Notes From The Joint

Well.

I've just been sprung from Facebook jail. Gimme a minute to take a shower, change outta the orange jumpsuit and pull the cigs I stashed in my vagina.

It wasn't my first time in the joint. The first time it happened I was so sad, but that was many incarcerations ago. Facebook jail doesn't scare me anymore. I'm practically a Preferred Visitor. This time I demanded a Kosher meal. Just to fuck with them. I asked for a nice piece fresh fish. And then I sent it back because the smell was iffy.

HAH. Zuckerberg can throw me in the slammer but once I'm there, he is my bitch.

Anyway.

Why was I in FB jail this time, you might ask?

Well, it is some moist and stinky bullshit going on over on FB with determining hate speech. Because, as it turns out, hate speech is in the eye of the beholder of the power.

Dig this: everyone I know who has been put in FB jail, all my incarcerated brothers and sisters, we have one thing in common: we all posted something critical of our country, our president, or our race. None of us posted against people of color, of immigrants, LGBTQ or any religions. None of us had used profanity in the post that got us busted. Which, come to think of it, might have been what triggered FB to notice me: the glaring lack of profanity. Unprecedented.

The last time I was in FB jail, the time before this time, I had posted: God, I hate white people. 

It was kinda a joke. Kinda. Because, frankly, we are a horrible people.

Anyway, before you could say, Flu Klux Klan, I was disappeared from FB.

The time before that, I had posted: Americans are the worst.

Boom. Jail.

When I was sprung after that time, just to test my emerging theory, I posted this: Italians are the worst.

Nothing.

So I tried: Green people are the worst.

Nothing.

You know what came next, right? 

"Jews are the worst." And then I hit, "Post".

Nothing from FB. Not even a warning. Guess it's fine to post that kind of shit.

But just try to post, "White America sucks," and all of a sudden, it's hate speech. 

And you wind up behind bars, with no one to hear what you have to say except your imaginary fellow inmates.

Good thing I've been workshopping my new prison material this year in the high school pool shower after water aerobics. You know those jokes about not bending over to pick up the soap, the ones that caused my fellow communal showerers to finish up quickly and scurry outta there, sometimes with conditioner on their hair and soap in their eyes?

Yeah, well, I killed with those jokes in jail.