By now everyone's heard the stories: countless examples of sexual assaults. Everything from groping, boob-grabbing, ass-pinching, and camel-toe sliding tales of humiliation and embarrassment. And all under the auspices of the American government and "flying the (unfriendly) safe skies."
Yeah, fine, whatever. It's overkill. Everyone knows it's overkill. Only those who buy into the rampant "protect me" fear-mongering think it's not overkill. It doesn't take much to bring down a plane. Certainly there are explosives that fit within the 3-ounce limit imposed by the TSA. Certainly there are weapon assemblies that can be creatively sneaked onto aircraft via multiple terrorists.
Quick aside: Did you know that it's legal to ship a firearm on a passenger plane as long as it's in your checked luggage? Like someone couldn't take a butter-knife, stab their way to the cargo compartment, recover their bag, and REALLY cause problems. Hell, someone could do that with sharpened ear-tips on Flexon eyeglasses. Hmm... I probably shouldn't be giving anyone any ideas.
Heightened security measures aren't going anywhere for a while. Face it. People are just too afraid or too stupid. So, I'm going to propose a solution that will make (almost) everyone happy.
Quick aside: I actually kind of support the full-body scanners, but would prefer clear proof they don't pose health risks (like, at all). I think I'll wait for the ones from Total Recall.
Where was I? Oh, yeah... a solution that will make (almost) everyone happy.
Let us pick which TSA agent does the pat-down should we refuse the scanner. No, really... just like a menu line at a brothel (so I've heard...), line up the TSA agents and let us pick the one we get to let sexually assault us in the name of security. Sure, it's shallow, but shit... I'm okay with a Monica Bellucci lookalike groping me in the name of safe flying. I'm not okay with a Steve Buscemi lookalike doing it (sorry Steve... love your acting, but you're not my type).
In addition to the choice of gropers, let us be obnoxiously lewd in return. Like, seriously. Don't scream at us for not cooperating. If faux Monica rubs me a little close, let me share the fact that I'm having an erection without some government asshole threatening me with charges. I mean, shit, dude, you're the one touching me in all the places Mom and Dad told me not to let people touch me. I should be able to share the fact that I'd like to shove certain body parts in certain body parts of my government-endorsed rapist. It's a give and take, no? Isn't this about compromise?
Yes, it is.
So, there's my compromise. Let us pick who fondles us. And let us vocally share our (dis)taste for the fondling.
I can live with that.