Sam The Sex God — by Peter Grant


*In response to Kate Paulk’s comments on anti-psychotic meds and taking them, Peter Grant sent me an excerpt of his prison (chaplain) memoir which is to be published shortly.  It reminded me of why watching lunatics used to be a form of entertainment because I’m still giggling when I think about it.  Of course, it wouldn’t be funny at all from the point of view of the psychologist, or even Sam if he ever recovered his full wits, but…  Well, read it yourself. — SAH*

>Hooks with no worms -- hopefully

Sam The Sex God

Peter Grant


A large proportion of the hardened criminals in high-security institutions are mentally unstable, to say the least. Some are downright psychotic. We have psychologists who constantly monitor our inmate population, treat those who need it, and advise the rest of us on problem areas. Inmates whose condition is severe are incarcerated in special medical facilities. Others who have been stabilized through medication are assigned to the general prison population. We have our fair share of them in this facility.

It’s interesting that most of the inmates, even the most violent and predatory among them, generally don’t bother those whom they call the ‘bugs’ or the ‘crazies’ (or less complimentary terms). If they lose control, things can get very interesting, very quickly: and since they can be as violent as any other inmate, and have few inhibitions and less self-control (including not knowing when to stop), others tend to leave them alone. Of course, as long as they’re taking their meds, all is well. Unfortunately, every now and again one of them will decide that he’s feeling fine, he doesn’t need them and he’s going to stop taking them. That’s when things can go downhill in a hurry.

Sam, the self-proclaimed Sex God, is a good example. Let me tell you about him. Sam was on a cocktail of meds for a range of psychiatric and psychological issues, but had the annoying habit of stopping taking them now and again ― whereupon he’d go stark staring bonkers within days. The authorities at his prison tried to avoid this by making him take them under supervision, but he learned to conceal pills in his cheeks or under his tongue, so that it only appeared as if he’d swallowed them. When the supervisor turned away, he’d spit them out and dispose of them. (That’s one reason why many prisons try to give medication in liquid form whenever possible ― it’s harder to fake swallowing it.)

I witnessed Sam’s most memorable breakdown, the one that earned him his glorious title. He left his residential unit one day with a vacant look on his face, humming and jiving to himself. His Unit Officer, nobody’s fool, recognized the signs of ‘bugging’ and called a psychologist to investigate. Unfortunately for her, the psychologist on duty that day was a rather attractive young lady. She hurried over and confronted Sam, who decided the fact that she’d approached him must surely mean that she had the hots for his magnificent body. He reached out and tried to embrace her. She backpedaled frantically and hit her body alarm.

Next thing you know, Sam had stripped off his clothing (and I do mean all his clothing) and was being pursued around the yard by a reaction squad of half a dozen puffing, panting Correctional Officers. He was a fit, strong man (he’d obviously done a lot of gym work and body-building before his incarceration), and he wasn’t hampered by boots, trousers and the like, so he was able to keep comfortably ahead of them. As they ran, inmates boiled out of the adjacent housing units, shouting ribald encouragement to Sam, who was screaming at the top of his lungs, “I’M A SEX GOD! ALL THE WOMEN WANT ME!”

A number of staff (including yours truly) gathered at a nearby window to observe proceedings. The comments by some of the ladies concerning Sam’s naked athleticism and his self-asserted divinely priapic status were of a nature rendering them entirely unfit for reproduction here.

Eventually Sam spotted his presumed light o’ love trying to creep away down the walk, and made a sharp right-angled turn across the yard towards her. This proved to be his undoing, as the pursuing posse ‘cut the corner’ on him and piled on, six deep. Sam disappeared beneath a heap of heaving, thrashing bodies. Judging from his whinnying cries of excitement, he must have thought that all his wildest fantasies were being fulfilled.

Eventually Sam emerged from a cloud of dust, handcuffed behind his back, still naked as a jaybird. He was led away to the medical unit cooing gently to himself, accompanied by the rousing cheers of his fellow inmates. The poor psychologist returned to her office looking a little glassy-eyed, and was not very polite in response to our proffered suggestions as to how she might better have handled the situation. (Then again, they may not have been the most helpful of suggestions.)

Who says prison work is always boring?


  1. It may be funny, but Sam is a human being with mental problems in addition to whatever landed him in jail. I hope if I’m in that position I don’t become the source of hilarity for the huge number of people who feel it is their right to control him.

