Wednesday, December 18, 2013

My Last Prison Christmas

This excerpt is from my new book, Prison Time:

“Standby for chow, Yard 1. You’re getting breakfast first.”
On a cold crisp Christmas morning, below a pink and blue sky, I join the prisoners drifting towards the chow hall, mostly depressed as if suffering a winter virus. A few swap gang handshakes.
“Merry Christmas, homey!”
“Happy Hanukkah, you sarcastic motherfucker.”
“Happy Kwanzaa, dawg!”
“Felice Navidad, ese.”

Breakfast is pancakes, scrambled eggs, cinnamon rolls, cereal and an apple. A guard with a clipboard checks off names and boasts how hung-over he is, antagonising the prisoners. The din is lower than usual, our expressions rueful. The rising sun floods the room with light, illuminating dust motes dancing over our food. After fifteen minutes, the guards order everyone out. The prisoners rise from tables strewn with spilt milk, cornflakes and apples stabbed to prevent hooch brewing.

We retire to our cells. While I reflect on being absent from my loved ones, a sad silence spreads across the yard. No basketball. No pull-ups or dips at the workout stations. No squabbling. No “motherfucker” this and “dawg” that. No announcements.
At least it’s my last Christmas here. I read to take my mind off the mistakes I made that cost almost six years of my life.

At Building B, a guard starts a security walk. “Put away your hypodermic needles! Don’t let me catch anyone drinking hooch!” 
By the time the swing shift arrives, the sun is shining through a sky mottled with clouds like the hide of a cow.
In a slow sarcastic voice an announcement comes: “We would like to take this opportunity to wish you all a very merry Christmas and to thank you for providing us with such a wonderful 2006!”
The yard animates:
“Merry fucking Christmas to you, too!”
“Shank you very much, motherfucker!”
“Come and say that to our faces, bastards!”
The guard continues: “And you’ll all be pleased to know that we fully intend to keep up the time-honoured Christmas tradition of shaking your houses down.”

Two guards – a female and a Mexican we call the “Fruit Nazi” for overzealously confiscating apples and oranges from inmates exiting the chow hall – raid cells, scattering property, confiscating food, thwarting hooch operations and doling out disciplinary tickets.

Late afternoon, we emerge for a surprise. The Gatekeepers – a young and high-spirited choir – sing carols from the other side of the fence. Briefly, I’m not a prisoner anymore. I’m someone’s son, brother. I’m human again.

At dinnertime, skimpy portions of roast beef, broccoli and watery mashed potato that reeks of bleach provoke outbursts that unsettle the guards. Tension remains high. 
After eating, I join a queue for phones that barely work. Written on the faces of the prisoners are the usual concerns. Will our loved ones be home? Will they accept the expensive call charges? Unable to get through, some prisoners hang up, cursing life.
Nearby, a demolition team of pigeons is pecking the clingfilm off chow trays abandoned by the guards. From a gust that deposits sand in my mouth, Chihuahuan ravens descend – a vortex of big black birds with a purple and blue iridescence – scattering the pigeons and ravaging the spoils.

A final announcement at 7:55pm: “Yard 1, rec is over. Take it in and lock down.”
The atmosphere is so heavy, I’m thankful that Christmas Day is nearly over.

by Shaun Attwood, the author of Party Time and Hard Time

Monday, December 16, 2013

Eastern Shore Christmas

My wife and I traveled down to Easton,Maryland last Friday to enjoy the town Christmas parade.
Before the scheduled kick-off we enjoyed a few pints and some oysters and a walk among the shops.
This old-school gun shop is  a rare breed these days. You walk in and smell canvas and waxed cotton and gun oil and tobacco. You can actually find 10 ga. shells for your goose guns. Filson is a featured brand.It is getting harder and harder to find a local gunsmith who knows the way around an old Browning or Beretta. I do suspect a small item or two from this store will find its way to my stocking on Christmas morning.

Helping Jack

My friend Jack has stage 4b cancer and is dying in prison. Since Jack wrote that the prison illegally stopped his pain medication rendering him in so much agony that he would rather just die, many people have contacted me, asking how they can help Jack. My friend Weird Al tracked down the contact information for Corizon Health, the company responsible for Jack's medical care. If you want to help Jack, you can call or email Corizon Health, stating that you are a concerned friend or pen pal of Jack's. Please include Jack's full name, address and prison number and feel free to copy me into your email at attwood.shaun@hotmail.co.uk Here's their contact info:

email:  InmateHealthInquiry@corizonhealth.com

phone number in the USA: 1-855-276-5416   

Here's the email I wrote to them:

Dear Corizon Health,

I am a friend and penpal of:

Jack Hudson 127743
ASPC - Lewis, Unit - Barchey Red
PO Box 3200
Buckeye, AZ
85326

He has stage 4b cancer. In his most recent letter to me he said that he is in so much daily agony since his pain medication was stopped, he just wishes he would die.

