Memo to Mr. and Mrs. America: I know you'd rather waterboard a thousand brown people than spend one extra minute in an airport security line but really, get over yourselves. No TSA screener is going to get excited over a scan of your flabby private parts or your shrunken scrotums, fupas, and saggy asses. Unless, of course, you're hiding a pipe bomb somewhere in those saggy folds of disgusting ass fat. Oh, and John Tyner, nobody's that enthusiastic about touching your precious junk. That's why they're wearing rubber gloves, you dumb motherfucker. This stunt may not turn you into a lucrative commercial property. Remember "Don't tase me bro"? No? Neither does anyone else. Not that all of this scanning and groping will be particularly helpful. That horse fled the barn a while ago. In hindsight, secure cockpit doors and isolating pilots from the passenger cabin would have saved a few thousand lives and a few hundred billion dollars. Scream for ethnic profiling all you want but all it takes is one blond, blue eyed convert with a fannypack of C-4 and we're right back where we started.
