Sean Plundeke, Lien to Tail. [p] Steve Sirvan
Michael Cirelli: Where are you from?
Mike Rheault: Dirty, dirty, Manchester, NH. It’s dirtier than you think!
MC: How old are you?
MR: Old enough to lay down your moms and be your fucking daddy.
MC: Who have you skated for over the years. I remember you telling me about how you skated with Dog Town back in the day when you were a kid. Who else did you ride for?
MR: Rhino, Consolidated and now Creepshow.
MC: You ever find any skate spots when you are running around as a Fireman?
MR: Always find spots when I’m rolling in the fire truck.
MC: Have you ever busted up a door like in the movie, “The Shining” trying to save someone?
MR: If I’m coming to your house with the big red truck, I’m knocking your fucking door down regardless.
MR: Everyday is a fight story with myself.
MC: Tell the world about your DIY basement project!!! That place is so sick!
MR: I got a couple kids an we like to play with them skateboards. We get snow all winter and I have a basement. So I made a half bowl and mini half PIKE out of crete, haha!!
MC: Any shout outs?
MR: Manch crew, Mesa, AZ crew, New Park crew, Eastern Boarder, Creepshow, Rice, Cirelli, Bones and MFD.
NY Skateboarding posted this interview of Gino & Dill. Good stuff.
As much as I would love to believe that these words will prove superfluous, the Criminal Justice machine, broken as it is, isn’t going anywhere. Additionally we will never cease to do stupid things that will land them in the sites of those who stand to pro?t from our mistakes. Thus I have compiled a short list of things to avoid should you find yourself serving time in a correctional facility.
It’s hard for many people to believe this but I never once played a game of cards during the time that I was locked down. I have an uncomfortably competitive nature which I try not to feed. This decision ended up serving me well, as I saw many a knucklehead get severe beatdowns over gambling debts left unpaid. Never bet more tuna than you have, no matter how sure a thing it seems. (Note: Tuna, yes the fish, are used as currency. They are high protein so bodybuilders, which make up half the population, will eat them. Also a pouch is about a dollar in the commissary so it’s a good stand in. 1 tuna= 1 dollar. Makes more sense than a piece of paper when you think about it.)
This should serve as common sense, but the amount of people who maintain habits inside is high. Drugs always find a way in, no matter how hard the warden comes down. Demand enables supply. The drier a place becomes the higher the price and the more likely that connections are going to be able to name a price that makes it worth a guard’s while to assist or at least look the other way. However a junkie’s desperation will often lead them to place themselves into debt far greater than they can fulfill. Hence the same beatdown that was mentioned before becomes warranted. If the guards have a hand in the action they are less likely to intervene during said beatdowns. Use your head, and get clean while on pretrial.
A “cop-out” is a form that you have to fill out if you want anything done by the administration. While something like prescription glasses or orthopedic shoes require a cop-out, most inmates associate the complaints that sheepish inmates file when someone is doing something that they don’t approve of. Filling these out will make other inmates see you as rat, or at best a weak person who can’t handle their own problems. Consequence can vary from being ostracized to physical violence. Unless you’re life is truly in danger, avoid the forms.
4) Cell Phones
These find their way in somehow and are currently public enemy number 1 in the eyes of administrators. There are few things that they hate more than being unable to monitor communications. Being caught with one can mean a month long stint in “The Hole” (aka solitary confinement), or worse “Diesel Therapy” where you are in transit for months at a time with no home base or real designation. Furthermore there is a business that many inmates run, renting their phone to others. They will defend their territory, same as those distributing drugs. The worst beatdown I saw was over one such transaction. A kid had his jaw dangling and was within an inch of his life, all because he allowed someone to use his phone without charging them.
5) Cliqueing Up
This one is tricky. You’re going to have groups whom you run with. These will be determined by where you’re from, what your socio-economic background is, and most visibly race. All that I can say is choose your friends wisely. If there is a problem between people it’s not unlikely that you will be called upon as backup. Make sure that you’re friends are calm and capable, rather than pugnatious and boisterous. It’ll save you endless headaches in the end.
There are a few other things that are semi-noteworthy, don’t butt in line, don’t workout if it’s not the time that you’ve established on the equipment. Food can be an issue as it gets smuggled out of the kitchen and is once again a business. Don’t mess with someone else’s business is a good rule. In general just don’t be a dick, assess situations before you enter them. New inmates are given a month before you’re held to the same standard as everyone else, so you have time to learn the ropes. You’ve made the mistake that got you in there, but you can stop the bleeding if you’re smart. Do what you’re told by those who’ve been bidding longer and you’ll be just fine.