I find this most upsetting and inhumane. Can you please resume the pain medication Jack needs so he is not suffering in this way?

All the best from England,

Shaun Attwood

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Despite the Weather

 The dawn rose snowy and ugly this morning. However, I had a settlement conference in Wilkes Barre...a 2 plus hour drive on a good day. With the cold and snow...not so much.
 The drive to get on the highway was unpleasant. Mini-vans were skidding into guard rails and supposed "all wheel drive" vehicles were off the road and kissing trees. There was a flat bed 18 wheeler stuck on the on-ramp to 476 and the rookies and snow-incompetent drivers were stacked behind him.
 As a veteran of many a snowy drive to hunting camps and ski destinations and beer runs, I was prepared. I had my 2010 F-!50 in real 4 wheel drive and some 100 lbs bags of sand in the bed for added weight on the back wheels.
I had to make it to this Mediation session...it is how I earn the money to keep me in shotgun shells and camo Goretex and steeplechase wagers and whiskey. I made it in just under 3 hours. I settled the case...bid farewell to a very happy client ...and pointed the truck South. Heading South from Wilkes Barre takes one  by PA 22 at Allentown and a quick right takes you toward the Sportsman's Mecca. We needed some new blood in our heard of goose decoys at the club. The gear above ended up in the back of my truck for the ride home and will be deployed Thursday and Friday as the Delaware waterfowl season re-opens.  It is going to be in the single digits Thursday when we take to the duck blinds before dawn and only a little warmer when we set up for geese at about 8:30 A.M. when the ducks usually stop flying. So no posts until after the gun stops smoking!~

The Original American Spirit

 From Washington Post, a quote from Jim Murray, an English writer and one of the world's top whiskey critics.
“The best whiskey is coming not from Scotland any more, but from Kentucky,” he said, adding that Buffalo Trace, a bourbon distillery in Frankfort, Ky., is “arguably the best distillery in the world.”

Friday, December 6, 2013

Shot and a Beer

 After all the pre-Thanksgiving cooking was complete on Wednesday, I headed out to the best local tap-room on the Main Line: The Roache & O'Brien.
 This joint has been around forever...since the 30's. I had 9 oz drafts in here when I was 16.
The guys behind the bar know what you drink and know their job, always have a hearty hello and put the proper games on TV. Darts and a good Juke comprise the entertainment. Smoking is allowed and there are always a few guys you know from the neighborhood or from high school sipping a pint.

You have to appreciate a joint that is open from 7:00 A.M. on Thanksgiving day...and then closes at 2 P.M. so the staff can get their turkey on...and then re-opens at 7:30 until 2 A.M. so revelers can have a few drinks amongst friends after the bird is digested.These days, joints like these are few and far between in suburban America....this sportsman is damn glad one is in his jurisdiction.

Wednesday, December 4, 2013

More Eat What You Kill

 Saturday 7:15 A.M. The Boardwalk blind at H&H Waterfowl Club,Smyrna,DE.
 It was around 20 degrees at legal shooting time. Thank God for modern waterfowl gear...waders with 800 grams of Thinsulate, warm camo coat, camo fleece hat...all the rig to ward of the  frigid damp air of the marsh. As my Grandfather would say: "Colder than a grave digger's ass."
 A lone mallard hen sweeps by to take a peek at our decoy spread. She is whistlling by right to left. I shoulder the gun and shoot. Splash one mallard. Genna sees the bird drop, marks, and off she goes. The bird is in hand.
 I hung the bird overnight and cleaned it on Sunday. On Monday I prepared wild duck cassoulet.
 Sauteed onions and garlic. Add the cubes of duck breast and thigh meat( not much meat to garner from the legs of a wild bird.)Add carrots and stock from the Thanksgiving turkey. Fresh Thyme and lots of pepper come next. A dash of salt and chiffonade of Sage
 I always add the carcass to braise for a while and extract all that wild flavor of freshly harvested game.
 Next add some garlic sausage from DiBruno Brothers in South Philly. Then some white beans and chopped tomatoes join the melange in the Le Cruesette.
Simmer for a while. To serve, toast some Italian bread with a little Gruyere on top. Place the cheese crowned crouton in a bowl and ladle the cassoulete over top. A Pinot Noir or a Barolo pairs well. I am just a knock around kinda guy, not much on wine, so I like a icy cold Stella Artois or even a Yuengling Chesterfield Ale with my cassoulete. A meal like this is the gustatory ancillary benefit to all the fun and  work of waterfowling. You cannot get this in ANY restaurant....anywhere.

