I thought I'd go ahead and way in on the TSA "body scanners" (or, "nudity machines", as I like to call them) since everyone else is. Two flights ago, I "opted out" of the body scanner because I didn't want the radiation, and so I got the "pat down" which, yes, is rather intimate. There's all this "now I'm using the front of my hand/now I'm using the back of my hand" nonsense, which doesn't really matter when someone's hand is all up in your business. Then, after they're done, they wipe their gloves with some kind of explosive-detecting wipe, and I came up positive (insert joke). So, they had to give me another pat down. Positive again. Then what? Then nothing, that's what. So, if you ask me, the whole thing's B.S. Meanwhile, guess what? They're all, "The amount of radiation you get in the machine is equal to what you get in the plane in one minute." But, of course, I don't believe them. So, I ask my friend, who's an honest-to-God rocket scientist. And, she says: Ah, that's probably correct. So, that why I just get in the nudity machine now.
Anywho, I ask the people, who's looking at all our naked pictures? And they're like, some guy, in a room all by himself. Oh, sure, I says. I mean. Seriously. No one believes that.
Shadow Tag
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I haven't read a single thing by Louise Erdrich that I haven't loved. All
of her books are so inviting and absorbing, even if they're deeply sad and
hea...
9 months ago
2 comments:
Not safe: http://www.whitehouse.gov/sites/default/files/microsites/ostp/ucsf-jph-letter.pdf
Oh, that whole convo is maddening: who is benefiting from what, who thinks the radiation matters, blah blah blah. I *do* appreciate the report from the front lines, though. It reminds me of a trip I took to Boston, not at all long after 9/11 proper. I had taken a limo (you know, a van) from the suburbs to National airport--that one right by all the national assets?, that one. Anyway, I got there and discovered what? I had NO identification except for my Sam's Club card. Shit! What now? Nothing. Nothing. They just gave me a little card that said "she doesn't have any ID; we know that. Let her fly." Really. I think a note from my Mommy would have carried as much weight.
And--isn't it cool to have friends that are REALLY rocket scientists? I have a couple of 'em...they're not all that, really...just regular ol' smart people.
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