“He was a former body builder turned crack head, so between the residual effects of steroids and cocaine he was an extremely volatile person.”
I met Phil in my first round of rehab. He was a former body builder turned crack head, so between the residual effects of steroids and cocaine he was an extremely volatile person. Often exploding into violent fits. I had never fully experienced this side of him until one night we decided to shoot some crack together.
I had been dying for something to put in my arm, having shot coke countless times I figured it wasn’t too far a stretch to inject crack. I called Phil, he was excited to get high for free (his fee) so he was at my door in minutes sporting a black eye that I would find out later was the result of a hooker defending herself.
We met some nice gentlemen who sold us the crack and went to his house to bang it. Upon walking in, I knew something was up. Furniture, plates and clothes were strewn about the house, telling of a recent domestic dispute. “My girl is staying at her mom’s tonight, we got in a fight.” “Oh really,” I replied, trying to suggest that I didn’t notice how fucked up the entire house was. “Top of the stairs to the right,” Phil said. “We can do this in there.”
“A crack high lasts three minutes at best so I decided to step out for a smoke and let him ride it out solo.”
I entered the room to find it was a toddler’s bedroom, a crib with toys neatly arranged in the center, two filthy couch cushions on the floor. “I don’t know man, this is the only room where I can get high in this house.” We did our dope with red wine vinegar, the sour taste in our throats accompanying ringing ears and a shortness of breath. Phil did about four shots in twenty minutes, began shaking and was unresponsive.
A crack high lasts three minutes at best so I decided to step out for a smoke and let him ride it out solo. I told him five times or so that I was going out and to not be alarmed when I came back in. Finally he mustered an “okay.” A few minutes later I came back inside and went up the stairs.
In the nursery I found Phil shirtless and clutching a butcher knife, screaming nonsense. Instead of trying to calm him down I grabbed my shit and left, opting to walk home six miles rather than risk my life for another minute with this psychopath.
I’ve skipped an issue but I’m back. I couldn’t figure out what to write about for this. There’s so much going through my mind at all times. It’s hard to pick one thing to write about. I’m sick of telling wild stories. Anyone in my lines of work has a million. I dont feel like ranting, whether good or bad, about anything. Currently, it’s cold as frozen hell out here and I’ve been working so damn much, I literally barely have the time to skate. A couple weeks ago I got out with some old friends at Subliminal Skatepark to cruise. It’s run by Jay Moelk. I’ve known jay for more then a decade. We met at 8ball skate park, where a lot of my friends and I grew up skating together. (Ughhh…8ball). Jay’s always been super good to me. Whether it was picking me up at my Grandparents to skate, hooking me up with food, videos, product, etc. I thought this would be a great opportunity to give him and his business some light. It’s an awesome park with everything you can imagine. Old school hip hop playing, granite ledge, bowl – the whole kit. Jay’s a family man, too. With his lady, Kanya and his two awesome kids, Lucas and Lotus. They all run the daily operations there. He works multiple jobs and still keeps the place open. All while raising a family and anyone that’s not an idiot knows how hard it is to keep a skatepark open. Let alone raise a family! He’s going to ride ‘til the wheels fall off. I have a lot of respect for that. I’m never too shy to be grateful and thankful. Thanks for everything guys! And to whoever is or isn’t reading this, hope everyone is well and I wish everyone a safe and happy new year! – Love Nate
I was up in Portland for my birthday this past April. For years, my birthdays have been cursed. Anywho, I go up with my lady, she hooks up a bed and breakfast – straight 5 star shit. My plan was to relax with her and all my friends for the weekend.
Ended up no one was in town besides a couple people but it was all good. We had dinner and head into town to have some drinks. I happen to like Jäger, so I probably had at least ten shots ordered for me. Thanks guys but no thanks….haha.
So at the end of the night, I say my goodbyes to everyone and leave. I’m headed back and was throwing a quick tag. Some guy comes up, and all I hear is “bla bla” and get haymakered in the ear. I’m drunk and on the ground, not knocked out, but I have no idea what’s going on. My lady’s chasing him down, which she gets punched in the chest in the process. He never pushed me first or anything. Granted I’m sure in my state of mind he would have worked me in a fight, but still a bitch move. I get up, my ears bleeding, my girls tripping, I’m thinking of Reservoir Dogs, that guys ear. My ear lobe was split bad. Cops show up, tell me, to tell my girl, to “shut the fuck up.” I told him, “fuck you.” He leaves. Ha! I end up at the hospital, getting a tetinus shot and my ear lobe sewn shut. Bad night.
