George Santos: "Prison Sucks" Disgraced former Rep pens first letter from prison Ron Filipkowski Aug 5 George Santos turned himself into prison last week to begin serving a sentence of just over 7 years, and despite his attempt to put a brave and defiant face on things on podcasts before turning himself in, that lasted for about five minutes after the prison gate shut behind him. In his final post on X before heading into prison, this is what Santos posted with this photo of himself blowing a kiss: Well, darlings… The curtain falls, the spotlight dims, and the rhinestones are packed. From the halls of Congress to the chaos of cable news what a ride it’s been! Was it messy? Always. Glamorous? Occasionally. Honest? I tried… most days. To my supporters: You made this wild political cabaret worth it. To my critics: Thanks for the free press. I may be leaving the stage (for now), but trust me legends never truly exit Forever fabulously yours, George.” He made every effort to get a pardon from Trump after his conviction, lobbying everyone he knows. He blamed Mike Johnson for blocking it - alleging that Johnson warned Trump that pardoning Santos could put already vulnerable House Republicans from NY in more jeopardy of surviving the midterms. Personally, I think it is Rep. Elise Stefanik (R-NY) who lobbied Trump not to pardon him, since she vouched for Santos with some of her biggest donors in 2022 who were reluctant to back him but wrote big checks on her recommendation, only to become victims of Santos’s fraud scheme. She feels burned by him, and I think she was the one who went to both Johnson and Trump. She is owed a favor after Trump screwed Stefanik over by pulling her nomination for Ambassador to the UN. Santos just sent a letter from prison to the South Shore (NY) press, who published it. The false bravado is gone as he has to deal with the reality of his crimes. Here are some excerpts: “Let me be very clear: nothing prepares you for that kind of awakening. I wasn’t escorted by guards in shackles or thrown behind bars in some Hollywood-style prison drama. No, I walked in. On my own. Wearing a fluorescent yellow jumpsuit that made me feel like a caution sign in human form. As I crossed the threshold of the dormitory and took my first steps into what would become my new reality, I caught a glimpse of myself in the small, scratched mirror held up by one of the inmates. That image—me, hollow-eyed, clad in state-issued polyester—hit me like a punch to the gut. The tears came faster than I could stop them. I didn’t care who saw. That reflection, in that moment, made the weight of my decisions, my mistakes, and the road that led me there all too real. It was the clearest, most painful mirror I’ve ever looked into—one that didn’t just show my face, but the wreckage of the life I had built. The dorm itself? It brought back strange echoes of summer camp—if summer camp had bars, regulations, and a stench of despair. Imagine a cafeteria straight out of a public school built in the 1970s—same linoleum floors, the same clatter of trays, only now the food is joyless and served with indifference. The bathroom, though, deserves its own horror novel. The closest thing I can compare it to is an abandoned gym locker room from a forgotten high school—grim, damp, smelling of mildew and regret. You don’t go in there without flip-flops and prayer. It’s been just over a week now, but I can tell you this much: when people say “prison sucks,” they aren’t just talking about the bars and the bunks. It’s not just the loss of freedom—it’s the erosion of your dignity. It’s realizing how many basic human rights we all take for granted on the outside. A pillow that isn’t made of rubber. Soap that isn’t government-issued sandpaper. The freedom to choose when you eat or even what direction you walk in. Here, everything is regulated, stripped down, dehumanized. Every day is an exercise in patience and mental endurance. You quickly realize that time doesn’t move here—it drips. Slowly. Painfully. The routine is soul-numbing. Wake up, count, eat, line up, repeat. You begin to understand why some men talk to the walls or pace like caged animals. The silence here is loud, and the noise never stops. That’s been the hardest part. Not the routine, not the bed, not even the loss of freedom—but the slow disassociation from the man I once was. You start to forget what the world feels like when you’re not constantly being watched, measured, or judged. But I haven’t given up. I won’t. Because this moment in my life, as bitter and brutal as it is, will not define the whole story. It’s only a chapter. And like any good book, the best chapters are still unwritten. So I write this now not to ask for sympathy—but to share the raw truth of what this place is.” But maybe, just maybe, help is on the way. Rep. Marge Greene (R-GA) posted on X tonight that she sent a letter to the US Pardon Attorney asking the the fabulist frauster’s sentence be commuted, since Republican politicians aren’t supposed to serve prison time during the Trump admin. Greene: “I just sent a letter to the Office of the Pardon Attorney urging President Trump to commute the sentence of former Congressman George Santos. A 7-year prison sentence for campaign-related charges is excessive, especially when Members of Congress who’ve done far worse still walk free. George Santos has taken responsibility. He’s shown remorse. It’s time to correct this injustice. We must demand equal justice under the law!” But Marge has been very critical of Trump lately, including today where she made two posts that went after his positions on the Epstein files and sanctions on Russia. So I’m not sure Marge has more pull these day with Trump than Johnson and Stefanik. Meidas+ is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.