Punte did a nice job writing an early Thanksgiving column. Instead of doing my own, I’ll add just one thing; I’m thankful I don’t have to travel in the Thanksgiving crowd. With long lines, delays, the inevitable screaming children, and everyone’s least favorite government agency, the TSA. Now there are protests, Facebook groups, and even pilots are saying ‘too far!’
I decided to approach this in the best spirit of this blog: mocking people who are doing dumb things. And the TSA ‘freedom pats’ are dumb; They don’t make us safer. They’re just the last gasp of a waning authority, trying desperately to cling to a Cartman-esque sense of power. So when I fly back to D.C. next week, I’ll treat them politely. But they’re doing a senseless, brutal, and frivolus task. Why should I be obligated to take that seriously?
Others have made the “the name of my penis is resistance” joke; my plan is to make the experience as uncomfortable for the
smurf screener as possible. Think Meg Ryan’s diner scene in When Harry Met Sally. Or alternatively:
“RED TOUCH! I NEED AN ADULT! I NEED AN ADULT! THIS MAN IS NOT MY FATHER! MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! HE’S TOUCHING MY NO-NO PLACE!”