"Oh Sweet Engelica"

(Composed: 09/13/10)



During my unfortunate stay at Le Chateau De Lake County, I met a girl. Not just any girl, but a lady of enchanting allure. A woman who, just with one strike glare, would stir up so many emotions, your heart would change climates in an instant. Her name? Engelica Castillo. Yeah, you heard me, Engelica Castillo, or as we here in LCJ call her, The “Baby Killer”.


For those who aren’t in the know, last summer, there was a story about an adorable 3 year old infant child named Jada Justice who came up “missing” from a gas station. While her cousin slash babysitter popped inside to quickly purchase some milk and cigarettes. Mostly everyone’s immediate reaction was to question why said babysitter would leave a 3 year old in the car alone in the first place, including myself. I say this because I myself, once or twice, have left my own adorable infant strapped in her seat, at even younger ages, however only in the circumstances that my car was parked right by the door, my doors were locked, it wasn’t summer, and I was only going to the counter, therefore her only being no farther than 5 to 6 feet away and in plain sight for a maximum of 60 seconds. Now with the milk being in the back of EVERY gas station I’ve been to, and purchasing milk AND cigarettes being about a minimum 3 minute process, also considering that a 3 year old is so much easier and far more capable of being brought into a story via their own feet, I should no longer have to argue my point.


There was an immediate amber alert. People of all walks of life within the “region” were doing all they could to send out word of this “missing” child. Social networks flashed with posts of the life info there was. Newspapers updated constantly and daily with not much changing developments. I even strolled to the corner store and was greeted by a woman passing out pictures and contact info of the little one. I, myself, even saw fit to take a picture with my phone and CC it to everyone in my contact list. Every little bit helps right? Well, no, not when said cutie pie is already dead.


You see, comes to find out little Jada’s cousin/babysitter aka Engelica Castillo had a bit of a heroin habit, one she shared with her boyfriend, Timothy Tkachik. Comes to find out, babysitting, and heroin, worse yet babysitting and lack of heroin don’t mix. So, while the innocent little angel was trapped in the custody of her inevitably dope sick (shakes fist) watchers, acting like any 3 year old would, this behavior was apparently too much for the dynamic duo. After a bit of abuse, the two set out, to feed their jones no less, towards Chicago, taking little miss sunshine along. Somehow, on the way, choking a child to literal death was on the agenda. Being the very beacons of safety and awareness, Ms. Castillo and her suitor do the only responsibly thing they can muster up in their doped out brains. Rather than taking the lifeless baby corpse to say, I don’t know, the hospital, or even the authorities, they drive back towards Indiana, switch vehicles (yeah, that means leaving said dead child in prior vehicle), and head back towards Chicago to score some sweet lady H. God forbid you show up to the West Side of Chicago to cop some heroin with a DEAD BABY in your back seat, right? I mean what would Jennifer Hudson say?


~NOTE~ I realize that my tone in telling this story is severely blunt and forthcoming, almost to the point of cruelty. This is merely how I think, and if my vicious tone is the small spark that deters any junkie from killing a baby or even just quitting heroin by reading this and feeling like a piece of shit, so be it. ~END NOTE~


Apparently, upon their return Lois Lame and Super scum try to cremate the……………………………………



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Not Down With The Sickness

(Composed: 09/08/10)



Let’s just start this off with a fact. There’s only a select few things I’m annoyed by. Hypocrisy, poverty, bad attitudes, animal rights, children with made up diseases, the show Monk, Bears fans, the stigma behind the number 13, girls with no sense of direction, Burger King, Hessville Indiana, gauged piercings without jewelry, Nickelback, men’s softball, anti cigarette commercials, high pitched sneezes, Xbox’s, divorce, midgets, and a host of other things. However, as of late, there’s been this one thing that has really bothered me, almost to the point of murderous contemplations… being in the presence of dope sick individuals. I mean seriously, what the fuck?


Picture this, you’re just to the point, during your incarcerated vay-cay, where it doesn’t take you trading your meals for somebody’s Neurotin prescription to fall asleep. As you start to doze off, suddenly your bunk is in total toss and turn/vibrate mode. What the fuck? A rain of moist, germy particles of the “unknown” start to mist from above after continuous sneezing. What the fuck?!? Some kind of grumbling commentary erupts, pretty much a bunch of whiny complaints, not loud, yet loud and bitchified enough to keep you awake. What the fuck?!? Your “Bunkie” keeps climbing down from above you, gagging as if he’s gonna hurt all over the place, pacing back and forth, wrapped in his blanket, in straight shiver mode, begging to make conversation with you; “Hey, you up?” “Sorry man, I can’t sleep.” “Are you cold?” “Do you have any sweets?” What the fuck?!?


I barely have sympathy and compassion for regular, full functioning human beings, let alone some dope sick................


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Drag Me To Jail

Greetings & Salutations from the clinker. Yes, I’m still in jail. Lake County has seen fit to deny me any kind of modification, therefore keeping me hostage until October 18th, 2010. Apparently my real judge deems it necessary to be “unattainable”, once again leaving all decisions to the magistrate judge. Am I saying Judge Moss would’ve approved what Magistrate Judge Belziski denied? Definitely. Hell, if Moss was actually there for my “probation revocation” I wouldn’t even be here, but I digress.



After being transferred to the “Trustee” section of the main jail for 2 specific reasons; a) Some f*ckface chump stain sent word to the Work Release officers that he felt threatened by me (Hilarious!) and b.) A prolonged wait for my modification hearing, I’ve realized why people with my level of intelligence, wit, and common sense aren’t very well received under these conditions. Unfortunately my ability to use these things for evil (aka manipulation, belittling, and chaos) is all I have for “self-pleasure”, so to speak. No one writes, with the exception of the 3 pieces of, dare I label, fan mail (It’s weird to say that, though even one of them confirms that’s what they are, Thanks MorbidMark J.). Be that as it may, no continuances of personal correspondence, though, it’s fair to say, I’m way used to that at this point, for when I go to jail, I’m generally dead to so called “loved ones”.
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