I’m an anarchist. Through and through, all the way down to my bones, an anarchist. No one alive could be more thoroughly opposed to this dysfunctional system of hierarchy, and no one will cheer louder when swivilization finally sputters out once and for all. I’m secure in my anarchism-ness.

But have said all that, every once in a great while, a hierarch will do something not so terrible.

Take Captain McGuire, here at MANCI.

Now, I know. Captain McGuire works for the prison industrial complex. I know, she would shoot me off the fence and leave me dangling in the concertina wire if I tried to go home to my elderly parents who need me. I get it. But check it out: Captain McGuire was making her rounds at the same time that chow was being delivered. She watched a tray being passed into a tray slot and reportedly told the porter to give the tray to her. Captain McGuire then took the tray, with what little food was on it, and marched straight out of the block to the food service fascists and confronted them on the size of the portions.

For some background here, I’ve been in segregation since September. I’ve lost 55 pounds. Blackjack too is down from 220 pounds to under 160. Dillon at 6’4” most recently weighed in at a whopping 145 pounds and the alleged dietitian, some ass-clown named Elswick who doesn’t know nutrition from ice-sculpture took Dillon off of his high-calorie diet.

Apparently, 145 pounds at 6’4” is way too heavy.

He looks like a survivor from Dachau. You know, the walking skeletons with eyes the size of saucers peering out from deep in their skulls.

That’s what we’re dealing with here. MANCI is under the directon of the Gestapo High Command. And nobody had the courage nor the integrity to break ranks and insist that captives back here in segregation should get a standard-sized serving of food…except Captain McGuire.

So, last night we had spaghetti. The previous spaghetti dinner to last night, I received exactly four spoonfuls of spaghetti. That’s it. But since Captain McGuire confronted food service? Last night, I got fourteen spoonfuls of spaghetti. I mean, we’re not talking mafia-don servings here, but it was a standard-sized serving.

We’re getting fed now.

Blackjack stays awake for more than 3 hours a day. We both have energy and I think I’ve put on a few pounds in the last week. I know I’ve stopped losing weight now.

Keep in mind, there was a time when I was writing to friends and asking, “They can’t starve us to death. I mean, they can’t kill us, can they?

Captain McGuire answered that question. She said, “No.”

I’m almost hesitant to write this for posting because MANCI is such an insidious shithole and its administration is so utterly bankrupt of morality, I can only imagine that by recognizing Captain McGuire’s fairness and professionalism, I’m very possibly ruining her career. At MANCI, if I were instead to say she duct-taped mentally ill prisoners to a table and shoved a plunger up their asses, she’d probably get promoted. So, I hope this recognition doesn’t hurt Captain McGuire. Empathy is such a rare thing from corrections officials, you don’t want to punish anyone for it.

To stand up for the right thing is never a small act of courage. Anyone wanting to have Captain McGuire recognized for her integrity and professionalism should contact:

Ohio Governor Kasich (614) 466-3555

ODRC Director Gary C. Mohr (614) 752-1150

MANCI Warden Terry A. Tibbals (419) 526-2000 then dial 806-2000 for a direct line to his office.

We need prisons to collapse. We need systems of control to crumble. But in the meantime, we benefit from more Captain McGuires and fewer shitbags.

We might not starve to death back here after all.

Thanks, Captain McGuire.