nemo has definitely lost his fear of flying, replaced now by an even greater fear of boarding.  Recent revelations that the Transportation Safety Administration, without any advance notice or discussion, now requires prospective passengers to either:

  1. Pose for a random porno website, or
  2. Permit a same-sex TSA officer to get to third base

have definitely cooled his ardor for air travel, although it has suggested new possibilities elsewhere:

“I don’t want to play ‘Opt-Out Passenger and the Burly TSA Agent’ tonight.  I’ve got a headache.”

If you ever wondered when the government would lose perspective completely and just go balls-out bonkers, this is probably it.  That guy with the detonating diapers has, with this one development, become the single most  godawful thing to happen since 9/11, eclipsing the housing market crash, Lehman Brothers, Lloyd Blankfein’s bonus, and even the Glen Beck rally.  He’s ruined everything.

Think about it — one loon in ignitable undershorts and the whole fucking country has to turn its head and cough anytime we want to fly from New York to Boston.  This is going to do more for Amtrak than the federal government has been able to do in thirty years.

But that’s not the worst part.  We like to look to the future here.  Why would we believe for one second that if there’s a terrorist willing to blow his dick off  in the name of jihad, there isn’t another one in the wings willing to stuff a sausage casing of C4 up his ass.  Hell, they’ll never find that one.   If he “opts out” and submits to a patdown, groping his groin isn’t going to do anything but give him one last thrill before his shit hits the fanjet.

See where we’re headed?

For one thing, imagine the delight of lawyers, who can now employ the “TSA  defense” when a pervert gropes someone.  “He only used the back of his hand, your honor.”

Then there’s the “almost 80% of the people we surveyed said they didn’t object.”  Sure — as long as it’s happening to someone else. Let a mother or father see some leering G8 testing the perkiness of their teenage daughter’s pom-poms, or calling over their co-workers to check out her body scan, and they might express a different opinion, possibly nonverbally.

Okay, Janet?  I understand that you worry a lot about another deranged loser with a set of kabooming knickers,  and I can imagine the hell those meetings must be like (“What are we doing about exploding underwear!  Nothing?  Nothing?”), but this stuff has to stop.  There’s just no point.  If they really want to hide it, they can, and there’s just not squadoosh we can do about it.

I assume that you all think that if you don’t do something, then, if it happens again, they’ll have your guts for garters.  But come on — tell your boys to man up.  Stop trying to cover your asses by grabbing ours.  If we let you get away with this, what’s next?  Mandatory preflight high colonics?  Ob-gyn inspections for all female fliers?  Should I stop giving you ideas?

When all this preflight screening started a long time ago, people complained about the invasion of privacy.  They never dreamed it would come down to actually invading their privates.  I don’t think they’ll stand for it.  If they do — then, hell, they deserve it.