Pregnant Woman Clashes with TSA to Avoid X-Ray Body Scan

My wife is six months pregnant. Can somebody please explain to me why she has to fight the high and mighty TSA at the Dallas/Ft Worth Airport to avoid a full body X-Ray scan?

This government organization needs to be reigned in before they seriously hurt somebody. How is it that the TSA has the power to subject pregnant air travelers to questionable amounts of radiation?

When a pregnant woman in her early 30’s tells a TSA agent that she does not want to subject her baby to any excess radiation, how the hell does this become an argument? We don’t know if these X-Rays are safe for regular people, much less for an unborn fetus.

This hack in Dallas curtly told the pregnant woman, “Let’s go, it won’t hurt the baby.” REALLY, IT WON’T??” Thank you doctor, but I want another opinion.

After going round and round with this TSA power monger, he finally relented and allowed her the sweet humiliation of undergoing the full physical body search instead of a radiation cocktail for the baby.

Multiple scientists have already raised caution flags about the amount of radiation these body scanners emit and worry that the scan could be harmful to children. However, the TSA has no problem subjecting an unborn child to a potential radiation issue.

Dr David Brenner, head of Columbia University's center for radiological research, says more tests are needed on these X-Ray scanners to determine the way it affects specific groups who could be more sensitive to radiation. (LIKE CHILDREN or BABIES)

Another researcher, University of California biochemist David Agard, says the radiation emitted by the scanner can’t simply be dismissed. "While the dose would be safe if it were distributed throughout the volume of the entire body, the dose to the skin may be dangerously high,” said Agard.

Agard says at this point, the potential threat has yet to be determined. "Ionizing radiation such as the X-rays used in these scanners have the potential to induce chromosome damage, and that can lead to cancer.”

TSA Rocked by Tiny Stone

The TSA's sentinels of security continue their nationwide assault on basic common sense and good manners. I recently had the pleasure of their company when my bag caught the attention of one these eager beaver TSA agents.

My bag had just traveled through the conveyer belt when I heard the shrill and excited cry of “SIR, is this your bag?”

Armed with cheeto-scented breath, a young woman informed me, “Your bag has been flagged for enhanced security sir, you’ll need to come with me to a private screening area.”

We walked about 8 feet over to a table where we began our modified screening procedure.

“Do not touch anything I take out of the bag – do you understand?,” she cautioned.

“Yes ma’am, I sure do.”

Oh no - they were on to me! How will I ever get out of this one?

Like any well-trained officer with a keen eye for detail, the agent reached into my diabolical bag of tricks and plucked out a sealed bag of Chips Ahoy cookies. Let’s face it, too many chips in every bite is almost always a threat to national security. Thanks alot, Bin Laden!!

Once the cookies came into view, a male supervisor decided he had seen enough and it was time for him to step in and set things right. With the smell of cookies in the air, who knows what else might be lurking in that terror-filled bag.

I could feel the beads of sweat on my brow as the supervisor began rumbling through the bag. It was only a matter of time before this defender of democracy had the goods to lock me away in Leavenworth.

As he probed the bag more deeply, a small devious smile spreads across his face – Triumphantly – he pulled out the offending object (roughly the size of silver dollar and asked, “Sir, what is this?”

“Um, a rock,” I answer stupidly. I withered under his steely gaze as I watched the tiny smooth rock in his mighty palm of justice.

Then the supervisor barked, “What are you doing with this rock?” (Pictured below)

Is this a trick question?? - I collect small rocks, but should I confess this despicable crime to this Vanguard of Democracy? Then it came to me, like the player who has fumbled one too many footballs - It was time to give up the rock.

“Dude, why don't you just keep it, I have a plane to catch.”

Lord Vader looked at me smugly, as if to say, "I find your lack of faith disturbing."

Satisfied that I had succumbed to his powerful will, the agent handed the rock back to me - apparently ending my advanced security screening and preserving the empire for future generations.

Thank you Captain America - you have proven once more, that with great power, comes great responsibility. My hero!!!!!

Charlie Sheen, Chris Brown Gnarled in Love Triangle With Giraffe

Chris Brown Breaks Mirror –

How Can This Possibly Be National News?