    The ‘inalienable rights’ don’t go away when people commit crimes and become wards of the State. We are known as a society by how we treat the most vulnerable and powerless among us.

    What if Sam were YOUR brother?

    1. Keep in mind that Sam chose to go off his meds, and he was presumably fairly rational when he did.
      It’s an extreme case of loss of inhibitions. You’ll see the same phenomenon in ‘ordinary people’, the Walmart folks who liven up the internet.
      And for the rest of us, a few drinks does a bit of the same thing, differing only in degree.
      So yes; it’s funny, because at bottom we’re laughing at ourselves.

    2. ABE, I think you’re over-reacting. Considering *where* Sam was, Sam’s actions while “off his meds” likely weren’t normally funny. So if he was my brother, I’d be glad that nothing serious happened to the psychologist and likely would see the humor in the situation.

      I’d note that since I’ve been the object of mockery and ridicule in the past that I’m very sensitive to people being made the object of jokes or characters (fictional) created to be a job.

      IMO it was the situation that was funny (because it could have been a bad situation) not Sam being the object of a joke.

    3. If Sam were my brother I’d make fun of him first.
      I know what you’re saying, but I think this is one those cases like Heinlein said “you laugh because it hurts to much.”
      I mean, I’ve discussed this — with myself — and with Eric Scheie at Classical Values, and the mentally ill are a unique problem for a society based on individual rights. Most of the time letting them have their freedom means endangering others, and even when they don’t, it often means lives of squalor for themselves (if you haven’t read My Brother Ron, do.) OTOH I’m very uncomfortable with authorities being able to define who IS mentally ill. We know how well that went in the Sov Union.
      As a commenter says above, we know we’ve been out of control at times, ourselves, we don’t know the solution, and we laugh at Sam because we see ourselves in him.

      1. Yup. I know there have been times in my life where the object of my affection did not quite have the response I expected. *chuckle*

        The cruelty is in denying the fool in question (and I have been that fool, many a time) his humanity. If Sam the Sex God is not a person but a thing to be ridiculed, that’s not funny at all. Looking at the whole situation, being thankful no one was hurt, and laughing while knowing part of that laughter is for ourselves, that’s okay. It’s when we cannot laugh at our own pratfalls that the humor becomes hollow, I think.

      2. Strictly speaking, that problem with mentally ill is not a feature of individual rights alone. It takes a certain amount of overhead in terms of surplus trained manpower, and/or chemical technology, to be able to restrain the severely mentally ill while keeping them alive. You need that surplus, that luxury of wealth, for it to come up as a problem. A corpse doesn’t necessarily have rights, and if people die or are killed when they develop severe mental illness, there isn’t that much of a permanent population to adapt to.

        (Foxfier will probably get what I say when I say ‘Ice Floes’.)

        Anyhow, a counter argument to one is ‘just because you want to fix it does not mean you are obligated to, or can’ and for the other ‘wait for them to cross the line, and hang everyone who does’.

    4. Actually, your rights do go away. That’s what being a felon /is/. Don’t trust me, look it up.

    5. If Sam were my brother, I can with certainty state that I would have a significantly greater negative reaction than I do now.

      Blood relations force a greater degree of intimacy than the fictive kinship that we all have, per Christian theory, with all other human beings.

      First, he went off his meds. That is not the way to stay on what passes for my good side.

      Secondly, he, most likely, did something to get in prison. Given the illness, I’m inclined to lower my estimate of the chance of judicial error. It is unlikely that the cause is something that wouldn’t annoy me.

      Thirdly, if the offense was drug related, God have mercy on his soul.

      Leaving the hypothetical ‘if he were my brother’ stuff aside, the word picture does not describe a particularly pleasing picture when just the facts are closely examined.

      Supposing a person had close loved ones who are severely mentally ill, and who sometimes have problems that meds can’t help, laughing may be a better emotional reaction than letting the story bring back the experiences of screaming, self harm, and so forth.

  2. I couldn’t put all of the incident in the book – I mean, it has to be for general readership, right?

    The bit I left out was that after Sam had been handcuffed, he was standing there, still sporting a vaunting erection in the sight of everyone – including female staff. One of the correctional officers clearly thought this wasn’t right, because he took a handkerchief from his pocket, unfolded it, and spread it gingerly over Sam’s organ. As he was led away to the sick bay, the latter (still erect) bounced gently with every step, making the handkerchief flutter and bob like a strangely misshaped fishing lure. It added considerably to the hilarity . . .