From T-Bone (Letter 17)

Shaun,

Please my brother let the students at the T-Bone Appreciation Society know that I feel the pain of not being there for them and for not keeping my word. They all mean so much to me! I can’t say thank you enough for all of your support. Every day, I think of being there in the UK speaking at schools, God willing.

If it wasn’t for prayer, I would have lost my mind years ago living in these jail conditions. This man Sheriff Joe Arpaio is a real piece of work. The guards do everything they can to break a man’s spirit and mind. There’s no sunshine or fresh air. We never leave the pod unless we go to court or medical. They only give us peanut butter each and every day and oranges (which only fuels the growing problem of addiction with 75% of the guys in here).

Enough of the negative about this place. I thought I’d be out of here by now but the state prosecutor didn’t turn over some files in time, so I have to wait until January 19th. My lawyer says that he told the prosecutor that we will take a dismissal or time served. This whole situation is crazy as they've just created a case with no evidence against me. But here in Arizona there is a saying that they will even try to prosecute a ham sandwich.  

They know I am innocent, but they care not. They only count their convictions, not the cost of hurting one’s humanity. There were four days of newspaper articles here about the Arizona county attorney’s office and how they play games in court just to get a conviction. That office is now being charged with misconduct. 

Peace, Each One Teach One
Steel Embrace
Strength and honor

T-Bone



Monday, December 2, 2013

Advertisement

I don't always drink Bourbon. But when I do...it is often Wild Turkey.
Especially when it is 40 degrees and windy at the Lehigh v. Lafayette game tailgate.

Kids

I took my son hunting on Friday after Thanksgiving. We set up for geese in the afternoon , ducks Saturday in the morning and geese for the balance of the day.
The kid in the photo above could just as easily be holding a 20 ga. hunting with his dad.
The time in the blinds this weekend gave me lots of opportunity to talk to my boy at length. Time  has been hard to come by recently as he was preparing for the SAT's and has a busy schedule for school and sports.
There were 7  other guys at the duck hunting club on Friday night....and my 16 year old. He held his own in the company of men. As I have said before, I feel it crucial to immerse my son in the rituals of men. Then he cleaned me out at the poker table Friday night. Maybe the little jerk should stick to his school-work.

Sunday, December 1, 2013

Welcome Banged Up Abroad Viewers

If you just watched my Banged-Up Abroad episode, you may be interested in the video below in which I describe the jail conditions in much more horrific detail. I also describe the gang violence and murders committed by the guards. The video ends with a gang rape and beheading story.  



Shaun Attwood

Friday, November 29, 2013

Black Friday

 The turkey has been consumed and the carcass is simmering for stock.The only "black" relevant to my Friday is the color of the 3 inch 12 Ga.  BB shells I will be loading in my shotgun hoping to down some geese for the table.
 Today I am heading to the duck hunting club to set up for geese this afternoon and ducks tomorrow at zero dark thirty. I saw and heard lots of geese moving all day yesterday. Hopefully the snotty weather North of us has driven down the migratory stragglers who will find our decoy spread inviting.
 This will be my view from the blind this afternoon.
 The Lehigh v. Lafayette tailgating was splendid. Sadly the school from Easton gave our boys a rather severe spanking :50-28.
Nevertheless, it was great hoisting beers on a cold crisp day in the Lehigh Valley. There is continuity and comfort in seeing guys you have known for 30 years and sharing beer, nips of bourbon, and laughs.

Thursday, November 28, 2013

Greetings from the Abyss by Jack (Part 15)

Jack is serving life without parole, and has terminal cancer. Throughout my incarceration, Jack was a positive influence. He encouraged me to keep writing, to enter short-story competitions, and we proofread each other’s chapters. Jack is seeking pen pals, so anyone interested please email me at attwood.shaun@hotmail.co.uk for his details.

How are things in your corner of the world?

