My deep sources deep within the deep prison State known as the Disunited States have informed me that Trump’s former Jewish friend and half a rat Michael Cohen is starting to warm up to Otisville, and to the Jews in Otisville, just in time for the summer. Cohen only ratted out Trump to Special Persecutor Robert Mueller in his Russian investigation. Cohen refused to provide Federal Prosecutors in the New York Second Circuit with information about Trump in their investigation of Trump’s metro New York alleged crimes involving Atlantic City casinos, Trump University, Trump’s military deferment from Vietnam he got from his podiatrist in Queens, and Trump’s daughter Ivanka’s Orthodox Jewish conversion in the KJ mikvah. I heard that Trump may have paid off a few Modern Orthodox (MO) snag rabbis for the conversion, which is surprising. I thought that only the Hasidim committed crime. I never realized that the MO also have criminal MO (Modus Operandi).
Cohen pleaded guilty and was sentenced in the Second Circuit. Cohen got no time off for snitching on his former client Donald Trump. This is why Cohen has to spend three years in Otisville. You would think that Cohen’s assistance to Mueller would help him catch a break in the Second Circuit. Think again. There are deep divisions within the Deep State. Too many sadistic egomaniac attorneys running too many competing law enforcement agencies.
There is nothing like summer in Otisville. The only good thing about Otisville is that it is located on the top of a small mountain. In the summer it doesn’t get extremely humid as it does in the City. There are no air conditioners in the buildings occupied by inmates in Otisville. There are giant fans that blow warm air at you in the dorms and bunks at night. The fans also blow the mosquitoes off your body at night. There are air conditioners located in the correctional officer offices. There is an air conditioner located in the Jewish shul. The Jews frequently fought over the air conditioner. Some guys like it ice cold, others like is warm. Naftuli Schlesinger didn’t have much body fat and nearly froze to death in the shul in the summer. Plus Naftuli was pushing 80 years old. Old people don’t like the cold. Naftuli used to fight with zaftig Ari Glucksman, who was always shvitzing. It was never cold enough for Glucksman.
Michael Cohen is bunking with a long term inmate. Cohen’s bunkie has been locked up for many years. I can see why the correctional officers matched up Cohen with this guy. Nobody messes with a guy who is fixture in Otisville. Plus this guy is very well liked and respected by the inmates as well as the guards. I knew Cohen’s bunkie when I was at Otisville. Cohen’s bunkie should have been released years ago. I am always surprised to see guys like him who remain calm and cool despite having been locked up for many years. Jewish mobster “Neighborhood Mitch” Engelson was locked up for close to 30 years yet he was always getting into trouble. He is in his 60s. He got shipped out of Otisville when he got caught smuggling food into the camp with Dr. Mitch Mitchell. They were an odd pair. They schemed and plotted all the time. They both got shipped when they got caught smuggling. Neighborhood Mitch will be released in two summers. He was locked up in Danbury for a while and then got shipped to Fort Dix, for whatever reason. He probably got in trouble in Danbury. Inmates who have behavioral problems all end up in Fort Dix.
There was a short heavy set older bald Jewish guy named Harry Newhouse who used to sit out in the sun all summer in Otisville. By the end of the summer you couldn’t tell if Harry was a Heeb or a Shvartze. Before I went into Otisville a guy from a local shul named Dov Greer knew someone on the outside who knew Harry. Someone contacted Harry and told him that I was on my way to Otisville. Harry was going to take care of me when I got there. I was told to meet Harry in the front A-1 Lobby at Otisville at 12 noon on my self surrender date. I arrived an hour early, just like Michael Cohen.
On my self surrender date I walked into the front lobby of Otisville at about 11 AM. There was a muscular White guard with tattoos sitting behind a bullet proof glass. Other guards and uniformed workers were coming and going through the metal detector. There was a waiting area with plastic chairs connected together. The guard told me to take a seat in the waiting area. While I was sitting in the waiting room a couple of inmates in drab green prison clothes walked in. One had a thick black beard. The other had a straggly brown beard. They wore big black velvet yarmulkes. They started to sweep and mop the floor of the waiting room. The waiting room was already spotless. Why were these guys mopping the floors? They nervously looked around. They looked away from me and spoke in Yiddish. They were loud enough so that I could hear them but not loud enough for the guard behind the bullet proof glass to hear them. The two inmates were trying to communicate with me. I didn’t understand them. I didn’t want to talk to them. It was obvious they were trying to get away with something in front of the guards. I didn’t want to get in trouble in the lobby on my first day. I found out later that one of the guys was named “Sam’s Club” and the other “Baddoush.” While they were trying to talk to me a heavy set, dark, short, bald, older inmate in green prison clothes appeared in the window and stared at me. I found out later that this was that guy Harry whom I was supposed to meet. Harry put his face up against the outside window and stared into the waiting area at me. He frightened me. The guard gave me dirty looks. Harry looked around and disappeared. I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone.
After sitting in the waiting area of the A-1 lobby for a while with Sam’s Club and Baddoush, I was taken to an office in the basement below the prison. I met a couple of guards in the office. They were behind computers. A heavy set African American male guard and a guard named Scalba. Scalba ran the camp. Scalba asked me detailed questions about my case in order to verify who I was. I didn’t bring my drivers license with me so they couldn’t be sure who I was, as if someone would want to impersonate me and go to prison for me. I was surprised that Scalba didn’t know who I was. According to the Department of Justice I was a “key player” in “Operation Stolen Dreams.” Subprime mortgages. One hundred percent financing. The correctional officers didn’t know anything about Operation Stolen Dreams. To them I was just a number. They gave me a prison id and assigned me a number. They told me to memorize my number. I was inmate 21502-014.
Scalba and the African American guard asked me how I got into trouble and end up in Otisville. I told them I did nothing wrong. I did seven closings and made no money while other guys walked away with hundreds of thousands and didn’t even get busted. The bankers made billions and didn’t get charged. I tried to convince them that I was innocent. The guard laughed hysterically, as if they took bets on my response. They didn’t believe a word I said. After I got processed they took me down the hall and showed me a cage. They told me to go inside the cage. A very muscular inked up guard was waiting for me in the cage. There was another inmate already in the cage. The guard told me I had to strip naked. He said he had to look up my tuchos. He joked about it. He thought it was funny. Nobody ever looked up my ass and found it humorous. The other inmate in the cage started to complain. I told him to keep quiet, as the guard could hear him complaining. I didn’t want to get in trouble on my first day. After the guard checked me out he gave me a set of prison clothing. I was going to wear the same stupid green clothing as the guys I saw in the lobby. The guard took me back upstairs through the maze of cages. He gave me a bag of prison clothing, a cheap pillow and some other prison items. He led me back through the waiting area. He led me outside in front of the parking lot where I had first walked in. He pointed to a one story run down building in the distance. The building was on a hill, past a run-down baseball diamond and beyond the barbed wire fencing that surrounded the medium. The guard told me to start walking to that building. I asked him what I should do when I got there. He told me to start walking. I walked along the barbed wire fencing, past the watchtowers, the prison vans, the prison roads. I saw guards driving around with guns. Eventually I reached the grounds of the Otisville prison camp. The inmates welcomed me with open arms. They joked around. I felt like “fresh fish” from the Shawshank Redemption. In Otisville they call you “FNG.” Fuc—g New Guy. I was subjected to FNG jokes and taunts for my first few weeks. Eventually I was no longer an FNG and I was the one tormenting the FNGs.
G-d Save the Queen. G-d Save the FNGs. G-d Save Michael Cohen. Moshiach Now!
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