Gabba Gabba TSA
My first jet trip since 9-6-01 and I'm sitting in the airport at Miami. The last time was actually eventful. I was "selected" to have my checked luggage x-rayed and the Black fellow sitting behind me had a copy of the Koran. Things I probably would've forgotten about now except for the obvious reason. At the time I had no idea of the personal disasters lurking in my near future. Family illness after illness kept me from traveling far so flying home to Los Angeles was out of the question until now. Once again I was selected for the super duper inspection only now it involves having to take your shoes off (damn you shoe bomber), having some stranger rifle your panties in the carry-on bag and a groping that makes you feel like you are entering prison--a naughty prison. I was thinking the entire time, "even if a terrorist gets on board, I'll rip him to shreds with my bare hands so there's no point to this nonsense." I told this to my pal Ivan a few days back. If somebody tries to fling another obstacle in my way, I'll just shoot knives out of my eyeballs--like in the old comics--and destroy them. I'll be so furious that I'll just spout gibberish laced with obscenities. Ivan replied that I should try to yell the standard Ramones chant "Gabba Gabba Hey" instead because it'll probably be enough to stop any anti-American activities. I will certainly have try it next time I have to deal with the TSA panty police at the airport. Wish me luck.