Another float-building season has come and gone. This one was fraught with strife and animosity. Several of the prisoners either quit or refused to work on the float. There are several reasons behind this but chief among them is the pay issue. DOC decided that WISE Aides (the job we hold) are to be considered as semi-skilled labor. Because of this designation, our pay scale tops out at 45 cents an hour, but then DOC rigged the system so that no one could achieve the maximum pay in their assigned work area, which further reduced our pay to 40 cents an hour. This lower hourly wage coupled with, in some cases, up to 52% of the inmates’ pay being withheld for various things reduced the take-home pay of some inmates to less than $14 every 2 weeks for 80 hours of work.
We are expected to turn out high-quality hand-crafted furniture basically for free. A lot of the items we are building are personal items for the cops. We are getting orders from all over the state, but we are considered semi-skilled.


Then to top it off, quite a bit of the money that is deducted from us is not going where DOC says it is going. As an example, I’m a lucky one as I only lose 6% of my wages to these bogus expenses. One percent is a handling fee for DOC to process the wages they pay me. Five percent is for a non-existent drug rehab program. Even if the program were real, over 98% of the prison population is ineligible to participate. This begs the question of where is the money going? Of the 40,000 inmates in the system, at least 10,000 have jobs. 5,000 make the maximum of semi-skilled or skilled, which puts their 5% at approximately $3.20 a month. Multiply that by 5,000 inmates and you have $16,000 a month or $192,000 a year. Not bad money for a program that no one can attend when it is being run at all. You would think that in today’s tough economic situation someone would question the excess that is the prison budget. 



Shaun Attwood      

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Meat Hunters

 In the early 17th century, one did not go to Whole Foods and select a turkey from a refrigerated bin fill of cryo-sealed fowl. All the birds in the 1600's were "free-range." The religious zealots who came to these shores had to set off into the woods and fields to seek meat for the table. They had unreliable and hard to aim flintlock weapons. Their gunpowder supply was precious and fickle. A missed shot was a lamentable event.
 Deer and turkey were abundant in the fields and forests of New England. But first they had to be located and harvested. It was work. It was also work to drag the game home and clean it. Cooking over wood fires is no game either.
So when we belly up to the table tomorrow, after hauling the store-bought bird from the Viking range, remember what our ancestors had to do in order to plate the Thanksgiving meal. The local Native Americans were not caterers. To the PETA types out there...how is that Tofurkey tasting....yuch.

Friday, November 22, 2013

UK native Shaun Attwood shares experience in Maricopa County Jail (by Kelcie Grega)

A big thank you to Kelcie Grega for this article in the Arizona State Press:   

Shaun Attwood came to Phoenix in 1991 from a small industrial town in England with the intent of becoming rich stockbroking.

However, after feeling burnt out from the stressful job, Attwood began using Ecstasy. That choice would change his life forever.

“We were so arrogant when we were running around and doing these drugs,” he said. “We used to joke around that were above the law, and we felt we were living like this ‘Pulp Fiction’ style of life.”

Attwood was later arrested and spent six years in jails in Arizona, which prompted him to start a blog and, after his release, publish a book.


Attwood said England was in a recession when he finished school.

“I had two aunts living in Phoenix, and they said, ‘It’s booming out here, just hop on a plane, and you’ll easily get a job with your accent,’” he said. “I didn’t have any money. I just came here with my student credit card.”

As a stockbroker, Attwood said it took him five years to be the biggest producer in the office where he worked. He was grossing $500,000 in commission a year.

“I became a millionaire,” he said. “I had enough money to retire, and I put that money into retirement shares.”

Attwood said he eventually started to feel burnt out from the stockbroking business. Getting up early to accommodate the New York business hours made him want to turn to some kind of relief.


Party time

Attwood said it was the stress that pushed him into the party scene.

“I started to remember doing Ecstasy as a student, and I wanted to get that feeling again to sort of relieve some of the stress I was having,” he said.

Attwood said he started dealing Ecstasy in Tempe.

“I was getting Ecstasy for me and my friends,” he said “We were having a little apartment party in Rancho Murietta behind the Quadrangle Village in Tempe, Arizona.”

Attwood said more and more people started showing up to parties and that he was practically giving the drugs away at first because he wanted to show off.

“I thought I was Mr. Cool Guy from all the attention I was getting,” he said. “At the time, I had more money than common sense.”

Attwood said he started to see the business potential from drug dealing and applied everything he had learned from his business studies to dealing Ecstasy. Under the influence of drugs, he was having the time of his life.

“When you make these decisions on drugs, you think it is the most brilliant idea in the world,” he said. “The drugs are telling you that you’re going to get away with it and that you are Mr. Cool Guy.”

