Yahoo published an article today which reports that the Transportation Security Administration has announced they will let passengers carry sharp objects, like scissors on airplanes again.

The report also says that “Department officials are said to be more concerned about preventing suicide bomb attacks at airports…Officials want screeners to focus more on finding things that can explode rather than things that are sharp”

Now, if I’m not mistaken, the terrorists on 9/11 used box cutters (SHARP OBJECTS), not bombs (LEAVE MY SHOES ALONE) to hijack those four planes, so why are we now allowing things like scissors back on flights? Are there really that many passengers upset because they aren’t allowed to sew on-board? I bet they’ll let you take scissors on the plane but will deny you entrance if you try to smuggle on a Bic lighter.

I hope the folks who run the Transportation Security Administration have some type of mental deficiency, because if they don’t we have some serious problems with the competency and intellectual level of high ranking officials. Ain’t that right Rummy?

Post Script:
Two years ago Leigh and I were in a line at the DFW airport, and while we were waiting I actually took the time to read the big sign that lists all the things you can’t take on planes any longer. On the list were “numchucks.” And no, I didn’t make that up. Two things: 1) They’re called “nunchakus,” and occasionally “nunchucks” but never “numchucks,” you idiots. 2) Why the hell were they allowing folks to carry weapons like that onboard the planes anyway? Were the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles frequent flyers? Would they have allowed me to carry a pair of Sai on the plane; or how about a bokken? Would that have been alright?

Morons, the lot of’em.

Go watch “Supermonk” right now. It’s a little cartoon about a monk who discovers he knows kung-fu. Whoa. The file is kinda big and there are a few swear words in the score, but you absolutely have to see this thing; the animation’s fantastic, the editing rocks, and the rubber ducky rules. I hope someone in Hollywood gives these guys piles of money to make a feature.

Sometimes small, seemingly inconsequential events overshadow our rational judgment and cause us do commit acts which we would normally find reprehensible. For example, today I successfully fought the urge to lunge at a couple and scoop their eyeballs out with my thumb. Picture this: You’re entering a building and out of your periphery vision you notice a couple walking arm in arm closing in on the same door you are about to pass through. Like a gentleman, or gentlewoman which ever the case may be, you grasp the door handle, pull the door open and hold it ajar for the couple to walk through. You smile courteously and expect the same from the couple, but instead they level such a contemptuous glance in your direction that your stupid smile slowly fades and for some reason you feel as if you should apologize. They pass through the door with nary a word of gratitude, and for several seconds you just stand there holding the door open because you can’t think of anything else to do.

I don’t know why it pisses me off so bad when people do that, but today I so badly wanted to run up behind them, kick the girl in the ass and repeatedly punch the guy in the back of the neck.

Don’t worry, I didn’t do that. I just stood there grinning like an idiot, refusing to believe that such people walk the earth. I didn’t even expect a “thank you;” a smile would have been just fine.

Tonight I said “thanks, have a good evening” to the sandwich-stooge at Subway after I received my six inch club on parmesan, and the cretin just looked at me and didn’t even bother to respond. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have that societal filter which keeps me from lashing out at all the discourteous dipshits I encounter on a daily basis. God, what I would have given for a ninja star.
Fortunately, I’ve developed a mental exercise which helps me to overcome those situations where I’m in danger of committing manslaughter. First, I imagine the offending person walking down a deserted road. They’re just walking along when all of a sudden they start to sink into the ground and before you know it they’re stuck in quicksand. Then, I mentally conjure up a UPS truck careening towards the person, and it swerves to miss them, but the quick maneuver sends a box shooting out the back of the truck and it lands right next to the persons head. When it hits the ground honey erupts out of the box in a spectacular volcanic fashion (the box was a gift from a young college student to his grandmother; he was sending her honey because she likes it in her tea) and the honey gets all over the persons head. At that precise moment a line of ants begins passing by the person’s honey-soaked head, and just then I begin to smile because I know what’s coming up next.

If possible, I also like to listen to Denis Leary’s song “Asshole.” I find it cathartic, especially if I sing along really loud and purposefully off-key. Go here to watch the hilarious video to Leary’s song “Asshole.” Bookmark it, and when you have a bad day come home, pop open a beer or pour a glass of wine, start up that video and sing along. I guarantee you’ll feel better in no time.

Can you identify these objects?

I’m sure you thought they were intended for something naughty, didn’t you? Well, I sure did. Turns out it’s a “Banana Bunker,” and the product description states: “Cultured Containers has developed the BananaBunker® to protect this delicate fruit from bruising when placed in your backpack, nap sack, soft carrying case, or briefcase. The container also protects your backpack’s valuable contents, such as CD players, textbooks, binders, and business documents.”

Fair enough…but why are the silly things ribbed? For the banana’s pleasure? I’m still suspicious.

Because of my impending graduation I’ve been frantically searching for some activity to fill my time next spring. I’ll allow you to finish spouting out “find a job you lazy shit!” and continue with my announcement. Starting in the beginning of next year I’ll organize a brand-new religion in which I am the sole basis of worship. Yep, that’s right, my own religion and I call it “Markanity” and I’ll begin accepting and reviewing applications in January.

When and why did I decide this? The idea crystallized after reading this interview with L. Ron Hubbard’s son and reading this article about Scientology’s secret caves which house their holy documents. Creating your own religion is pretty hip these days and I want to cash in on that trend. If a shitty sci-fi writer possesses the ability to con millions of people out of billions of dollars annually then I’m wagering that I’m just shitty enough of a writer to con at least a few people out of a hundred thousand bucks a year.