What was the number one news story this week?

• Japanese people struggle with spreading radiation.
• Soldiers still dying in Iraq.
• U.S. Stock Market all over the place.

Nope – The most published story by the National Media was that some dopey rapper broke a mirror.

FOX NEWS:
Chris Brown Could Face Charges Following Alleged Violent Outburst at 'Good Morning America'
CNN:
Pop star Chris Brown stormed off 'GMA' set, network says

That's right, the thug who beat up his girlfriend a couple of years ago, is now dominating domestic headlines because he recently beat up a mirror.

USA Today:
Angry Chris Brown smashes window at 'GMA'
Washington Post:
Chris Brown reportedly loses it after GMA interview

‎I won’t bore you with the details – but if you read the news, you couldn’t miss the story. Why is the national media dishing this crap out to us? What did we do wrong?

Here’s my Headline:

Charlie Sheen, Chris Brown Gnarled in Love Triangle With Giraffe

It’s a little more original, it’s certainly more interesting and perhaps even a bit more classy!

An Unwelcome Handful of Meat

I was on my way to a meeting on the Lower East Side, when I chanced upon a very unlikely damsel in distress. OK, she wasn’t exactly a damsel. Young maidens are damsels and this woman was neither young nor was she a maiden.

She appeared to be in her late sixties, sporting medium-length white hair with some purple and pink highlights sprinkled in near the front. Since I never learned this woman’s identity, I have to assume her name was Gladys.

Gladys was standing close to a black iron fence in front of a famous New York graveyard called the Marble Cemetery. I could see right away that she was a multi-tasker. She was fumbling through her purse, trying to keep an umbrella upright and handling the reins of her two wild Pomeranians.

The second she saw me, she started yelling at me like we had some previous engagement, “Come over here please, I need your help! C’mon, C’mon.”

She put down her umbrella, secured the two pet Pomeranians and reached into her purse.

“Hold your hand out,” she ordered.

“Umm, what are you going to put into my hand?” I asked sheepishly.

“Don’t worry,” she assured me, “It’s just meat, do you know the legend of the Raven?”

I didn’t know about the raven, but ever the wiseass, I answered, “Doesn’t everyone?”

I held out my hand and she put a very suspicious looking piece of meat-like substance into it. As I eyed this meat-glob with some dismay, she reached into her purse and added a dried out piece of roast beef.

“I can’t throw very far,” Gladys explained. “Can you fling it over the fence towards the giant tree?” "You have to get it near the tree so the "raven" can get it."

I fired the meaty contents of my hands the instant she finished the sentence. The meat rocket sailed over the fence and landed right next to the giant tree. She was pleased, I was a bit nauseous, and she began speaking to the poms as if I had already left. I never saw this mysterious "raven" but I'm sure it could find better things to eat than that mess I had fired over the fence.

Life is like a handful of dirty meat in New York City, you never know what you’re going to get.

Summer Stunner - Bottoms Up at Grand Central Station

Just the slightest hint of summer weather sends New Yorkers into the kind of delirium that has to be seen to be believed. A typical morning in Grand Central station was turned upside down by half naked women spilling about the place.

Sure it was warm and humid outside, but inside clothes were falling off left and right as seen below.
The event was called Bahama Fridays and it was promoted by making Grand Central Station look more like a giant “Bunny Ranch from the Dark Side.” Whatever happen to no pants, no service?

Cameras were out, tongues were wagging and police were on hand to make sure this little stunt didn’t take on a more sinister form. Many tourists seemed stunned by the scantily clad ensemble and were not sure whether or not this spectacle was part of the norm in New York City.
Some girls stopped to pose for pictures while others strutted around trying not to catch a cold from the ancient building’s air conditioning system.

I stopped and asked one of the, uh, models, what they were up to. She told me that it was Bahama Friday and that I should check out her website to win a free vacation trip.

I would have asked for a brochure, but I was pretty sure she had no pockets or anyplace else to hide anything in her current state of dress.

Homeless High Jinks in the House of Holy

Interaction with homeless people takes on a whole new dimension when you attend church in New York City.

