Shane Bauer of the liberal magazine Mother Jones recently worked undercover as a CO in a privately run Louisiana medium-security prison.
He actually learned to be redpill from the experience, though he finds the whole thing embarrassing and tries to hamster it away by saying it's because the prison is underfunded.
Nevertheless, the contrast between his early and his later mindset shows that his hindbrain was trying to help him learn something, even if his employment as a liberal journalist gives him a very strong incentive to continue denying it.
http://www.motherjones.com/politics/2016...tion-bauer
STILL BLUE PILL
(tear gas training)
ACCIDENTALLY BECOMING REDPILL
He actually learned to be redpill from the experience, though he finds the whole thing embarrassing and tries to hamster it away by saying it's because the prison is underfunded.
Nevertheless, the contrast between his early and his later mindset shows that his hindbrain was trying to help him learn something, even if his employment as a liberal journalist gives him a very strong incentive to continue denying it.
http://www.motherjones.com/politics/2016...tion-bauer
STILL BLUE PILL
Quote:Quote:
I feel a shaky, electric nervousness as I put a pen that doubles as an audio recorder into my shirt pocket.
(tear gas training)
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When our breath starts coming back, the two women linked to me hug each other. I want to hug them too.
Quote:Quote:
Sometimes prisoners call me racist, and it stings
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Inmates are glued up against the TV room window, watching a young white cadet named Miss Stirling pick through their stuff. She's pretty and petite, with long, jet-black hair.
ACCIDENTALLY BECOMING REDPILL
Quote:Quote:
Miss Stirling gets stationed in Birch on the day shift. She won't last either. Two and a half months from now, she will be escorted from the prison for smuggling contraband and writing love letters to an inmate.
Quote:Quote:
"What happened?! I ain't said nuttin'!" the inmate shouts. I walk away.
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He wanted to intimidate me and it was about time I threw someone in the hole. They need to know I am not weak.
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I carry all this with me. Some days, when I stop for gas on the way home from work I notice myself, for a split second, casing the black men who enter the gas station. When I shoot pool at the local bar, I imagine—I hope—that the white man in hunting camouflage who's playing against me will do something to spark a fight.
