Xcholo4u's Xanga

Rap Explained

Mon, 30 Jun 2008 20:07:56 GMT

Thoughts?

Part II of the previous post is in the works....

Judge Recommended Private Suites!

Mon, 09 Jun 2008 23:03:32 GMT

So I was cruising by Theoscafe today and noticed a post by Dan that asked the question, "If you were looking for God, where would you look?" I was surprised to see no shortage of answers. Some good, some bad. Some funny, some...not so much. There sure were a lot of formulas put out there! But what stood out to me were several comments like these:

The names and pictures have been modified to protect the innocent, or something like that. But I've heard this said so many times in my life that I decided to put in my two pesos on the matter, and maybe even answer a few questions from my last post. Here it goes...

Forget about what got you here. Your bus has arrived and you begin to shuffle out slowly, dragging your feet, because a normal stride will cause you to fall. It's not so easy to walk in shackles. No sooner have you got off the bus, you begin to be yelled instructions. The instructions have to be yelled out, otherwise you couldn't hear anything over all the cat calls, whistles and threats being yelled at you by the inmates looking to find weakness. It's no use, mostly everyone is covered in sweat...a sure sign of fear. Some are already shaking and pissing themselves.

The next major step is being strip searched. I can't tell you how degrading and humiliating an experience that can be. It will happen to you hundreds of times during the next few months. Anytime you go to the yard, the dispensary, and even before and after you see a loved one who came to visit you inside. Always. It's not the fact that another man (and sometimes female guards) sees your penis or love handles. It's the humiliating feeling as you are told to do this and that. Hold this position, turn around, open this crevice and cough...all while feeling less than strong because at a simple command you will do what they say. And believe me when I tell you...you never get used to this.

Now it's time to eat. After getting whatever slop gets thrown on your tray you're faced with a major decision. Where do I sit? Man, this is not an easy thing. Sit by another race and you've committed suicide. There are no open minded people who can simply be liked by everyone because "I'm not a racist." Motherfucker, you better be. Oh, you'll learn it the hard way...sooner rather than later, bet on that. But it's not like the movies where you find plenty of empty seats to choose from. Even if that were the case, sitting alone is like shouting over a loudspeaker, "Please come and take advantage of me!" Once you decide, you better watch what you say and how you act. Discovering that the food is hot on the outside and still frozen on the inside is the least of your worries. You force yourself to eat, probably for the first time, you're eating because you're hungry...without the choice of sending it back, or getting something else. If you don't eat what they give you, you will go hungry...but eventually YOU WILL EAT WHAT THEY SERVE YOU.

Man, what a fucked up day. You discover that your cell smells like ass. Your bed consists of a thin pad that barely hides the metal springs beneath it. Your cell is so small that you can touch opposite walls at the same time easily...with plenty of room to spare. Your cellmate, who you better get used to will see you piss, shit and everything else. And the noise! Fuck! Hundreds of conversations going on all around you at all times. The only way for everyone to hear each other is to shout over the other conversations, thus making it louder and louder as time passes. Peace and quiet will soon be a long forgotten experience.

Of course I left out a lot of things. But it gets worse...

Living with all these rules, codes, and regulations are enough to drive you insane. As time passes you learn that there are just as many rules, codes and regulations from the convicts as well. But there will be no shortage of people looking out for you. There will always be a friendly face around, showing you this and that, telling you how things break down and how to act. Maybe even offering you a cigarette or two. Sometimes candy. He may even take you to his cell and make a care package for you. Toilet paper, canned soup, canned veggies, dry noodles, toothpaste, and soap. Man, what would you do without him??? And you notice that nobody is bothering you like in the movies. Maybe you can just do your time and be out in a few months/years...

Then after a short while, sometimes an hour, sometimes after a few days, it comes. Your buddy will take you aside to his cell or yours, or to a hallway or out of the way area. He'll ask you to perform a sexual favor. Maybe oral sex if you're lucky. Maybe more if you've taken his gifts. Of course, now you realize that nothing is free in this place. You realize that this is inevitable. If you refuse, you may receive a severe beating...best case scenario. More than likely what will happen is that this person will hold a prison made shank to you and give you the choice of life or death. Most people choose life. And there it is. There's no turning back now. You probably tell yourself that it will just be a one time thing. The truth is, now you've become property. That inmate owns you. He can trade you, sell you, or rent you out. He can settle debts with your services, or even just give you to one of his homies.

Over the next few weeks you will probably be made to wear prison made thongs made from tank tops. You'll also be shown how to use cherry flavored (or raspberry) Kool-Aid to make lipstick and eye shadow. And this will be an everyday thing. After a while, you will no longer resist and just give in to your fate. Some people choose to kill themselves, others just cry themselves to sleep every night.

