US ‘geniuses’ going berserk with ‘homeland security’

[Lori Price CLG]

US 'geniuses' going berserk with 'homeland security'

The profiling of Pakistanis at US airports and other points of entry has reached a point where Pakistani ambassador to the US Jehangir Karamat has felt it necessary to advise his countrymen that they should only visit America "if they absolutely have to".

Some recent cases will reveal the ridiculous limits to which American security fears have been carried.

Former Pakistani ambassador to the US Riaz H Khokhar, who recently retired as foreign secretary, was one of those subjected to what can only be described as humiliating treatment.

<snip>

Lori Price

[madeline_con]

1. I thought they did away with racial profiling....

how could this be happening? Aren't they only searching gorgeous blondes?

[Rex]

2. Fatherland security!

Do you question Heir Chimperor or his legions vast?

[DBoon]

3. Only perfect Aryans are allowed in the Fatherland!

All others are suspected terrorists!

[Richard Steele]

6. Of course, you ARE aware that the term "Homeland"...

...entered the modern American lexicon
WAAAY back in the early 1970s...

...When it was Invented and POPULARIZED
by our lovely friends and neighbors in the
not-so-accurately-named "Christian Identity" movement.

You know; the wonderful patriots who considered Timothy McVeigh
just a latecoming wannabe?

THESE guys:

[Canuckistanian]

4. Hmm, I'll bet the Saudis don't have this problem...

But then again, the Saudis aren't terrorists, they're.... hey, wait a minute!

[Hekate]

5. In Salt Lake City they seem to be profiling middle aged women

The ambassador has my sympathy. The system doesn't make sense. Racial profiling is a straw man, in my opinion, but let's see, what country was it most of the hijackers came from? Begins with S... Seriously, there has to be a better way.

This summer I have flown to and from Salt Lake City three times, as my aged mother has been quite ill, and close to dying twice.

Okay, so two of those times were such a flipping emergency that I bought one-way tickets, which we all know is an infallible tip-off that I am a dangerous person up to no good. So I expected to be delayed a little, which I was at my hometown airport. No big deal. I got patted down, my suitcase was poked through, I put my shoes back on, and I caught my flight.

Coming home was the nightmare. I guess the Utahns (that's what they call themselves -- I spied that out by reading the newspapers while I was there) took one look at me and my one-way ticket and just knew -- well, something.

I was pulled from the line of travellers, so far so good. But suddenly there were six (count'em, 6) TSA personnel assigned to my case. Three of them dumped my luggage onto a long steel table, and emptied every pocket in my suitcase, purse, totebag... The bits of laundry, the undies, a few breakable items I had carefully wrapped with items of clothing, medicines, some spiritual books that were not the King James Bible -- it's amazing what I had managed to cram into my little carry-on bag. And it was all So Interesting to them that periodically one of them would say sharply, "What's That?!" And when I tried to answer I was equally sharply told to stay back -- but I was really too busy anyway.

The other three agents were for me, personally. I was patted down. Then patted down again. And again. The metal snap on the waistband of my slacks was inspected with the metal detector numerous times, and each time it was a surprise that it was Still There! While that was going on another person ordered me to hold out my hands -- No, not that way, thumb in, now turn it over -- while running them over with what I can only assume was some sort of sniffer.

While the other two were occupied with my body, the third agent opened a big binder and started taking notes while asking me my name, my occupation, and I'm not sure what else because at some point I lost it and began to cry. My waistband was turned down so the metal snap could be inspected again. I still had to stand with my arms extended. Notebook Lady was still writing. I cried harder. The three luggage inspectors were still trying to fathom the details of my life from a close reading of the text of my unwashed socks, not to mention the book by Starhawk...

I couldn't stop crying -- my mother had almost died, and would almost die again in another month -- and here I was standing in the antechamber of Hell with clowns who could toss me in jail if I gave them any lip.

God knows I'm not fool enough to think this was the real thing, you know -- after all I was not strip-searched, I was not removed from the airport by windowless van, I wasn't sent to Syria to mull over my thought-crimes.

Notebook Lady started asking, "What do you want me to do for you?" over and over. I couldn't answer -- I couldn't think of an answer that was not some obscene variation on "Shove it where the sun don't shine" but my nose was starting to run as fast as my eyes so I finally said she could get me some tissues, and out came a really large box of Kleenex. Gee, wonder how many other hapless travellers they've driven over the edge?

Finally it was over. I was told I could repack the rest of my own stuff -- I'm sure they couldn't figure out how I crammed all of it in there and wanted to see if it was a magic trick, but I was all out of magic and a lot of leftover stuff ended up in my totebag.

