When you chew gum, you disobey the Lord

Underneath the snide tone of your message, we could all tell how much you miss it here, and we heard that tinge of regret that you'll never be able to return to us, even if you wanted to. You probably could sneak in for a visit or something, but the risk that you'd be captured and assigned to another facility should keep you at a sensible distance. It's just as well for everyone, really, since they've already put someone else in your room. The more sentimental people say that no one could take your place, but the new guy has indeed taken your room, your bed, your spot on the exercise line... and at the dinner table, he's literally taken your place. Those old women don't know shit, do they?

Otherwise, things are changing everyday around here. Our annual batch of clean underwear came down the chute on Wednesday, which meant a very tense period of bargaining between the few who still value the temporary comfort such items can bring, and the rest of us who were interested in seeing somebody sell out his or her dignity for some of that temporary comfort. Not the best hat-dance I've ever seen, and the relay race was a bit less challenging since spoons have been forbidden, but still better than anything I ever saw on cable TV. The hulk who used to be your soap partner sat and watched from the corner, and he kept waving his hand in the air as if surrounded by mouse-sized bees. They other hand was, predictably, occupied. I guess some things haven't changed yet, though he says he's been trying to turn a corner in his life. Despite universal antipathy for him, it has become a feature of our communal breakfast to look out into the garden and watch him do naked jumping jacks. We call it "The Dance of the Bushy Moustache."