabbed the wrong guy. But then again, perhaps it was really a dry run, a sign of things to come.
(Published by blackandpink.org; used by permission)
_____
Note: Christopher Zoukis can be reached for comment, interview, or supporting documentation at: Christopher Zoukis (#22132-058), FCI Petersburg, P.O. Box 1000, Petersburg, VA 23804
And for serious prison writers, such as myself, images of retaliatory incident reports, delayed or destroyed mail, ever-constant shakedowns, complete monitoring, and prison transfers come to mind. All of these images are true at times. Prison censorship in America is alive and well.
My Personal Experience with Prison Censorship
As someone who regularly writes for online and print publications from the confines of my prison cell, I am no stranger to censorship or retaliation for my writings. Usually there is a trend. When I write about vanilla stories, nothing much occurs. When I write about Federal Bureau of Prisons officials — even worse, when I write about prison officials here at Federal Correctional Institution Petersburg — I can expect some harassment. This usually takes the form of the above-mentioned censorship.
But when I write books, I inevitably receive a few incident reports for writings surrounding the promotion of books, not to mention manuscripts becoming “lost” in the mail. Needless to say, my publishers now send all manuscripts via certified mail so we can track them.
The long of the short of my experiences with prison censorship is that I’ve had my fair share. I’ve collected some 7 incident reports, 5 months in the hole, several years of lost privileges like telephone and email (of which I’m still on), and the seizure of 10 copies of my own books, all as a result of retaliation for my writing efforts. The pattern is clear.
After I receive a few meritless incident reports, my attorneys — Alan Ellis, Todd Bussert, Jeff Fogel and Steven Rosenfield — come in and fight the FBOP until they leave me alone. Of the last 7 incident reports, 3 have been expunged upon appeal, and of the other 4, which we are currently appealing, there have so far been 4 initial hearings, 1 partial expungement, and 4 ordered remands for rehearings. It’s a dance, one that is designed on one side to dissuade me from writing and on the other side to enable me to write.
To this point in my career as an incarcerated writer, I have only been afraid a few times. I’m rather stubborn, after all. The first was when they locked me in solitary in 2012. The second was when my unit team artificially inflated my custody and classification points and attempted to transfer me to a maximum security federal prison from my current medium (the attorneys stopped it). And the final time is now, as I share the story of Ashley Jean Arnold.
Ashley Jean Arnold
For the past few years, I have worked hard to help a transgender inmate named Ashley Jean Arnold. Along with another prison litigator (whom I won’t name here due to the threat of retaliation), we have pushed the FBOP and, in particular, FCI Petersburg to provide Ashley, and her transgender sisters here, meaningful treatment for their gender dysphoria.
The process has not been an easy one. It has included filing grievances, a state lawsuit, and a federal lawsuit (Arnold v. Wilson, EDVA 1:13cv900). Over the years we had a few successes, but almost all tempered by either severe delays in care or failures.
During this process, Ashley was subjected to harassment and retaliation not by inmates, which would be expected, but by prison officials. They lodged 4 incident reports against her (3 of which were obviously retaliatory and 1 of those was administratively thrown out), locked her in the hole for a month, took several privileges for months on end, fired her from her job, and filed false treatment notes in her Psychology Department file. These were the tangibles.
The intangibles include gender-based harassment from virtually all levels of the administration. She reported harassment on the part of the FCI Petersburg Prison Rape Elimination Act (PREA) Compliance Officer, a unit manager, a case manager coordinator, drug treatment specialist, and a treatment specialist.
These are in addition to the “regular” harassment by line cops. It was ugly, and when we filed administrative remedies concerning this abuse, they were largely ignored by prison officials.
Ashley’s Suicide; My Call to Action
While I worked hard on Ashley’s case, it wasn’t until Tuesday, February 24, 2015, that I decided to pull out all the stops. This was the day that she hung herself in her prison cell, the day that the calculus changed. From that point on, and as I told a senior prison official shortly after her death, I was going to hold each and every one of Ashley’s abusers accountable for their actions. They killed my friend, what more could they possibly do to me? Well, as it turns out, a lot, at least mentally.
As the war machine heated up, I, along with several others, started to pump out articles, letters to our representatives, attorneys, fellow activists and friends, and even a Department of Justice complaint.
