SYNDICATED COLUMN: Rape My Brain But Don’t Touch My Junk
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Why TSA Molesters Are Striking a Nerve “Don’t touch my junk!” Will this be the battle cry of the next American Revolution? If you think about it, it’s amazing. Why this? But thinking doesn’t have anything to do with it. There’s a good reason. Which we’ll get to. “This,” of course, is the intrusive new security-screening regimen at 68 major U.S. airports. You can walk through one of the new “backscatter” body-image X-ray scanners, suck up 2.4 microrems of radiation, and live with the knowledge that a high-res version of your nude flabby body is being stored on some government database so that the Palin Administration will be able to kill you for food and use your cyborg doppelganger as a slave laborer in the living hell that will be the year 2015. Or you can choose the pat-down. But think twice. By all accounts, the pat-down procedure is thorough. Extremely thorough. “I didn’t really expect her to touch my…
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