The White House is an Elegant Federal Prison Facility.

Read me out on this.

We elect (sentence) a person to the role of President, along with a Vice-President (codefendant) for a four year term. There is no such thing as good-time to shorten one's sentence: when you are in for four, you are in for four, severely ill health or the end of your life notwithstanding.
You have Security watching almost your every move: if it weren't downright awkward, they'd probably watch you wipe your butthole. Going to the park? Security's watching.
Feel like a Trenta Iced Green Tea, easy ice, no Classic, scoop of strawberries, six Splenda, room for cream? "Sir, shall I stir this for you?"
Want to kiss babies and shake hands at a rally for a party you caucus with? Twelve-piece with biscuits surrounding you, Men in Black style.

So, and I can hardly believe I am saying it, but 🤢, when you are locked up in something for a period of time, you try to find ways to change the rules so that they benefit you while you are there.

Reasoning

Here at Blessington, we write grievances to push for changes. Ostensibly, our changes are at the facility level: we aren't writing Petitions to Initiate Rulemaking, which are statewide prison changes.

A Rule Change

As diabetics, for example, we pushed to receive a snack in the afternoons at insulin call, citing the consistent and persistent tardiness of meal trays served by Trinity Services Group: we receive insulin between 14:00 and 15:00; count is always ~15:30; dinner meal is anywhere between 16:45 and 22:00 depending on what the main entrée is, while we are to be fed within a very narrow window (30-60 minutes) of receiving a dose of insulin.
Delaying insulin to 15:15, then holding diabetics in Medical for early dinner did not work: it interfered with the Faith and Character Based Program, and conflicted with smaller religious group service times (~15:15-16:30 on three different days of the week).
We wrote, run insulin at the normal 14:00 hour; just give us a snack to keep us from bottoming out until dinner, which comes at unpredictable times (see all the emergency traffic of evening glucose lows as evidence). It keeps us from missing a program we are part of, and/or missing our only religious service day -- things we were doing longer than you all were doing this.
In true Blessingtonite fashion, the grievance was denied...
Then followed to the letter for the proposed solution.

"Oh yeah," one nurse said, "Security didn't like counting you all up here in the afternoons," when I gently probed on the sudden shot-and-sandwich combo.
Fast Forward to earlier this year, when a nurse from a camp I was at previously had just started working here. She had no idea what the box of sandwiches was for during insulin call. :') I politely brought her up to speed: chow times entirely too unpredictable unlike at the other camp, so we get those.

So... y'all don't go right to the chow hall?
laughs "The last time I went to a chow hall was the morning right before I got on the bus for this place. We get knockoff UberDoorHub, right to the dorms. Sometimes, the driver can't find my address or my order."

So If Prisoners are Changing Their Environment...

☝️
That part.
The problem we have is an octogenarian who is making sweeping changes that aren't designed to better the scope of things for the many. It only increases the number of zeroes in the bank accounts of an autocratically selected few while decreasing zeroes for everyone else.

I dread to see where my 401(k) has sunk to, since I cannot keep a weather eye on it; it's not like there was much of a balance in there, and thanks to being here, I can now count on not retiring, ever.
The way things look, I may have to learn how to work beyond the grave, like many other Americans are fretting over.

Solving for Zeroes:

An option for a sitting president to retire should be allowed. Let someone else take the seat. Put people in who can look beyond the range of their shellac-coated chequebook to see where the country really is, understand that we're all floating on this great big rock in space together, and start repairing the country.

What do we need?

America to Dream Again. Not a fever dream, not a nightmare, but an honest to goodness dream that includes houses and housing for many more, innovative uses of our public spaces that do no harm and combat the suburban sprawl that necessitates car ownership, education on several fronts including an emphasis on modern tradeskills alongside access to college education, and a rebirth of that spirit of making that we once had.

More housing. More gardens. More maker spaces. More learning. More growing.

Less shellac.