SumtinK


If they step out of line, I spank the butt. by m
March 2, 2008, 4:49 am
Filed under: Percolation, Vidbit | Tags: ,

n the island of Cebu in the Philippines, there are two jails. One is a third-world nightmare hell on earth full of happy, relaxed people. The other is a thoroughly modern facility where all the inmates are hateful, twitchy, and basically traumatized.

Bagong Buhay Rehabilitation Center is a 30-year-old prison designed to house about 250 prisoners. It’s currently holding 1,600. The prison is so packed that there’s not enough room for everyone to lie down at once, so the prisoners sleep in shifts, mostly three to a pile on tiny makeshift cots called cobols that are made out of rice sacks and wood scrap.

It’s also too full to close the prison doors, so the prisoners just clamber around as they please—murderers, embezzlers, bandits, and perverts rubbing shoulders and holding master classes. Apparently, it’s calmed down a lot since about 900 drug addicts were moved to a separate facility down the road.

Like a lot of prisons in the Philippines, the BBRC is built on the old colonial model: A square of dirt with a big wall around it. It’s a madhouse. The guards won’t set foot in the place unless they’re in a pack of 20 and covered by sharpshooters on the walls.

Plumbing is non-existent. There’s never enough food, and the best time to shower is when it rains. It sounds like the perfect example of the worst prison on earth, but it’s actually not so terrible. Because there are no guards—really—the prisoners have to organize things for themselves. They do this along cellblock lines. Although the doors to the cells are never closed, the prisoners operate under the rubric of 13 cellblocks, or brigades, with between 100 and 200 members to each 100-square-meter “home cell.”

Every cellblock elects its own bosyo, or mayor, whose job is to keep the peace and solve problems for the prisoners. He gets medicine for the sick, helps fill out paperwork, and organizes ritual beatings for prisoners who get out of line. The beatings are not too brutal, though, because any prisoner can just go join another cellblock if he feels hard done by. Basically, a bosyo characterized it to me like this: “If they step out of line, I spank the butt.”

This was taken from Vice Magazine. A modern day, commercialized, Tibor Kalman with a little more foot in your face. You can check out the rest of the article here.

Does this not say so much about the core of the human spirit as well as the screwed up institutions we have come to use to constrain and beat it with?

While traveling through Laos 4-5 years ago, I wanted to go to stay on this island in the middle of this man-made lake. Apparently, after creating some dam, the government flooded this entire valley (accidentally or not, I’m not sure) thus creating a lake that ranged from 5 to maybe 30 feet deep throughout. You can think of it more as a really huge puddle. Anyway, the story goes that the government then decided to send all the prostitutes and thieves arrested to the islands created by the high-points in this valley. Bear in mind that this was all in the 50’s/60’s so they had long since died and/or swam away, but I had heard that there was still an island on which it was possible to stay and there were some people who could take me out to it via their motorized dug-out canoe. I wont go into the entire story of that night (because A. that’s not the point of this story and B. it would take FAR too long) but lets just say I ended up having a crazy night staying with a bunch of squatters who had taken up home in this old, dilapidated-as-hell/falling over, speak-easy type restaurant/old motel. It was a ridiculous experience. The point though is that these islands, filled with con-men and thieves, and hoes, and what-have-you, developed their own little island-specific towns and cultures. They built their own restaurants and ‘bars’ and whatever else. Just like the prison-system described in that Vice article. Sure, people probably tussled and some people may have killed each other, but that’s life (and death) and it didn’t happen so much that it destroyed their culture. Those delinquents were probably dealt with (‘spank the butt’?). The fact remains that those ‘terrible’ people still created something that worked and still cooperated and trusted enough to build things and make some community work. They didn’t just all freak out and stab each other in the face. Plus, they probably had a better life and learned more than what would have happened had they been put into some monolithic concrete jail-monster with I’ll-put-the-fear-of-god-into-you-because-I-can type of guards.

All this is visible in aforementioned jail in the Philippines.

And furthermore, I think this is the same jail (Note: Nope, not the same jail. This jail is Cebu Provincial Detention and Rehabilitation Center – CPDRC. Don’t know if it’s the ‘other’ jail they speak of in the article…I’ll pretend it isn’t.)

