TSA

by myerman

Congrats, TSA, your arbitrary and capricious approach to “keeping us all safe” with blanket, unyielding policies has won you the official Doing A Heckuva Job award. The boys over at FEMA are overjoyed that you’ve managed to win it back from them–they were getting a bit depressed at being the perennial winner of the Good Government contest.

Honestly, I find all of this pretty amusing. Here you are “randomly” (and by randomly I mean “arbitrarily” which ain’t the same thing) choosing to pat down buxom college sudents, toddlers, and octogenarians in wheel chairs, with each round of scrutiny based on a threat that actually made it through a previous screening effort.

Shoe bomber leads to passengers taking off shoes during screening. Underwear bomber leads to passengers undergoing a bit of groping or irradition by god knows what in your imaging machine. Before that there was something in the news about liquids, so now I can’t bring liquids on board the flight (sorry, no, can’t bring them on board unless I bought said liquid at the airport once I’m through the security screen).

This doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. If I were to treat my friends the way you go about screening passengers, it would go something like this.

• If friend A borrows $5.00 and never pays it back, I would make all my other friends pay me $1.00 any time they wanted to hang out, just in case I need to cover future losses.
• If friend B slept with my spouse behind my back instead of pay me the $1.00, I’d make sure that I got to sleep around with my friends’ spouses to prevent mine from ever straying again.
• And if friend C decided to stop returning my phone calls due to my bad behavior with his spouse, then I’d just make sure nobody could use any telephone (landline or mobile) around me whatsoever.

I just hope to fuck that the next time the terrorists don’t just try to down a plane by having 200 overweight terrorists jump up and down until the airliner falls out of the sky, or we’ll all have to undergo BMI calculations and weigh-ins before we can get on the damn plane.