Wednesday, January 2, 2008

Sam The Sex God

I spent several years in part-time and full-time work as a prison chaplain. Lawdog's been bugging me to share more about those years, which I'll do from time to time in this blog. I've written a memoir of those years for which I'm trying to find a publisher, so keep your fingers crossed. The incident below is taken from that book, which is tentatively titled 'Walls, Wire, Bars And Souls'.

One of the major issues in prison is inmate sanity. A large proportion of the hardened criminals in high-security institutions are mentally unstable, to say the least. Some are downright psychotic. We had psychologists who constantly monitored our inmate population, treated those who needed it and advised the rest of us on problem areas. Inmates whose condition was severe were incarcerated in special medical facilities. Others who'd been stabilized through medication were assigned to the general prison population, and we had our fair share of them in the facility where I worked.

It’s interesting that most of the inmates, even the most violent and predatory among them, generally don’t bother those whom they call the ‘bugs’ or the ‘crazies’ (or less complimentary terms). If they lose control things can get very interesting, very quickly: and since they can be as violent as any other inmate and have few inhibitions and little self-control (including not knowing when to stop) others tend to leave them alone. Of course, as long as they’re taking their meds all is well. Unfortunately, every now and again one of them will decide that he’s feeling fine, he doesn’t need them and he’s going to stop taking them. That’s when things can go downhill in a hurry.

Sam the Sex God is a good example. Let me tell you about him. Sam was on a cocktail of meds for a range of psychiatric and psychological issues, but had the annoying habit of stopping taking them now and again - whereupon he’d go stark staring bonkers within days. The authorities at his prison tried to avoid this by making him take them under supervision, but he learned to conceal pills in his cheeks or under his tongue so that it only appeared as if he’d swallowed them. When the supervisor turned away he’d spit them out and dispose of them. (That’s one reason why many prisons try to give medication in liquid form whenever possible - it’s harder to fake swallowing it.)

I witnessed Sam’s most memorable breakdown, that which earned him his glorious title. He left his residential unit one day with a vacant look on his face, humming and jiving to himself. His Unit Officer, nobody’s fool, recognized the signs of ‘bugging’ and called a psychologist to investigate. Unfortunately for her, the psychologist on duty that day was a rather attractive young lady. She hurried over and confronted Sam, who decided the fact that she’d approached him must surely mean that she had the hots for his magnificent body. He reached out and tried to embrace her. She backpedaled frantically and called for help.

Next thing you know, Sam had stripped off his clothing (and I do mean
all his clothing) and was being pursued around the yard by a reaction squad of half a dozen puffing, panting Correctional Officers. He was a fit, strong man (he’d obviously done a lot of gym work and body-building before his incarceration) and he wasn’t hampered by boots, trousers and the like, so he was able to keep comfortably ahead of them. As they ran inmates boiled out of the adjacent housing units shouting ribald encouragement to Sam, who was screaming at the top of his lungs, “I’M A SEX GOD! ALL THE WOMEN WANT ME!” (Both assertions are open to question.)

A number of us had gathered at a nearby window, including several female staff members. Their comments on Sam’s naked athleticism were of a nature rendering them unfit for reproduction here. The price of fireproof computer screens would make this blog far too expensive to view.

Eventually Sam spotted his presumed light o’ love trying to creep away down the walk and made a sharp right-angled turn across the yard towards her. This proved to be his undoing. The pursuing posse ‘cut the corner’ on him and piled on, six deep. Sam disappeared beneath a heap of heaving, thrashing bodies. Judging from his whinnying cries of excitement he must have thought that all his wildest fantasies were being fulfilled.

Eventually Sam emerged from the cloud of dust handcuffed behind his back, still naked as a jaybird. He was led away to the medical unit cooing gently to himself, accompanied by the rousing cheers of his fellow inmates. The poor psychologist came back to her office looking a bit glassy-eyed, and was
not very polite at our proffered suggestions as to how she might better have handled the situation. (Then again, they may not have been the most helpful of suggestions.)

Who says prison work is boring?



Caprice Hokstad said...

Oh Peter, that's too funny. I hope your collection of stories gets published. I'd buy it!

Anonymous said...

Might want to try the following fellow's publisher(s):

He was a prison head-shrink who has been published.

Anonymous said...

Here via LD.

You can count yet another in the line to purchase the forthcoming book. You certainly must have the stories and I do like your style of delivery! Best of luck with it and I'll be here reading in the meantime.

Don said...

Hey, Peter, glad you're here! I remember this story from another place, and it never gets old.

Peg Brantley said...

Funny story! Have fun with your blog. I'll be checking back.


Assrot said...

Pretty interesting stuff here so far. I'm sure a book by a prison chaplain would be very interesting. Let us know if you ever get published.

Hope my blog handle doesn't offend you. Some folks get all whiney about it.

It's a nickname I got when I was a kid because of the way I said "That's Right".

When I started blogging, it seemed like a good a blog handle as any. Most folks don't care and laugh about it. Others have delicate sensibilities and get the vapors like a Southern woman over it. They delete my comments just because of my blog handle.

I never knew so many people could find a word like ass so offensive. Anyway, if it bothers you, let me know and I'll use a different name to post here.

Welcome to blogdom. It can be as much fun as prison. Not that I've ever been to prison but most of my family is in law enforcement and my mother was a prison guard for many years. She had some pretty good stories to tell.

Anonymous said...

Working as a prison chaplain must have been interesting. From the sounds of it, there's a lot of similarities between prison work and hospital work: angry crazy people, routine horror, and attempts to keep the inmates under control.

LawDog was right, your blog is good stuff. Keep it coming!

cathikin said...

Very funny story. You do have a flair for tellng it! Looking forward to your future blogs.

Simeron Steelhammer said...

Welcome to the blog world!

And if you need a publisher, you might want to look at a site called

They are a "self publisher" that is actually very well respected and widely used that won't cost you your life savings to start. It's actually free until you sell a copy of what you wrote.

Hard to beat that price and with your talent, you should make a nice bit of jink!

LaShaunda said...


Welcome to the world of blogging. Thanks for my laugh for today.

I'm sure you have many tales to tell, so I'll be back.


Anonymous said...

A big thank you to Lawdog for persuading you to blog! Please keep them coming.......

Christina RN LMT said...

Thanks for sharing, I got a vivid picture in my head...LOL!!

Harrison said...

Welcome. Another visitor via LD but I'll keep checkin' back.

Considerin' AHM works for a gov'mt org. that does counselin' and medicatin' for who (so far) haven't reached the long-term incarceration level, this story was soooo timely. Lucky she wasn't drinkin' somethin' when she read it or we'd have to clean the monitor. See, almost exactly the same thing happened to her--today--in the office! Fortunately the case mgr. was physically closer to "Sam," the patient was about 120lbs. soppin' wet, and no runnin' was involved. But clothes were flyin' all over the back hallway and all the female staff took an early lunch break--out the front door.

And yes, the police did have to take him in hand.