For those of you have been, or will be, reading my blogs here on Tripper’s “Tales From The Cells” ……

Continued from Convict Definitions 101 Part 1…

Please find listed below a few definitions of prison terms and phrases you’ll need to know in order to better understand convict lingo and be penitentiary literate. Be advised some of these definitions apply only to United States Federal Prisons whereas others are universal in state institutions as well. This blog is meant to be both education­al and amusing, but does have graphic content. I hope you’ll enjoy and let me know if you want to continue Convict Defintions 101.

-Tripper

UP TOP: To be ran “up top” means an inmate or group of inmates were forced to seek protective custody in the SHU (the hole) by another group of inmates. In December of ‘07, at this federal institution, all child molesters were severely beaten and ran “up top” by the majority of the inmate population.

CENSUS COUNT: In federal prison, by policy, institution staff is required to do 2 census counts every month and report the results to Central Office Staff in Washingto D.C. This is to ensure that all inmates are where they’re supposed to be and no one has escaped. Census count is in addition to regular hourly and daily counts.

HOOCH: Hooch is simply homemade prison alcohol. It can vary from homemade beer, to wine, to actual distilled liquor. Personally, I’ve never drank any hooch. Nor have I smoked marijuana in prison, had sex with a female prison guard or broken any rules of the institution for that matter. Yeah, right!

THE WALLS: Some prisons that have high walls are called “the walls.” United States Leavenworth Prison is a walls joint. So is Jefferson City in Missouri.

BOOTY BANDIT: A booty bandit is a homosexual inmate predator that rapes young boys by force. “Dude’s a booty bandit! Better tell your weak ass homeboy to watch himself. He may come for him!”

CHECK-IN: A check-in is an inmate who turns himself in for protective custody. Usually a baby raper, snitch, or someone who owes a debt for tobacco, gambling, or store.

PUNK: This is a prison homosexual. Not a punk as in free world lingo. A punk sucks dick, takes it up the ass, and is property of his daddy. Personally, I don’t like punks and don’t condone the actions of them or their daddies.

BUSH PASS: I first heard this term from a female convict from Tennessee. This means to escape from a work crew or trustee assignment. “Hey man, where did Smitty go? Did the mf’er take a bush pass or what?” Convicts looking all around as a friend runs for the bushes or nearby trees.

R&D: This is the area of the institution where inmates are received and dis­charged.

Come-Fuck-Me’s: In the state system, inmates always wear boxer shorts. Briefs are known to all as “Come-Fuck-Me’s”. Just ask any weak individual who has been forcibly raped in the Arkansas, Mississippi or Louisiana Departments of Corruption.

Cadillac: In most systems, a Cadillac is a name brand cigarette such as a Lucky Strike, Marlboro or Pall Mall. Not a generic cigarette or roll-up. In the fed system, a Cadillac can also mean a dustpan. The kind with a handle on it. Inmates walk the compound with their brooms and Cadillacs picking up small pieces of paper and trash.

Catch a Hat: This phrase simply means to “leave.” “Catch a hat mf’er. I’m tired of looking at your sorry ass!”

A Line: A line is basically a fishing line used in the SHU or hole. An inmate will tear the string from a sheet, elastic from boxer shorts, or whatever material he can find and make a long string. Then, an object such as a pocket comb or a dead battery (AAA) is tied to the end of the string making it easier to toss under the cell door to and from other cells across and down the hall. You’d be amazed at the skill level of some of these convicts shooting lines.

G.F.T.: In the Arkansas state system, if an inmate has G.F.I, stamped on their file, it means he is “good for information.” Again, snitch, rat or stool pigeon….

And the REQUESTED term for this Convict Definitions is…

Fe-Fe Bag: Someone asked about this. This is something a convict rigs up to “fuck”. Usually a rubber glove finger wrapped tightly inside a towel held together by rubber bands or strings. Something “tight” an inmate can squeeze a little lotion in and fuck as if it were a woman’s vagina. Personally, I’ve never used a fe-fe bag although I have seen one taken by an officer during an institution shakedown. Beats fucking a punk I guess. Although I prefer Rosy Palmer and her four sisters myself.

