"...machines create ghostly on-screen images of the flesh beneath clothing. In a demonstration for journalists using Transportation Security Administration workers as volunteers, however, software obscured the individuals' faces and groin areas to address privacy worries. "
My Story
"Achmed, everyone is assembled in the big cave."
Achmed slowly rose up off of his prayer carpet and stood to face Mukhtar, but he bumped his head on the sharp, jagged edges of the cave roof. "Allah- Allah.. Allah be praised," he spoke quietly through clenched teeth, aware that Mukhtar was watching him intently. "These rock ceilings... really hurt."
"Yes, but I think everything is God's will, Insha'Allah," Mukhtar answered him.
"Yes, Insha'Allah," Achmed answered, rubbing the top of his head, his turban well crushed against his skull. And his beard itched and Mukhtar smelled like a goat, but decided enough of complaining. He needed to address the 'volunteers.'
Achmed walked through the winding tunnels briskly until he finally got to the big room. It wasn't really that big, but it did fit twenty men fairly comfortably, shoulder to shoulder. He eyed the nervous, dirty faces that looked down at their feet and not at him. Good. They were meditating their upcoming sacrifice.
"Men, fellow Jihadists, praise Allah, I have great news!"
"We don't have to blow ourselves up anymore?" someone asked from the back of the cave.
Achmed glared at him. "Why would that be good news? Becoming a martyr is a great privilege. You would be beating your breast in anguish and rending your garments if you were denied this chance."
"But, but I haven't been to Mecca yet," the man replied.
"This is more important."
"Did the mullah say that? I thought the five pillars of Islam were-"
Achmed nodded to Mukhtar who with a single head shot from his AK-47 ended the conversation at the second pillar. Surprisingly no one flinched. Good, thought Achmed, they're getting better. More hardened.
"Now, as I was saying before this short beard interrupted, I have great news. The evil Satanists, the Americans, have changed their new security measures at their airports. Due to privacy concerns, they will no longer view the full x-ray of a naked man or woman trying to board an airplane. They have installed special software that will blur the face and genitals of the ones passing through the x-ray machine."
No one cheered. Achmed was disappointed, but he continued nonetheless.
Our explosives expert, Akbar, has told me of a new C-4 compound that is like putty and that he can make to wrap around your genitals, with a new trigger mechanism that is activated through static electricity, which can be achieved simply by rubbing it vigorously."
Everyone grimaced at the thought.
"So now you'll be able to board a plane with an explosive, undetected. And to set it off, all you need is to rub the detonator. Any passengers sitting beside you will only think you are satisfying yourself, just like we've seen in the American videos we've been watching on that site with the most traffic, what's it called Mukhtar?"
"Porntube."
"Yes, Porntube. All American men do this, so no one will pay any heed. No more worries about trying to light a match like failed martyr Richard Reid. And, you get to prepare yourself rather nicely for your 90 virgins. Lucky bunch of stiffs here, huh Mukhtar?" and he elbowed Mukhtar sharing his little joke. Mukhtar kept a straight fence.
"Yes, well. Ahem. So, Akbar tells me we still need a fair amount of the explosive compound, so the next volunteer needs to have a large bazooka."
The men looked at him with befuddled faces.
"You know, your missile launcher!" he emphasized
Silence.
"One-eyed yogurt chucker? Mancrank? Trouser snake? Tally-whacker?"
No response.
He began to count on his fingers, "Heat-seeking love missile, beef bayonet, wedding tackle, pork sword, little soldier, power drill, magic wand, joystick, Captain Winkie..."
"Oh," came a chorus of knowing looks finally.
Achmed shook his head. They knew Captain Winkie? Whatever. "So, I need you men to drop your pants and drawers, if you are so lucky to have any, and show me what you've got. I need the biggest volunteer."
The men begrudgingly dropped their pants to their ankles, and Achmed began to inspect them.
"Damn, have you all been swimming in the cold river during the snow melt? No one here could satisfy one virgin much less ninety." He went through each row. He passed the insolent one laying on the floor, and with his toe pulled back his pants. "Double damn. Sheepherder, I bet."
