TSA

This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things (Stupidity On Parade)

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Stupid people come in all shapes and sizes. In fact, stupid people are just like you and me…

Alright, who’m I kidding, they’re nothing like me, and for me to even suggest that they could be is just stupid. And of course, since you had the head full of smarty brains to come here and read our funny type ha-ha scribbles, you’re clearly nothing like them either. Also you’re a sexy minx whose beauty and charm is only rivaled by your comedy website decision making abilities. So then, if it’s not us and it’s not you, then who are these stupid people on which I’d just words ago based my entire argument, and the remaining 1100 words or so, on bitching about? I’m glad you asked, though you didn’t have to be so ill tempered about it. Stupid.

Like I said, stupid comes in all shapes and sizes, whether it be too large to safely fit into something not designed for them but too stupid to realize their own personal dimensions or too drunk with power and moronic to know that you shouldn’t tell someone that you rubbed your balls on something of theirs while “lawfully” rifling through their shit.

Have you ever been bet to do something you knew was not only stupid, but would no doubt result in certain pelvic harm? And no, we don’t mean a rollicking, good natured, “turkey basters full of HPV” fight. Most of us have a general working knowledge of our basic physical displacement volume, so no matter how much we’re egged on by our worst friends, no matter how many hundred of dollars you’re offered to wedge yourself into a space not designed for your mass, we understand that that way lay only pain and humiliation. That long after that Benjamin is spent on cast cutter rental, the psychological scars will remain. Fortunately for those of us who enjoy the suffering of the stupid, not everyone puts quite so much thought into their hip safety as we do.

The Widowmaker.
The Widowmaker.

A 21 year old, living adult male, was dared by his friends to wedge himself into a baby swing at a local park with the promise of a TEN THOUSAND COPPER LINCOLNS reward! What he received instead was an embarrassing 6am rescue by a groundskeeper who heard him screaming for help from deep within his swingy tomb.

Let’s examine this now shall we? No matter how drunk you are, and let us make no mistake, this individual was at very least drunk at the outset of this adventure, when the amount of the stakes involved in your stupid wager reaches the entirely unrealistic level of “$100”, you have to realize that you are being completely fucked with by people who simply know your price to do anything, no matter how moronic. No $100 bet in the history of idiots has EVER been paid in full. But even beyond the inherent flaw in this scenario of this ever actually being an honest challenge, this dufus is twenty-one years old and is hanging out in a public park at nine in the evening drunk enough to be convinced that this was a good idea. Twenty-one is too old to be duped into something so YouTubely idiotic, and nine is too early to be drunk enough to be coaxed into it. So I’m not going to blame my good friend booze on this one and will simply lay the fault at the dangling feet of this simpleton who I now can’t help but imagine waddling painfully toward the EMT van still in the baby swing harness freshly cut down by the firefighters.

Meanwhile a New Jersey TSA baggage screener thought it would be hilarious to anonymously harass a woman who discretely stowed her joy buzzer in her checked luggage, expecting, apparently wrongly, that some pervert wouldn’t go rooting through her shit like a creep with a license to do so.

Hey, at least the slip seems stain free. The sign of a true professional.
Hey, at least the slip seems stain free. The sign of a true professional.

Now, many of us have opened our bags after getting off a flight to find a slip inside thanking us for the good times that the Transportation Security Administration just had with all of our personal belongings. And while I generally don’t carry my varied assortment of tender bit tantalizers when I travel that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to some day (I miss them when I’m gone). But I feel raped enough when I find that strangers have been fingering nothing more intimate than the tooth brush I use to keep the inside of my butthole spotless. So when Jill Filipovic found that not only had the TSA notice of legal privacy invasion had been crammed in her belongings, but that it also came emblazoned with a hand written love letter reading “GET YOUR FREAK ON GIRL” by the “baggage handler” who apparently discovered her bullet vibe packed therein, she was surprisingly not as thrilled by the message of masturbation encouragement as the writer had surely expected she should be.

Now, I understand how the TSA agent might have been excited seeing a sex toy in a piece of luggage. That’s not where they usually live, so that’s titillating as shit! Plus, it’s a lady toy, so it’s probably been all up against lady parts. And while it must be like pervert Christmas to find this magical device when rifling through stranger clothes looking for things small enough that they won’t be missed long enough when they disappear that the victim has enough time to forget it was in their searched bag, you still have to have enough wits about you to only THINK these things, rather than writing them down and placing them in with your victim’s befouled belongings. As witty and cute as you think cheering on future diddling is, and while in your pervy imagination you’re sure that the owner of this device is going to do all the leg work necessary to track you down and pleasure herself in front of you with this device that you have found and instructed her to partake in its pleasure giving settings, the odds of that happening versus you having to inform every new neighbor you have for the rest of your life that you’re a registered sex offender just don’t make it a worthwhile gamble.