Prison administrators at FCI Petersburg were not amused. They quickly administratively cut off email for Sangye Rinchen, Ashley’s best friend and fellow transgender prisoner. They followed this with an incident report and within 24 hours, a quick disciplinary hearing which found Ms. Rinchen guilty and sanctioned her to 90 days loss of email. The meaning was clear: write about Ashley and we’re coming for you.
The issue is that Ashley’s supporters, including me, are alleging hefty misconduct on the part of FCI Petersburg prison officials, some of which might constitute criminal activity. Needless to say, prison officials aren’t pleased with this narrative getting out.
It would be more convenient to simply silence those who are trying to expose the manifest injustice in Ashley’s plight. This is exactly what they are trying to do. I have personally been told by a lieutenant that we are not permitted to tell anyone outside of the prison about Ashley Arnold’s suicide. Another prison official told a friend that the word from on high was that anyone who speaks with the media will be issued an incident report. The battle lines have been drawn.
Waiting for the Gestapo to Arrive
Those of us who knew Ashley best refuse to back down and capitulate to these illegal and unconstitutional tactics and demands. To do so would be to allow Ashley’s abusers to win. That would soil her legacy. That we are not willing to do.
For me, I’m going to keep on writing and advocating until it is literally impossible for me to continue. These days that means when my hand gives out from writing, but the day is coming when they will snap my pen, shred my pages, and throw me in some dark hole to serve my final 3 years in custody. That is a cost that I’m willing to pay.
Last night at around 11 pm three prison guards came to my cell. They unlocked my door and escorted me into the unit team offices area. As we walked I wondered when the cuffs would go on, and if this was the fabled beating for those who dare to speak out. The whole time I was waiting to be pulled into a tile cell and stomped for my offenses. It never happened. After leaving the Lieutenant’s Office, the story was they grabbed the wrong guy. But then again, perhaps it was really a dry run, a sign of things to come.
(Published by blackandpink.org; used by permission)
_____
Note: Christopher Zoukis can be reached for comment, interview, or supporting documentation at: Christopher Zoukis (#22132-058), FCI Petersburg, P.O. Box 1000, Petersburg, VA 23804
March 22, 2015
Michel Eyquen de Montaigne-Delecroix
He was buried in the family cemetery near his chateau, which is actually a castle in the center of an opulent park. Construction of the castle began in 1477. It is located on the borders of Perigord and Bordelais, in the Dordogne part of France.
A tall white floriated cross, or ‘cross botone’ marked the grave. For reasons unknown, his remains were transferred from the family cemetery to Saint Antoine Church in Bordeaux. Eventually, Saint Antoine Church was torn down, and the property developed into the Convent des Feuillants. The convent, too, was later demolished.
Supposedly, somewhere in there, his remains were moved once again. This time to the Musee Aquitaine, Faculte des Lettres, at the University of Bordeaux. Whether or not this is true is open to argument. I suspect it is not, and that his bones lie unmarked and forgotten near the extinct Saint Antoine Church, whose precise location has also been forgotten.
And presumably his heart, pickled and bottled like so much fruit, is in the church of Saint-Michel-de-Montaigne, which is located near the family chateau. Which is a nice thought, because it means at least a part of him ended up right back where he started. But this, too, is doubtful. As no one knows when his heart was moved, or by whom.
All that to say this: no one really knows where he’s buried. Which is sad, for he created a totally new way of writing – the essay.
His name was Michel Eyquen de Montaigne-Delecroix. Born on the family estate, the Chateau de Montaigne, which was purchased with money from a vast fortune made in herring. The Montaignes were secret Jews, who converted to Roman Catholicism to avoid exile and probably extermination. Privately, they continued to worship as Jews.
Michel, immediately after his birth, was sent to live with a local peasant family. He lived in a squalid cottage and ate slop.
This was his father’s idea.
His father was a liberal with definite opinions on how to educate his son. This initial stage, which lasted until he was three years old, was to make him aware of the realities of the common man’s existence.
When he was three, his father brought him home to the chateau for the next stage of his education, which was to learn to speak Latin and only Latin. The boy was not allowed to even hear French being spoken. During this stage of his education Michel received private, unstructured tutoring by a German doctor. No books were used and nothing was mandatory – he could do whatever he felt like doing.
