If I Went to Prison

When you're a paranoid and anxiety-ridden wreck, your brain tends to go places that, I suppose, normal people's brains, well, don't.

Like, for instance, I'm convinced that, whenever I'm with more than one person, and I leave the room, even to go to the bathroom, the other two people immediately start talking about me, and not in a good way, either. If the bathroom is in very close proximity to the two or more people who are left, then they exchange knowing looks about me, for fear that I will hear their negative commentary. If I was only with one other person and I then leave the room, that other person is thinking negative thoughts about me.

Well, actually, I guess they can do that while I'm still in the room, can't they...

Another thing that paranoid and anxiety-ridden wrecks often think about is going to prison. Now, I've never done anything that would facilitate or necessitate my getting shipped off to the ol' hoosegow, but it's still something, way deep in the back of my pock-marked, damaged brain, that I think about with probably inordinate frequency.

If a police car turns onto the roadway behind me, I'm positive I'm going to get pulled over-- whether I've been speeding or not. Whenever a police car is behind me, I immediately turn my radio/CD player off. Every single time. I'm just, you know, getting ready. When he passes me, the tunes come back on and the anal sphincter releases. Not all the way, of course.

I don't know why I think about going to prison. I mean, culturally, it's pretty far removed from my own particular world. I don't think anybody in my family tree for generations has been imprisoned. My father was "detained" at the airport in Israel for a day or two after his passport was ripped up and he cursed out two security officers in Hebrew. I don't know if that counts or not. He was very upset.

I'm pretty sure that all the porn I look at is legal but, I mean-- how can you be positively sure? You know? The sites that I go to seem pretty above-board-- there's always that disclaimer "All Models are Above 18 years of age. Legal records verifying age are available at blah blah blah in accordance with Act such and such..." and that makes me feel better, but still... sometimes the "models" as they call them have small boobies. And small boobies make Mr. Apron scared.

Of course, the only way to really be sure is to frequent elderporn fetish sites that have grammaws shitting on each other or stuffing midgets' heads up their asses. And that doesn't really get me going.

N'yah mean?

I guess my fear of prison is just rooted in the fear of "the worst." What's the worst thing that could happen? Well, I could die, or I could go to prison. Actually, if the latter happened, I'm sure the former would happen pretty soon thereafter. I wouldn't live through jail, unless I was sentenced to twenty minutes imprisonment, tops. I could probably do twenty minutes in even a maximum security con college. I think most relatively normal human beings could survive twenty minutes pretty much anywhere. Except for the electric chair. And a Taylor Swift concert.

People like me always think the worst possible thing in the world is going to happen to them, and that must make us really annoying to hang out with. I suppose that's why no one hangs out with me, besides my wife. She's not the kind of person who thinks the worst is always going to happen, which makes hanging out with her nice, but disconcerting. Like, when we leave the house late for a show, she never thinks there's going to be a massive auto crash on the highway that's going to totally make us late even later, or that all the parking spots in our favorite lot downtown will be taken, or that the theatre will be overtaken by Russian commandos. She's one of those people who's somehow got herself convinced that everything will work out.

I'm sure she's never thought about going to prison. I'd ask her right now, in fact, but she's napping on the couch. I doubt she's ever even dreamt of going to prison, and I'm almost sure she's not dreaming about it now.

I'll bet you thought this entire post was going to be about my fears about getting raped in prison, being as I am a featherweight, non-confrontational, bespectacled sort with a sweet mouth and attractive legs. But, truthfully, I don't think I'd even get raped in prison. Maybe that's a self-esteem issue.