Slinging Mud

In this area there are several prisons. If you were Orel Herscheiser, you could probably throw a rock from one to the other. I don't have the arms for that.

I live kind of in between two of them. I started out at the one in the north, then transferred to the one in the south because I didn't like the way the first place was being run.

Instead of being about prison and the inmates, it was all about staff. There were little groups that ran the place and if you weren't a member of one of these groups you were nobody. And if you were one of the nobodies, you got screwed at every available opportunity.

So I transferred. The new place was much better. Still as screwed up as a soup sandwich (thanks to Midtown Miscreant for the metaphor) but it was much better. As long as you showed up regularly and did your job with a modicum of confidence, they made you feel right at home.

I worried about a couple of the decent people I left behind. Apparently, not soon after I left, the rest of them did, too. I would get occasional updates from sources I had over there.

Some of the stupid things going on over there attracted the wrong kind of attention and finally the large brains up in the capital building decided Something Must Be Done. So they went in and made the major retire and fired a few people and said "There! It's all fixed!"

But it wasn't.

The new major is apparently as bad as the old one was and picked up right where he left off. And he took the old majors harem of groupies and made them his own. And things are getting worse over there again.

The mud slinging is reaching a fevered pitch. Snide comments and outrageous pictures are being posted on the internet. There are a few brave souls protesting the way they are being treated and there seems to be a manhunt on to discover who they are and make their lives miserable. As if working there wasn't miserable enough.

It's going to get out. And when it does get out it is going to be another black eye for the department. And we really need something else to make us look bad, if you know what I mean.

The next housecleaning probably won't be as surgical as the last one.

Ooooooo snap, I am so happy that I transferred!