I want to know why I'm still expected to practically strip naked in order to get through airport security when the real threat is still out there. Nothing in my sneakers can compete with the terrifying prospect of rednecks building airplanes out of yard cars and chewing gum.
Nude Airlines! Still the Wave of the Future! There is this Heinlein book, old one, the Puppet Masters. You gotta give the guy credit, it's from the 50s. You may or may not have this alien hump on your back, making you a Puppet, so the Boss in the CIA office makes everyone, at gunpoint, strip naked so that everyone (simultaneously -- logical enough) can see who's the bad guy. "There were many cracks as each disgusted employee had to disrobe in front of the entire office but not surprisingly many more cracks directed at the men by the women." Last to go is old lady Mercer, senior queen of the secretarial pool. "Oh come on," says naked #2 Vice President of Operations, "Boss you're not gonna make Miss Mercer ..." and at that point she bolts down the hall. With the mob of naked 1950 coed bureaucrats chasing her like hell because she may be out to detonate the building. Now that is quality fiction dammit. Suddenly I am thinking of a real swell present in exchange for that crappy refrigerator magnet. It is great to be in shape,
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Maybe he was drunk on moonshine or high on chewing tobacco overdose.
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