When he turned six, never having heard or spoken French, Michel was delivered to the College de Guyenne, an exclusive boarding school in Bordeaux. Michel proved to be a prodigy, soaking up French and everything else like a sponge. After graduation at the age of thirteen rather than the normal eighteen, given the choice, he studied law in Toulouse. Shortly after graduation from law school, he received an appointment to the high court in Bordeaux, where he socialized with the liberal writer Etienne de la Boetie, who was not only his best friend, but more vitally, his soul-mate. There is no implication that theirs was a homoerotic relationship.
At the age of thirty-two, he “made himself fall in love” and married Francoise de La Chassaigne. They had six daughters, of whom only one survived past the age of ten. Later, in his writings, he stated that he believed marriage was a necessary institution. But that he, personally, found marriage to be like the chains of a criminal, limiting his freedom.
This viewpoint, undoubtedly, had its origins in the freedom he enjoyed in his father’s system of educating him.
Fascinated by literature, Michel decided at his father’s request to translate Raymond Sebond’s book, Natural Theology, from Latin into French. After an effort of four years, his translation was published, garnering much critical acclaim.
When his father died, Michel moved into the family chateau. Now with more money than he knew what to do with, he decided to retire. He was thirty-eight years old. And from this point on, he became almost reclusive. Hidden in his library, surrounded by his books, he began writing his Essays, which word means ‘to try.’ He was trying something new, trying a new style of writing.
Seven years later, at the age of forty-five, Michel felt an excruciating pain in his lower back. The diagnosis was kidney stones. For an entire year, he visited spas, hot springs, doctors and quacks in Italy, France, Switzerland, Germany and Austria, trying to find a remedy for his affliction, which grew worse and worse, often incapacitating him for days.
During all this, he never stopped writing. His Essays continued, and he published the record of his travels throughout Europe as he searched for health.
Finally, four years before his death, Montaigne, while in Paris, was introduced to Marie de Gournay, who had read his Essays, finding in them refreshment for her mind and soul. She was brilliant, beautiful and twenty-two years old. Montaigne took her under his wing as his fille d’alliance, which meant he embraced her as an adopted daughter, not in any legal sense, but in spirit. There is little doubt that Montaigne embraced her physical body as well.
He moved into her home, using her as his secretary, dictating pages of the ongoing volumes of Essays. His will made her his literary executrix.
He finally succumbed to kidney failure at the age of fifty-nine.
The central theme of Montaigne’s Essays was himself. And only someone educated in such an unorthodox manner – with freedom – would have felt free enough to disregard the prevalent ‘rhetorical’ style of his day. Montaigne wrote about himself in a new style that was reflective of him.
Montaigne was discovering himself as he penned his words. He even warned his readers that “These are my humors and opinions; I offer them as what I believe, not what is to be believed.” In other words, Montaigne was not attempting to convince, convert or persuade anyone. He was simply expressing himself as he would in honest conversation with his friend La Boetie.
This new genre was quickly embraced by other writers because it freed their thoughts from the demanding structure of the indicative sentence. There are other moods: subjunctive, optative, and most importantly, the interrogative. Literary artists decided that asking themselves questions was healthy, even if they had no answers. For that’s what being human is – doubting, asking, seeking. And by stirring at the pot of interrogation, perhaps answers might float to the top of the stew.
Like the ugly duckling, whose education was freely informed and unstructured, and who grew into a gorgeous, noble swan, Montaigne, once he retired from the constraints of public life, spread his wings and was carried to the wonder of a new metamorphosis. Neither the ugly duckling nor Montaigne was arrogant, vain or elitist. Though both could easily have been – the duckling in his glory, Montaigne with his wealth.
Like Montaigne, the ugly duckling essayed – tried – and because of his trying he discovered more happiness than he could ever have hoped for. On his part, Montaigne kept trying to communicate the doubts, the opinions, the chattiness of his mind. He essayed because he needed to touch the mind of another human being. He needed a friend.
In the end, the ugly duckling tried because trying is innate to truth. And the truth was that he was a swan. Montaigne tried in his writing because trying is innate to human beings as they search for the truth.
And that’s probably the most remarkable thing about essays: they allow us to be human.
A tall white floriated cross, or ‘cross botone’ marked the grave. For reasons unknown, his remains were transferred from the family cemetery to Saint Antoine Church in Bordeaux. Eventually, Saint Antoine Church was torn down, and the property developed into the Convent des Feuillants. The convent, too, was later demolished.
