by Don Cooper
by Don Cooper: Headline
on Yahoo! Finance TechTicker: Joe Biden on Taxes: You Call It 'Redistribution
of Wealth,' I Call It 'Just Being Fair.'
I was in Pittsburgh,
Pennsylvania, for work last Monday and scheduled to fly out to Atlanta
that night with US Airways. Everything went fine, of course, until
I got to the airport and encountered the security freaks of the
TSA. Whenever I go through TSA security I always look for the line
that doesnít have the AIT scanner and I get in that line. This time,
however, I was "randomly" selected out of that line and
told to go through the AIT scanner. Of course I immediately opted
I was then
told that I would have to have a pat-down to which I replied: "ok,
but I donít want you touching my genitals or my ass." Not sure
of what he just heard the TSA flunky asked me to repeat what I had
just said, to which I replied: "I donít mind if you do a pat-down
as long as you donít touch the junk or the trunk." Okay, I
had been drinking.
such irreverent talk to a federal divinity is not permitted in the
land of the "free," so the circus began. Immediately a
supervisor lap dog was summoned along with a super-duper supervisor
lap dog and two of Sherwood Forestís finest. The supervisor lap
dog told me I wouldnít be flying since I wouldnít let them touch
my beans and franks. Yet another TSA troglodyte took my driverís
license and boarding pass and began writing me up for after school
detention as at least three other TSA trolls began rifling through
my backpack and shaving kit looking for the meaning to their useless
lives. I have to wonder why they were searching my personal affects
if I wasnít going to be allowed to fly. I guess Iím just not smart
enough to understand the really important things in life.
his report Ė a copy of which I was told I could not have so I have
absolutely no idea what he wrote about me and the incident Ė the
troglodyte scribe gave me my driverís license back and eventually
the other trolls finished sniffing and drooling over my panties
and I was escorted out of the security screening area.
From that point
I proceeded up to the US Airways desk where I explained the situation
to the clerk in hopes of receiving a voucher or even being rescheduled
on a flight the following day. After I laid it out to her she replied:
"Oh I know who you are, Mr. Cooper. The TSA is on the ball
and just phoned us about you."
My first thought
was: since when is US Airways on the federal payroll? She went on
to spew every nauseating cliché in the book: the TSA is just
doing their job; the TSA makes us safer; you have to sacrifice some
freedom for increased security; most people donít mind; barf, puke,
gag, spit, hurl, yak. And that lady gets to breed.
I said I wanted
to speak to a supervisor and eventually I did. Well, when I say
a supervisor I mean a garden gnome. And although he didnít spew
clichés he did look at me with a dull, blank stare as if
he had purposefully put his brain into hibernation until I finished
talking. And when I did, he replied: "Iím sorry, thereís nothing
we can do."
At that point
I felt as if I had done everything reasonably possible to resolve
my situation with no satisfaction. I had reached my limit of ignorance,
incompetence, stupidity, and arrogance. I honestly felt I had been
backed into a corner and had only one way out: I went to have a
Iím in the
process of trying to find someone to take my case in suing the TSA
for violation of my right not to be subjected to unreasonable search
and seizure which is protected by the fourth amendment to the Constitution
of the United States and paragraph VIII of the Pennsylvania state
constitution. Ultimately I want to sue US Airways as well for the
cost of my plane ticket, hotel, car rental, and whiskey.
worse yet was, after getting to the hotel I got on Facebook to "blog"
about my experience. The first response was from an old high school
colleague who wrote: "Geez, Don, whatís the big deal? I donít
mind getting violated a little to be sure Iím safe."
was an awkward collection of events for me and I never really felt
like I fit in with those people. I can even say that ever since
then Iíve harbored a small desire to ultimately be accepted by those
folks. My contemporaries; my childhood classmates. But now that
weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I realize now why I didnít
fit in: theyíre idiots.
why I drink!
[send him mail] is a Florida
native, Navy veteran, economist, business analyst and father.
© 2011 by LewRockwell.com. Permission to reprint in whole or in
part is gladly granted, provided full credit is given.