But wait, what if you inform the guards? Certainly they can help, right? Wrong. You will probably find out that they already know what's happening to you. They are indifferent. But perhaps you are lucky and find a guard who takes the time to file your complaint and follow protocol. The inmate or inmates will be sent to the hole for a month. A month. You are shocked to find out that they will only be there that long for doing what they did...but that is what your asshole was worth. And it gets worse. You don't even get the thirty days of peace. Word of you being a snitch gets out. You crossed the line. You violated the most important rule of all. Don't snitch. The only way to be remotely safe now is to be transferred to solitary...and even then, they can get to you.

So how often do you think these men report this? When "they" decide to do surveys to try and find out what the percentage of rape victims per year are, do you think people will volunteer that information? No. They want it to remain a secret. So how accurate do you think those statistics are really?

"But what they hell is your point, Miguel...are you anywhere near the end of this post?" "What does all of this have to do with finding God?"

Oh, yes...I do have a point. Life on the inside sucks. This is reality for most. It's when you lose everything... possessions, pride, family, etc, that most humans resort to one last thing...hope.

And it's at this time when they take the chance to believe in a God who will deliver them from their life. The problem is that it's usually short lived faith that they find. The minute they no longer find themselves in these desperate situations...they forget all about God. The truth is, a lot of people look, but never do find him while doing time. It's just not that kind of place.

PART II next time....

You Reek Of Grandpa's Medicine, Miguel!

Mon, 26 May 2008 04:00:14 GMT

I think that we can all agree that we all have had or have dreams and aspirations. And yes, some of those dreams may seem foolish to those around us. But who is to say? Haters are quick to judge and sneer, point a finger or let out a little giggle...but hey, at least people are trying, right? I think that a lot of us fail to give credit to those that are trying. Maybe it's because we lack the courage? Or maybe because we've just accepted our supposed destiny and are content with living our tedious lives with as little risk as possible. I for one, admire those that risk it all chasing a dream that nobody else sees. Even in failure, at the very least those people can look back and say, "I tried." Doesn't that count for something? Sure it does. I think that most of us can look back at an opportunity that we lost to do something...and now we either kick ourselves in the ass, or at least ask ourselves the dreaded, "I wonder if..."

Lord knows that I have scores of things I left undone, or things that I regret not doing. The older I get, the more I realize that life isn't fair sometimes. Not that I'm complaining, because I think that I've had more than my share of chances in this life. But that doesn't mean I don't have regret. But thinking back to some of the things I've seen others endure, I realize that I'm indeed very blessed...to say the least!

During one of my stays at a luxurious, Judge recommended suite, I recall that there was a young kid who was in for a shit and a shave. He wasn't a chester or anyone who was in for a real crime, at least nothing that I can recall. And yet just two months shy of going home, a prison torpedo who was doing the big bitch, hit him up for his manhood. The kid showed heart, and stood up to him and told him no...but in doing so, he called him a "fag." Though he followed proper etiquette, the next day while showering, he had a fifteen inch shank lodged in his side. The torpedo raped him as he lay dying on the floor. But life is ugly like that sometimes. We never know when our time is up.

So what am I trying to say? I guess more than anything, I'm trying to talk myself into staying focused on my priorities and not letting opportunities pass me by. Life is a risk, but success rarely comes to those who stand by and let conformity weigh them down. Just a tip from your uncle Migs.

**By the way, I apologize if this post didn't make a whole lot of sense, I'm a tad bit...you know.

Lakers Advance To The Western Conference Finals

Mon, 19 May 2008 02:24:16 GMT

So, as you may or may not know, I'm a huge Lakers fan. Recently, the Los Angeles Lakers beat the Utah Jazz to advance to the Western Conference Finals. Many people will tell you that the Jazz lost because of this reason or that. But I believe I know the real reason why the Utah Jazz lost the series....

It was due to their star player, Deron Williams. No, not his basketball skills, or the way he played....nope. It's the haircut. It was a classic example of the Bowl Cut Curse!

I know what you're thinking, "Come on, Miguel...that's the silliest thing I ever heard!" But as many of you followers of my blog know, I try and qualify the things I say. I dare say that I can give you irrefutable evidence to support my claim. Let's look back to a happier time and I'll show you what I mean.

The Brady Bunch was a hit television show that enjoyed renewed success year after year...until some no brain executive decided to make additions to the cast and brought cousin Oliver into the mix. As you may recall, that bowl cut kid brought down ratings almost immediately, and the show was canceled soon thereafter.

Different Strokes was another show that topped the rating charts. All of America seemed to be watching this show. It endured success year after year...until....they brought in the little redheaded bowl cut kid. And just as with The Brady Bunch before, it spelled an almost immediate end to the show. Different Strokes was canceled shortly thereafter. Coincidence you say? Let me continue...