“It was a $15 bullet vibe from Babeland,” Jill said. “About the most basic sex toy you can imagine. It has now been officially retired, since I have no idea if the TSA agents manhandled it.”

A very wise move on her part, because no matter how long you boil that one, you’re never going to completely remove the cocktail of saliva and testicle smear left by the screener as he hurriedly molested himself with shaky hands.

Those who know me are aware that I have long said “We’re only still alive because an idiot hasn’t killed us yet.” but it’s also equally safe to say that we only still have playgrounds or un-secretly desecrated sex toys because an idiot hasn’t been able to jam themselves into it for an imaginary c-note or found it innocently tucked away in our own airborne personal belongings… Doesn’t quite have the same ring to it, but the sentiment is certainly the same.

This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things (Stupidity On Parade)

Posted on

Stupid people come in all shapes and sizes. In fact, stupid people are just like you and me…

Alright, who’m I kidding, they’re nothing like me, and for me to even suggest that they could be is just stupid. And of course, since you had the head full of smarty brains to come here and read our funny type ha-ha scribbles, you’re clearly nothing like them either. Also you’re a sexy minx whose beauty and charm is only rivaled by your comedy website decision making abilities. So then, if it’s not us and it’s not you, then who are these stupid people on which I’d just words ago based my entire argument, and the remaining 1100 words or so, on bitching about? I’m glad you asked, though you didn’t have to be so ill tempered about it. Stupid.

Like I said, stupid comes in all shapes and sizes, whether it be too large to safely fit into something not designed for them but too stupid to realize their own personal dimensions or too drunk with power and moronic to know that you shouldn’t tell someone that you rubbed your balls on something of theirs while “lawfully” rifling through their shit.

Have you ever been bet to do something you knew was not only stupid, but would no doubt result in certain pelvic harm? And no, we don’t mean a rollicking, good natured, “turkey basters full of HPV” fight. Most of us have a general working knowledge of our basic physical displacement volume, so no matter how much we’re egged on by our worst friends, no matter how many hundred of dollars you’re offered to wedge yourself into a space not designed for your mass, we understand that that way lay only pain and humiliation. That long after that Benjamin is spent on cast cutter rental, the psychological scars will remain. Fortunately for those of us who enjoy the suffering of the stupid, not everyone puts quite so much thought into their hip safety as we do.

The Widowmaker.
The Widowmaker.

A 21 year old, living adult male, was dared by his friends to wedge himself into a baby swing at a local park with the promise of a TEN THOUSAND COPPER LINCOLNS reward! What he received instead was an embarrassing 6am rescue by a groundskeeper who heard him screaming for help from deep within his swingy tomb.

Let’s examine this now shall we? No matter how drunk you are, and let us make no mistake, this individual was at very least drunk at the outset of this adventure, when the amount of the stakes involved in your stupid wager reaches the entirely unrealistic level of “$100”, you have to realize that you are being completely fucked with by people who simply know your price to do anything, no matter how moronic. No $100 bet in the history of idiots has EVER been paid in full. But even beyond the inherent flaw in this scenario of this ever actually being an honest challenge, this dufus is twenty-one years old and is hanging out in a public park at nine in the evening drunk enough to be convinced that this was a good idea. Twenty-one is too old to be duped into something so YouTubely idiotic, and nine is too early to be drunk enough to be coaxed into it. So I’m not going to blame my good friend booze on this one and will simply lay the fault at the dangling feet of this simpleton who I now can’t help but imagine waddling painfully toward the EMT van still in the baby swing harness freshly cut down by the firefighters.

Meanwhile a New Jersey TSA baggage screener thought it would be hilarious to anonymously harass a woman who discretely stowed her joy buzzer in her checked luggage, expecting, apparently wrongly, that some pervert wouldn’t go rooting through her shit like a creep with a license to do so.

Hey, at least the slip seems stain free. The sign of a true professional.
Hey, at least the slip seems stain free. The sign of a true professional.

Now, many of us have opened our bags after getting off a flight to find a slip inside thanking us for the good times that the Transportation Security Administration just had with all of our personal belongings. And while I generally don’t carry my varied assortment of tender bit tantalizers when I travel that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to some day (I miss them when I’m gone). But I feel raped enough when I find that strangers have been fingering nothing more intimate than the tooth brush I use to keep the inside of my butthole spotless. So when Jill Filipovic found that not only had the TSA notice of legal privacy invasion had been crammed in her belongings, but that it also came emblazoned with a hand written love letter reading “GET YOUR FREAK ON GIRL” by the “baggage handler” who apparently discovered her bullet vibe packed therein, she was surprisingly not as thrilled by the message of masturbation encouragement as the writer had surely expected she should be.