Tripper’s Rep speaking here…

I spoke with Tripper on the phone this evening. He was in much better spirits, ready to get the stint taken out and proceed back to normal with life. They have to take him back out to an outside hospital one more time, sometime within the next week. They never disclose the appointment time or date. He is in less pain everyday and I think is just more annoyed now with the discomfort. He wanted to thank you all for your well wishes, thoughts, and prayers, and to let you know he has personal messages in the mail, and a blog about this entire ordeal. He ended with a Happy Thanksgiving to all and of course Tripper’s catch phrase, BETTER DAYS!!

Also, please be watching, I am going to post a blog about a holiday card/gift bash for Tripper. I will post that the day after Thanksgiving in order to give everyone enough time to participate should you want to. (And I sure hope you do, if we pull together, it makes such a big difference!!) There will also be information in that blog about a calendar that is in the making, and a couple of sexy ladies have some great ideas, but again, we need input from you. So stay tuned!!

TR

Playing the board game RISK with some guys, a Romper Room Reject suddenly got mad at me and threw the dice hitting me right square between the eyes. Blood gushed everywhere and I had to be taken to the infirmary. Mad that I invaded South America from the U.S. and wiped out all his armies, Buddy lost his temper and not only hit me with the little white cubes, he also turned the game upside down tossing all the cards and game pieces on the floor. At the hospital, I spoke with Nurse Cake as she bandaged up my nose. “Sorry to ruin your solitude tonight Ms. Cake. But some idiot flipped out on me when I reneged on my promise not to invade his country. Ever play RISK?” I asked. “Yeah! What a fun game! I personally like to start out with North America and go from there.” she said. “By the way,” I continued with our conversation, “Is that idiot we all call the crypt keeper bothering you? Because if he is, we’ll make sure he leaves you alone.” “No, it’s alright,” she said and smiled. Bandaged and smitten with the beautiful nursey named Cake, T returned to the unit with a smile.

Every man in the joint malingered, feigning illnesses. Everything from full blown heart attacks to migraine headaches just to get to see Nurse Cake. It got to the point where a truly sick person couldn’t get medical treatment at all. Staff started to notice the attention Nurse Cake was getting. Other nurses gossiped and hated on Nurse Cake and I knew it’d only be a matter of time before they’d get jealous and she’d get canned. And sure enough, when speaking to Nurse Cake at pill line one evening, she told me she’d given her two week notice and was being forced to resign. Never fails. Every time we’d get a nurse or female doctor that gave a shit, the administration would come along and find a way to get rid of them. Fire them, saying they were either too friendly or not doing their job. When Donnie, aka the crypt keeper, aka ass clown, found out Nurse Cake was leaving, he damn near cried. He really was sick then. And the fucker faked so many illnesses those last two weeks, he spent the entire time in an observation cell on suicide watch just so he could be close to Nurse Cake.

I got out of prison. 8 months later I got a P.V. (parole violation) and was sent back to the pen. At Pine Bluff Diagnostic, who else did I run into? The ass clown! Housed in a different barracks than mine, I only briefly got to talk to him in the chow hall. But when I did, he whispered to me, “Remember Nurse Cake?” “Yeah,” I said. “Well, I married her!” “No you didn’t! Why you lyin’ little piece of shit!” I yelled. “Quiet down inmate!” screamed a nearby CO. knowing inmates weren’t suppose to talk in the chowhall. “You didn’t!” I whispered across the table. “No, I did! I swear it! She and I have an apart­ment together in North Little Rock. I got a job working on a barge and I am supporting her and her kid.” A week or so later, we rode the prison transport van to Varner Unit. That’s when he told me the whole story and I’ll have to say, the dumbass kid really did hit a lick. Once at Varner he even showed me a picture of he and Cake together. In the end, as much as it surprised me, I guess old Donnie really did get to have his Cake and eat it too!

T’m Tripper! Better Days!