"Jar-el, visit" came the shout, briefly silencing the hubbub of conversations and other going-ons of my fellow inmates in 4C North.  "Refuse!" I yelled back from my cell, furious at being disturbed from a hugely deserved weekend sleep. I had returned from "the hole" that morning after a three day excursion, thanks to a melee involving myself and one Douglas Ayala over telephone rights. I'd unfortunately wrapped the metal cord around the poser'S throat seriously leaving visible evidence and there you go. Incarceration simply doesn't work period. It merely brings dangerous dormant thoughts and hidden sadisms to the surface of even the most docile person. The daily violence and unpredictability of events on "the range" was becoming enjoyable - one became incensed at the most stupid of reasons.  I was slowly losing it.