Supposedly, somewhere in there, his remains were moved once again. This time to the Musee Aquitaine, Faculte des Lettres, at the University of Bordeaux. Whether or not this is true is open to argument. I suspect it is not, and that his bones lie unmarked and forgotten near the extinct Saint Antoine Church, whose precise location has also been forgotten.
And presumably his heart, pickled and bottled like so much fruit, is in the church of Saint-Michel-de-Montaigne, which is located near the family chateau. Which is a nice thought, because it means at least a part of him ended up right back where he started. But this, too, is doubtful. As no one knows when his heart was moved, or by whom.
All that to say this: no one really knows where he’s buried. Which is sad, for he created a totally new way of writing – the essay.
His name was Michel Eyquen de Montaigne-Delecroix. Born on the family estate, the Chateau de Montaigne, which was purchased with money from a vast fortune made in herring. The Montaignes were secret Jews, who converted to Roman Catholicism to avoid exile and probably extermination. Privately, they continued to worship as Jews.
Michel, immediately after his birth, was sent to live with a local peasant family. He lived in a squalid cottage and ate slop.
This was his father’s idea.
His father was a liberal with definite opinions on how to educate his son. This initial stage, which lasted until he was three years old, was to make him aware of the realities of the common man’s existence.
When he was three, his father brought him home to the chateau for the next stage of his education, which was to learn to speak Latin and only Latin. The boy was not allowed to even hear French being spoken. During this stage of his education Michel received private, unstructured tutoring by a German doctor. No books were used and nothing was mandatory – he could do whatever he felt like doing.
When he turned six, never having heard or spoken French, Michel was delivered to the College de Guyenne, an exclusive boarding school in Bordeaux. Michel proved to be a prodigy, soaking up French and everything else like a sponge. After graduation at the age of thirteen rather than the normal eighteen, given the choice, he studied law in Toulouse. Shortly after graduation from law school, he received an appointment to the high court in Bordeaux, where he socialized with the liberal writer Etienne de la Boetie, who was not only his best friend, but more vitally, his soul-mate. There is no implication that theirs was a homoerotic relationship.
At the age of thirty-two, he “made himself fall in love” and married Francoise de La Chassaigne. They had six daughters, of whom only one survived past the age of ten. Later, in his writings, he stated that he believed marriage was a necessary institution. But that he, personally, found marriage to be like the chains of a criminal, limiting his freedom.
This viewpoint, undoubtedly, had its origins in the freedom he enjoyed in his father’s system of educating him.
Fascinated by literature, Michel decided at his father’s request to translate Raymond Sebond’s book, Natural Theology, from Latin into French. After an effort of four years, his translation was published, garnering much critical acclaim.
When his father died, Michel moved into the family chateau. Now with more money than he knew what to do with, he decided to retire. He was thirty-eight years old. And from this point on, he became almost reclusive. Hidden in his library, surrounded by his books, he began writing his Essays, which word means ‘to try.’ He was trying something new, trying a new style of writing.
Seven years later, at the age of forty-five, Michel felt an excruciating pain in his lower back. The diagnosis was kidney stones. For an entire year, he visited spas, hot springs, doctors and quacks in Italy, France, Switzerland, Germany and Austria, trying to find a remedy for his affliction, which grew worse and worse, often incapacitating him for days.
During all this, he never stopped writing. His Essays continued, and he published the record of his travels throughout Europe as he searched for health.
Finally, four years before his death, Montaigne, while in Paris, was introduced to Marie de Gournay, who had read his Essays, finding in them refreshment for her mind and soul. She was brilliant, beautiful and twenty-two years old. Montaigne took her under his wing as his fille d’alliance, which meant he embraced her as an adopted daughter, not in any legal sense, but in spirit. There is little doubt that Montaigne embraced her physical body as well.
He moved into her home, using her as his secretary, dictating pages of the ongoing volumes of Essays. His will made her his literary executrix.
He finally succumbed to kidney failure at the age of fifty-nine.
The central theme of Montaigne’s Essays was himself. And only someone educated in such an unorthodox manner – with freedom – would have felt free enough to disregard the prevalent ‘rhetorical’ style of his day. Montaigne wrote about himself in a new style that was reflective of him.
