X-ray or Rated-X: Either Way, You’re Privileged


Original Story: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/40318901/ns/travel-news/ | Monday, Nov. 22, 2010

People upset at the promise of being potentially violated by would-be perverts seem to be forgetting that traveling by air for the holidays means you’re having a relatively nice Christmas.

 

The fact is, too many Americans complain just to complain, and the character of such narcissistic malcontents is woven through this debate like a strand of burlap through fine silk.

 

Consider, for example, the countless mouse-clicking busybodies who filled the Internet with chatter just this morning about the shirtless little boy being patted down by what they all decided was a salivating TSA pedophile. As it turns out, the father had taken the kid’s shirt off himself to speed the process and probably show the TSA there was nothing to pat. Settle down, band-wagoners; sometimes it’s best to get the facts before flying off half-cocked. Personally, I hope more of this counterfeit outrage thing will be revealed as little more than the namby-pamby foot stomping of powerless, passive–aggressive crybabies.

 

In reality, the current psychotic frenzy of judgments and finger pointing prevents us from logically examining any real questions or concerns about the new screening process. Instead, we’re left to do what Americans do best: shout over one another; remember who’s number one; and consider only ourselves.

 

And poor Bob! Poor, poor Bob! Who’s Bob, you ask? Why, Blogger Bob of the United States government! Blogger Bob is Team TSA! And he’s just trying to post his way though all of these divisive, thorny, perverty, conflict-ridden difficulties with the truth as the TSA tells him to see it. He doesn’t mean any harm, and guess what, you civil-disobedient combatants and scene-causers? Blogger Bob represents an employed American happy to have a job! That’s right: airport security screeners have bills to pay too, and what makes you think your balls are so golden that Joe Wage-earner wants to risk his livelihood to give you a happy ending? And geez! That spider web of stretch marks across those lumpy hips might be something you obsess about, but do you really think some stranger wants an extra eyeful? That’s like suspecting nursing home staff of getting off on bedsores. It’s bad enough that TSA employees are now stuck hanging out with you and your flatulence for an extra four minutes; they don’t want part of your wrinkled old nutsack, your 15-year-old’s cellulite-ridden muffin top, or your sister’s divorce settlement jumbo boobs. They’re regular people doing a job that frankly not many of us would want. Yet ya’ll expect Blogger Bob to help stop Shoe-bomber who while you’re talking long trash about his intentions with your kid brother?

 

With all the media attention this topic has received, the one point I still haven’t heard anyone make is that those agonizing over the rubber glove versus cancer booth are doing so from a place of privilege. Mean ‘ol boss-man puttin’ you through Chicago O’Hare? Congrats, you’re employed. Traveling to Seattle to visit the folks? Hurray for you and your disposable income. Fleeing the snow for your second home in a warmer state? Just stop.

 

How many of your friends and family members would jump at the chance to complain about a crotch brush or an x-ray while en route to anywhere else for the holidays? What about those less fortunate than your family? With so many Americans hoping to just pay their mortgages or buy a few gifts for their children, shit, a TSA pat-down is a sign of contemporary bling.

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