I Don't Care Who You Used To Be, Jack. I Called Shotgun On The Top Bunk

Admit it. You already miss Jack Abramoff. But don't fret. Even though the ex-super lobbyist, now known as Federal Prison Inmate No. 27593-112, began his six-year sentence today, he can still have visitors. It's not like he's going to be holed up in a supermax. Abramoff's new home is a minimum security prison camp in Cumberland MD, about a two hour drive from Washington. There he'll enjoy a cinderblock dorm room with five other citizens. According to the Federal Bureau of Prison's Visiting Regulations, however, those who might come to call will have to follow a few rules: No halter tops, spandex or mini skirts. And forget about bringing Jack a cake with a file in it. All food brought to prisoners is checked.

Abramoff also had to check his black raincoat and black fedora at the door. He's still sporting a monochromatic look, but in a different shade: "Institution-issued green pants, green shirt, belt, socks, underwear and institution shoes or personal tennis shoes." At least he can look forward to meaningful work, like laboring in the prison kitchen for pennies an hour. He's got food service experience, sort of. On the outside, Abramoff could often be found at table 40 in Signatures, his D.C. restaurant, where he wined and dined Republican heavies. Camp chow might not measure up--but Uncle Sam will still let him order kosher..
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