Montaigne was discovering himself as he penned his words. He even warned his readers that “These are my humors and opinions; I offer them as what I believe, not what is to be believed.” In other words, Montaigne was not attempting to convince, convert or persuade anyone. He was simply expressing himself as he would in honest conversation with his friend La Boetie.
This new genre was quickly embraced by other writers because it freed their thoughts from the demanding structure of the indicative sentence. There are other moods: subjunctive, optative, and most importantly, the interrogative. Literary artists decided that asking themselves questions was healthy, even if they had no answers. For that’s what being human is – doubting, asking, seeking. And by stirring at the pot of interrogation, perhaps answers might float to the top of the stew.
Like the ugly duckling, whose education was freely informed and unstructured, and who grew into a gorgeous, noble swan, Montaigne, once he retired from the constraints of public life, spread his wings and was carried to the wonder of a new metamorphosis. Neither the ugly duckling nor Montaigne was arrogant, vain or elitist. Though both could easily have been – the duckling in his glory, Montaigne with his wealth.
Like Montaigne, the ugly duckling essayed – tried – and because of his trying he discovered more happiness than he could ever have hoped for. On his part, Montaigne kept trying to communicate the doubts, the opinions, the chattiness of his mind. He essayed because he needed to touch the mind of another human being. He needed a friend.
In the end, the ugly duckling tried because trying is innate to truth. And the truth was that he was a swan. Montaigne tried in his writing because trying is innate to human beings as they search for the truth.
And that’s probably the most remarkable thing about essays: they allow us to be human.
March 2, 2015
'Prison Legal News' vs. the State of Florida: A Battle Against Censorship
Last month, a small, black-and-white newsprint magazine quietly made a case in a Florida courtroom to protect the fundamental rights that nearly every citizen in the industrialized world holds dear. Yet the odds are, you didn't hear a word about it.
Prison Legal News has reported on the legal landscape of prisoners' rights in America's prisons for 25 years. It was founded by Paul Wright from his prison cell in Washington State, where he was serving a 25-year sentence for shooting a drug dealer (he was released in 2003). From the beginning, its goal has to been to inform both the incarcerated and their families regarding issues of prison conditions, resources, and reform. It has grown from a cheaply-produced newsletter slapped together by a few prisoners, to a well-respected, 64-page monthly publication backed by the non-profit foundation, the Human Rights Defense Center.
Together, PLN and the HRDC print and distribute books, litigate free speech issues across the nation, and generally serve as the most respected voice for the 2.3 million men, women, and children presently confined in our country's prisons and jails.
PLN itself has more than 9,000 subscribers across all 50 states. An estimated 70 percent of all the subscribers are incarcerated, the remaining balance being attorneys, prisoners' rights advocates and loved ones of prisoners. The managing editor, Alex Friedmann, is a former prisoner himself, and most of the columnists and contributing writers are incarcerated themselves. And in the interest of full disclosure, I am also a contributor.
PLN has become a key player in the battle against censorship and has also had success in forcing correctional agencies to disclose records of their operations, information that many agencies guard most jealously. Their work has brought to light corruption and breaches in ethics and has earned HDRC the Society of Professional Journalists' annual First Amendment Award. More recently PLN and HDRC led a successful push for tough new FCC regulations designed to reign in the exorbitant telephone rates charged by prison phone vendors (imagine paying $28 for a 15-minute call to your family 30 miles down the road).
But when operating a non-profit, funding is a constant battle; prisoners and their families generally don't have a lot of extra money. As such, PLN funds its operation with fundraising campaigns and also by selling ad space to a carefully monitored hodgepodge of lawyers, specialized publishers of prisoner-centric books, magazine subscription providers, pen pal services, and other purveyors of goods and services aimed at the prisoner market. And that's what's set Florida Department of Correction officials' sights on the publication.
It's no secret that prison officials tend to be less than supportive of efforts to educate prisoners on their rights or to disseminate information regarding prison conditions; this is not the first time the FDOC has attempted to silence PLN. In 2003 prison officials began impounding issues when inmates ordered the magazine, justifying their actions with the thinly veiled assertion that advertisements contained therein presented a "security threat." PLN sued the agency on the grounds that it violated the first amendment, and in 2005, the FDOC "assured the court they would no longer censor the magazine." PLN dropped their action on the basis of that promise -- which proved to be a lie.