Attwood said that was how he began competing with Sammy “The Bull” Gravano and how he started to get serious threats from him.

Attwood said Sammy “The Bull” set up his Ecstasy ring while he was in Tempe.

“I met his son while I was in prison, and his son told me that he had been dispatched as part of a team to kidnap me from a nightclub and kill me,” he said. “They had just missed me that night.”

Because he was on drugs, he didn’t comprehend all of the dangerous situations he had put himself in, Attwood said.

When Attwood started getting death threats from competitors, he began to realize the dangers of his new lifestyle. He said the money he was getting wasn’t worth jeopardizing his safety.

“I met a young woman who would later become my girlfriend, and she steered me away from drugs,” he said. “I actually settled down and got an apartment in Scottsdale with her and thought I had gotten away with everything.”


Locked up

Attwood said it wasn’t his brightest idea to break the law in Arizona.

A year after he quit the Ecstasy business, a SWAT team came and arrested him at his apartment in Scottsdale.

“I was naïve to the statute of limitations at the time,” Attwood said.

Attwood was sentenced for nine-and-a-half years and ended up serving six of them.

“If I had gone to trial and lost, they would have stacked all my charges to a maximum 200-year sentence,” he said.

Attwood said his parents had to remortgage their house to come up with $100,000 to get a private lawyer.

“If you don’t have a private lawyer, you’re basically hung out to dry,” he said.

Jail was all about raw survival. Attwood said he was cramped into cells where violence was constantly breaking out.

“People’s heads were getting smashed against toilets, bodies (were) thrown around and everything you had in your everyday life just goes straight out the window,” he said.

Attwood said in the beginning, he pined for his old lifestyle and resented getting caught. However, he said that over time, jail did him a lot of good.

“It made me see the harm drug dealing causes people,” he said. “Most of the guys in jail were all drug addicts, and they were further down the road of drug use than me.”

Attwood said two-thirds of those incarcerated were shooting up heroin and crystal meth and that many of them had Hepatitis C from sharing needles.

“I was constantly worried that someone was going to smash me,” he said. “I’m not a tough guy, and if I had been there on my own, I would not have survived.”

Former ASU student Allan MacDonald was in jail with Shaun. He said he had heard that there was an Englishman in the yard and people wanted to scam him.

MacDonald said that he asked Attwood to start going to “dinner with him.”

“In jail, that means, ‘He’s with us,’” MacDonald said.

MacDonald said he thinks Attwood is a good guy and that he simply made an error in judgment.

“He is an honest person who is trying to make amends for what he did,” he said. “His only weakness is that he is naïve and will believe anybody.”


Joe’s Jail

MacDonald said he has sued Maricopa County Sheriff Joe Arpaio several times.

“He is a piece of work,” he said. “He doesn’t think the Constitution applies to him.”

Arpaio is known by many for his tough stance on illegal immigration, as well as crime. He has proclaimed himself “America’s Toughest Sheriff.”

According to Maricopa County Risk Management, more than 6,000 claims and lawsuits have been filed against Arpaio since he was elected in 1993.


Maricopa County has had to pay $1.5 million  to settle two federal lawsuits against Arpaio after he was accused of unethical and unconstitutional tactics.

MacDonald said despite all that has happened, he is not angry with Arpaio anymore.

Attwood said green bologna and moldy bread was the breakfast.

“Sometimes they were these crazy psychedelic colors and they looked like works of art,” he said. “But we were so hungry that we just brushed off the mold and put it in water to get it down.”

Attwood said the evening meal was called “red death” by many of the inmates.

“It looked like vomit blended with blood, he said. “It had all kinds of random meat in it, and it stunk.”

Attwood said he remembers one occasion where he found a dead rat, which a guard said was a potato, in his food.

During the 26 months he was in jail, Attwood said he lost 28 pounds.

“I was basically living off peanut butter and Snickers bars,” he said.

Attwood said whenever Arpaio came into the jail, everyone would start yelling and screaming obscenities at him.

He would come in with bodyguards who he calls “The Goon Squad” and they would threaten the prisoners, he said.

“Some of the guards said they couldn’t stand the guy,” he said. “One of them came up to me and said the real world doesn’t understand what’s going on in here.”

That’s what motivated him to write about his experiences on a blog, Jon’s Jail Journal, under a pseudonym to hide his identity.

Attwood said he was allowed a small pencil and he wrote what he saw and then smuggled the journal entries to his aunt. His family members typed what he wrote into the blog.