Now, I understand how the TSA agent might have been excited seeing a sex toy in a piece of luggage. That’s not where they usually live, so that’s titillating as shit! Plus, it’s a lady toy, so it’s probably been all up against lady parts. And while it must be like pervert Christmas to find this magical device when rifling through stranger clothes looking for things small enough that they won’t be missed long enough when they disappear that the victim has enough time to forget it was in their searched bag, you still have to have enough wits about you to only THINK these things, rather than writing them down and placing them in with your victim’s befouled belongings. As witty and cute as you think cheering on future diddling is, and while in your pervy imagination you’re sure that the owner of this device is going to do all the leg work necessary to track you down and pleasure herself in front of you with this device that you have found and instructed her to partake in its pleasure giving settings, the odds of that happening versus you having to inform every new neighbor you have for the rest of your life that you’re a registered sex offender just don’t make it a worthwhile gamble.

“It was a $15 bullet vibe from Babeland,” Jill said. “About the most basic sex toy you can imagine. It has now been officially retired, since I have no idea if the TSA agents manhandled it.”

A very wise move on her part, because no matter how long you boil that one, you’re never going to completely remove the cocktail of saliva and testicle smear left by the screener as he hurriedly molested himself with shaky hands.

Those who know me are aware that I have long said “We’re only still alive because an idiot hasn’t killed us yet.” but it’s also equally safe to say that we only still have playgrounds or un-secretly desecrated sex toys because an idiot hasn’t been able to jam themselves into it for an imaginary c-note or found it innocently tucked away in our own airborne personal belongings… Doesn’t quite have the same ring to it, but the sentiment is certainly the same.

Your Fake Boobs Are Two Incredibly Beautiful Terrorists

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What the hell is going on with TSA these days? A couple of months ago they were searching for bombs in baby’s diapers, then they moved on recently to searching for bombs in a 90 year old’s Depends Undergarment. But now … NOW … they’re going to need to start fondling all the ladies with implants. Very smart TSA, VERY … SMART IN-DEED! Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a job application to run down to the airport. Be right back.

RED ALERT : SEVERE RISK OF TERRORIST ATTACKS

Actually, no, it’s not TSA’s fault this time, it’s the plane terrorists making my wait at the airport another hour longer than normal. Dicks! What a bittersweet thing these terrorists are doing. Strapping those bulky, unbreathable bombs to themselves is so 2001, and the modern terror-fashionista-ist would never be caught dead with the cliché “underwear bomb” from 2009. Those acts of terrorism were so bunchy, and the pantie-lines were simply atrocious. So what is a terrorist to do?

ORANGE ALERT : HIGH RISK OF TERRORIST ATTACK

Well one smarty terrorist has finally devised a way to not only look fabulous, but to blow a fucking plane to smithereens while doing so. Say hello to “The Implant Bomb”. That round, succulent, perky bosom of mass destruction teasing us with its low cut flirtyness, giving us just enough of a show to distract us from the mayhem that it will be causing very soon. Bittersweet in the fact that big fake boobs are great to look at, they might be a bit on the hard side when fondling, but for the most part, great, I’m not complaining believe me. But now with the implant scare, I’m sure there will soon be some sort of new US Regulation keeping women with low self-esteem from easily acquiring implants without some sort of huge screening process, which will then spiral out of control to a ban on implants altogether. Damn you Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab !!! First you take our freedom from safe flying, and now you take our eye candy too, you’re such a prick! However, I am interested to see the pictures they use on the new terror alert system.

GREEN ALERT : No terror here, let her on the plane

Beware: Exploding Babies

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I don’t do a lot of flying, I have my reasons. One of them, certainly, is the fact that I don’t do a lot of traveling. I don’t think they have a lot of destinationless flights, and if they did, why would they? But when I do go somewhere, which as I’ve stated, I don’t, I usually don’t fly. And when ever someone asks me, trying and failing to mask their contempt and disgust like I just told them I don’t own a TV or that I’m literate, “Why don’t you fly?” I like to first joke with them “Because I wasn’t born on Krypton, a dying planet whose inhabitants my desperate father tried to warn of its impending doom. But in their arrogance they cursed him a fool and refused to listen to his pleas. Then, in defiance of the planetary council, he built an escape craft, large enough only for a tiny infant, I, their third choice for occupants, to be rocketed to the safety of a distant planet, this planet, this Earth. Though if I had been born there and had been sent here, my alien physiology would surely be fantastically affected by the radiation of this planet’s yellow sun, imbuing me with great powers, not the least of which could quite possibly be the gift of unaided personal flight.” And we laugh. And by we I usually mean me, because most of the time the people I tell that joke to will wander off midway through. Undeterred I always finish the joke, because it’s so whimsical and outrageous, it gets me every time. Krypton… where do I come up with these things?

