AltPress may have gotten the exclusive pre-sentencing interview with Tim Lambesis of As I Lay Dying — but that interview was, in typical fashion for the mag, fucking boring.
It focused on Tim’s bad decisions and his pre-prison expectations. But at GSA, we’re far more interested in knowing what life is actually like for Tim these days, now that he’s on the inside, serving his six years.
We were able to pull a few dozen strings, and, through some light mail correspondence, managed to land ourselves an exclusive jailhouse interview with Tim’s new roommate.
We drove out to a prison that was NOT in San Diego, California, to meet with the chap who gets to bunk with Lambesis — a mutt of a gentleman by the name of Fernando P. Jenkins, III.
He does not intend to speak about Tim again.
GSA: Thank you very much for meeting with us, and taking the time to talk to us about your cellmate, Tim.
FJ: No problem, punk. Just glad to be out my cell an’ near a fucking window, know what I’m saying?
GSA: So, was it hard for your cellmate Tim to adjust to prison life?
FJ: Yeah. At first, that motherfucker couldn’t sleep and shit. I think maybe he thought I was going to violate his pink-as-pork asshole in his motherfucking sleep or something. But, that bitch sleeps now. Sometimes, yo I hear him…he be like humming himself to sleep. And I can hear him rocking back and forth, like a little baby. It’s that song from that “Frozen” movie. Something ‘bout, “Let it snow, let it snow…”
GSA: I believe that’s “Let it go.”
FJ: Whatever, man. I just wish this little bitch would stop crying all the time — talkin’ about he missing his mommy and shit. He ain’t gonna last long in this motherfucker if he keep sobbin’ like someone stoled his fucking lollipop.
GSA: Tell me about your accommodations here at the prison.
FJ: Accom-mo-dations? Man, there’s motherfucking bunk bed cots up in this bitch, with a fucking sink and a goddamn toilet with no seat. That’s it. There ain’t no privacy for jackin’ off or nothing. Shit, I gotta wait ‘til his scrawny ass finally start snoring before I can beat my meat in peace, you feel me?
GSA: So what’s it like living with a famous rock star?
FJ: Rock star? That frail bitch a rock star?
GSA: He is a member of a successful band called As I Lay Dying. Or was.
FJ: Yo, he a fucking clown, dog! When they first brought that pasty-ass bitch into the cell, motherfucker flinched when I went to scratch my fucking nose. He scared. Timid, like a rabbit and shit. I just know the next six years are gonna break him down — I can almost guaran-goddamn-tee it.
GSA: He has pretty, long hair, like a lady. Think that might make him more appealing there in prison?
FJ: Yo, I ain’t sure what this white boy be eatin’ but his shit could wake the motherfucking dead. Creepy fuck’s got some serious colon issues. None of the guys I run with wanna try and fuck his stank ass, because that’s the kind of stank that don’t wash off — no matter how hard you fucking scrub.
FJ: But the fucking funniest thing for me is…Tim actually rapes himself.
GSA: Wait, what?
FJ: This fool’s been fisting himself nightly, tryin’ to make it seem like his rape quota’s been filled or something. The first week, I told him there’s a quota for first-year dudes, just to fuck with his head. Bitch believed me.
GSA: You rascal! So, does Tim ever talk about what got him here?
FJ: He killed his fuckin’ wife or something, right?
GSA: No. He actually tried to hire a man to kill her, and that man was really an undercover cop.
FJ: Word? (Laughs) What a fucking dumb ass, yo! I can’t wait to tell the boys up on D. They gonna flip they shit.
GSA: Who are the “boys on D?”
FJ: D-Yard, man. Them motherfuckers hate that ashy bitch. They love to torment him at breakfast.
GSA: Anything else you wanna tell me about life bunking with Tim?
FJ: This Tim bitch likes to pop his back zits in front of me a lot. Uh, and he be doing sit-ups and push-ups like all the time in our cell. I don’t know. At first, he be praying all the time. Talkin’ to God and shit. But yo, I told that pansy-ass motherfucker there ain’t no God in here unless you wanna find Allah. See, that’s a good way to get in good with the Muslims. For protection purposes, you feel me? So he converted.
GSA: Tim’s a Muslim now?
FJ: Word. He turned to Islam, yo…just to get in good with those dudes. At the same time, he’s also been working the White Brotherhood, too. Dude’s been flashing them this Nazi ink he got done right before getting here.
GSA: Well, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time he’s sold out his beliefs. Anything else we should know?
FJ: He’s been getting lots of mail. I guess he got fans. And he been writing letters back and forth to some motherfucker in England. Tim say this dude he be writing to is in lock-up, too. But for some, like, twisted, fucked up shit. Some dude named Ian.
GSA: Tim is pen pals in prison with Ian Watkins?
FJ: Yeah, yeah…Watkins! Like that motherfucker from Sherlock Holmes and shit. This dude in London’s fucked up, though. One letter I was reading, he was just asking question’s about Tim’s kids and shit. Like, they measurements, he wanted.
GSA: Crazy! Where is Tim when you’re looking through these letters?
FJ: He always at the prison computer lab, man. Motherfucker posted a profile on MeetAnInmate.com and he be dating some single mom from Wisconsin now.
GSA: Lucky girl. Anything else you want to reveal?
FJ: I don’t know, man. Dude really likes cream corn. That it.
GSA: Outstanding. Thank you so much for your time, and good luck to you, sir.
FJ: Kiss my ass, faggot.
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