Like many body-conscious Americans, I’ve been worrying all week about how much to put out next time I’m at the airport.
Do I go through the new Mr. Peeper’s Magic X-Ray Scanner so that Transportation Security Administration snoops can laugh at my flabby naked acreage?
Or do I let some random TSA worker feel me up like a prom date in the back seat of a Buick LeSabre?
Look, I don’t want anyone to get the idea that Doug Clark is easy. No sir!
Even so, I will probably opt for the fondling.
All I’m asking is for my TSA groper to be gentle.
Light a scented candle, maybe. Put on some soft music …
Definitely put on a fresh pair of gloves!
A bit of chit-chat would ease the tension. You know, like …
“Hi, my name’s Doug. I’m an Aries. That’s the sign of the Ram, but then you’ve probably determined that by now.”
I’m old-fashioned, I guess. I still believe in the importance of developing a one-on-one relationship before jumping all the way into a see-through photo shoot.
The airport security screening controversy has polarized the country into two groups.
One group is sputtering like a jet engine that has inhaled a flock of geese. These people are madder than hell over having their genitals jiggled or gawked at by strangers.
The other group is thrilled that you can now join the Mile High Club without leaving the terminal.
Despite the outcry, however, the federal government is standing pat on pat-downs.
Our leaders believe the best way to fight underwear bombers is to check out everybody’s underwear.
This sort of thinking reminds me of a teacher I knew who used to punish the entire class whenever the worst kid acted out.
And let me tell you, that made my classmates very hostile toward me.
But as I was saying, this security screening is not the bed of begonias you’d think it would be, especially if you’re one of the poor screeners.
Let’s get real. The average human being does not look like Kate Middleton. Come on. If that leggy British babe were in the nude scanning line, the TSA would be selling tickets.
Sadly, the average human being looks a lot more like the Queen Mum, who is deceased, or, even worse, Prince Charles.
Think about going to work and having to touch or look at unattractive saggy humanity hour after hour after hour …
And you thought my editors had it rough.
You can’t blame the TSA for installing airsick bags in the screening areas.
We should never forget, of course, that what this is all about is terrorism.
Yes, thanks to these dehumanizing and invasive procedures, the hours prior to takeoff are now every bit as terrifying as the actual flight itself.
So what should you do?
Well, I don’t recommend doing what the software engineer did recently at the San Diego airport. The man was eighty-sixed after rejecting both the security groin grab and the digital strip search.
His “don’t touch my junk” has now become a battle cry for the angry air-traveling masses.
But playing hard to get won’t increase our air miles. Unless we plan on going everywhere by Greyhound, we’re all going to have to put up with the TSA examining our assets and liabilities.
Gads. The last time an airport got this perverted Larry Craig was tapping his toes in a toilet stall.
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