Security Measures


Here's a picture of Mr T making out with two stewardesses. You're welcome.

Here’s a picture of Mr T making out with two stewardesses. You’re welcome.

Tomorrow, Sunday, I will be wending my way across the skies of this great country of ours, heading home to my lovely wife in Pennsylvania for a much-needed vacation. I am really looking forward to being back at the homestead – the trip itself, not so much.

First of all, I’d like to say a hearty “go fuck yourself” to the idiots who have, in attempting to blow up airplanes in various highly stupid and entertaining ways, made the airport security process so onerous and humiliating. The “Shoe Bomber” has ensured that I will once again discover too late that my socks A. don’t match, and B. have a large hole exposing my nasty toenails to a horrified world’s disbelieving eyes. The “Underwear Bomber” has made it that I’ll have to get irradiated in the scary arms-raised rotating camera machine and then get patted down anyway because my back-sweat looks suspicious. I suppose I should be grateful that the “Purple Nurple Bomber” and the “Rectum Packed with Gelignite Bomber” have yet to launch their fiendish attacks. You terrorist guys can eat me.

While packing today I discovered a small card in my suitcase that must have been placed there during my last trip. It was from the TSA, politely informing me that they had gone through my luggage “looking for contraband.” Happily they neglected to confiscate my collection of vintage “Juggs” magazines or the whole roast baby pig I carry with me everywhere for luck. Maybe the TSA dude was a gay vegetarian or something and wasn’t interested.

I got nothing. Go TSA!

I got nothing. Go TSA!

I used to think that the whole post-9/11 increased airport security business was overblown nonsense meant to provide the appearance of safety at the expense of gross governmental invasion of our privacy, but then I read how Ted Nugent’s wife got arrested for bringing a gun into an airport terminal. Jesus. The idea of being trapped with those rabid knuckleheads in a plane a mile up is horrible enough; give them a gun and I’d be out the emergency exit, using my sweaty shirt as a makeshift parachute and looking for a soft place to land.

Hey TSA dudes: keep up the good work. I’ll take my chances with the exploding underpants morons; just for God’s sake protect me from them Nugents. Those people are frickin’ dangerous.

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One Response to “Security Measures”

  1. H. Heffner Says:

    When you publish your picture of Ted Nugent being kissed by two Mr T’s, then you’ll have a blog.

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