MK10ART's painting of the Vanguard.

Twas the Night Before Christmas, All Through MDC

We have glad tidings. Keith Alan Raniere has received – along with all other prisoners at MDC – his Christmas bag. It includes about $30 worth of cookies, potato chips, pretzels and candy, all in small bags, all of it junk food. Some of the inmates savor their goodies for weeks, some for months. Some eat it all in a day or two. We have not heard yet how Raniere is handling the consumption of the items in his Christmas bag.

Ah, the poor lad. Once he controlled the diets of dozens of women – mocking them that ate too much; punishing them too. [And maybe poisoning them.] Keeping them half-starved while he pigged out on whatever he liked. Pizza with hot sauce, burritos, chocolate cake – while his women ate squash noodles and celery sticks and, for dessert, a piece of sugarless gum.

Now, Raniere is limited to prison food, the worst kind of swill ever served to humans and about $150 per month in overpriced commissary offerings and the occasional special gift from the Federal Bureau of Prisons of junk food like this Christmas bag he just received.

And on this holiday eve, there are those who don’t believe in karma!

Now we have a special treat, from no less a poet than our correspondent Mr. James Henry ‘Porky’ Moore. In keeping with the holiday spirit, here is Porky’s tender and beautiful “Twas the Night Before Christmas, All Through MDC”:  

By James Henry ‘Porky’ Moore

Twas the Night before Christmas, and all through MDC

Not a convict was stirring, not even to pee;

The jockstraps were hung by the heaters with care,

Except for the large smelly one worn by Clare Bear.

 

The mites and lice were nestled all snug in their crooks,

While visions swirled in heads – freedom and lawbooks.

And Toni Natalie with her tall tales, and VanGuard in his cap,

Were simply mystified, who gave who the clap.

 

When out on the roof, there arose such a clatter,

VanGrifter stopped his Kung Fu grip, to see what was the matter.

Away to the window, he flew like a flash,

Grand champion of Judo and 100-yard dash.

 

The moon on the breast of a hairy fat con,

Gave a lustre of gold to the hookers and johns.

When what to his wandering eye did appear,

But a mighty sleigh with strong FBI agents to fear.

 

With his little ole gavel, after a lengthy probe,

Queef knew in a moment, it was the Judge in black robes.

More rapid than eagles, his sentence it came,

100 years hard labor, with no one to blame.

 

“Now Sarah, now Kristin Kreuk, Now Grace Park too

Even Kristana Loken fell for the ruse,”

Of a fallen god, a mere mortal man,

With a limp pecker and nothing further to plan.

 

More rapid than lasers, his accusers they came,

Seeking justice, fairness, and equality the same.

To the top of NDNY and the crooks and police in Albany,

No one lifted a finger, except for EDNY heroes it seemed.

 

As leaves that spread, before the hurricane flies,

All hopes of escape, lost in the flash of an eye.

So up to the rooftops, the guard they prepare,

Everyone would get a light sentence, except the monster in his lair.

 

And then in a twinkling, VanLimpy heard on the roof,

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

And he drew in his limp noodle, and was warm,

Before came the FBI and raided in swarm.

 

The Case Agent was ready, dressed to the teeth,

With body armor and weapons, all ready for Keith.

A bundle of handcuffs and shackles, loaded to go,

All ready for Vanguard and his trip to MDX Colorado.

 

No more slaves for Keith Raniere,

No more fooling simpletons.

He was in for a shock

SuperMax would be no fun.

 

The stumps of stinky schlongs,

Would be tight in his teeth.

With no hope of stupid Bronfmans,

To give money and sex to Queef.

 

Vanguard has a broad pumpkin face,

And a big hairy belly.

Perfect for delicious semen,

Oh my, how merry!

 

But a wink of his eye,

And a twist of his wrist,

Would bring him sweet memories,

Of foolish women and bliss.

 

Free clothes, jet flights,

And a harem to rule.

All gone, never again,

Thanks to the hero Frank Parlato.

 

And how the stinky grinch,

Heard a howling and fierce Colorado wind.

Had only memories of smelly and infected poontang,

From Toni Natalie and the Bronfman twins.

 

There was no escape,

No hope for the Queef.

His sentence was long,

Infinity to Keith.

 

And the mothers could rest,

For justice was new.

All from the work,

Of a brave and smart few.

 

But I heard Queef exclaim,

as Toni grabbed his balls,

“Life can change instantly,

Don’t mess with the law.”

 

 


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7 Comments

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    • That bust actually occurred at the Manhattan Correctional Center (MCC) rather than the Metropolitan Detention Center (MDC). But the same exact stuff goes on all the time at MDC.

      Most of the so-called “contraband” is brought in by the guards – and sold by them to the inmates. Every once in a while, they’ll do a bust like this but it’s mostly for show – and the main players will have been warned, in advance, of when and where it was going to happen.

  • Porky, that was beautiful. I just ate the most succulent pig for Christmas. The homemade pecan pie was to die for. Merry Christmas, Frank and all commenters.
    Shivani, Heidi, Joe, Annonymaker, Nice Guy, Shadow, Scott, Bangcock, MK, Marie…Many Blessings to you all

    • Are there named friendship bracelets available on FR now? Cliques are for the um, cool table in the school canteen or the playground. V. off-putting for the over 13s who like to govern themselves.

      Merry Christmas anonymous person using the name Peaches, thanks for your contributions in the time you’ve been here, I’ve really enjoyed them.

About Frank Parlato

About Frank Parlato

Frank Parlato is an investigative journalist.

His work has been cited in major publications all over the world, including The New York Times, The Daily Mail, VICE News, CNN, Fox News, Rolling Stone, People Magazine, and more.

Frank Parlato was the lead investigator and coordinating producer of Investigation Discovery's 2 hour blockbuster special 'The Lost Women of NXIVM.'

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