Tag Archives: jail

You Have Amazing Taste in Blogs.

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I really have to hand it to you. You’ve got exquisite taste. Choosing to read youngnotions.com shows that you will settle for nothing less than the most sophisticated in poorly informed political satire, fart jokes and pictures of potatoes that look like butts.


Now you may think that I’m just kissing the ass of you, the reader because this is the last day you can vote in the 2012 city pages readers poll and it’s true.


You can either click this picture or the hyperlink above. Your choice.




It shows how clever you are that you were able to see right through me. It’ll take more than mere flattery to impress somebody as intelligent as you. I get that now. How about this? Rather than beg you for a vote, I’ll show you why you should vote for youngnotions.com for “best blog” or any other category you see fit (best villain?). I’ll take you on a trip down memory lane and link the most popular posts on the site because that’s way easier than coming up with something new (it’s like a clip show!).


1: Guess Who Just Sold Me Ten Boxes of Girl Scout Cookies?
This post is, to date the most viewed one on the site. I guess I hit the perfect activism/gluttony ratio on this one. I tried to see if there was any follow up on the whole “girl scout cookie boycott” but the girl removed the video like a day after she posted it. The website honestgirlscouts.com hasn’t updated their website since the whole debacle went down and their facebook group is closed (you can’t even see the posts, much less comment on them, unless you ask to join the group and are accepted). Protip: If your viewpoints can’t stand even a little outside scrutiny, they might be shitty viewpoints.

On a completely unrelated note all comments for new users on youngnotions.com are moderated.


2: So I Went to Jail Last Night.
This one was the 2nd most viewed and by far, longest thing I’ve ever written (the story even spilled out into a second post the next day. Ever since I saw the reaction those posts generated I’ve been hard at work plotting a crime that will put me in jail for a long, long time so I’ll have way more to write about. Stay tuned.


3: That Girl in the “One Weird Trick to Stay Asleep All Night” Ad.
Okay, I’m not saying this one sucks but it really doesn’t deserve the #3 spot. This one has gotten popular solely off of pervs googling “That Girl in the ‘One Weird Trick to Stay Asleep All Night’ ad”. One perv even commented because he was mad that the girl in the “one weird trick” ad I had on the post was a different “one weird trick” girl than the “one weird trick” girl he was looking for.
Joby PERMALINK
March 2, 2012 1:15 pm
I have checked on the somnipure model about six times (though Im not the everyday guy but you must be exagerrating anyways or the number would be more than thirty).
I seriously doubt you have the right model. That is one nasty looking girl and something happened to her hair.
I would gladly send you a pic but not sure it would do me any good. You could certainly benefit from using a bit more brainpower when making silly blog entries. They do have about five different models; why assume its that freakazoid?
Sorry my shoddy research isn’t helping your stalker-like obsession with some obscure model. Hey, speaking of pervs –


4: Hey, Kids! Fuck You!
Here’s another one that got a lot of hits from search engines. This post specifically got a lot from two words in the title. The words were not “hey” and “you”. The post was about a news story on how some restaurants are now going “kid free”. Imagine the pedophiles’ disappointment when they click the link only to find a story about restaurants 86ing their favorite menu item. Oh well. Thanks for reading, creeps!


5: Here’s My Excuses
The only explanation I have for this one being popular is that making fun of the disabled always works. Always.

Honorable Mention: Scourge of Trees and Americans Everywhere.
This is the least viewed of my 203 posts. Seriously. It got fewer hits than when I posted a blog about not posting a blog because I’m sick. Lesson learned. Don’t fuck with Paul Bunyan.


There we go. Five wonderful reasons to go ahead and vote for youngnotions.com because without validation I’ll wither and die!

So I Went to Jail Last Night: Bonus Track

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As I mentioned yesterday in the comments, there was a bunch of stuff I left out of yesterday’s adventure but it was already at triple the word count of my average post. Rather than just write a giant story and spread it out over two days I chose to write the story beginning to end yesterday and just save a couple of the highlights for today so heeeerrreeee we go!


