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Posts tagged ‘House of Pain’

The House of Pain

The House of Pain strikes fear in my heart, as it should yours if you are one of the animals reading my blog.

The  “House of Pain” was in the classic 1933 movie “Island of Lost Souls” which was based on H G Wells’ story, “The Island of Dr Moreau”.  This version featured Charles Laughton as a mad scientist who was busily changing animals into humanoid creatures. This painful transformation took place in his laboratory called the “House of Pain”, which all the creatures feared, and were threatened with, for not walking upright, or eating flesh (a big no no on that lonely isle). Their response was “Are we not Men?”….No they were Devo.

Well this isn’t so much about that great flick. It’s about going back to WORK; excuse me for using a ‘four lettered word’ in mixed company. When I was fighting crime as a Probation Officer, back in the Golden Age of Corrections, me and my PO buddies would call the Probation agency “The House of Pain”. Not so much for what we inflicted on our clients, but for the fact that we hated it, felt our supervisors were narrow minded ass-covering dumb-shits, and the administration (Admin), full of shit. And like all good, barely humanoid creatures, we’d much rather prefer a leisurely life filled with eating, gossip and fornication, over a life of drudgery, cause that’s the way we were treated.

Well I hung in there for 30 years ( thirty god-damned, miserable, mind numbing, sucking the life out of you years). Good thing I survived intact and am now enjoying the creature comforts of retirement, however lacking in fornication it may now be.

Actually, I retired seven years ago, but after six months of retirement, went back to work for Probation as an extra-help DPO. I worked in our local juvenile facility (prison for kids) as a Corrections Officer. Kinda like in all those Prison shows like “Lock-up Raw”; except this was more like ‘lock-up medium rare’. I actually liked it. What a testosterone laden environment. And speaking of jiss levels, I got to work, and bullshit with guys half my age and break up fights, by spraying combative homeboys in the face with pepper spray…OC. What a contact high that was for old Hansi’s ancient ass.

Well, that got old, especially after I had to break up a fight between two ninety pound pre-pubescent 12 year old boys in a quad classroom. The fight wasn’t bad, almost a joke.  What was bad, was getting down on my arthritic knees and trying to handcuff these little turds, while my legs were cramping up on me, and then getting up again. That’s when I figured “I’m too old for this shit”. So I then worked for my old boss on a bank DUI (drunk driver) caseload, doing mindless paper work. That was more estrogen laden.

Well, all us retired guys who were working extra help, finally got weaned from the County tit in 2009, when we all got laid off due to the financial crisis. [At least I got layed.] And ‘thank you Jesus’, I was put out of my misery.

BUT… and here’s the scary part. My old boss recently told me they were going to call back retired folks for a limited time only to clean up some of the massive case loads that are barely attended too. The House of Pain!!!!! And would I be interested??

Now I usually don’t share a lot of personal stuff here, except for my hallucinations. And I don’t intend this to be a blog about “My dysfunctional life”.   Nope, my hallucinations are about all the crazy shit that comes to my mind after getting properly medicated.  But, am I out of my frickin’ medicated mind, for even thinking about going back to the House of Pain??

The money could be good, hours that I choose, no actual probation work (screwing with people and threatening them with my own little “Cottage of Pain”).

Well I sent my application in. We’ll see what happens. The best part is: resuming my duties as a crime fighter could provide a mother load of blog material.  Downside is, I can’t tell anyone there about my Blog. If ‘Admin’ read this shit, they’d fire my ass. Hey… that could be ticket out.. Kinda like a get out of jail free card.

There once was a PO named Stover

Who was treated worse than my dog named Rover

Many years did pass

Of taking it in the ass

So he changed his name to Ben Dover.

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