Entries tagged with “TSA”.

The TSA promises to get "more intimate" with screenings.

The TSA promises to get “more intimate” with screenings.

The Transportation Security Administration (TSA) wants to curry favor with the American public, and is taking drastic measures to gain popularity.

Wayne K. Lundersom, the Sec. of the TSA told The Lint Screen the exciting new services the security organization will be offering the air traveling public effective October 1.

“We’re sick and tired of hearing people complain about our pat-downs,” Lundersom said. “So now, we’re going to offer premium services that will provide something the average traveler may have never experienced before–– a truly intimate connection with our agents.”

Lundersom explained that all major airports would have security stations offering the “Personal Pat-Pat,” a 15-minute premium inspection with a $46 price tag that includes a warm massage table, hot oil, incense, mood lighting and smooth Kenny G. or Yanni music.

“It will be the most relaxing, enthralling, stimulating experience that the TSA has ever offered, and we’re sure it’s going to be very popular with Joe and Jane public,” the portly security officer said with a wide grin. “We’re doing away with the latex gloves on our Personal Pat-Pats so we can go skin-on-skin and make a deeper connection with passengers.”

But the TSA isn’t stopping there! “We’ll also have the option for folks to enjoy a special Psychic Screening for just $18,” Lundersom said. “Rather than go through an X-ray machine, the traveler will be submitted to an inspection performed by a psychic who can instantly determine if the flier is a terrorist or a psychotic who will pose a threat to the flight. This Psychic Screening is much less evasive than our traditional screening methods, and won’t destroy an inspectee’s brain, internal organs or reproductive capabilities. That’s worth at least $18!”

Another new premium service is the optional “Future Forecasting” that utilizes trained palm readers. “Our research shows people have a high level of anxiety when traveling,” Lundersom said. “For only $12, we’ll have a trained professional who’ll examine a passenger’s hand and tell them whether or not they’re about to board a plane destined to crash. I know I’d want to know! For us, it’s all about providing the flying public enhanced peace of mind and security.”

Lundersom also said that the TSA will have machines selling flight insurance to passengers. “We want to cover all the bases,” he said with a wink. “And insurance lets you relax and calm down knowing you’ll be leaving behind a pile of money for loved ones. We are keen on all these innovative services we’ll soon be offering!”

Up, up, and away!

Gone Rapturin'. Wish you were here!

At 6 P.M. Eastern Standard Time today, the Rapture will arrive. Those of us who have led a good life of righteousness and obedience to Harold Camping will be whisked up to Heaven for our eternal rewards, while the rest of you are left behind and subjected to five months of God’s pranks–– earthquakes, hurricanes, tornados, aggressive life insurance salespeople, Donald Trump, poo-flinging monkeys and what have you.

Talk about your haves and have nots.

While I feel sorry for the rest of you suckers, I have to say I’ve enjoyed your company here on earth. It’s too bad you were evil sinners and didn’t make the upgrade list.

I’ll be getting out while the getting’s good, and I’m hoping there will be no TSA in the after-gig because I don’t relish the idea of my fake hips setting off the alarms and having some saint or angel give me a pat-down. Although an angel pat-down might be a ticklish and enjoyable experience.

In closing, I want to thank all the faithful Lint Screen readers for their literacy and patronage in making this blog one of the most popular on earth containing the words “Lint”, “Screen” and “The.” If you make the list for eternal salvation during Rapture, I’ll buy you a drink. If you don’t, I’ll wish you the best in lawyering-up and getting good representation for Judgement Day.

Ciao, babe!

The American air-traveling public was upset enough over enhanced TSA pat-down checks and body scans, but now its ire is on full boil with new ‘extra security candid photos’ being enacted in airports nationwide.

Select travelers are taken into a private security areas where they are asked to disrobe, and in some cases wear revealing costumes, so that they can be photographed by TSA shutterbugs.

“I can’t believe what they did,” said Mandy Ginhuttin, a 28-year old mechanical engineer who was recently subjected to the new enhanced security check at Hartsfield-Jackson Airport in Atlanta.

“The TSA guard escorted me to an area that was about the size of a department store dressing room. I was instructed to disrobe and change into a revealing teddy outfit, from Victoria’s Secret, I think. I asked why, and they said it was a top secret security procedure. I did what they said, I was terrified. Then, some sleazy photographer came in and took a couple dozen pictures. He was saying rude things like, ‘Oh yeah, baby, that’s it– make love to the lens, that’s the stuff. Yeah, baby– I’m going to make you a star, sugar, a TSA star!’ After about ten minutes of posing, he told me I did great and I was cleared, I could get clothed and catch my flight. He said I might receive a follow-up call to take part in a video security project he was doing. He said that the film was being shot in some motel close to the airport. Frankly, it all seems pretty sleazy, not to mention suspicious.”

Another woman, Juanita Vesquez, reported she was asked to don a tight-fitting nurse’s uniform for her photo session. “They told me that apparently a lot of terrorists were dressing in costumes and uniforms and that with my cooperation, they could build some sort of database. It didn’t make much sense to me, but they said I had to either do that or be subjected to an oil rub-down private security check with Yanni music playing in the background. That really creeped me out, so I decided to do the dress-up thing. I had a choice to wear either a nurse uniform, a Catholic school girl outfit or a cheerleader get-up. I think the whole thing was shady, and an incredible invasion of my privacy!”

When asked about the new security procedure, TSA employees were mum but offered to give this reporter a pat-down with iron pipes if he didn’t move his big mouth along quickly.

Arrive 6-8 hours before your scheduled flight for new underwear check. Please bring clean undies.

In response to the recent attempt by Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab to blow up an aircraft with explosives he had concealed in his underwear, the TSA has announced new security regulations that include the removal of underwear and shoes before going through airport X-ray machines.