I remember seeing the Thriller performance (choreography is stellar in this one) a ways back, but I just couldn’t resist this one.

Thriller! Soulja Boy! MC Hammer! DANCING! In prison!

What are we doing America?

We have the highest incarceration rate in the world at 737 persons imprisoned per 100,000. Here, more than 1 in 100 adults are now confined in an American jail or prison. We have about 5% of the world’s population and 25% of the world’s incarcerated population….

In the past number of years people have gotten pretty heated over the privatization of prisons. Those for privatization argue cost reduction, whereas the arguments against it focus on standards of care, and whether a market economy for prisons might also lead to a market demand for prisoners (tougher sentencing for cheap labor).

Private companies which provide services to prisons form the American Correctional Association, which advocates legislation favorable to the industry…..

Housing one prisoner usually costs a state between $18,000 and $31,000 every year, $33 per day for the average prisoner and $100 per day for an ‘elderly’ prisoner…

What the fuck, yo?



Bl.I.nd World by m
February 14, 2008, 12:42 am
Filed under: Aural Pleasure, Percolation, Vidbit

People have compared Aloe Blacc to an up-and-coming “Indy R. Kelly”. I’m sorry, but I’m not really feeling that description. Maybe I’m just short-changing Kelly though…
Maybe I’m just not aware of the breadth of art Kelly has put out. I do, however, have a hard time taking people serious who prefer his/her name iced out in stardust. Don’t get me wrong, the man has a beautiful voice, I just don’t see him presenting anything with such a complex address to the world and his own presence in it Aloe Blacc – Blind World, along with beautifully simple joints about an everyday event:

That mere fact that Blacc took the energy to make this video is refreshing.

One video I’m really loving is one Kwolf brought up the other night. Since he hasn’t put it up, I’m feeling the need to get it out.


The eerie guitar riff buries itself into my head and the washboard (what the hell is that called?) sets an amazing pace.
Religion. What an incredible institution.

(Speaking of institution, what’s the story with school? Professors, students, administrators, advisors, staff, security, alumni, boards of trustees, hoops to jump, things to ‘accomplish’, traditions to carry on.
Do these structures not seem a little fucked?
We pay, in future years of our life or past years of our parents’ lives (if we’re lucky), for finding out some things we like. I mean, lets be honest – a lot of the stuff we force down our throats just gets shat out on exams and left there. We don’t ‘enjoy’ a lot of it, as in many times we would rather be doing something else. But we stay because we want a future, we want some cushy cushness from some greenbacks. We take classes to learn material we, many times, don’t find interesting, in classes we enroll in because they fill requirements, taught by professors who live in a world of requirements of publishing and making sure their students ‘like’ them and get good enough grades so they’re kept, in a school that works as a full-time gold-digger, part-time over-bearing parent, part-time I-give-a-fuck.
Too harsh?
Maybe.

If we’re lucky our professors are passionate about their work and want to instill that passion in us. If we’re kind of lucky then our professors are passionate and do amazing work but would rather have you shut up and just let them keep publishing/doing their research/whatever work they do in the outside world. If we’re not lucky, then we get a professor who doesn’t seem too stoked on his/her work, is pretty jaded, and/or has a disconnect between his/her work, what they lecture (preach?) and his/her lifestyle.
It’s a game Dylan started singing abut with pot and schools then converted into one called “Everyone Must Get Jaded”.
I won’t remember what the central limit theorem is. I wont remember specific years of war or who started which wars. I wont remember all the aspects of transpiration. I won’t even remember most of the classes I took.
Now I’m not saying that this whole thing is for not. We learn some things from books and numbers, we learn some about what we like to learn, but it seems the experiences are the things that affect us most. The people. The fuck-ups. Now that’s no new realization – people say that all the time.
But what ever happened to people going on walkabouts? Or being kicked out into the wild blue yonder to flail and fail and get over it and get over ourselves. Almost die a few times. Meet a lot of things. Become un-jaded and in total awe.
Whatever happened to rocking the boat? Whatever happened to tipping the boat? Whatever happened to blowing the boat the hell up and going for a swim?)

Now something from our dear friend, Banksy:

not-a-race-3.jpghunters.giffeedtheworld2.jpg




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