“It was so hot in there and to this day, the paper on which I wrote my experiences on is all wrinkled from my sweat,” he said.


Journey through literature

Attwood said he went through a big psychological journey and read many different books to understand himself, which really changed the way he thought.

“In the jail system, it was very difficult to get books,” he said. “But once I was sentenced and sent to prison, I was allowed some books.”

Attwood said he was only allowed seven books in his cell.

“At one point, readers of my blog sent so many books, they were delivered to me in a wheelbarrow,” he said. “The guard who brought them to me said he would turn the other way and let me have them all.”

Attwood said thanks to the kindness of blog readers around the world, the prison library was filled with quality books.

“It was a ‘Shawshank Redemption’ moment,” he said.

Attwood said his sister has a degree in classical literature, and when he told her in 2006 that he had read 264 books that year, she couldn’t believe it.

“Her exact words were, ‘You lucky bugger,’” he said.

English lecturer Rosemarie Dombrowski read Attwood’s blog, which she found when it was named “Best Prison Blog” by the Phoenix New Times.

“I learned within the first 30 minutes of perusing through his blog that he was a fantastic writer,” she said. “He could craft a narrative and tell a human story with humor and authenticity in a way that I’ve never really read before and my thought was, ‘I have to talk to this guy,’”

Dombrowski said they talked a lot about writing, philosophy and spirituality through letters.

“I felt like we were peers and we were friends, and we were both struggling to become vegetarians,” she said. “After I got to know him a little bit, I started to recommend books to him.”

She said she would mail him books through Amazon.

Dombrowski said she recently reconnected with Attwood on Facebook and was really happy to do so because upon his release, he was deported back to the U.K.

“I was pretty certain that I was never going to meet him face-to-face at that point,” she said.

Dombrowski said two years ago, she had a freshman come into her office during the first week of classes and said, “I wanted to meet you personally because you were mentioned in Shaun Attwood’s prison memoir.”

“I was unbelievably flattered,” she said. “It was my Facebook status for the next month.”


Freedom

Attwood said people coming into and leaving prison get this crazy expression on their faces because of all the emotional undercurrents.

“I’m wondering how I’m going to adjust,” he said. “When I was finally released, it took me about a year to finally start thinking normally again.”

Attwood said in jail, he was conditioned to react to certain things and he had to readjust to everyday life. He said he remembers following his mother around like a puppy dog awaiting orders.

Today, Attwood gives more than 100 talks a year at schools and colleges.

“Kids don’t listen to their parents or teachers about drugs, but they seem to pay attention when I tell them my own story,” he said.

Attwood said talking to schools has helped restore his karma from all the mistakes he has made in the past.

“I can’t change my past, so all I can do is move forward,” he said.

Reach the reporter at kgrega@asu.edu or follow her on Twitter @KelcieGrega

Thursday, November 21, 2013

Number 149

In the mid 80's it was still in Taylor stadium. The administration allowed the Fraternities to populate the parking lot in the far end-zone and swill keg beer from the back of pick up trucks during the entire game. It was tailgating inside the stadium. My first view of Lehigh football  was an end zone perspective thru a chain link fence with a 12 ounce plastic cup of cold keg beer...usually Hamm's. The PA system would crackle "Shigo on the tackle" and "touchdown...Renny Benn."
We had one eye on the game and one eye on the Sorority girls from Alpha Phi and Delta Gamma. Room temperature hot dogs and stale chips were the beer sponge of choice. This was not tailgating in the Grove at Ol' Miss with coat and tie and Southern Belles; this was 1AA football in the Northeast in a steel town. Banker's Club whiskey and A-Treat ginger ale and Popov Vodka  fit the house social budget so this was as far as the cocktail menu extended. We cheered as the Engineers triumphed over Colgate or Bucknell. We screamed "Lafayette Sucks" on the day of "The Rivalry."
This Saturday I will do it again...with the same guys from that end zone.

Shaun Attwood on Sky News: Dangers of Doing Drugs Abroad

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Sky News Interview on Thursday

Tomorrow morning I'm chatting live with Eamonn Holmes at the Sky News London studio. It's at 8.10am (UK time) and can be watched online here: http://news.sky.com/templates/watch-live
The discussion is about the hundreds of Britons in foreign jails on drug charges.

Shaun Attwood 

Mid-Week Amusement

An old high school friend posted this on Facebook. The set and sentiment just hit me and literally made me laugh out loud.