“We know it won’t be convenient,” said Chester Wilchoy, Sr. Officer of Being More Safer, “but it’s what we’ve got to go to nip this problem in the ol’ budderooski.”

In response to an attempted shoe bombing of an aircraft on December 22, 2001, TSA enacted regulations for all passengers to remove their shoes to be X-rayed. While passengers griped at first, they quickly became compliant sheep. The TSA expects similar response to the new underwear regulation.

“Yes, people will bellyache at first,” said Mr. Wilchoy, “and some folks will be embarrassed to strip down and place their undergarments in the plastic tray, but they’ll get used to it by and by. I mean, come on, let’s be mature about this. The Lord gave us birthday suits and we shouldn’t feel shame to wear them or pose for pictures in them.”

When asked how the TSA officials will handle those people who go ‘commando’, Mr. Wilchoy dropped to one knee, removed his gun from his holster and pointed it at the frightened reporter. “Commando sounds like terrorist trouble to me,” he said. He then demanded the scared journalist slip into something a bit more naked.

While I thought I had pulled the plug on my total hip replacement series, some people have asked for an update. They are either curious, or taking some sick pleasure in my pain. Either way, I’m happy to oblige.

In week #5 post-surgery, the doc gave me approval to drive. I eased back into work, limping about on a cane and toting a throw pillow to place on seats. Sporting a scruffy beard, I looked like a demented interior designer walking the halls of Ames Scullin O’Haire in search of the perfect place to accessorize with my throw pillow.

The physical therapy regimen continues...

In week #6, I began my out-of-home, in-office physical therapy. Aaron, my therapist who re-built me from my first hip replacement, was ready to begin the process all over again on the left side.

Physical therapy is a lot like torture, except giving vital information will not save you from further pain. But physical therapy and natural muscle healing is all I have to do to get better and be human again. It hurts, but I do as I am told. I’ve heard horror stories of people who went through hip or knee replacement surgery, but didn’t do the necessary therapy and consequently have pain and a store-bought joint because they didn’t heal correctly. No thank you. Bring on the pain, Aaron. He does, he most certainly does.

It hurts, but I don’t resort to popping muscle relaxers. I’ve eased myself off the goof, cold turkey-ish. If I need pain relief, I pop a couple Aleve and the little blue pills take the edge off in their powerful yet street legal over the counter way.

... and I am feeling whole again.

I don’t do sleeping pills either. I now sleep the rest of the exhausted. But, to quote comedy guru Chris Elliott, I “have a bladder like a little girl.” I awake a couple times a night to totter my way to the bathroom, relieve myself and return to bed. I must keep two pillows between my legs to keep the new hip in check and out of harm’s way crossing the evil hip precaution zone (NEVER cross legs in the first three months post-surgery).

My two pillows are like a fluffy chastity belt.

My wife begins to ask me how much longer I am going to keep the beard. “It’s prickly,” she says. “Kissing hurts. Besides, it makes you look older.” When you are getting into the region of old fartdom, looking older is not a good thing.

Ancient bearded me.

I had never grown a beard before I had had my first hip replacement. I liked the change of pace, the lazy maintenance of it. But, she didn’t much care for it back then and it eventually found its way to the barber’s floor. It was time to begin thinking of a similar fate for this beard. It would be gone very soon.

Youthful clean-shaven me.

Week #7, I feel like I have my full energy back and I walk without a cane. Yes, I’m wobbly. Yes, I look like a mad sidewinder. Yes, it hurts somewhat. But I’m walking, dammit–– on two fake hips and a couple weak arthritic knees. It’s not pretty, but it is forward locomotion. I CAN WALK! I’m also climbing stairs with both legs alternately bearing load, like we all learned in step climbing school. No more slowly shuffling up steps on the good leg, descending on the weak one.

I also leave my pillow behind. I jack up the height of my office chair as high as it’ll go, and I’m extra careful to hoist myself out of chairs with both arms so as not to put undue pressure on my new hip. I don’t tempt fate by sitting in low rider chairs or couches. That’s a fool’s play, one that could send you back under the surgeon’s blade for some hip re-setting. That fear make me obey my hip precautions slavishly.

I'm ready for my TSA inspection.

Week #8, I take my hip on a test drive to the airport. I can walk, and now I will fly.

I make my way through my pals at TSA, I set off their security alarms and indicate I have TWO artificial hips. I get my “male assist” to wand me down. I beep on the left hip, I beep on the right. I’m patted down and deemed safe to pass. I gather my belongings and ask a nearby son to do me a solid and tie my shoes. I can’t do impossible tasks like that yet.

Life’s getting better all the time. I’m walking stronger on the road to recovery, eventually without a limp.


Where the TSA when you need them?

Calling all TSA personnel... ruby red crimson terror alert!!!

    Some people claim I have a weird obsessive vendetta against monkeys and chimps, as if I felt inferior to these hairy beasts because they can climb trees and fling poo better than I can (sure, they might have me on accuracy, but I think I can take them on distance).

    Look, I’ve got no ax to grind with our fellow primates, but I do have a couple eyeballs in my skull-cage and those optic marbles don’t lie. Just take a gander at this revealing photo and tell me how much you trust and love sweet, cute, cuddly Mr. Monkey!

    Note the pure evil flowing like lava on Vaseline from his beady eyes and scornful banana cream piehole. This monkey means business… and I don’t mean monkey business! I’m talking simian Jihad business!!! Chill, meet spine!

    Thank goodness the TSA is there to protect us, making sure these demonic critters don’t get through airport security with over three ounces of liquids. Be advised, people, be very advised, monkeys are not always our friends.