Hello I am a criminal
My name is … well, actually, my name is not important. Why, you ask? Because, I am, simply a criminal. No better term, no more descriptive word can change the fact that I am guilty of a crime by the mere name on my birth certificate.
So I guess my name is important. Dammit.
Well at least that is what the TSA thinks. Every time I fly, I “have been selected by the TSA as requiring special treatment.” Which translates into: “We think you are a motherfucking terrorist and you will have to endure a motherfucking anal exam and thank us afterward for keeping the motherfucking plane safe.”
Ahem.
Sorry. I had a Samuel L. Jackson moment there. Don’t know what came over me.
With the way I was treated last week, you would think that I was carrying nuclear arms in my luggage. And on my person. And in my bag. And in my shoes. And in my nalgene. And in my toothpaste. And in my deodorant. And in my motherfucking left nut. And in my damn chapstick.
Dear TSA: The only way you will keep airline travel “risk free” is to make all passengers fly naked, without luggage, enduring cavity exams with MRIs and chemical checks… and probably blood work. And make all the airplanes rocket proof. Cause you know an RPG from the end of the runway could do the same job. People will soon realize that your security measures are like drops of water in a very big, very deep bucket. Any measure that the TSA takes will only be preventing 1 of 10,000 different ways to cause terror. And everytime you outlaw one thing, 9,999 other things will be suddenly be very attractive to anyone seeking to cause terror. Do the math, and it just doesn’t add up.
You can’t prevent terrorist attacks. That is the point of terrorism.
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