The swine flu worries me as much as a gamma ray burst 12 million light years away.
Michael Jackson is a name more synonymous with fame, talent, child hood stardom, sacrifice as a musician and turmoil than any other musician will ever live up to. He was the the best live performer of all time. Just about all choreography you will ever see in history since is inspired by Michael Jackson’s work. His ‘moon walk’ and the “Thriller” dance is unarguably the two most famous dance moves ever created.
In the 1980s and early 1990s I owned several Michael Jackson albums. Dangerous and Bad are the two that I remember the most. I can honestly say that I must have sung along to Michael Jackson albums over 500 times when I was just a preteen.
RIP MJ.
In mid-2008 I was admitted to the Cleveland County jail in Shelby, North Carolina under false charges made by an ex-girlfriend who had and still has a severe drug problem, which at the time that I was with her from day to day included xanax, hydrocodone, percocet, oxycodone and cocaine.
The charges made consisted of death threats and suicide threats which she had no record of. At the time that the accusations took place, I was with my mother and my grandmother’s boyfriend who I had known for many years. He was very ill and passed away soon after. I turned myself in after we left from there that day.
Food in a jail should be subpar and not very delicious. Obviously that would be part of the punishment that you could expect, but this was far from the case as I learned. The entire reason for my 2 1/2 day “sentence” was to await the judge’s return on Monday morning.
I was not allowed a bed and was stripped of my clothes and forced to wear what I can only describe as a peice of fabric that did not cover the entire back portion of my body, unless I held the edges together at my back.
They took my glasses before I was placed in my cell and I could barely to see to walk as my vision is horrible. For two nights I was forced to sleep on a concrete floor with nothing soft for my head or body. To lessen the pain (that came after lying on a concrete floor for more than 48 hours) I ended up using a roll of toilet paper as a pillow.
A list of food that I was given in the two nights that I spent in the Shelby jail (those that I can remember)
- warm milk
- warm orange juice that tasted the way I would expect liquid vomit to taste (and smell)
- some sort of “bread” that I can’t describe
- bologna that appeared to be diseased
These were given to me through a slot in my cell door. I did not leave the cell for the entire duration of my stay.
Within hours of being in the cell I waved my arms for ten minutes in front of the camera in my cell. Once someone appeared, I asked why I didn’t have anything soft to lie on and was told that I wouldn’t be allowed to have anything because I made “suicidal threats” (according to my ex-girlfriend).
I’m not sure exactly when I got sick, but I’m thinking it was on the second day and know that it was caused by the food. I began feeling sick and within minutes was head first in the toilet vomiting for 20 minutes. When I waved my hands in front of the camera again hoping for help, none came. This happened several times when I attempted to get help.
The food was placed through the door by one of the inmates. I couldn’t see, but I could discern the color of the clothing that he was wearing when he appeared to tell me that my food was ready. According to articles that I’ve read while doing research on this subject, I can only guess that the inmates also cook and prepare the food.
Other disturbing information that I learned was that jails are provided with less than $3.00 for food for inmates (per day). That’s less than a $1 allotment for food per meal (if meal is provided three times per day).
I had never been to jail or even arrested in my life until this occurence and still maintain that I did not deserve to be there and definitely did not deserve the way that I was treated only to wait through the weekend for the judge to arrive Monday morning. If I had been found guilty of these “crimes”, then I could at least feel that I was getting the treatment that the justice system felt that I deserved through the correct channels.
You might not think so, but I call what I experienced cruel and unusual punishment.