So I received this letter from Rob a few weeks ago, and then a few days later I had some free time so I thought I’d scan it in and post it on “Alas.”
So I looked on my desk, where I KNEW I’d left it. Nothing.
Well, maybe it fell. I looked under my desk. Nothing. Looking through the huge pile of books to see if it was stuck between a couple. Looked on the shelf, looked in the drawer, looked through the huge pile of stuff on my desk a second time, and then a third.
Nothing, nothing, nothing.
Anyway, yesterday, I needed to scan a page of a book, opened the scanner, and there, on the scanner glass: Rob’s letter.
Without further ado, your letter from Rob.
April 1, 2015
Dear Barry and/or Alas! miscreants, ne’er-do-wells, and riff-raff:
Thank you for the recent gifts, but please don’t send me any more money! Well, I mean, you can if you really want too – it isn’t like you’re pouring holy water onto a Whedonesque vampire by so doing – but at this point you are, literally, buying me soda and donuts and cheeseburgers, not keeping me in touch with the outer world and buying me precious dimestore novels with which I ward off the ever-present threat of madness. I’m making $2 per day now, which goes to $3 in May and $4 if I’m still here in June, and while I admit that sounds like a laughably tiny amount of money, in prison it makes me comfortably middle class.
But I really appreciate what you have all sent, and it really did make an enormous difference in my quality of life (and in the sense of not being isolated and friendless), so thank you again for that. Going forward, give it to someone else in need and think of me. (Ha, and thus, I subtly subvert you further into the wickedly non-collective realm of altruistically-selfish donating and undermine the evil of left-wing thought. Bwa ha ha ha!)
OK, I might have had a little too much caffeine today. Free coffee at my job. Wheeeeee!
Barry suggests that if I want to inspire discussion and/or contro-versy, I need to make less agreeable assertions. Fine, I exist to serve.
1. The poor should be burned as a clean, renewable energy source. (Jesus said that “the poor you have always with you”, so it is a matter of theological certainty that we’ll never run out.)
2. Puppies are terrible and should be banned.
3. Kittens should be allowed to continue to exist, but only as a food animal. Small children should grow them in backyard ranches as a 4H-sponsored project.
4. Women who don’t want children should be forced to breed and rear them from menarche to menopause. Women who do want children should be sterilized and sent to labor battalions in bleak, childless work camps.
5. Men should be encouraged to be sensitive and caring on even-numbered days, and encouraged to be brutal and domineering on odd-numbered days. (Wait, we do this now, only without the sensible on/off organizing principle.)
6. Blueberry Pop-Tarts should be the only kind of Pop-Tarts.
7. All sexual acts must be done in public. If it’s not good enough for the street, it’s not good enough period.
That ought to keep you going for a couple weeks at least. Enjoy.
I’ll eventually send any comments left on this post to Robert (possibly after losing them in my scanner for a few weeks).
To send Robert a letter through the mail, use this address:
Robert Luty Hayes, Jr. 165970
FMCC Unit E – Four Mile Correctional Center
P.O. Box 300
Cańon City CO, 81215-0300
If you’d rather send him an email, you can go to Jpay.com and enter Robert’s state (Colorado) and his DOC Number – 165970 – into the search fields. (Sometimes I’ve had to do this twice before it worked). Then you can use your debit card to send him an “email” (he’ll actually get it in the form of a print-out). If you contact Robert via Jpay, be sure to give him your mailing address – he can’t use Jpay, so the only means he has for writing back to you is to send you mail through the post office.
Point 6 is not controversial, it is Universal Truth. Grace says that it is controversial. Well played.
For the record:
I agree that Blueberry Pop-Tarts should be a kind of Pop-Tart. However, Pumpkin Pie Pop-Tarts should also exist, especially because they are alliterative.
If we don’t receive a response from you within 48 hours, I will consider you to have conceded my point.
I’m pretty sure pumpkin pie pop-tarts would be conclusive evidence for the lack of a loving God….
Die heretics! Die! (Which you will surely do if you continue down the path of eating wrong pop-tarts)
Raspberry is the One True Pop-Tart. It’s not too late to save your immortal taste bud. All you have to do is accept Raspberry Pop-Tart into your mouth.
I don’t like pop tarts.
Yeah, fried pies are good, but pop-tarts are such a pale shadow of the Platonic Ideal of fried pies that I kind of can’t go there. No one else ought to go there, either. Everyone ought to have real, freshly fried pies, made by southern grandmothers.
Q: What is the matter with you libertarians? Are there no limits with you people? You’d probably think it was perfectly fine if people were screwing right in the middle of the public square!
A: Nonsense – we libertarians are adamantly opposed to public squares….
Women who don’t want children should be forced to breed and rear them from menarche to menopause. Women who do want children should be sterilized and sent to labor battalions in bleak, childless work camps.
Nonsense! The children will still need to be raised for eighteen years after mentopause! Why let the women off early?
It was quite prescient of you to weigh in on the Hugo Awards controversy. Pity you went the route of censorship. For shame!
I thought this has been done and dusted in the Afirmative Consent threads. Aquienscence is not agreement.
In any case the power differential between a convict and a police officer renders him incapable of consenting.
This is far and away my favorite comment Daran has ever made. That’s fantastic and I wish I had thought of it.
Heh. Well played.
(Now you have me thinking, though; context is everything. A convict not only outside of my jurisdiction, and outside of my state, but most of a large continent away from my state, has no more to fear from me than he does from your average individual with enough discernment to prefer Pumpkin Pie Pop-tarts to Blueberry Pop-tarts.)
On the other hand, he is a white male and she is a trans woman, which means… Um…
Intersectionality makes my head hurt.
I’m pretty sure headaches are listed as a known side effect of taking high doses of Social Justice when you’ve been diagnosed with White Male Privilege.
None of you understand the way of the One True Pop Tart, brown sugar.
My original promise was to send Robert money 4 times during his year in prison, in order to demonstrate the value of mushy-headed bleeding heart liberal guilt. Now I can’t decide whether I should send the 4th gift in order to demonstrate that even those without religion can have strong values about honesty and loyalty, or whether to not send it in order to demonstrate the importance of letting people be experts on their own lives and valuing their right to self-determination. A real pickle to be sure.
Elusis is correct, brown sugar is truly the imperial Pop Tart.
Robert, I’m not sure we overlapped that much as commenters here, but I’m glad to hear you’re doing better in any case.
Robert, good to hear from you again. Hope to see you on here “in person” soon!
Your point 1 is outrageous, utterly outrageous! Do you have any idea how many greenhouse gasses are released by burning fat? In fact, fat burning should be banned in all forms, including exercise. I do hope you’ll see the light now that I’ve pointed out the weakness in your argument.
As between myself and, say, Grace, which one of us is supposed to check our privilege in respect of the other?
Both. You both have your areas of privilege and your areas where you face prejudice.
I’ve moved several comments from this thread to the open thread. This is in no way a criticism of the comments I moved, I just don’t think they belonged in this thread.
I agree wholeheartedly with nm about the superiority of fried pies.
I’m glad to hear that you’re living the middle-class life, Robert!
Hey Robert, hope things are trending better for you.
As you rebuild your life here on the outside, here’s a bit of career advice.
And if your parole officer reads this, just tell ’em that we never stopped thinkin’ ’bout you — even when we weren’t thinkin’.