The other reason I don’t fly is because of the ever-present threat of exploding babies.

Now you may say “Well, how big of a threat could exploding babies be? I’ve never been exploded by a baby.” To which I would say, that makes you one of the lucky ones. A statistic that I just now made up shows that three in every two people in America have been exploded by a baby. That is a true made up fact!

So when I hear of the “uproar” stemming from a photo taken by a busy body priest in Kansas City over the weekend, of brave air port security personnel putting their very lives on the line for the air faring general public by thoroughly patting down a suspicious, potentially explosive packed 8 month old, I just want to say “You shut up, you shut right the hell up before you set off that ticking baby!”

Did someone make a boom boom?
Did someone make a boom boom?

You see, Saturday the right Reverend Jacob Jester took a dirty picture of a felt up baby after he passed through security in the Kansas City International airport. The first question one might ask of course is, “Why the fuck was it any of this asshole’s god damned business in the first fucking place?” Which, despite the somewhat excessive use of vulgarity considering we’re speaking of a man of the cloth, I think is a fair question. This wasn’t the parents having a problem with it like the six-year-old from a little while back. This was a literally holier than thou air traveler who decided it was his job to make sure the world knew how he felt about baby security.

But moving past the obvious problems of a Reverend taking snap shots of child touching, we arrive at the question of “Is this TSA screening gone overboard?” An excellent question. Wait, did I say excellent? I meant dumb. A dumb, stupid question. The reason this toddler-erroist was being given the smooth hand was because it’s stroller set off an alarm during a screening for explosives (or so says the TSA). Now, the world that we currently live in necessitates us screening things like strollers for explosives. Whether or not that’s a world any of us ever imagined we’d be living in or not is another question for another day, but that’s the cold hard fact of where we are. And in this world, where people are tucking C4 under their balls and trying to light it with a Bic between peanuts and beverage service, if something sets of a “Go Boom Boom” siren, that something gets wiped with a rubber glove, no matter how adorable it might have been before we thought it could explode.

The parents, who were either trying to smuggle explosives onto a plane through very clever baby based means, or simply accidentally bought a strolled constructed from bomb, were said to be “very cooperative and the process was completely without incident” and apparently didn’t have a problem with the proceedings. They did what they had to do, which then included allowing their infant to get a little bit of the “‘ol rub ‘n tug” and then they went on their way, being transported in mid-air from where they were to where they went. End of story for them. They had no idea that footage of their child’s federal massage had become a Twitter sensation. So then the next question becomes, if the family didn’t have a problem with it, and they weren’t taking cupcake snaps of their off spring getting digitally manipulated by the deft fingers of justice, then why the fuck is it any one else’s business?

Reverend @JacobJester wants YOUR plane to be filled with exploding babies!
Reverend @JacobJester wants YOUR plane to be filled with exploding babies!

The TSA, whom everyone seems to have no problem beating up for trying to do what they’re tasked to do in what may largely be a system of mostly symbolic gestures but is still designed to protect people as best they can, said that while children are not excluded from security screenings, that they are reviewing ways to improve its procedures for “low-risk populations.” But Reverend Your Business is My Business told the Kansas City Star that “An 8-month-old doesn’t pose a threat to airplane or national security. I am grateful for TSA’s willingness and desire to protect, but I believe in this instance that was extreme,”

But I for one couldn’t disagree with Acting Home Land Security Chief Jester more on this point. Any parent will tell you that a small child is just one squirming bag of biological explosions, barely contained by thin layers of disposable absorbent pull ups. Most home-made explosives use bags of fertilizer, essentially “doodies”. You stuff a fuse up the pooper of one of these things, wire it up just right, you’ve got a craptastrophe on your hands. And then where will your moral authority be Reverend? Plummeting 40,000 feet in a Pampers packed ball of smelly flames! That’s where!

So I say keep feelin’ up those babies air port security personnel. I’ll not fly better knowing that the skies are being protected from the clear and present, imminent threat, of air traffic’s new public enemy number one: exploding babies!