Growing up, my dad watched a lot of TV. It was kinda his thing. He loves the shit. I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that he hates his own life so much that he likes to live vicariously through the stupid little people on the screen. Either way it made me steer clear of it for most of my adult life. I have quite a love hate relationship with the “idiot box” myself. We had a roommate at Irma house who insisted that we get cable. We informed her that she should go for it, but not expect a single cent from us and for some god-awful reason she paid the whole thing. Those are the times I like to call the Dark Ages. All I did for the 2 months that she lived there was smoke pot and watch TV. Thank god it was only 2 months and thank god that when I smoke pot now it makes me feel like some carnie is trying to enter my soul and shit in it. Now, I know what you’re thinking, “TV aint punk, that shits got all them dang ole commercials that make you buy all the consumer crap like McDonalds and Join the Army and shit.” I agree. However it has also brought us such wonderful shows as LOST, Daisy of Love, etc. Lost is about a bunch of fucking assholes who get stuck on some weird demon Island that just keeps trick fucking into a coma, while the latter is a “reality show” about some trollop who is on the search for love via a bunch of douche bags picked by a panel of TV executives with a sick sense of humor and hearts of solid shit. I read. I listen to records. I create. I’m an artist, but goddamn if I won’t just sit in front of this dumb fucking box and just zone out every once in a while. I’m a coward.

Now I don’t want this column to be about me or my father’s TV consumption, I want this column to talk about why I Logan Dean Worrell could survive a 70 year+ term in a maximum security prison. Well, in the State of Indiana at least. I was flipping the channels in my new house (same situation, I don’t pay, but lord knows I play) and I come across a show called Locked Up Indiana. Now, it’s on CNBC so how brain liquefying could this really be? I was hooked once I saw this guy named Curtis who was locked up for 164 years for killing his entire family when he was 16(he’s now 34) receive a pet cat. A pet cat in prison you say? Yes a pet cat. He named her some weird as born again name like Falcore or whatever. Needless to say I was hooked on this show like an ex junkie hooked on snickers bars. There was Carl who was doing a stint for aggravated b&e. He was doing 70 years. Mother fucker had face tattoos for days like if leftover crack threw up on his face. Looked like he’d been road hard a put up wet. So far prison didn’t look so bad. Then they had some other guy who was watching TV which he had in his cell all to himself. Spacious too. Homeboy was even smoking a cigarette while giving an interview. So let me get this straight…. I can smoke, watch TV, get a college degree, have my own room with a cool bunk bed, and get 3 free meals a day, sick face tattoos, and a cat. I’m no scientist or anything, but what are the down sides other than being around the most dangerous mentally deranged psychotic mother fuckers on earth? I guess the no sex part, but that shit is overrated any way. I jack off with my own tears most nights at home, why not do it and meet some new friends at the same time?

Bullshit, right? Dont believe me? Fuck that, let me tell you what life on the outside gets you, countless ridicule from peers and loved ones, a house full of people, a dog who once licked my nuts while I was sleeping only to immedialty lick my face, a job serving yuppie assholes for peanuts, bills I can’t pay, nonexistent face tattoos, and most importantly, no fucking cat! I’m not necessarily a cat person per say, but I can learn. Yes, I’m about a buck 50 soaking wet, pasty as fuck , with a pair nice legs, but I really think I got a shot it in the big house. The only thing that would really a bum me out is not having my records. Wait actually fuck that, I saw Shawshank redemption and that redneck dude was listening to a bunch of Hank Williams records. Done deal. Now all I got to do is figure out the perfect crime to commit that insures I’m not gonna be fucked in the joint. Bank Robbery? No, can’t do it. All those dudes get shot before they get locked. Backfire. Murder? Maybe, only I don’t really hate anyone enough to kill em. I could kill a cop. Yeah that’s it. I’m gonna kill me a cop. A big fat white cop. Then ill defend myself to save money for commissary and smokes, give the judge the old 2 finger fuck off wanker punk as fuck salute, and there it is freedom. My cat shall be named Knuckles the cat and together we will run cell block 4. Knuckles and me. A modern day Ebony and Ivory. Together Forever. The first face tattoo I’m gonna get is victim in pain on my forehead followed by the Mi Vida Loca dots next to my eye. Interesting side note, A couple of months ago I had just gotten home from work to find my roommate Randa tattooing some hipster girls face stick and poke style in the living room. She was getting the Mi Vida Loca dots on her face. The next day she got locked up for possession of heroin. Girl fucked up. She aint Mexican and this aint Indiana. I digress, Ok let’s face facts, I would die in prison, but I do think I would make the best of it if I wasn’t brutally raped within the first 20 minutes inside. Like I’ve said before, I’m too cute for that shit. Ive been told by people for years how horriable prison is. I believe em. That place got brown water, horrific violence, and unexceptable living conditions. So yeah, it’s the straight and narrow for me from now on. No more living my life like a David Allan Coe record. I wanna live. I wanna live. I wanna live.

Send hate mail to:

Logan Dean Worrell

3306 Larry Ln. Unit A

Austin, Tx 78722