Scan You Believe It? (WITH PICTURES!)

The Safety Assholes have implemented a new "security" procedure you will be forced to partake in the next time you decide to fly instead of drive to Vegas.... OOOH, LOOK AT THE HIGH ROLLER! Between a dose of radio waves shot at your carcass - in hopes of finding that bootknife ticked nicely 'neath your man-teat, or perhaps a few extra ounces of Pert you think you can't live without in Iowa - or gruff pat-down by a TSA uniformed person who passed their most-recent drug test, we, as American travelers, are safe at the security checkpoints. I would like to believe these agents are all cast-offs from the CIA, having missed that Director position by just the sliiiiightest of drug tests. They needed someplace to go, someplace to work for and with the United States of America, and the TSA is way better than work-release programs. Usually.


Due to an unplanned interaction with a very sober motorcycle being ridden by a very intoxicated assclown in 1998 and my left tibia, I have a rod in my leg that sets off airport metal detectors. It has done so in all but 1 scanner I've gone through since 1999 (Oakland, CA, 2006). I'm pre-9/11 "Homeland Security" Agent-bait; white guy who usually flies alone in coach with one unchecked bag. Oh yeah... Danger. By now I should be in a database when I check-in for my boarding pass that says "This guy's got a rod in his leg, and acts like it's a stick up his ass. Take it easy."

Usually I get pulled aside, stood in the glass corral and made to wait until the "Male Assist" shows up to frowningly lead me to another area where he waves a wand over my entire body to make sure I'm not lying when I say my body has a rod that cannot be trusted. Takes a minimum of five extra minutes each time. The wait is entirely dependent upon how quickly the Male Assist makes it over to the pen to lead me past other travelers wondering why I'm getting yanked aside, do NOT pardon the pun. It's not fun. It's a nuisance. And it's usually me or some old broad with a re-built shoulder waiting to be given back our effects and get to some airport DRANKIN'. There's a brief pat-down of my bod, then I get to put on all my shoes and belts and grab my stuff and think of jokes to write about how lucky I feel to be getting on a plane where I won't be troubled by dignity. It sucks, I understand why it's done, and issuing me some sort of government-approved card/bar scanner with my photo-ID that says "Cleared, leg/ass-rod" is not an option, because eventually somebody will F up and try to smuggle some beverage on-board instead of just buying the $6 Skyy.


The new TSA scanners grab pics like this one:
This is a test-photo wherein the scanned woman (I believe it is) was digitally reduced to a glowing white, giggling, .22cal-packing ghost. She was not allowed onto the plane in this state of being, deemed by Virgin Airlines as "underattractive." Sorry there, Backfat, better luck on Southwest.
The scanners emit 10,000 times LESS radio activity than your average cell-phone conversation, which is still 100,000,000 times longer than mine, I'm sure. Still, you should be opting-out for the pat-down. And YES, it will include a feel between and under the lady's breasts, and a firm-but-fair hand-saunter through your undergarden. Grandma needs a go, I guess. You're welcome. MEN, if you're truly worried about the radiation, do the right thing: TUCK YOUR FUNDLE UNDER & BACK.

Or if the pat-down is your thing, just sit back, and with a blissful look on your face, repeat the words to the 4th Amendment of the Constitution (link there is for a t-shirt version you should wear):

"The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized."

I do believe that a "reasonable" (i.e. a pre-targeted and ethnically-profiled) search of people getting on a plane is perfectly fine and legal.

We do complain about being REACTIONARY instead of PRECAUTIONARY, going all-out post-facto before the fan stops spinning the shit off itself. However, after 11+ years of groping and wanding and extra time sliced from my calendar with these measures, I have but one thing to say...

http://artsytime.com/x-ray-by-nick-veasey/

Nobody wants to look at your ass any more than you want to have it waxed AGAIN, you beast.
Get the fuck in line and shut up. I've been living this crap for over a decade, and nobody came to my defense, not one time.

And another thing, when you DO go through every metal detector's buzzing alarm and you get used to it time after time for 49 years... that ONE time it does NOT go off... don't say "Sweet, it didn't go off!"

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MC, HOST, CORPORATE, COMEDY, SEATTLE, GEOFF, LOTT

Gesturing To The Heavens

Kindness.
To express kindness, truly, is to do so without the intent to do so, and to do so without an idea that you'd ever expect any sort of return gesture of appreciation. To do so that it is done, from the purest of intent, to be Kind.

It's really friggin' hard to be kind sometimes. I try to think of myself as kind, but I think, truly, I'm just courteous. I open doors for people, I try and let people over in traffic if they have a blinker and a commitment to GO. I try and say "excuse me" when walking between people who are talking but standing all over the place on a sidewalk like they own the thing like dickholes.

Doing nice things for other people isn't about what the Do'er gets out of it.
Don't do nice things for others because it makes YOU feel good.
Do nice things for others because it makes THEM feel guilty.

Then they'll buy you things.

And never mistake Kindness for Weakness.
To offer up your service, your help, your home, your money, your food, is to say "I care to give." It's not saying "Oh, no, you should take this from me, I am unworthy and you are more worthy and I'm a worm."
A "Thank You" card is in order.

We could all use some more kindness, that's for sure. And for whatever reason, I have to allow people to be kind to me on THEIR terms, and see the beauty of their intent. But really, if you send me a package through UPS that i HAVE to sign-for...
and you know I'm at work all day...
and I can't sign for it...
then I have to go TO the UPS thing to pick it up...
perhaps a gift card would be in order? Because if I go pick it up, and it's, you know, "cheeky" and I can't really do anything with your gift, you really just sent me an errand.

See how it all goes poorly? Cash. Gift cards. That's what I give.
Because I follow the Golden Rule. Treat others they way they ought to treat you.

Although, a couple years ago my Broham Of Law bought me the DVD set of "Band Of Brothers," and that was a phenomenal gift. THAT's some awesome man presents right there.

Okay, so be nice for the sake of being nice, but try and think ahead of your gift is going to be a pain in the recipient's assmeat. If your gift horse is eating my furniture, you're getting a returned gift horse skeleton, waiting your pick-up at the delivery centre.

Be nice. And be nice when you're being nice. Please.

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I Wrote Me Some Spec

YO!

This goes out to anybody who can help a brother out.

As you know, my background in cookbook photography led me to my current love of writing and small-animal drug-testing. Marmots "like," they do not "love" cherry NyQuil. Another time, how 'bout?

I wrote a spec script for a popular TV sit-com, or "show," and need to get it in front of every person with any kind of connection that I possibly can. I have it in the hands of two agents right now, but they are too busy representing people in Los Angeles who are in movies and television and commercials and make a lot of money doing what I ought to be doing.

SO, if anybody reading this has that kind of connection, and/or a good stuffed chicken-breast recipe, send me an email at GBLott at Hotmail dot com.

If I put the address there, it's gonna really get spammed. And honestly, if I could pay $660 a month for a $500,000 mortgage, I wouldn't need a boner pill.

Not that I need one know, I'm just saying, you know, if that were TRUE, you know, a rate like that... no need for a pill that... you get the picture.,

Geoff Lott, ME... I need some help!

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