Do you know what’s the worst thing for me about traveling by airlines? It’s actually illegal to tell jokes. Think about that. Everything in this world – every sound, every color, every word – exists in my mind solely as object to play jokes off of. And what’s more parody-able than airline security? Yet I have to stand silent during these moronic procedings, holding back the witty comments that swell inside me, ready to burst. It’s like having to hold it after drinking seven beers in one sitting.
“Sir, please take off your shoes and put them through the x-ray.”
“But then you’ll find my bombs!”
“You’re not allowed to have this screwdriver attachment on your keychain.”
“But if I don’t have that one inch metal disk, how in the world am I supposed to kill everyone on board the aircraft?”
“Could you hand check this; I’m afraid the x-ray will mess up the altitude trigger.”
This ban on jokes predates 9/11, I believe. What was its purpose? Do they think that someone will eventually declare he’s bringing a bomb on board, so they don’t want people joking about to avoid the distraction? Or is this some sort of method of perserving solemnity for security screening as we walk barefoot through metal detectors?
Whatever the reason, I want my jokes back. You can take my guns, but, please, leave me my funny.
FIRST
“You’re not allowed to have those tweezers, ma’am.”
“But then how will I pluck the flight attendants to death?”
“Can I see your passport?”
“I don’t know, can you?”
such wealth of material! My brain quivers in pain of holding it all in.
Well, that prohibition on telling jokes is quite unfair because it’s only one way; the TSA can make jokes to passengers about explosives.
I found this out on a visit to the Phoenix airport. They were checking cars upon entry to the parking garage, and I pulled up, rolled down my window, and they asked me to pop the trunk. I did so, but I’d been shopping and had a dozen large unmarked cardboard boxes in there (containing lights). They asked “what’s in all the boxes?” and I said “lamps”. I was sure they would open them (which was fine by me), but they said “OK, looks like dynamite to me… but that’s ok.” Laughing, they waved me on in. WITHOUT LOOKING IN THE BOXES.
Yep, that really made me feel like my tax dollars were well spent. Gah!
I’m also fairly sure that had I made any jokes of my own along those lines, I’d have seen the inside of a cell.
IMAO’s having guest bloggers reminds me of something funny I saw when I first discovered blogs; Instapundit (I think) had a link to a blog where the owner was away, and the blog had been taken over and the owner banned. It was hilarous, but I can’t recall which blog it was. (anyone recall?)
BTW, I’m not suggesting that anyone take over IMAO, unless of course the coup is sucessful, in which case I want all the credit.
What joke could you pull on TSA that would top the “but it’s just a magazine” christmas gifting?
But that’s what liberalism (progressivism) does, removes the sense of humor…
humorectomy: liberal winning an argument
I see someone’s been listening to old George Carlin standup
That’s what ya get for flying coach,Frank.I hope they at least gave ya those complimentary peanuts. (The ones sealed in the bag that cannot be opened by mortal men..grrrr)
I trust your plane didn’t dump any blue ice on a red state?
Er, this has nothing to do with liberalism. I’m sure joking about bombing an airplane to an airport security man was taboo before political-correctness began to reproduce and spread.
Aw, poor Frank J. How ever can you live without humor?
Off topic, but Happy Dance is hilarious. Just got the disc this afternoon. Bravo Frank J.
This really does sound like good ol’ Carlin. “You Are All Diseased” is art.
hehe post this by accident a few posts down.
Funny true story
I live in Salisbury MD (the great red spot in the blue state), but I used to go to college in Erie PA so I learned a lot about driving in the snow. Now when is snows an inch here in Salisbury the whole city freaking shuts down faster than Michal Moors mouth on a hot dog. Several years ago during a time of angry unemployment (long story) it snowed a inch or two. I decided to celebrate by going out and getting a 12 pack and race up and down Rt 50 doing donuts (Rt 50 is a 3 to 4 lain highway leading to Ocean City). So after about an hour or four of doing donuts and drinking I was feeling pretty good (read drunk). Then all of the sudden I saw blue and red flashing lights in my review mirror, and all sorts of bad things raced threw my head, like what my prison bitch name was going to be (I fancy Susan btw). Since the beer had completely killed any fight or flight response I pulled over, trying to think of any kind of line I could give the officer to keep me from going to find a new “special friend” at the local pokey. After the initial conversation with the officer, “no officer I left my licenses and my insurance at home”. He asked the feared question “Have you been drinking”. Being dumb as a box of rocks at point I said “Yes would you like to have one?”. The officer starred at me with a stern look in his eye. A look that would make insane mass murding ninjas put down there arms and pray for peace. Then he said “Give me all your God damn beer, I have been out here for 24 f***ing hours and your the first SOB I have seen. You give me all your beer, you go home, and I will do the f***ing donuts, ok?” Needless to say, I never did find out what my prison bitch name would be.
Maybe the air port screeners should hire this guy?
MERRY X-MASS
Well, here’s my story. In 1979, I moved via Aircraft from Pittsburgh to Phoenix Az.
I shipped most everything and had just a few tiddlings left for carry on to take with. One of the items was a Dan Wesson 357 Magnum, with 8″ barrel. I had it and a box of 50 in my carry on.
The screener asked me if I had anything in the carry on, to which I replied yes I have a gun in there.
A Security Agent and one of the Stewardesses escorted me to a room where my carry on could be inspected. The security guy pulls the gun out, say’s “Wow, this is a nice gun”. I said “Thank You, it’s quite accurate and nicely balanced.”
The stewardess is about ready to toss her heart up. She was visibly shaken.
The Sec guy checks to see whether it’s loaded or not, of course it wasn’t, and asked if I had any bullets for it.
I said, yes, there’s a box of 50 right over here.
The stewardess is going nuts, making various exclamations.
The Sec guy is playing with the gun and asks if I’d mind if they put my carry on in the forward closet (the one up near first class). “Heck no” I said. He told the stewardess to stow the carry on in the forward closet and off we went.
It was actually my first flight, and one of the stewardesses (a different one) sat on the arm rest on the seat in front of me and talked to me the entire flight. I thought this was normal and made a note of flying more often since she was quite good looking and we dated a few times afterwards. In reality, the plan was to find out if I was a whacko, what kind, and what sort of plans did I have..
But all worked out well. My how things change.
In any case, I am of the opinion that all the terrorists should die because they have changed air travel from a customer service oriented experience to one of guilty with extreme prejudice. To say nothing of all the good people that have died during 9/11 and after.
Frank,
I am totally shocked by this post….
“You can take my guns, but, please, leave me my funny.”
Whoa pard. Molon Labe.
But it’s the 2nd Amendment right to bear arms that creates the atmosphere in which funny can survive and thrive!!!
Those are some good lines. I’m flying to Portland this week, mind if I use them?
I think it’d be funny if, when they ask you to take off your shoes, you strip down to nothing but a leopard-print G-string and put everything through the x-ray (wear a break-away track suit to expedite the disrobing). Then make sure you set off the metal detector so they have to frisk you. Hopefully you have someone ahead of you taking pictures of it all.
So you can’t make verbal jokes. Just remember: male nudity = always funny.
Jokes at gunpoint, Frank. You could start a new craze.