    I somehow doubt that the CO wanted his handkerchief back after that!


      1. I’m trying to get him to put that into the book. After all, given the boundaries that general readership has blithely sailed past with Fifty Shades and the nightly news, I’m certain it can fit under “general readership” for a prison.. and it makes me giggle so as I envision it!

    1. I am assuming that general readership for a nonfiction book on experiences as a prison chaplain will be of at least teenage years. The paragraph you just added was written tastefully (well as tastefully as such a description can be, it didn’t use crude or obscene language) and I would deem it acceptable for general leadership. It certainly as acceptable as many scenes in PG-13 movies (and more acceptable than some) since I doubt such a book would have many pre-teen readers, I vote for you including it.

  3. “The comments by some of the ladies … status were of a nature rendering them entirely unfit for reproduction here.”

    I see what you did there. lol

  4. Pingback: DU#6 | D.E. Pascoe
    1. Actually, Mauser, that’s a ‘yes and no’ situation. Many inmates’ mental issues came, not from prior illness, but from the use of dangerous narcotics such as PCP that ‘fried their brains’. That danger is still very real. Only last week I talked to a prison administrator who’d just been involved in the forcible control of a violent, out-of-control inmate who’d smoked a synthetic marijuana derivative sold as ‘incense’ on the street. His brain is now apparently so badly damaged that he’ll never fully recover from his ‘high’. I hope it was worth it to him, because he’ll never have another . . . or, if he does, he’ll die of it.

      Other inmates in the high-security penitentiary where I worked were/are psychopaths and other dangers to society that were/are far beyond the usual mental health issues. Those who end up in such places don’t do so by accident.

      Apart from his drug-abuse-caused mental health issues, Sam’s crime was heinous. He didn’t earn a multiple-decade sentence in a Federal penitentiary because he cheated at tiddlywinks.

      1. In other words, more or less in line with some of the things I have asserted in the past about recreational drug use.

      2. I once read an article about the pharmochemical effects of “Bath Salts”, and it’s pretty horrifying. Essentially once those molecules get their hooks in the neurons, they really don’t let go. It messes with your Serotonin uptake and Dopamine, like two of the worst drugs out there, except you never come down. And as they make each form illegal, the new “legal” substitutes are typically even worse.

        But I mean, once you know what it will do to you, I can’t imagine why anyone would touch the stuff in the first place. “Take this, it’s legal and will totally F you up forever” should not be an incentive.

        1. The human brain is fairly delicate, neurochemically speaking.

          Human chemistry is easily the match of it. Stuff found in plants is generally there because plants do stuff with it. If it interacts strongly with humans, it is generally because it is in the interest of the plant to kill or sicken something, often an animal, sometimes a mammal.

          Humans can tolerate a wide variety of things because our systems are generalist, built to handle smaller doses of a number of different things at a time. If it gets past the gut, the liver, and the blood brain barrier, expect problems, especially if part of doing that is massive doses.

          I would say that the causes are either ignorance, or decision making that is incompatible with being a mentally competant adult.

          The information side of thing isn’t helped by people who bring foolishness and anecdotal evidence to a fight best settled by other things.

          See, much of the ‘harmless’ anecdotes come from people who formed them living a long time outside of the prison system. If one of these people knew somebody with a tendency towards bad reactions, they would have likely gotten in enough trouble to be sent away early on. So, this tends to oversample people who are stable enough to hold down a steady continuation of clinical life in an area for a long period of time.

          Then there are the people who insist a thing can be a panacea and harmless at the same time. Firstly, there is no such thing as a panacea. That isn’t how chemicals work on living systems. Secondly, all medicines are poisons, and toxicity is in the dose. If a chemical is effective enough to treat one condition at one dose in some circumstance, it is effective enough to be harmful at another dose in another circumstance.

          If you have enough people dead and insane from a substance, then you might have enough to start assessing relative harm statistically. Even then, we don’t fully understand the societal mechanisms. It is that there tends to be a certain, perhaps constant, fraction of the population that tends to kill or harm themselves because they are nuts or can’t comprehend the risks? Or, is it like partial pressures of gases, with each substance contributing its own part of the whole.

          Of course, there is the joke about the medicinal benefits of recreational use of acetylcholine esterase inhibitors.

    2. I think it might be better to say ‘essentially eliminate the mental hospital and lethal options, and shove people who better fit those options into the prisons’.

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