That and the video of the 3-year-old having a meltdown when one of those insensitive, behemoth, trapezoidal TSA matrons groped her during a pat-down below, have conspired to send us all over the edge in revolt:
The conundrum is whether to board an aircraft with some Mooz-lem turban-wearing sonofabitch whose got a C-4 codpiece or face off against a TSA matron wearing rubber gloves, glaring at us, and and asking, "Scope or grope?"
And so we submit to these indignities? What then? The x-ray and the pat-downs get under the clothes and down to the skin. What happens if some camel jockey decides that he needs an RDX enema to pull off his one-way trip to paradise and the 72 virgin goats? Will the TSA Trapezoid be squeezing K-Y jelly on her gloved forefingers and not offering the scope as an alternative?
Ugh! Pass the brain bleach! Mrs War Planner and I will definitely be taking our next trip to Japan via slow boat to China, thank you.
Waggishly, the Minnesota Majority has come out with a video on the subject:
Cute..but I'd like to suggest they use another tune from The Who's rock opera Tommy that is more appropriate for the toddler-tickling that the TSA does:
I'm your wicked Uncle Ernie
I'm glad you won't see or hear me
As I fiddle about
Fiddle about !
Your mother left me here to mind you
Now I'm doing what I want to