Backwash

Jimmy the Fetus

Hey, kids, Jimmy the Fetus here, your guide to moral values in the Midwest, helping everybody see that what we learned in Sunday school really matters.

Dear Jimmy:

You seem so wise. I was wondering what your take was on why the Royals are so crappy, and will the new manger [sic] turn it all around? Also, who’s your daddy?

Brently

St. Joseph

P.S.: You kick ass.

Dear Brently:

I did a double take when I got your letter — my first actual, genuine missive from the great town of St. Jo. At first, I assumed that you’d made a mistake, that you wrote “manger” when it was obvious that you were referring to the new Royals manager: great white hope Buddy Bell. But then I realized that your slip made perfect sense. KC’s very own, brand-new Buddy Christ is a savior, in a way, if you can look past his stereotypical jock exterior. Now, some sports experts in this town were skeptical about Buddy’s hiring, saying that the Royals were stupid for hiring a guy who had never made it to the playoffs after 18 years as a player and 6 as a manager. But remember what the Bible tells us, Brently: “Now are you any better than Balak the son of Zippor, king of Moab?” In other words, even a proven hack can turn things around when a town is desperately hoping to wake up from a bad Caribbean nightmare. Speaking of which, I’m keeping my parentage secret until the tests come back and eliminate a certain one-legged-squatting Dominican Casanova.

Got a moral quandary? E-mail Jimmy at editorial@pitch.com.

Drop the Post-it Note and Report to the Hole!

A writer at the Pitch recently sent correspondence to an inmate at the jail in Clay County. The piece of mail was returned because it carried what the jailers determined to be three pieces of contraband.

Had the writer mailed a hacksaw, a jug of Thunderbird and some M-80s? No. The 8-1/2-by-11-inch manila envelope merely contained a letter, a business card and a self-addressed, stamped envelope. It turns out that two of the three — the business card and the SASE — are considered contraband, as was the address sticker the writer thoughtlessly slapped on the outside of the envelope.

The Clay County jail enclosed a list of banned items in the returned mail. In addition to denying inmates porn and vials of blood, the jailers regard office supplies with mistrust and nab pens, envelopes and stationery. Who knew jailhouse poets suffered so much?

A worker at the jail named Josh (he wouldn’t say his last name) tells Backwash that inmates are not allowed to have items that can be fashioned into weapons. Heavy-stock paper falls on the danger list, hence no business cards. But stamps? Envelopes? Josh says inmates can buy those items in the commissary, and he insists that Clay County is not marking up 37-cent stamps.

The following is a full list of banned goods, with annotations from the Backwash staff:

Plain envelopes (No letters about jail conditions to nosy reporters.)

Plain sheets of paper/stationery (Those paper shanks are murder.)

Polaroid pictures (Jail staff can’t condone old technology.)

Items with glue or tape (Adhesives = cheap high.)

Stamps (Philately Wars, Folsom, 1974)

Hair (Past drag-queen events ended badly.)

CD/VHS/DVD/cassette (Jailhouse thespians and human beat boxes have good lobbyists.)

Business card — unless from legal counsel (Again, those wicked paper shanks.)

Pornographic photos, magazines, drawings (Lasciviousness is restricted to shower room.)

Newspapers and magazines must come directly from the publisher. (Inmates get jealous of other inmates whose relatives send them “Dear Abby” clips.)

Books, unless they are religious material. (Anyone want to test if Dianetics gets through?)

Liquid Paper/White-Out (Misused as tattoo ink.)

Cash, personal or payroll checks (Hand jobs are the preferred jailhouse currency.)

Post-it Notes (The incarcerated need no reminders.)

Pen/pencils (It’s a digital world, man.)

Staples/paper clips (Ever see that one MacGyver episode?)

Tobacco (Inmates are more entertaining when they’re edgy.)

Body fluids, blood, etc. (Guards hate it when people ship their pus through the mail.)

Net Prophet
Notes from KC’s blogosphere.

The Elimidate application asked all kinds of questions like What are your turnoffs? What kind of people are you generally attracted to? and What would your ex-girlfriends describe as your best and worst quality? They even had a question asking if I had ever won any beauty contests. I answered by truthfully mentioning that I won a “cutest baby” contest in Sac City, Iowa in 1981. While filling out the paperwork, I talked with the Elimidate rep. She said they had been going out every night recruiting people to audition for the show. At one point, she left the room leaving her binder open next to me. I saw two names: one person named Heather who had “Hot Blonde” written next to her name and another named Jill with “Lesbian” next to her name. I went into another room where the two casting producers were sitting behind a camera. They interviewed me a little on camera while pretty much re-asking the same questions that were on the application. For some reason, they seemed pretty amused by me and said they thought I’d be “really good” and would “definitely be calling me in a couple weeks.” All in all, it was a tad anticlimactic. I was hoping to leave my audition with more of a sense of amusement about the whole ordeal. If they call me, I’m pretty sure I won’t pursue the opportunity, but I’m glad to at least have done it.

From “Bradical Mindspew,” the online diary of Brad Becker