On April Fool’s Day, covid-19 came to the United States Bureau of Prisons. Well, close enough for rock and roll. The virus and death may have come a few days before April 1. Lockdown came yesterday. There had been scuttlebutt of its arrival. Anxiety rippled through us, the warehoused, the animals at the zoo. People with cell phones were consulting the internet.
What makes this lockdown look different from what we had been doing? We don’t get our one hour a day outside. We don’t get to eat lunch in the mess hall. We don’t get to eat what is on the national menu for dinner, but we do get a lunch meat sandwich and fruit and chips in a paper bag. The K-2 seems to be in short supply but the hooch making and the pot-smoking continue. We saw Hooking Up last night (a bit mediocre, a lot derivative but still having a charm and a tonal shift that made me think of Bollywood) thanks to the guys with a cell phone and we continued to watch an AMC series called The Dead Lands (maoris fighting evil spirits - better than I am making it sound - saved really by its two lead actors). Counselor Jones threatened an inspection today - within the past hour - and has done his usual - nothing.
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