|
The Inner Swine is free to prisoners. This decision, made years ago, was prompted simply because Zine World includes the query on their standard review submission form, and I couldn't see any reason not to give the thing away to men and women who earn seventeen cents a day, if that. Besides, I figured, prisoners have enough problems. If they get a kick out of a soft white boy's humorous ramblings, who am I to deny them? Since that momentous decision, TIS has proved surprisingly popular with prisoners. Maybe I'm one of few pubs which are free, or maybe my special brand of middle-class bitching is amusing to people suffering incarceration-that would amaze me, if it's true, but then I'm amazed anyone can read my zine and not conclude I'm a self-obsessed dork polluting the world with half-assed bullshit. Whatever the reason, I've got a few prisoners on my mailing list. And if I admit I feel better about this since I got a PO box and stopped listing my actual home address everywhere, it doesn't make me feel like less of a man.
Recently, I got a notice from the Texas Department of Criminal Justice that issue 9(4) of TIS, which had been mailed to an inmate there, had been denied because page 43 contained "material of a racist nature." The prisoner appealed this decision, citing, among other things, the many moments of racist hilarity found in your standard Bible, but this appeal failed. I have yet to take any action on this. The 'material' in question is in the middle of a fiction piece called "Book of Days". At this point in the story, I've introduced a black character named Marve, with whom the white characters are comfortable enough to jokingly call a few racial epithets. Marve is also explaining on that page why white girls are easier for black men to sleep with. It's fiction, bubba, so hold off on the angry letters. I'm inventing people who don't exist and then making them say things. Still, I can see where people who are being extremely sensitive might see something there and decide it's dangerous stuff. But let's forget the kneejerk That is total bullshit! reaction to this censorship and focus on what really intrigues me: The fact that some low-paid Texas flunky found this. Let's review some salient facts: 1. The material in question is on page 43 of a 60 page publication; 2. The rest of the publication, I think it's safe to assume, has no similarly offensive material. This leads me to an interesting conclusion about the Texas Department of Criminal Justice: Someone is actually reading The Inner Swine from cover to cover. The sub conclusions you can pull out of that are fascinating. 1. They're readin' TIS because it's they're job to scan everything for material like this and they take their job deadly serious. 21. They're readin' TIS from cover to cover because they enjoy TIS, and happened to note the 'material' in question because of this extreme interest in my hot, bubbling genius. 3. They're readin' TIS from cover to cover because they enjoy TIS, and cooked up a pretext in order to take each issue home with them without having to send me money. If either idea is true, it's remarkable. I mean, if my zine were called Kill All the White Man or Prison Riot Howtos, I could understand how any bored, underpaid civil servant could snag it out of the slush and kick it to the curb. But TIS is kind of inoffensive-looking, and dense with words. To have found the 'material' on page 43 required someone to actually read it. Although I guess it is possible that the one truly bad epithet on that page might have just jumped out at someone flipping rapidly through. It's possible, but...I dunno. There's also the possibility that simply by virtue of being a photocopied zine TIS gets put into the special Freako red bin for special consideration. Maybe if it was full-size and slick, with a picture of Britney on the cover, it'd be passed along without a second glance. More fascinating to me, however, is the enjoyable idea that TIS has fascinated a group of TDCJ employees, who read each issue avidly before forwarding it on to its rightful subscriber. While it sure sucks for the poor guy who actually requested the issue in the first place, it amuses me to think that the sweaty pheromones of swinedom penetrate in even the most hostile of circumstances. Especially since I suspect I could leave a pile of Swines out in the street with a sign proclaiming them free and freshly lemon-scented and the pile would remain untouched for thousands of years, until Proto-Ape archaeologists unearth it, grunt over it for a moment, and then burn it ritualistically. Ah well, it's time for my afternoon boozing. Remember what this essay has taught you: Even the thick walls of prison cannot keep you safe from The Inner Swine! E-mail me your outrage here. Jeff |
March 23, 2004