Hours later, I was never so glad to be home.

There are some codas: I bought a round trip ticket on my second trip to Utah and sailed right through security, temporarily no longer a dangerous potential criminal. The third trip was one way tickets again and I was in dread. When I called the airline to book for home I mentioned my run-in with TSA, and the ticket agent, who had all my info from many previous flights right there on her screen, said "Give me a phone number in Salt Lake City too. They seem to like that." So I gave her my mom's phone number in the assisted living place she's currently in.

## Let me repeat so you can commit this to memory: When booking a one way ticket, give the ticketing agent phone numbers in both cities. ##

When I got to SLC airport I wasn't a terrorist or a drug mule any more. I didn't even bother to take my shoes off. My luggage and purse went through the radiation tunnel and were returned to me unmolested.

With almost two hours to kill before my flight home, I slowly walked away, but turned back to look. I saw the same crew that weeks before had oh-so-politely humiliated me to tears. They were turning out the luggage of a smallish, blond, plump, middle-aged woman. Damn she looked dangerous. And I knew the country was safer for their vigilance.

Hekate

[saigon68]

7. These Slugs gassed the "SubHumans" at Dachau and Bergen Belsen

They are capable of any outrage.




SS WOMEN rounded up at Bergen Belsen

[Lisa]

8. remember when they pulled Al Gore out of a lineup? Twice!

I guess heading the White House Commission on Aviation and Security must have singled him out for extra attention!


"Passengers sharing Flight 406 were startled to hear Gore being told, "Sorry, sir, you have to go through extra screening," and to witness security personnel rifling through his briefcase and suitcase, a witness said.

"You're looking out and seeing Al Gore's unmentionables in his big, carry-on suitcase," said Mark Graul of Green Bay."


http://www.jsonline.com/news/nat/jun02/51090.asp

[ninkasi]

9. At least you kept your sense of humor

while undergoing what must have been hell. I'm afraid my tolerance doesn't go that far. Fortunately, I don't anticipate flying anytime in the near future, but one reason I will avoid it at all costs is this: due to a failed surgery to release trapped nerves in my neck, I have an implant, a neural nerve stimulator.

The battery is implanted in my right hip, and can be felt, and seen, when I am unclothed. It would be obvious if I were patted down. From the battery, I have several leads that go to the devices in my neck, and a remote control which resembles a mouse for a computer, to turn it off and on. I hold the remote over my hip.

Can you imagine the field day the airport screeners would have with that? I also have a metal plate with several screws in my neck. Needless to say, I have not had to fly since 9-11, and devoutly hope the need never arises. I am a 62 year old great-grandmother, by the way, but that would never deter the ever-alert screeners at the airports.

[Hekate]

10. You have more complicated hardware than my mom

Her bodily enhancements run to hip and knee replacements, which always set off alarm bells. She offers to show the screeners her scars (probably somewhat sarcastically), which are plentiful, but they always say no. They'd rather poke at her 81-year old body, apparantly. She has one doctor's note, but why she doesn't just get a comprehensive note from her primary doc and laminate it I don't know.

Last time I spoke to my semi-retired travel agent (I like the human touch) she said "There's just no pleasure in it any more." She meant the whole shebang: the size of the seats and lack of leg room (she's short but has a knee replacement), Homeland Security, all of it.

God, I don't blame you for not wanting to endure any of this crap. I hope that at least all your hardware has improved your life -- I hate to imagine what-all made you need it.

Be well,

Hekate

[ninkasi]

12. Fortunately, i have a card

that came with the implant. It gives the serial # and the phone # of the doctor who implanted it. Apparently, I can't have MRIs, because this thing would ruin the machine they use.

It helped at first, now it doesn't. I just live with the chronic pain, but always remember that there are people all over the world suffering much, much more than I am, who have no access to medical care. That keeps my own pain in perspective for me. I can go, without being shot at, or bombed, to the doctor; I can pick up prescriptions for pain, and have them filled, confident that my pharmacy will not be a smoking ruin when I get there.

These days, everything I do, I contrast to a woman my age in Irag, and what she endures to get through the day, thanks to our idiot in chief. Every time I make a comparison, I say a prayer for an end to this madness.

Last week, my youngest grandchild, 12, spent the night. I reflected many times on the difference in her life, and the life of a 12 year old Iraqui child. I want all of the children of the world to live the way my granddaughter does, and feel that I owe no apology to the freeperish types who say otherwise.

[Hekate]

11. self-delete

didn't mean to post the same thing twice!

[oneighty]

13. Fine piece of writing Hekate

Do not cry anymore please.

180