TBiRD
06-24-2003, 12:37 PM
I\'m getting tired of security at the airport, There\'s too much of it. I\'m tired of some fat chick with a double-digit IQ and a triple-digit income rootin\' around inside my bag for no reason and never finding anything. Haven\'t found anything yet. Haven\'t found one bomb in one bag. And don\'t tell me, \"Well, the terrorists know their bags are going to be searched, so now they\'re leaving their bombs at home.\" There are no bombs! The whole thing is f.uckin\' pointless\'
And it\'s completely without logic. There\'s no logic at all. They\'ll take away a gun but let you keep a knife. Well, what the f.uck is that? In fact, there\'s a whole list of lethal objects they allow you to take on board. Theoretically, you could take a knife, an ice pick, a hatchet, a straight razor, a pair of scissors, a chain saw, six knitting needles and a broken whiskey bottle, and the only thing they would say to you is, \"That bag has to fit all the way under the seat in front of you.\"
And if you didn\'t take a weapon on board, relax. After you\'ve been flying for about an hour, they\'re gonna bring you a knife and fork! They actually give you a f.ucking knife. It\'s only a table knife, but you could kill a pilot with a table knife. It might take a couple of minutes.
Especially if he\'s hefty. But you could get the job done. If you really wanted to kill the prick. $hit, there are a lot of things you could use to kill a guy. You could probably beat a guy to death with the Sunday New York Times, couldn\'t you? Suppose you just have really big hands. Couldn\'t you strangle a flight attendant? $hit, you could probably strangle two of them, one with each hand. That is, if you were lucky enough to catch \'em in that little kitchen area. Just before they break out the f.uckin\' peanuts. But you could get the job done. If you really cared enough.
So why is it they allow a man with big, powerful hands to get on board an airplane? I\'ll tell you why. They know he\'s not a security risk, because he\'s already answered the three big questions.
Question number one: \"Did you pack your bags yourself?\"
\"No, Carrot Top packed my bags. He and Martha Stewart and Florence Henderson came over to the house last night, fixed me a lovely lobster Newburg, gave me a full body massage with sacred oils from India, performed a four-way around-the-world and then packed my bags. Next question.\"
\"Have your bags been in your possession the whole time?\"
\"No. Usually the night before I travel-just as the moon is rising-I place my suitcases out on the street corner and leave them there, unattended, for several hours. Just for good luck. Next question.\"
\"Has any unknown person asked you to take anything on board?\"
\"Well, what exactly is an \'unknown person\'? Surely everyone is known to someone. In fact, just this morning, Kareem and Youssef Ali ben Gabba seemed to know each other quite well. They kept joking about which one of my suitcases was the heaviest.\"
And that\'s another thing they don\'t like at the airport. Jokes. You can\'t joke about a bomb. Well, why is it just jokes? What about a riddle? How about a limerick? How about a bomb anecdote? You know, no punch line, just a really cute story. Or suppose you intended the remark not as a joke but as an ironic musing? Are they prepared to make that distinction? I think not! And besides, who\'s to say what\'s funny?
Airport security is a stupid idea. It\'s a waste of money and it\'s there for only one reason: to make white people feel safe. That\'s all it\'s for. To provide a feeling, an illusion, of safety in order to placate the middle class. The authorities know they can\'t make airplanes safe; too many people have access. You\'ll notice that drug smugglers don\'t seem to have a lot of trouble getting their little packages on board, do they? No. And God bless them, too.
And by the way, an airplane flight shouldn\'t be completely safe. You need a little danger in your fife. Take a f.uckin\' chance, will ya? What are you gonna do, play with your prick for another 30 years? Are you gonna read People and eat at Wendy\'s till the end of time? Take a f.uckin\' chance! Besides, even if they made all of the airplanes completely safe, the terrorists would simply start bombing other places that are crowded: pawnshops, crack houses, titty bars and gang bangs. You know, entertainment venues. The odds of your being killed by a terrorist are practically zero. So I say, relax and enjoy the show.
You have to be realistic about terrorism. Ya gotta be a realist: Certain groups of people--Muslim fundamentalists, Christian fundamentalists, Jewish fundamentalists, and just plain guys from Montana--are going to continue to make life in this country very interesting for a long, long time. That\'s the reality. Angry men in combat fatigues talking to God on a two-way radio and muttering incoherent slogans about freedom are eventually going to provide us with a great deal of entertainment.
Especially after your stupid f.uckin\' economy collapses all around you, and the terrorists come out of the woodwork. And you\'ll have anthrax in the water supply and sarin gas in the air conditioners; there\'ll be chemical and biological suitcase bombs in every city, and I say, \"Relax, enjoy it! Enjoy the show! Take a f.uckin\' chance. Put a little fun in your life.\" To me, terrorism is exciting. I think the very idea that someone might set off a bomb in Macy\'s and kill several hundred people is exciting and stimulating, and I see it as a form of entertainment!
But I also know most Americans are soft, frightened, unimaginative people who have no idea there\'s such a thing as dangerous fun. And they certainly don\'t recognize good entertainment when they see it. I have always been willing to put myself at great personal risk for the sake of entertainment. And I\'ve always been willing to put you at great personal risk for the same reason!!!