Starting again in 2009, FDOC began to again block PLN, via the application of a Department of Correction rule on "Admissible Reading Material," which prohibits publications that include advertisements for three-way calling services, pen pal services, the purchase of products or services with postage stamps, or promotes inmates conducting a business.
And so this past January, PLN headed back to court.
Whether advertisements for pen pal services truly represent a security problem for the Department of Corrections is a matter that a jury will decide at trial. The view on such matters is skewed sharply in favor of prison officials, who enjoy great deference from the courts when their security policies are reviewed for constitutionality. PLN probably faces an uphill fight; as long as prison officials can maintain a poker face while citing the dangers associated with postage stamp purchases, they'll probably win.
But why should anyone outside the prison system care about this? Because all pretextual laws and regulations on free speech are a danger to our freedom as a nation. As Justice Brennan noted in a 1963 civil rights case involving the NAACP, "broad prophylactic rules in the area of free expression are suspect."
Here, a powerful government entity, the State of Florida, wishes to suppress a long-respected voice of dissent and social justice by targeting arguably "dangerous" content in the advertisements. We must remember how bitterly the Framers of our constitution battled over the contours of the First Amendment. Allowing the State to crush legitimate dissenters who are attempting to ensure transparency and accountability, by prohibiting the advertisement of lawful endeavors should make everyone take pause and ask: what are they afraid of?
A bench trial took place in January, and we're now waiting to hear the court's judgment. Let us hope that the Justice remembers Meriweather Smith's words to the Continental Congress, "When the liberty of the Press shall be restrained, the liberties of the People will be at an end."
Prison Legal News has reported on the legal landscape of prisoners' rights in America's prisons for 25 years. It was founded by Paul Wright from his prison cell in Washington State, where he was serving a 25-year sentence for shooting a drug dealer (he was released in 2003). From the beginning, its goal has to been to inform both the incarcerated and their families regarding issues of prison conditions, resources, and reform. It has grown from a cheaply-produced newsletter slapped together by a few prisoners, to a well-respected, 64-page monthly publication backed by the non-profit foundation, the Human Rights Defense Center.
Together, PLN and the HRDC print and distribute books, litigate free speech issues across the nation, and generally serve as the most respected voice for the 2.3 million men, women, and children presently confined in our country's prisons and jails.
PLN itself has more than 9,000 subscribers across all 50 states. An estimated 70 percent of all the subscribers are incarcerated, the remaining balance being attorneys, prisoners' rights advocates and loved ones of prisoners. The managing editor, Alex Friedmann, is a former prisoner himself, and most of the columnists and contributing writers are incarcerated themselves. And in the interest of full disclosure, I am also a contributor.
PLN has become a key player in the battle against censorship and has also had success in forcing correctional agencies to disclose records of their operations, information that many agencies guard most jealously. Their work has brought to light corruption and breaches in ethics and has earned HDRC the Society of Professional Journalists' annual First Amendment Award. More recently PLN and HDRC led a successful push for tough new FCC regulations designed to reign in the exorbitant telephone rates charged by prison phone vendors (imagine paying $28 for a 15-minute call to your family 30 miles down the road).
But when operating a non-profit, funding is a constant battle; prisoners and their families generally don't have a lot of extra money. As such, PLN funds its operation with fundraising campaigns and also by selling ad space to a carefully monitored hodgepodge of lawyers, specialized publishers of prisoner-centric books, magazine subscription providers, pen pal services, and other purveyors of goods and services aimed at the prisoner market. And that's what's set Florida Department of Correction officials' sights on the publication.
It's no secret that prison officials tend to be less than supportive of efforts to educate prisoners on their rights or to disseminate information regarding prison conditions; this is not the first time the FDOC has attempted to silence PLN. In 2003 prison officials began impounding issues when inmates ordered the magazine, justifying their actions with the thinly veiled assertion that advertisements contained therein presented a "security threat." PLN sued the agency on the grounds that it violated the first amendment, and in 2005, the FDOC "assured the court they would no longer censor the magazine." PLN dropped their action on the basis of that promise -- which proved to be a lie.
Starting again in 2009, FDOC began to again block PLN, via the application of a Department of Correction rule on "Admissible Reading Material," which prohibits publications that include advertisements for three-way calling services, pen pal services, the purchase of products or services with postage stamps, or promotes inmates conducting a business.
And so this past January, PLN headed back to court.