My jail bracelet. I can give this to The Wienery in the West Bank for a free meal and I fully intend to




After I first arrived, while I was receiving my pat down from Officer Tendertouch, another cop with a clipboard and pen asked me a bunch of questions. Am I on drugs? Do I drink every day? Am I on medication? Any mental illness? Any allergies? Normally I’d answer questions like these a little more carefully (if the Red Cross knew about how I lived in the Central African Republic after 1977 I’d never be able to donate blood) but my hands were up against a wall and some guy whose name I didn’t even know was getting to third base with me. I wasn’t exactly thinking on my toes so I just blurted out whatever came to my head. I was given a red paper bracelet which I later learned meant I had to see the nurse.


A couple of hours later (after fingerprinting when I was in the cell with the crazy barking guy) I was called out to see the nurse. Oh shit. Everything was such a blur earlier that I didn’t know what I said “yes” to in that questionnaire. Are they going to force me to take jail drugs? Is this how it works? They dope me up and I’m just in the system now? OH SHIT IS THIS HOW THE GOVERNMENT MAKES CRAZY HOMELESS PEOPLE? I sat down with the nurse and she said that I told them I had allergies, asthma and mental problems.

“Allergies? Oh, I’m allergic to clam. Do you really need to know that?”

“Well, we have that in our system now. We like to be thorough.” Shit! They know my weakness now!

The mental problems were ADD. Apparently while I was getting frisked I thought they should know that. When she asked about the asthma I told her it was Exercised Induced Asthma (yes, it’s a real thing), Asthma’s fat cousin. She asked if I was taking any medication for it and I told her that I did as a child but decided to cut out the middle man and just stopped exercising. The nurse cut my red wristband and sent me back to the cell.


A little while later this kid struts into the processing area like he owns the place. Everybody else in the jail either seemed scared or pissed off that they were there but this kid was at ease, like he belonged there. He was home. If his laid back confidence didn’t tell everybody around him that he had been here more than once he let us know with a physical demonstration by walking up to the sink in the cell and turning it on. I tried to look to see how he did this but nothing tipped me off. I think the sink only spouts water for the Alpha male.

He couldn’t have been older than 21 but his hair suggested he was a teenager in 1989. It was part mullet, part ducktail. Like, all buzzed except for the bottom of the back of his head where 5 loosely braided tails came out. I tried googling “braided mullet” and “mullet ducktail” but the internet can’t find any pictures that properly fit his hair desciption. If I ever find it I’ll post the picture on here. I promise.

A couple of guys start asking the kid questions about where do they pick up their stuff after they’re released and what happens next. When you’re in jail for the first time, you aren’t given a pamphlet with a step by step process. Nobody tells you exactly what happens next or when. You’re just called when you’re called and ushered to where you’re supposed to go. It’s kind of disorienting. The kid starts explaining the steps and pulls an orange out of his pocket. One guy asked where he got it and the kid started laughing and said “I swiped it from that guard lady’s desk!”. He then walked out of the cell and just started meandering around the fingerpinting area, eating the orange. The two guards stared at him in shocked silence for a few seconds until the guard at the desk said “Where the fuck did you get that orange?”

“Oh, I found it over there” he said, pointing to the cell with all the sandwich crusts and apple cores, laughing as he pointed.

“Bullshit. You took that orange from my desk, didn’t you?”

“Nah, man. I got it from that cell. It was just there.” He stifled a chortle and shoved an orange slice past his ear-to-ear grin.
The guard at the desk looked at the other guard “Can you believe this little shit? He just stole my fucking orange! I was gonna have that for lunch!” Neither guard had even mentioned how he left the cell without permission. The other guard grabbed the kid by the arm, said “Let’s go, kid. You’re taking a nap.” and led him down the hallway. The guard at the desk sprang up, ran to catch up with the two and grabbed the kid’s other arm. The kid said “I already took a nap! I was in the drunk tank for like nine hours!” and the guard replied “well you’re taking another nap.” They rounded a corner and were out of sight. I heard a door open followed by three loud thuds. I looked at the other guys in the cell and said “That guy just got beat down, didn’t he?” They didn’t respond.