As far as I\'m concerned, all of this airport security--the cameras, the questions, the screening, the searches--is just one more way of reducing your liberty and reminding you that they can f.uck with you any time they want, as long as you\'re willing to put up with it. Which means, of course, any time they want. Because that\'s the way Americans are now. They\'re always willing to trade away a little of their freedom for the feeling, the illusion--of security.
And it\'s completely without logic. There\'s no logic at all. They\'ll take away a gun but let you keep a knife. Well, what the f.uck is that? In fact, there\'s a whole list of lethal objects they allow you to take on board. Theoretically, you could take a knife, an ice pick, a hatchet, a straight razor, a pair of scissors, a chain saw, six knitting needles and a broken whiskey bottle, and the only thing they would say to you is, \"That bag has to fit all the way under the seat in front of you.\"
And if you didn\'t take a weapon on board, relax. After you\'ve been flying for about an hour, they\'re gonna bring you a knife and fork! They actually give you a f.ucking knife. It\'s only a table knife, but you could kill a pilot with a table knife. It might take a couple of minutes.
Especially if he\'s hefty. But you could get the job done. If you really wanted to kill the prick. $hit, there are a lot of things you could use to kill a guy. You could probably beat a guy to death with the Sunday New York Times, couldn\'t you? Suppose you just have really big hands. Couldn\'t you strangle a flight attendant? $hit, you could probably strangle two of them, one with each hand. That is, if you were lucky enough to catch \'em in that little kitchen area. Just before they break out the f.uckin\' peanuts. But you could get the job done. If you really cared enough.
So why is it they allow a man with big, powerful hands to get on board an airplane? I\'ll tell you why. They know he\'s not a security risk, because he\'s already answered the three big questions.
Question number one: \"Did you pack your bags yourself?\"
\"No, Carrot Top packed my bags. He and Martha Stewart and Florence Henderson came over to the house last night, fixed me a lovely lobster Newburg, gave me a full body massage with sacred oils from India, performed a four-way around-the-world and then packed my bags. Next question.\"
\"Have your bags been in your possession the whole time?\"
\"No. Usually the night before I travel-just as the moon is rising-I place my suitcases out on the street corner and leave them there, unattended, for several hours. Just for good luck. Next question.\"
\"Has any unknown person asked you to take anything on board?\"
\"Well, what exactly is an \'unknown person\'? Surely everyone is known to someone. In fact, just this morning, Kareem and Youssef Ali ben Gabba seemed to know each other quite well. They kept joking about which one of my suitcases was the heaviest.\"
And that\'s another thing they don\'t like at the airport. Jokes. You can\'t joke about a bomb. Well, why is it just jokes? What about a riddle? How about a limerick? How about a bomb anecdote? You know, no punch line, just a really cute story. Or suppose you intended the remark not as a joke but as an ironic musing? Are they prepared to make that distinction? I think not! And besides, who\'s to say what\'s funny?
Airport security is a stupid idea. It\'s a waste of money and it\'s there for only one reason: to make white people feel safe. That\'s all it\'s for. To provide a feeling, an illusion, of safety in order to placate the middle class. The authorities know they can\'t make airplanes safe; too many people have access. You\'ll notice that drug smugglers don\'t seem to have a lot of trouble getting their little packages on board, do they? No. And God bless them, too.
And by the way, an airplane flight shouldn\'t be completely safe. You need a little danger in your fife. Take a f.uckin\' chance, will ya? What are you gonna do, play with your prick for another 30 years? Are you gonna read People and eat at Wendy\'s till the end of time? Take a f.uckin\' chance! Besides, even if they made all of the airplanes completely safe, the terrorists would simply start bombing other places that are crowded: pawnshops, crack houses, titty bars and gang bangs. You know, entertainment venues. The odds of your being killed by a terrorist are practically zero. So I say, relax and enjoy the show.
You have to be realistic about terrorism. Ya gotta be a realist: Certain groups of people--Muslim fundamentalists, Christian fundamentalists, Jewish fundamentalists, and just plain guys from Montana--are going to continue to make life in this country very interesting for a long, long time. That\'s the reality. Angry men in combat fatigues talking to God on a two-way radio and muttering incoherent slogans about freedom are eventually going to provide us with a great deal of entertainment.
Especially after your stupid f.uckin\' economy collapses all around you, and the terrorists come out of the woodwork. And you\'ll have anthrax in the water supply and sarin gas in the air conditioners; there\'ll be chemical and biological suitcase bombs in every city, and I say, \"Relax, enjoy it! Enjoy the show! Take a f.uckin\' chance. Put a little fun in your life.\" To me, terrorism is exciting. I think the very idea that someone might set off a bomb in Macy\'s and kill several hundred people is exciting and stimulating, and I see it as a form of entertainment!
But I also know most Americans are soft, frightened, unimaginative people who have no idea there\'s such a thing as dangerous fun. And they certainly don\'t recognize good entertainment when they see it. I have always been willing to put myself at great personal risk for the sake of entertainment. And I\'ve always been willing to put you at great personal risk for the same reason!!!
As far as I\'m concerned, all of this airport security--the cameras, the questions, the screening, the searches--is just one more way of reducing your liberty and reminding you that they can f.uck with you any time they want, as long as you\'re willing to put up with it. Which means, of course, any time they want. Because that\'s the way Americans are now. They\'re always willing to trade away a little of their freedom for the feeling, the illusion--of security.