West Virginia’s richest temporary resident, Martha Stewart, complained about the quality of prison food in her latest missive to her web site, marthatalks.com (Apparently, the domain name iwasjusttradedfortwocigarettesandatwinkie.com was already taken.)
Martha, let me fill you in on a little secret… YOU’RE IN PRISON! I don’t profess to be an expert on criminal corrections. In fact, the only things I do know about women in prison I gleaned from watching movies starring Brigitte Nielsen airing at 2 in the morning on Cinemax. Nevertheless, I’m pretty sure time spent in the slammer is not supposed to be entirely pleasant (the group showers charged with sexual electricity and pillow fights aside.)
So, I’m sorry that the sh** on a shingle you dined on this morning was not infused with a touch of berry allspice and candied ginger. I apologize that the grilled cheese you had for lunch wasn’t spruced up with a decorative maple leaf pattern seared into the bread from a custom griddle you picked up from a rustic antique shop in upstate Vermont. Maybe you should have thought about the peril you could possibly be putting your delicate taste buds into back in December 2001. Then maybe you wouldn’t have dumped your ImClone stock faster than Kirstie Alley scarfs down a super-sized bucket of the Colonel’s popcorn chicken.
As I will tell my son in a few years when he will inevitably refuse to eat his Brussel sprouts, “Your mother and I paid for this food, so you better darn well eat what we put on your plate.” So Martha, when you’re liberated from Camp Creampuff, feel free to eat and critique whatever gastronomic delights you so choose. Until then, be happy that federal taxpayers are footing the bill for any edible food at all. Perhaps you can work your current dilemma into a segment on your new post-incarceration television show.
“After the break, I’m going to show you how to create a lovely holiday peppermill out of a rolled-up license plate, used pieces of gum, and duct tape.”