An old dog, tired out

I've come to the conclusion that, of the several aspects and dynamics of prison, one thing is absolutely clear - those doing the job mostly don't know what they are actually doing! It goes beyond that - they don't seem to know what they are SUPPOSED to be doing! The simple fact seems to be that they don't actually understand their own jobs. Just because someone HAS a job does not automatically mean that they are able to DO the job.

So, what has brought this little rant on? Well I can help there - I know the answer.

For some time now, Andrew has been trying to get some sense out of Hoss the Boss here at the Lazy L on the subject of why, given that everybody (apart from the Smiling Assassin) wants me downgraded and moved to a less secure environment (and this includes outside experts AND the prison's own experts), why I have not been downgraded and transferred. This has been Andrew's question. Not a difficult one you may think.

Ah! But then we have to take into account certain factors such as that those responsible not only seem to be ignoring the experts but do not seem even to begin to grasp what the experts have all recommended - but they are also outside of their comfort zone. You see, they genuinely believe that their purpose is to do prisoners down at every opportunity.

If you throw in the total inability to regard matters with a certain amount of pure pragmatism, and the fact that they take matters personally, then it will come as no surprise that Hoss the Boss has written a letter back to Andrew which is difficult to understand in that he says that the Smiling Assassin has flown in the face of all other evidence and wants me kept as a Cat B prisoner.

Hoss the Boss can't be blamed. He is only as good as the information fed to him hy his minions - if he had anything to do with the letter at all other than a signature at the end of it.

The Smiling Assassin says that I have to provide more "evidence" - although of what isn't clear. I have not been in any sort of trouble for ten or eleven years - never a nicking, not a second spent in the punishment block and not so much as a warning as to any untoward behaviour. Nothing! How then do I produce any "evidence" of some esoteric idea that only exists in the twisted and vindictive mind of the Smiling Assassin?

If they simply didn't want to make a decision, then all they had to say was that they were waiting to see what the Parole Board offers on the 26th May - not much more than three weeks away! That would have been the easy answer, rubbing no one up the wrong way and certainly not giving grounds for a Judicial Review of unreasonableness. But as I say, Hoss the Boss can only work with the poor advice he is given.

I have an idea that perhaps the Smiling Assassin isn't quite as vindictive as her lies and backstabbing suggest. I think she simply does not understand cons in general - and me in particular. Let's face it - she isn't very bright to begin with, and she has the qualifications of a discarded aubergine. How can a person like her be expected to understand a complex fellow like me? Come to that, how can she be expected even to begin to understand an idiot in a hurry?

In "Pilgrim's Progress", Christiana asks Christian:

But some there be that say he laughs too loud;
And some do say his head is in a cloud.
Some say his words and stories are too dark
They know not how by them to find his mark.

That's the Smiling Assassin all over. She quite simply does not - cannot - understand a complex person like me. There is nothing in her head. She is incapable of rational and logical thought - which means she cannot understand rational and logical thoughts. Do we expect a pigeon to understand quantum physics? (I don't understand quantum physics myself, but I've got the common sense to realise that I don't understand and so make no suggestions or recommendations to NASA.)

So we move to the coming parole hearing,  and when they (in their wisdom) disagree with the prison's lack of understanding, who will get the blame? Me! It will all be my fault - everything is the fault of the prisoner. It's my fault for having the temerity to think.

Finally, Boudica's dog Barney died. He was an old dog, tired out, and he simply sighed his last and went off to enjoy that long sleep that we all enjoy sooner or later. I know how he felt - I'm an old dog, tired out.

I've said it before, I'll say it again - I'm too old for this shite.

The Voice In The Wilderness