Oh, I should mention, this is what I was wearing that night –



My face has been blurred to protect my identity.




I had a small role in a sketch for the Reapie Awards and I was told to dress “old timey” so that’s what I went with. After my sister, who can do 1,000 pushups and once bowled a 300 while sleepwalking, posted my bail I met them in the lobby. She told me that when she posted my bail that she told the desk clerk “I’m here for William Young. He’s my brother”. The clerk responded by asking “does your brother look like a 1790s fur trapper”? Apparently I’m the first person to be arrested in suspenders since Orville Redenbacher after all those strippers were found murdered with popcorn shoved in their mouths.


Thanks for reading! I swear this will be the last jail related post but if you want to hear me talk about it out loud with my mouth I’ll be at Google All Over You Facebook: The Vilification Tennis Social Network Show! I’ll be live tweeting the whole show and I’ve been given a few minutes to talk about my experience. Check it out, y’all!

So I Went to Jail Last Night.

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Last night Jena and I went to the 2011-12 Minneapolis Comedy Death Squad Awards and I’m proud to say this little blog won the “best blog / vlog” award. Thanks to everybody who voted!

Finally! An award I can never show my grandmother.

The latest addition to my family of Reapie awards. No big deal.




After we got home I gave our friend Kaia (who was kind enough to babysit) a ride home. After I dropped her off and helped her get her things out of my car I started driving back home but forgot to turn my headlights back on (YES MY CAR IS SO OLD THE HEADLIGHTS DON’T JUST TURN ON AUTOMATICALLY LEAVE ME ALONE I’M POOR). After just a block and a half of headlightless driving a cop pulled me over. I’ve stated before that I’m pathologically scared of cops so getting pulled over is always a shitstorm of anxiety but I tried to calm myself by reminding myself that I was probably just going to get a warning. My license was valid, the tabs were up to date, I was insured, everything was on the up and up. The cop asked for my license and insurance and went back to his car. He came back in less than a minute later. I figured the cop realized he had more important things to do than give some jackass who forgot to turn on his headlights a panic attack. That’s when the cop told me I had a bench warrant for a moving violation from last year and that he would have to take me to jail.


The cop gave me a couple of minutes to make a phone call before he handcuffed me so I tried to call Jena. No answer and I can’t leave a voicemail since we use the google voice service so it’s like we have the same voicemail for different numbers or something. I typed up a text that said “Going to jail. Warrant. Be home late. For the love of god turn your ringer on” and gave the cop my cell phone. One quick ride later we end up at the garage entrance to the jail waiting behind a Minnetonka cop car.



Note to suburban cops; city cops totally shit talk you when you’re not listening.



We head into an underground garage and the cops that arrested me totally cut in front of the suburban cops. The driver said “whelp, looks like we’re going first!” and brought me into a room with about a half dozen deputies standing around. One of them was weaing rubber gloves. He was to be my dance partner for the next two minutes.



I thought I’ve been patted down before. Going to certain music venues and airports I was all too familiar with a process that I was told was “patting down” but all those times I may as well have been given a high five for how noninvasive those pat downs were compared to this cop’s pat down. This man patted. Me. Down. Nothing was unexplored. I can now confirm that there are no weapons or drugs in my taint or buttcrack. I think he’s my boyfriend now. I’m a little pissed he hasn’t called but I don’t want to seem desperate. My shoes were taken and I was told to swap out my pants for some stylish orange sweats in a bathroom.


