So, everyone's heard by now about all the examples of redonkulous abuse of (supposed) authority being committed by the TSA (or the Transportation Security Administration, for those who are confusing airport security with a group of middle-aged super-heroes), ranging from the mildly awkward to the downright humiliating to the fucking outrageous. I think it's safe to say that everyone's of the same opinion, that you won't catch terrorists by groping everybody's nether regions and making air travel as appealing as a visit to the gynecologist/proctologist.
How's YOUR colon, by the way?
(Of course, some might go so far as to say that these tactics have very little to do with 'catching terrorists' and more to do with conditioning a populace towards acceptance of an atmosphere where civil liberties are suspended at the mere mention of a 'foreign' name or a glimpse of slightly darker shade of skin, because, y'know, it might be said that it's easier to influence and/or control people when they're too afraid to think straight, right? But who would posit something like that? Certainly not me. Anyway:)
TSA regional security director James Marchand just took this stupidity one step further, by saying that you might want to tell your kids that they should pretend that these pat-downs are just a game, despite the fact that "...telling a child that they are engaging in a game is "one of the most common ways" that sexual predators use to convince children to engage in inappropriate contact."
Don't get me wrong: no one's saying that the people who do this undoubtedly reviled job are child molesters looking to cop a feel. Most of these people are just doing their jobs, and probably hating it, and wishing that they were anywhere else instead of knuckle-deep in your unmentionables. What I'm saying is this:
You're not touching my kid.
I don't care who you are, or what your justifications might be. You're not touching her. I realize that I'm being slightly paranoid; our flight next week is only domestic, and I haven't heard of any of these things happening here in Canada, so there's very little chance that the Little Miss and I will get caught up in any of this, but I must reiterate: I will find any alternate mode of transportation, even if I have to drive a goddamned horse and cart across the mountains in winter, before I let you grope my daughter.
Just sayin'.
Jerks.
How's YOUR colon, by the way?
(Of course, some might go so far as to say that these tactics have very little to do with 'catching terrorists' and more to do with conditioning a populace towards acceptance of an atmosphere where civil liberties are suspended at the mere mention of a 'foreign' name or a glimpse of slightly darker shade of skin, because, y'know, it might be said that it's easier to influence and/or control people when they're too afraid to think straight, right? But who would posit something like that? Certainly not me. Anyway:)
TSA regional security director James Marchand just took this stupidity one step further, by saying that you might want to tell your kids that they should pretend that these pat-downs are just a game, despite the fact that "...telling a child that they are engaging in a game is "one of the most common ways" that sexual predators use to convince children to engage in inappropriate contact."
Don't get me wrong: no one's saying that the people who do this undoubtedly reviled job are child molesters looking to cop a feel. Most of these people are just doing their jobs, and probably hating it, and wishing that they were anywhere else instead of knuckle-deep in your unmentionables. What I'm saying is this:
You're not touching my kid.
I don't care who you are, or what your justifications might be. You're not touching her. I realize that I'm being slightly paranoid; our flight next week is only domestic, and I haven't heard of any of these things happening here in Canada, so there's very little chance that the Little Miss and I will get caught up in any of this, but I must reiterate: I will find any alternate mode of transportation, even if I have to drive a goddamned horse and cart across the mountains in winter, before I let you grope my daughter.
Just sayin'.
Jerks.
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