One of the best things about lockin in the old folks home is they’ve all done a lot of time, so every one keeps to themselves and does their time. (The day room is like a mini-casino during the day.) There’s not a bunch of young guns with a point to prove gangbanging the shit outta the place.
The old heads usually come in three types: the recidivist, doing life on the installment plan; the violent ones, like murderers and armed robbers; and then the chos. These chomos, however, aren’t your run-of-the-mill degenerates, doing a a five to fifteen. They’re the heinous kind, the pro diddlers with bubble TVs and a innocent look about em.
On the other hand, the violent guys, as long as they’ve been down for awhile, are the chillest people to jail with. Honestly, murderers are prolly the most diverse group of convicts on the yard. They’ve obviously walked the walk, so they don’t make much time talking shit.
While the kiddie diddlers have a bad habit of telling the cops anytime a fucking soap dish goes missing, the perks of jailing here make it more than worthwhile: little to no lines for the phone and jpay, and a quiet, staid store day.