The Facts Of Life. Come on, who didn't watch that show? And as the others, it enjoyed years of success. That is until years later, Tootie, decided that she needed a hairstyle change...you guessed it, she got a bowl cut! Do I have to tell you what happened shortly thereafter? That's right. It was soon over.

Family Ties. The Keatons kicked major television ass! Everyone watched this show. Ratings couldn't possibly be better. We watched that family grow up before our eyes. Good writing, funny and witty dialogue. But then, once again, they brought in some bowl cut kid as an addition to the family...and the rest is history. Convinced yet? No? Let me continue...

The A Team. What a kick ass show. This was my favorite by far. Again, they had television ratings by the huevos until they had a guest appearance by Pete Rose, and then...

Okay, maybe I made that last one up. The fact is that I couldn't really think of a way to throw in Pete Rose's bowl cut into my theory.

Thoughts???

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Tue, 22 Apr 2008 20:20:06 GMT

Been busy, you know??? I'll be back before you know it. I did do a drunken post on why I think hate is more powerful than love...but once I read it sober, I didn't buy it. So maybe I'll re-write it for a future post. Anyway...

...damn, my footprints haven't been this low since I first started! But I can't say I blame anyone but myself. I have been a lazy bastard! Anyway, see you soon.

Algun Dia Vas A Pagar Por Tu Maldad, Miguel

Tue, 08 Apr 2008 14:56:41 GMT

I'm guesstimating that the year was around 1985. It happened in North Hollywood, on Whitsett Ave, in between the Saticoy St. split. I was visiting a friend who lived in one of the many apartment complexes in that area. While I was there, there was a certain heavy set lady that managed to climb the rail (that has since been replaced by a high chain-link fence) that was above the170 Freeway overpass, just before the Sherman Way exit. She stepped on the ledge and held on to the rail facing the oncoming traffic as she worked her way to the middle. She was obviously very scared. Before too long there were hundreds of people all outside waiting to see the outcome. She wanted to jump but lost her nerve every time she went to let go. The traffic below kept on moving unmercifully. She cried and wiped tears from her face several times. The scene lasted for a while. During this time, my friends and I had worked our way across the street and were busy telling this lady to stop wasting our time and to jump already! We even threw small rocks at her to give her the extra boost. After torturing this poor woman with our indifference and stupidity for a good ten minutes, we heard sirens getting louder as they approached. A fire engine, ambulance, and several black and whites were coming. This it seemed was her salvation, or her cry for help answered. But unexpectedly, instead of making things better, it gave her the boost she needed to follow through with her conviction. She jumped.

Within a minute, things went back to normal and people went back inside their habitations. It didn't mean a whole lot to me back then. In fact, the incident was forgotten almost immediately. But over twenty years later...I still remember the part I played in this woman's demise. Could I have changed the outcome? Would some words of encouragement, or an extended hand have made a difference? I'll never know. What I do know is that it's a horrible thing to have been a part of. I am deeply ashamed.

Perhaps it's youth, and maybe stupidity...but this is no laughing matter. I cringe when I come across comments or posts about other people "faking" suicide or trying to get attention and traffic to their sites by talking about it. Again, who knows? Maybe. Maybe not. I know that I for one don't want anything else on my conscience. I have enough already. I'll leave it to someone else to learn that lesson for themselves.

Just so you know, it's not an easy thing to live with. Take it from your uncle Migs.

**Perhaps I didn't make myself clear. What I'm saying is that we shouldn't judge other people's sincerity when it comes to that subject. Why take the chance? Who are we to say what's true?

If I Had Been In A Terrible Industrial Accident, THEN I'd Worry!

Mon, 31 Mar 2008 16:52:17 GMT

As you've probably guessed, the last post got me a first class ticket to the doghouse. What sucks worse than that, is the fact that nobody took my side on the matter. Where's the love, huh? That made S.O. even more empowered by her now, recently validated righteous anger. Thanks, Xanga! But, I stand behind what I said. And furthermore, will not retract my post or my words. In fact, I've had wonderful, restful, and heaven sent rest lately. No knees jabbing me in the back. Nobody hogging all the blankets. Not having to twist in Gumby-like positions for lack of room on the bed. It has been great! I confess, rather lonely...for the most part. But aaah...I'll let you in on a little secret....

I have a beautiful and long forgotten friend that has helped me cope in these lonely times. We lost touch a while back....forever ago it seems. But we have recently been introduced and have become inseperable once again. It's been almost magical. ==>

And of course...

You Should Be Thankful For That Imagination!