Here are some points I’m keeping in mind while developing Markanity:

1) Write an elaborate and unbelievable history of creation. This step is tantamount to the whole endeavour because folks simply don’t want biology, geology, chemistry, or any other goofy-ass, boring scientific discipline interfering with their religion. My religious history will have it all: explosions, spirits, floods, darkness and chaos, seminal fluids, space ships and spaghetti monsters, snake fangs, a giant earth-tree, spiraling gyres, giants, nuclear bombs, psychiatrists, a large chain, mud people, a plow, erupting volcanoes, and loads and loads of apples and pomegranates. The history begins with creation and ends with my followers donating large sums of money. I’m following Lord Raglan’s list of heroic life-patterns in fabricating my personal history, although I’m skipping the part where I lose favor with my people…too much drama and not enough financial pay-off in that step.

2) Parts of my religion are secret and I will only reveal them with offerings and sacrifices which are comprised of obscene amounts of cash. L. Ron actively recruited rich people, which was a genius idea. Many of the more popular religions are all about the empowerment of the oppressed or the downtrodden, which is fine for the oppressed and downtrodden but a bit of a drag for the old coffers. When people have to worry about paying for food they won’t be quite as inclined to splurge on my $500 a week Markanity counseling sessions. Since I know I have a very slim chance at convincing the government to declare Markanity the state religion of the U.S. (Protestants already have a lock on it) I’m going the L. Ron route: charge for spirituality!

3) Retain many powerful lawyers and lobbyists which will verbally/physically harass and or sue the pants off of anyone who claims my religion is a shame. (This one’s pretty self-explanatory)

4) Begin systemically attacking established religions and sciences. Unlike Scientology which has remained fairly insular and defensive, I’ll begin an immediate attack on every institution besides mine. I call this the “O’Reilly Offensive,” and I’ll use it much in the same way the Germans utilized the Blitzkrieg: overrun your opponents forcibly enough and they won’t have the guts for another fight. I’ve sought the advice of Roy Moore and Dick Cheney on this particular subject.

5) Speak and write with authority. I’m positive that I’ll get whatever I want if I simply phrase it in King James-esque language: Verily, I say to you, blessed are those who bring the savior RAM, for the Lord doth move in mysterious ways but can only multi-task with one gig or more. Or how about: Verily, I say to you, do not look at your Lord with contempt if he doth point out your short-comings and laugh at them, for the man who endures such ribbing without violent retribution is fit for the kingdom of Mark.

6) Die. Well…maybe just tell everyone I’m dead, but religious patterns and classic hero journeys always contain a death. The hero/savior must die and then be reborn in some way, but I’m hoping I’ll brain-wash my followers into believing a nap counts, because I don’t think I’m wily enough to pull off a full-blown death scene. I’ll just have a nice lie-down and explain that I passed away as soon as I closed my eyes. The snoring was my spirit pushing its way out of my nostrils.

In just two months I’ll reveal the ridiculously confusing history and financially driven complexities of Markanity. Get your pocketbooks and your guilt ready…

I’m still away from home, so I feel as if I must apologize for the lackluster posts.

I love visiting family, but I hate being away from my computer. I don’t have any of my RSS feeds or my bookmarks, the internet connection pales in comparison to the one at home, I’m forced to use an older version of Word, and did I mention the internet connection stinks?

Plus, family tends to feel a little neglected if I try and spend as much time on-line as I normally do when I’m at home. They frown on my spending four or five hours in front of a computer screen when I could be visiting with them.

Anyway, I will resume the usual amount of bloggery on Monday. ‘Till then, go here and ponder the various and sundry reasons why Canada has gone bat-shit insane.

We’d better start our planetary escape procedures. The Death Star is currently orbiting Saturn, and we only have a limited amount of time before Vadar sets his sights on the little third planet from the sun. Here’s my evidence (click for a larger image):

Actor Noriyuki (Pat) Morita, best known for his role as Mr. Miyagi in “The Karate Kid” passed away today. Here’s the obituary from Yahoo.

It’s Thanksgiving; a holiday where obesity and over-eating are not only rationalized but encouraged! You’ve only had one helping of turkey and stuffing? Do you not like the meal I’ve been diligently preparing for over nine hours? There you go…load the plate until you can’t carry it.

On a sad note, I’m yet again posting from the turtle of ISP’s, Starband. Good news, I found a graphic Starband had no problem posting…somehow I believe its willingness to post this graphic must stem from nepotism and not from a desire to please me. I have a really cool video that demonstrates why turkey fryers are dangerous (a turkey in flames appeals to my inner-Beavis), but until I’m able to use an internet connection that moves faster than a 9600 baud modem it’ll have to wait.

Just remember, this one day of eating will take you weeks to shed…so temperance, grasshopper. It’s not a holiday celebrating saturated fat and carbohydrates, but rather a holiday to celebrate the theft of a country from an indigenous people..so get with the program, will’ya?

I’d just like to say that despite all the stereotyping, girls are just as violent and disgusting as guys.

For the first video: I knew a guy who was constantly practicing those same moves, but unfortunately he wasn’t as dexterous or as quick as the girl in the video. He shredded his hands to ribbons before he gave up…the quitter.

For the second one: A guy I went to high school with would perform similar stunts for a measly five bucks. I don’t think I ever saw him use anything as aggressive as a praying mantis, though. He only used crickets…the big wimp.