I hear convicted bomber Eric Rudolph hates the SuperMax prison. He's bored, and says it's driving him crazier.
Pardon me for a moment while I feel sorry for him; there, I'm done.
SuperMax is an exclusive club. Only people who qualify are put in there. Rudolph is there because he watched until a cop picked up his radio-controlled bomb, and detonated it in the man's hand, also blinding a nurse. No human being would do that, so now he goes to the zoo with the other apes and hominids. Two, he tried to paint himself as a Robin Hood, saving us poor folk from rich queers and rich girls having abortions. Remember, if it weren't for good ole Eric, we'd all be in gay marriages right now and having abortions every night. So let's go break him out of jail, and, oh yeah, he's in the SuperMax. We'll never get him out of there, doggonit.
Eric, old man, you should have gotten out more. Instead of staying in making bombs, you should have talked to people. Queers aren't really that scary, and most girls going for abortions are doing so because their parents might harm them on religious grounds, or else because they are hookers and shouldn't reproduce. Us poor folk don't really need bombs to protect us from our own sex lives. You just took a poor excuse to hurt someone and did it. Like the Unabomber trying to scare us off computers, you're years too late and crazy anyway.
Remember that while the clock ticks and your hair grays, and that nurse reads her mail with a magnifying glass. You are denied the use of the world you harmed. Go on thinking it's because of John Lennon if it makes you happy, but you'll never see a woman or a cat or a bird again.