Thu, 27 Mar 2008 13:30:07 GMT

It's not often that I post about arguments or fights that I get into with my S.O.. Truth be told, she reads my blog, and I suppress a lot of damn funny stuff for her sake....or rather, for my sake...so I don't miss out on the late night mambo that she graciously rations out on occasion...like if the stars are aligned just right, and or Saturn's moons are...nevermind, let me stop right there. But there are some things that need to be said. And though this may cost me many a lonely night for the next few weeks, I have to say it. Besides, there's always alternatives.

Okay, I admit. Men are naturally dirty minded. We take the most innocent of things and turn them into porn in our minds. Hey, guilty as charged. But you want to know what? That imagination can be your friend as well. You women can use it to your advantage. And in fact, you do...probably without even realizing it. Let me qualify what I'm saying:

Gross. I know. But I have a point. Now, regardless of how many men out there deny this, or swear on the Bible that it isn't the case, it is. Every man who has witnessed the miracle of childbirth, has had this thought enter his mind, "Holy shit! This kid has just ruined her [enter any term for vagina here] forever!"

Now, even though we have just witnessed your vaginal opening withstand an 8 lbs, 3oz monstrosity coming out a few months back...we still think that we can hurt you in bed. We give it every effort. Now, as if that wasn't enough, we can also pretend that it still feels the same. I'll bet that almost all of you women have asked their man if they could tell the difference, to which we reply, "No, dear...it's better than ever." Imagination. Plain and simple.

Now, not to talk shit...because I know how hard a thing it is to carry a baby for 9 months and also how horrific it is to see you go through childbirth...but the fact is that it is a rare woman who can get back to her original factory condition. Let's face it...you normally add on a few pounds. Especially after a few kids.

Again, our imagination is your best friend. For every man knows that beauty is only a lightswitch away...

And the reason we can still perform is, because in the dark, our imagination can stretch even further. And though it may shock you...it's not you that we're with! Take that!

Thoughts?

Lesson Learned

Wed, 26 Mar 2008 20:48:39 GMT

A Kick In The Balls Would Have Hurt Me Less, Jessica!

Mon, 17 Mar 2008 07:50:48 GMT

"My grandfather was the only Mexican at his college, the only Hispanic person at work and the only one at the all-white country club. He tried to forget his Mexican roots, because he never wanted his kids to be made to feel different in America. He and my grandmother didn't speak Spanish to their children. Now, as a third-generation American, I feel as if I have finally cut loose."-Jessica Alba

Oh baby, say it isn't so! Please tell me they misquoted you! You were drunk? High? Lacking sleep? Received a recent, violent blow to the head? Or perhaps you were joking? Please???

Seriously, do you want to know why this hurts so bad? Because I'm guilty of it too. Yes, I am ashamed to admit it.

Whenever I accompanied my father to run an errand and heard him "Espeek Eenglich" as other people walked past us laughing or giving us the look...I felt ashamed. Of what? I don't know. I can't understand it these days. But I do recall feeling embarrassed in those days.

Perhaps it was the fact that my father was not the best looking man. Maybe it was because he dressed poorly, and was oblivious to the fact that people laughed at him and his Eenglich. I saw it. I know. I tried to distance myself, as if walking a few steps away was going to conceal the fact that this wetback kid was the obvious offspring of this man butchering the language.

****************************************************************************

Here is one of my Kung Fu flashbacks....

...circumstances that would take too long to describe, led me to be confronted by a group of hostile, tattooed hooligans, just seconds away from performing the long lost art of the laying on of hands. They were very intent on teaching this unbeliever of their magical gift...their ability to convert me to their way of thinking.

But I held my ground. Incredulous. Besides, there were five of us. Our five, against their eight were beatable odds. It wasn't unheard of. I looked over my shoulder, behind me...my friends were gone. They left me. They must have gotten scared when they saw the group approaching. But then, I looked to my right...there he was. Cesar. All 105 lbs of him. His 14 year old body shaking as he held his fists up...the only one who stayed back with me despite the futility of such a thing. That act alone placed him in my familia, category. He didn't leave me. He stayed and took his chances. His loyalty to me was unsurpassed.

******************************************************************************

I've always admired Cesar (rest in peace, homie) for that. And yet, the utter disgust I had for my cowardly and soon to be sorry, friends was all that I focused on back then. To say that their cowardice made my stomach turn is an understatement. And yet...that's EXACTLY what I did to my father on more than one occasion. OUCH! That stings.

Hopefully, Jessica, you learn as I did that there is beauty in our culture. There is nothing to feel ashamed about. Be proud of where you came from.

-Miguel

Tupac? Do you have any thoughts on this?

"AMERIKA, AMERIKA, AMERIKKKA
I charge you with the crime of rape, murder, and assault.
For suppressing and punishing my people.
I charge you with robbery~ for robbing me of my history.
I charge you with false imprisonment ~ for keeping me
Trapped in the projects
And the jury finds you guilty on all counts
And you are to serve the consequences of your evil schemes"