In the bathroom I noticed there was the “toilet without a seat” and realized that I needed to shit but I figured I’d have to ask permission first so I changed and they took me to a small (probably 4X8?) cell. After watching the half dozen cops stand around for ten minutes I realized I probably wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon and needed to go to the bathroom. I pressed the call button on the intercom in the cell and a voice said “go ahead”.
“Hey, I hate to be a bother but I really need to go to the bathroom. Can that happen, please?”
“Everybody on duty is pretty busy right now so it may take a minute”.
I looked through the glass wall and saw the half dozen cops chatting away. Five minutes later the voice from my little intercom boomed through the big intercom in the room “Oh hey the guy in 14 needs to use the bathroom if anybody has a minute”. One of the cops escorted me to the bathroom where I changed.


30 seconds after sitting on the toilet it started flushing. I didn’t move. I didn’t touch anything. It just flushed. It did it again a minute later. After I was done I tried to find a lever to flush it manually but there was none. I went to the sink to wash my hands but there was no switch or button for the faucet. I waved my hands around, thinking there was a sensor. No luck. I started pushing and twisting at different parts of the sink but no water came. I poked my head out the door and asked “Hey, is the sink like a puzzle or is there-”
“That’s enough. Come on out.”
I still don’t know how those sinks work.



After some processing and mugshotting I was escorted to a larger, open cell with one other guy in it. The place was filthy. The floor and benches were covered in half eaten sandwiches, bread crusts and apple cores. While waiting around I noticed that there were a ton of bread crusts. Like, almost everybody who ate there earlier tore the crusts off their sandwiches. I pointed that out to the other guy in the cell. “Do you think there’s a connection? Like, if you tear the crusts off your sandwich you’re 40% more likely to be a criminal?” He told me I shouldn’t base my PhD thesis off of it.



For about a half an hour it was just me and this other guy in the cell. He was older, maybe in his 50s. Short, thin, grey hair. I wanted to ask him. Of course I wanted to ask him. How do you not ask? It’s so easy. Just four little words. “What did you do?”. I went over the different ways I could ask him. I wanted to seem cool but not that I was trying to look like I’m cool. I blurted out “So how did you end up in here?” and immediately regretted it. The guy actually looked at me for a second, turned away and said “Because there’s nobody out there.” I honestly thought he would start fading away at that moment, like a fog. I’d reach out to touch him but there was soon nothing there. I’d call out to the guard and ask where my cellmate went and the guard would look at me, puzzled, and say “Sir, you’ve been the only one in that cell all night”.



After a full computer scan of my hand and five sets of old fashioned fingerprints, I was allowed to call Jena and put into a different cell with more people. One guy started barking at me and immediately apologized, saying he hasn’t had his meds. The other guy started complaining about how uncomfortable the concrete bench was, saying that it was like they were trying to make us uncomfortable. Crazy bark guy agreed, saying the place was “twisting up my insides like a fork twisting spaghetti”. I said “Yeah, I’m totally giving these guys a bad review on Yelp”. There was total silence until the not crazy guy said “man, what’s yelp?” and I explained what it was and there was more silence. Five minutes later a couple of the guards were talking. One said “I can’t believe how many people complain about this place! ‘Uhh, this sucks, can’t you go faster? It’s cold in here!’ Seriously, if you hate it here so much than don’t get arrested”. I stuck my head out the door and said “Oh this place is definitely getting a terrible review from me on Yelp” and the guards laughed. I turned to my cellmates and said “See? It’s funny if you get the reference!”



Long story short (word count so far, 1372), my wonderful, smart, talented, beautiful sister who is also an amazing public speaker came with her rugged yet dapper husband and they bailed me out for $50. I got home a little before 5AM (arrested a little after midnight) and Jena greeted me at the door and hugged me. I leaned down and whispered in her ear “I was prison raped”. She looked up at me and said “were you even in there long enough to get raped?”
“What? How long do you think rape takes? It’s not like there’s foreplay involved.”



Thanks to the Minneapolis Police Department for keeping threats like me off the streets.