THE UNSINKABLE BM: THE PRISON REPORT WITH BERNIE MADOFF
Greetings. I hope you are all having a great summer so far. I am. I'm in the best shape of my life. Eating well, exercising all day long, making new friends. I can't complain, really. Life is simple in prison. I am somewhat of a celebrity in here, mainly because I stole more than the entire prison population put together, times 100. They respect that. I give them tips on money management, investments more so than laundering, but I dabble in that also. Old habits as they say. I'm really not a bad guy. Not like the fershtinkener media would have you believe. Madoff has a heart you know. I happen to be a very charitable gentleman, that part is never mentioned of course. Madoff is the devil, or the next closest thing. Hogwash!
Madoff is not a monster.
Did I let billions of gallons of oil seep into the Gulf of Mexico? No.
Did I push Gary Coleman down the stairs and let him bleed to death while I yawned my way through a 911 call? Certainly not.
Did I undercook millions of mini meatballs giving thousands of tots the trots like the so-called
Not on my worst day.
Did I ever cheat on my beautiful wife with hordes of sleazy women like Jesse James and Tiger Woods?
Well, maybe I should quit when I'm ahead. You get the point. There are far worse among you than old Bernie. If anything I am a modern day Robin Hood, "I stole from the rich, and, oh well, I can never remember how the rest of that saying goes. No matter, you catch my drift.
The neanderthal guard is signaling for me to stop typing. This is the one true torment of prison life, being told what to do by a schmuck who makes $55,000 a year ($42,400 after taxes). I had more than that in loose change in the cushions of my couch back home. Alright, Alright, I'm stopping you putz.