Monday, November 29, 2010


Oh c'mon, clothes show off cleavage, pecs, butts. buttocks, belly buttons, What's the fuss over the airport X-rays? You don't want your parts, your shape, curves, or bulges observed by strangers?

What about all the private-parts stuff on TV, in theater, films, in store windows? We're seeing more than a peek -- getting major revelations about women's everything, and men in jockey shorts or trunks, their everything revealed.

Is it fear that X-rays can give you cancer? Or is it because everything seems to be invading your private space, your world?

Is it the FDA rulings about wrong, not good medications? Is it the faster world, the latest new electronics, or our ever-larger, more-crowded cities and the longer lines? Is it all the things happening here and there -- immigrants, gays, Muslims, Jews, Blacks -- that get you wondering if your rights are being jeopardized, disallowed, ignored?

Those damn peek-a-boo X-ray machines -- stupid, unnecessary, waste of time -- didn't some Israeli Chief of Security say so? EL AL planes had one hijacking in thirty years -- all they do is interview every single passenger, and then, focus on the guilty-looking, stuttering um ... er... a-a ... um ... weirdoes.

Isn't all this a malaise -- this heavy, gray, bad-weather feeling -- that you don't matter?

If you're fit, unfit, overweight, old, young, sexy, un-sexy, revolting or attractive -- the guys who check the X-ray photos don't care -- you're a gray shape, a number, a digit the data-miners are collecting and collating.

Everything about you -- body and soul -- what you do, see, visit, research, check out, enjoy, like, love, hate, avoid, or follow -- it's YOU! You are INFORMATION that can be sold to other data miners employed by pollsters, who work for someone (in business, politics, or the media ), anyone who's buying something.

Adjust to the reality that this is the way the world is -- it's the reality of now -- so brush away your feelings like specks of dirt blown by the wind.

Stand in line, be counted, X-rayed, or patted down -- just obey the rules.

Mankind, womankind, people like you are creating rules and inventing and expanding the new reality --so why not rejoice in that? You are alive and kicking, complaining, and YES, you are benefiting from being part of it.


The Peacock said...

A drowsy, post Sunday football, past noon thought from in-limbo land on Florida's left coast...perhaps if we retained a fragment of choice during the pat-down process to make it a more pleasurable experience; as in who gets to go hands on. First, the airlines should make sure those handy people are fairly attractive. Then passengers would be allowed to determine their own pat-down partner. I for one would much rather have female hands running up and down the inside of my legs; my sister I know would choose that hunky Chippendale's-looking fella. My best friend isn't particular, so maybe an Ann Heche look alike. Hey, celebrity look alikes! Work for many unemployed actors! Or out of work actors themselves (an autograph included). The risk of hijacks down, airline revenue jacked up. My talking horse could care less. They unceremoniously "jack" up his monster crate and load him aboard. Andhe says the cavity search gives him a tingle

Carola said...

I can understand why people who fly a lot wouldn't want the radiation. Otherwise I agree with you. I read in the NY Times why the Israeli system wouldn't work for us: They have many fewer planes flying every day, and their society and the people who fly are much more homogeneous, so it's easy for them to pick out the people they want to spend a lot of time on.

Kevin Daly said...

I'll take the scanner. No one will be interested in seeing me naked and frankly I don't really care - it's about safety not sex. I would be much more uncomfortable with the pat-down. Whatever they need to do to make sure I get from point A to point B safely and securely, I am okay with it. But I do understand why it's a sore subject for many.

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