Grapes On A Plane

With more and more passengers choosing to “opt out” of the full body scan, a door has been opened for government sanctioned molestation.

Just so you know, I’m not usually in favor of racial profiling – and what I mean is – I don’t think I should billy club the first black person I see because there’s a drumstick missing from my bucket of chicken. However, when bombs are consistently found strapped, stuffed and cleverly tucked away on 18-35 year old middle eastern men, I’m willing to make an allowance. So can we PLEASE expedite the process by just pulling all those guys aside and let my 80 year old grandfather get on the plane?

I promise I will change my mind when I start seeing mug shots of elderly people on walkers, with a caption that says; “75 YEAR OLD RETIRED INSURANCE AGENT DETAINED WHEN A SECURITY OFFICER HEARD AN AUDIBLE TICKING COMING FROM THE MAN’S CROTCH”.

When that happens, you can frisk all the old people you want and invade whatever orifice as needed.
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Misery Loves Sarah

Well I was none pleased with the Rangers loss – but that being said – I had a great time at the Sarah McLachlan concert last night. We had 2nd row center stage seats – so close I could have done a sound check. Honestly, I think it was the best concert I have every been to where the singer actually “sang” AND sounded good at the same time. A very talented woman to be sure. Now lets talk about the fans.

I would say that 85 percent of Sarah fans are lesbians and the other 15 percent is split between gay and metrosexual men. It was definitely an interesting mix of folks I had sitting around me. There was a man and woman sitting in the front row that barely moved – they looked more like a couple at their niece’s piano recital than the estrogen driven scream fest the rest of us were living. And of course, there was the amorous lesbian couple right beside me that were laying on the cuddly so thick they made Ang and I look like two catholic school children.

It was pretty ordinary stuff really until I noticed…HER…from the corner of my eye. She was right there in front of me the whole time. Sobbing and swaying to the music like she was at a slave song revival was Sarah’s “Biggest Fan.” She was clutching a ridiculous amount of glow sticks in each hand and waving them around like she was bringing a 747 in for a landing. There were a couple of moments when she rushed the stage all snot-nosed and breathless – I thought security was going to have to use a tranquilizer gun on her and drag her back to her seat. Her friend next to her seemed unfazed by the outbreak of emotions coming from Miss #1 Fan. I could see the face of the girl playing the electric guitar and I think I saw her reach for a shank.

“I love you Sarah…please notice me…I’m all lit up like a Christmas tree for YOU!!!!”

She had finally calmed down a bit until the band started playing ‘Sweet Surrender’. Then she tore into another bag of glow sticks like a Rottweiler going after a package of Snausages and the cycle started once more.

It was hard to look at. But I did anyway.

“Inbreeding Linked To Poor Judgement”

Not sure if anyone else caught this story yet – but as I was driving into work this morning, I caught the tail end of a news story about a couple’s house that had burned to the ground because the owner had not paid his annual “fire protection” fee. Hmmm, well I guess that sounds reasonable enough. That is, if you happen to be Mayor of “Jackass, Tennessee” and your Daddy-Uncle done learnt you that way. Why does someone even need fire protection – is the town run by the mafia?

“I’m comin’ for ya Tony…you hear me?? Yous better pay up or I dunno – maybe your house ain’t gonna be so nice anymore, you got dat?

Come to find out, a fire truck WAS dispatched, but they were only there to stand ready should the house next door catch fire. Obviously the neighbors paid there $75.00 “fee.” God forbid someone fall asleep during a neighborhood watch meeting.

“Whose that snorin’? So Bobby – you got some kinda narcolepsy or what? Dis ain’t important enough to keep your attention – are we boring you or somethin??” Maybe you should go home and get some sleep. Maybe when somebody’s bustin’ down your front door ready to pump a couple of rounds into your head – maybe we’re lookin’. Maybe we ain’t.
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