We leave in the morning. I’m on the highway and open my wallet and somehow an old “Have a nice day” note from forever ago was in my console and worked its way into my wallet. I’ve never cheated on anyone in my life, nor will I. Either way, doesn’t look good. You can imagine the wrath after this. Long story less long, she figured out I’m a good dude.
She’s cooking a lovely dinner as I’m texting this.
What’s crazy is 4 years ago to the day, Richie – from the first issue, was in the hospital getting stitches and a tetinus shot because I stabbed him. And there I was, same scenario years later to the day. Karma is a bitch, but why the note thing God? I never cheated on anyone ever. That shit’s not cool. Anyways, when it pours, it hails. Portland is a small town, so when I see this guy he’s gonna get a real haymaker to the ear. Pussy dick.
Love y’all and thanks for reading! Enjoy life and be safe. 🙂
This camp has a bit of a laissez-faire reputation. In the past, wardens would turn over every two years, along with the administrative staff who worked under them. Such was policy. This practice has been relaxed recently, perhaps due to a lack of qualified applicants (who knows). Finally, however, after a long haul with the previous, we have a new administration. There could not be a worse time for an incident to garner media attention.
As Murphy’s Law dictates, “Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong.” Last week, a state trooper spotted an inmate in his greens meeting up with a car along the highway. The trooper flashed her lights and the driver of the car took off for a short distance before finally pulling over. At that point, the inmate jumped out of the car and high-tailed it through the woods. The trooper proceeded to call the prison and we were called to our bunks for an emergency count. By that time, the inmate was back in his bunk, present and accounted for. Unfortunately, the young girl driving the car cracked and gave up all necessary info.
The local and national media got a hold of it, at which point the spin was on. One local article made the inmate in question sound like the biggest menace to society since the Son of Sam. The information that the paper claimed that they got from the police report said that the inmate got out of the car wearing a ski mask and walked towards the female trooper wielding a wire wrapped around his hand in an intimidating fashion. Accompany such an image with alluding to the fact that the inmate may have been an escapee from the medium facility below and you’ve got a hell of a news story to make the public panic.
At that point, the inmate jumped out of the car and high-tailed it through the woods. The trooper proceeded to call the prison and we were called to our bunks for an emergency count.
The news articles in both title and text referred to the inmate as an escapee. In reality, the inmate had not “escaped”. He was on an excursion and had no intention of running away. According to the guidebook, it is unlikely that he will be charged with escape. Also, when reporting the potential contraband found in the trunk of the female driver’s car, they refer to a gallon bag of white powder. The natural implication here is that the couple was running drugs (specifically) cocaine) into the camp. More than likely, the bag contained creatine, a legal health supplement that some guys use in association with working out. Referring to the “powder” gives the impression of more dramatic debauchery taking place, thus a more sensational story.
I can only speculate on the likelihood that he had a ski mask on – not likely as the incident occurred during the morning. I know the inmate in question and he was not a stupid individual. Plus, we don’t have ski masks, only ski caps. He may have cut eyeholes into a cap, but once again, not likely. As for the wire, the inmate in question was not a violent man. He was one of the most solemn and austere people that I’ve ever met. What’s a guy gonna do against an armed trooper? As I said, he may have made a bad choice the day in question, but he’s not stupid.
The general public doesn’t realize that camps exist. They are scared shitless of the idea of convicted felons not being kept behind a monumental security system, as they imagine us all to be the crazed villains depicted in the aforementioned news story. Thus, they are likely up in arms at the possibility of a criminal “escaping” the chains that bind him. In actuality, fenceless camps are tests for inmates that seem worthy of some moderate level of trust and freedom. As with all tests, it is not unheard of that some fail. Making this determination of trustworthiness is in part the reason for camps like this. An event like this and the consequential media coverage isn’t exactly desirable to a new warden.
This guy seems like a no bullshit fella, and our camp specifically has a bit of a laissez-faire reputation. Naturally, due to this, he’s bringing the hammer down and things are changing around here. Yet I’ve no hard feelings towards him. The media, on the other hand, I hold in extreme contempt for spreading fear through their sensationalism.
Yet another obstacle to the felon trying to reassimilate back into society.