Some of the homeless greet you during your arrival and departure from church, while others sleep in the pews during each service.

I get to see some of them so often, that I have coined nicknames for each of them.

One of my favorite guys at church is ZZ Top. He sits over by one of the confessionals and is always sporting the Billy Gibbons look. (Gibbons is the lead singer for ZZ Top) He isn’t what you would call a “Sharp Dressed Man,” but "ZZ" has a very distinctive snore and always seems annoyed by the singing of the congregation.

--Billy Gibbons sporting cheap sunglasses--

During one Sunday service before Easter, I noticed that "ZZ" kept waking himself up with a dry cough. After the service, I fetched a cup of orange juice for him.

“Excuse me, sir." (No, I didn't call him "ZZ!")

He looked up and I offered the cup of juice to him.

“Is it drugged?” ZZ asked me.

“Nope, it's just orange juice.”

He thanked me, slugged it down and handed the cup back.

As I made my way out of the foyer, I ran into a different bearded homeless man (Not ZZ) who was a bit more on the aggressive side. "C'mon man, you got some money for me?"

I had a dollar ready for him, but apparently this donation was not acceptable.

“A dollar, a damned dollar? Unreal. Cheap man, real cheap!”

I smiled and nodded at him, not realizing that our paths would be crossing again very soon.

I walked down the church steps as he glared down at me.

The next week was the Easter celebration that actually took place on a Saturday night.

I was to take part in the Easter service by being confirmed with a group of other people at the front of the church.

Several members of the congregation moved to the front of the church to witness the ceremony.

When my turn came to be confirmed, I noticed two people carving a path through the crowd. Wouldn’t you know it -- it was the “dollar guy” from last week! The "dollar guy" was munching on a large bag of lays. He cut right in front of the priest and gave me a little grin though his chip-spackled teeth.

New York is funny that way.

That kind of interruption would be highly disruptive in almost any other town in the country, but in New York City, it added a little bit of extra flavor and charm to the evening.

The priest and I shared a brief laugh and the ceremony continued on like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Far From a Dog's Life In New York City

There are those in New York City that live a life of privilege and entitlement. They are of superior breeding, well aware of their elevated status. They sport the latest fashions and are more than happy to let the little people clean up their latest mess.

They come in all shapes and sizes, but their attitudes are all the same. Yorkshire Terriers, Cavalier King Charles Spaniels, Boxers and Bernese Mountain Dogs. They are the most pampered species in all of Manhattan.

Many people decide that their dog’s feet are far too precious to touch the ground. They get wheeled around in baby carriages that have been renamed “PET STROLLERS!”

These members of the Royal Canine Family race around the city in golden chariots for all to admire. Tourists trying to catch a peek at the baby in a stroller are suddenly face to face with a Lhasa Apso who wouldn’t notice them even if they were a fire hydrant.

Her Majesty patiently waits for the push

The pups that actually have to touch the ground don’t walk, they delicately prance. And it’s the little ones that have the real street creds. The big dogs want no part of them.

I watched a 4-pound Dachshund at 66th and 3rd do everything in its power break free from it’s owner’s arms to launch itself onto a 60-pound Boxer. The boxer literally yanked its owner into traffic to put some distance between him and that little savage.

But the best part is the outfits. Almost every dog on the Upper East Side has a matching hat to go with his stylish pullover.

In my building, I witnessed a young woman with no protection from the rain putting individual matching rain booties onto her Pomeranian that already was already wearing a custom-fitted bright yellow raincoat.

I looked at her questioningly. Surely she wasn’t dressing that little guy this way so she could walk out into a driving rainstorm with nothing more than a hoodless sweatshirt for herself. She looked at me and said, “What?”

I replied, “It’s raining pretty hard out there.”

She looked at me like I was an idiot, “I know, That’s why we have to make sure Pookie stays nice and dry.” She looked at Pookie and said, “Yes, we do.”

“Um, ok.”

With that, she led the Pookster into a driving rainstorm, while sheltering him (not herself) with a skimpy little umbrella. I never found out for sure, but I think she drowned and Pookie used her corpse as a life raft until he could get to higher ground.