Herewith, excerpts from a single day of Floyd Mayweather’s prison journal:
6:08 a.m.: I’m a five-division world champion. Doesn’t that rate a poached egg every morning?
6:45: Tattoo-wise, my cell block looks like the NBA all-star game.
7:23: They say, “Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time.” That’s the difference between me and Mike Tyson — he could do the time.
8:55: I need a bigger window with some sunlight. How can you shadowbox if you can’t see your own shadow?
9:12: If I lose any more muscle tone, inside of a month I’ll be Chris Bosh.
9:31: Hell, I’ve won three ESPY awards and they won’t let me watch ESPN in the a.m.? I’ve got to have my “First Take.”
10:19: Never thought I’d say this: I miss Arturo Gatti.
10:45: I volunteered for laundry detail, then I heard the Muzak they pipe into that stinkin’ room. No sir.
11:27: “Shawshank Redemption, Schmawshank Redemption” — I want to get out of here, like, within a week.
12:02 p.m.: I’m undefeated in the ring, but I had a real bad judge in court.
12:03: Worst decision since my semifinal loss to that Bulgarian pretender in the ’96 Olympics.
1:35: On the outside, I’m known as “Pretty Boy.” I ain’t no fool — on the inside, I just tell these folks I’m plain old “Floyd.”
2:48: How much “good behavior” does it take to get out of here?
2:49: Besides, I’m alone all day — who even notices I’m on good behavior?
3:10: I’ll never take two-ply bath tissue for granted ever again.
4:34: The next time the big boys up at the state capital talk prison reform, I hope someone addresses the fact that the commissary here doesn’t carry Jujyfruits.
4:42: I wish I were married: I sure could use a conjugal visit.
5:34: I’m the best pound-for-pound boxer in the world, but two more weeks of this prison food and I might be down to the best ounce-for-ounce boxer in the world.
6:01: For sure, they used to serve better dinners on Braniff flights.
6:53: This is why I hate Hollywood: In every “Rocky,” the white guy wins.
7:20: If I’m put under house arrest, I wouldn’t mind if it’s Will Smith’s crib.
7:38: Someone just told me Bob Arum’s never done a day in the joint. Now where’s the justice there?
8:07: I will never let my Bally Total Fitness membership expire again.
8:25: More felons around here than a Clifford Etienne Thanksgiving dinner.
8:51: In the ring, you have to protect yourself at all times; in the pen, you have to protect yourself even more than that.
9:13: I’ll fight Manny Pacquiao for free before I’ll drink water from a tap.
9:36: Waiting to hear back from the warden on my request to finish my term at the MGM Grand.
9:59: People should chill about my two kids watching me push around my ex. Hell, folks usually got to pay $49.95 to see me fight.
10:05: The lilacs near the basketball court are a nice, unexpected touch.
10:38: Yeah, I know it’s jail. I wasn’t expecting the Four Seasons, but I wasn’t expecting a Motel 6, either.
11:03: Man, it’s lights out here before “Chelsea Lately.” Need my Chelsea fix.
11:59: Best thing about solitary confinement? I’m by myself.
Ask The Slouch
Q. If Tony La Russa had been chairman of the Federal Aviation Administration in 1927, would he have told Charles Lindbergh to pull over at Greenland so he could be replaced by a backup pilot? (Bill Pollack; Niskayuna, N.Y.)
A. Even in retirement, Tony La Russa is the gift that keeps giving a buck-and-a-quarter to my wise-cracking readers.
Q. When a golfer tests the wind by throwing grass in the air for a 190-yard shot and the wind for the duration of the ball’s flight is different from the wind where it starts, are there similarities in this to any of your previous marriages? (John Pintar; Issaquah, Wash.)
A. Wow. It’s like you were a fly on the wall in both of my failed domiciles.
Q. If global warming is true, shouldn’t all these heat records being set be viewed with the same skepticism as records from MLB’s steroid era? (Mark Hansen; Indianapolis)
A. Pay the man, Shirley.
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