Whether advertisements for pen pal services truly represent a security problem for the Department of Corrections is a matter that a jury will decide at trial. The view on such matters is skewed sharply in favor of prison officials, who enjoy great deference from the courts when their security policies are reviewed for constitutionality. PLN probably faces an uphill fight; as long as prison officials can maintain a poker face while citing the dangers associated with postage stamp purchases, they'll probably win.
But why should anyone outside the prison system care about this? Because all pretextual laws and regulations on free speech are a danger to our freedom as a nation. As Justice Brennan noted in a 1963 civil rights case involving the NAACP, "broad prophylactic rules in the area of free expression are suspect."
Here, a powerful government entity, the State of Florida, wishes to suppress a long-respected voice of dissent and social justice by targeting arguably "dangerous" content in the advertisements. We must remember how bitterly the Framers of our constitution battled over the contours of the First Amendment. Allowing the State to crush legitimate dissenters who are attempting to ensure transparency and accountability, by prohibiting the advertisement of lawful endeavors should make everyone take pause and ask: what are they afraid of?
A bench trial took place in January, and we're now waiting to hear the court's judgment. Let us hope that the Justice remembers Meriweather Smith's words to the Continental Congress, "When the liberty of the Press shall be restrained, the liberties of the People will be at an end."
February 27, 2015
Book Review: Hobo Pete and the Ghost Train
Image courtesy ebay.com
Hobo Pete and the Ghost Train
By Sandy Pheat
Published by Freebird Publishers, P.O. Box 541, North Dighton,
MA 02764; www.FreebirdPublishers.com (2014)
ISBN 9780991359103
Available as Ebook and paperback through Amazon.
Reviewed by Christopher Zoukis
Hobo Pete and the Ghost Train represents a victory for Freebird Publishers, a growing multi-media entity dedicated to serving a sometimes forgotten segment of American society: the 2.3 million men, women, and children currently...
San Francisco Book Review Shares its Thoughts on College for Convicts
College for Convicts has been reviewed in the San Francisco Book Review!
Reviewer Stacia Levy gave us a glowing 5/5 review, and we couldn't be more happy!
"This is an amazing work in many ways. The author is, himself, incarcerated, but this book goes beyond the personal argument for prison education, so much so that I was unaware of the author's background until reading his biography."
Read the full review here:
http://sanfranciscobookreview.com/201...
Reviewer Stacia Levy gave us a glowing 5/5 review, and we couldn't be more happy!
"This is an amazing work in many ways. The author is, himself, incarcerated, but this book goes beyond the personal argument for prison education, so much so that I was unaware of the author's background until reading his biography."
Read the full review here:
http://sanfranciscobookreview.com/201...
February 25, 2015
Book Review: Conspiracy Theory
Image courtesy huffingtonpost.com
Conspiracy Theory
By Mike Enemigo
Published by The Cell Block, P. O. Box 212, Folsom, CA 95763
ISBN 9781492709665 $15.00 (2012, 2013)
Available on Amazon.
Reviewed by Christopher Zoukis
Conspiracy Theory is a gritty story of drugs, crime, and the underground rap music scene in Sacramento, California, written by someone who knows whereof he speaks. Mike Enemigo, a Folsom Prison lifer is the Impresario of The Cell Block, an up-and-coming publisher of crime, urban fi...
February 23, 2015
A Little Bit of Faith Never Hurt Anyone
Image courtesy iwantcovers.com
By Christopher Zoukis
“Faith would be that God .... bound himself to time and its hazards and haps
as a man would lash himself to a tree for love.”
-- ANNIE DILLARD, HOLY THE FIRM
Faithfulness. A noun. The best synonym for it is probably ‘constant,’ to my mind anyway.
And the first thing we need to know is how the early church understood this word ‘faithfulness.’ Indeed, I would hazard that most of us would have a hard time defining faithfulness in modern terms, mu...
February 20, 2015
College for Convicts: New Study Proposes $60BN Annual Budget Cut - By Providing Higher Education in Nation's Prisons
The study, conducted by legal commentator Christopher Zoukis, concludes that offering post-secondary and academic education to prisoners can cut $60 billion from the national budget every year – without scrapping existing programs. Zoukis has compiled his research and findings into College for Convicts: The Case for Higher Education in American Prisons, a game-changing new book being released at a time when correctional educational programs are being clawed back or eliminated at an alarming...