***
Richard Sykes was sitting at the monitor of the new backscatter x-ray machines recently installed at the airport. He was the TSA technician who had been trained in the train the trainer program, and now he was here onsite, showing the other TSA staff how to use these machines.
A TSA officer shepherded a selectee into the machine, and instructed the person to raise her arms. He then gave the go ahead signal to Richard who sat in a booth with two other male technicians further away out of earshot from the selectee. Richard then pressed the green button, and the image slowly appeared on the screen of the monitor.
"Ok, so here you have your typical female. Now for privacy concerns, the software will blur out her boobs and snatch, but if she has something close by, you'll still see bright white lines. Notice this woman has an underwire bra. Now, just in case you're suspicious she's packing a 9mm, see this orange button here? This is test mode, and if you hit it, it'll rescan without the blurring. Only use this if you have probable cause that she might be... whoa, momma, nice ones! Hmm, what's that... I think she has pierced nipples!"
The other two men chuckled. "Yeah, I don't think she's a danger to anyone but her boyfriend with those."
Richard gave the thumbs up sign and the woman was ushered out and allowed to proceed.
The next selectee was a middle eastern man who always raised everyone's suspicions.
"Ok, now we got a towel head. Let's pay special attention to him." Richard hit the green button.
All three men stared intently at the image.
"Ok, shoes clean, nothing in his pant legs, waist, shirt, arms, nothing up his sleeve. "
The other man pointed to the groin area. "That's a rather large area blurred out, don't you think?"
Richard pursed his lips. "Yeah, kinda. Maybe he's got a huge beef bayonet."
"Wha-?"
"You know, wedding tackle? Pork sword? Little soldier? Power drill? Magic wand? Joystick? Captain Winkie?"
"Oh, yeah, but I thought middle eastern guys were small."
"Well, I agree, and I wouldn't normally do this, being a guy and all, but, well, if you think there might be something, then we can hit the orange button. But be prepared to be disgusted." And he slapped the orange button.
A slow buzz and then... "shit, look how huge he is! Crikers I think he has it wrapped up in a doughnut!"
"God damn lucky sumbitch."
The other guy nodded in agreement.
"Hey, wait!" Richard exclaimed. "How did I miss that? In his left pocket, wedged towards the Cap'n, there's a..."
"Nail file!" the other two shouted in unison.
Richard gave the TSA officer the thumb clipping signal, and immediately an alarm went off and flashing yellow lights began to strobe. Several TSA officers rapidly approached the scanning booth with pepper spray cans and tasers in their outstretched hands.
"Sir, we have reason to believe you have a disallowed item in your possession! Keep your hands on your head and come out slowly."
Mukhtar panicked. They weren't supposed to detect the explosive! He was supposed to get onboard the plane, and detonate there. But, he had been told if he couldn't make it aboard, then take out as many of these Satanists as possible. He reached down and pulled down his zipper, pulled out the detonator and explosive and began to rub vigorously.
"What is he doing?" someone asked.
Richard ran up to the scanning booth that was now surrounded with TSA officers. "No, he's trying to arm his Heat-seeking love missile. That's just not right!"
"What?" a fellow officer asked him, keeping his eyes glued on Mukhtar.
"His wedding tackle!" Richard screamed.
The man nervously looked at Richard with no comprehension.
"One-eyed yogurt chucker? Mancrank? Trouser snake? Tally-whacker?"
Mukhtar kept rubbing away.
"Pork sword? Little soldier? Power drill? Magic wand? Joystick? Captain Winkie?"
"Oh," the man finally acknowledged. "That's sick!"
"Yeah, probably a perv. I'll show him, " and he walked up to Mukhtar who was furiously rubbing but couldn't get a big enough static charge.
"Dude, you a are a sicko," Richard said with distate, and aimed his Taser at what was in the man's hands. "Take this Captain Winkie!" and he pulled the trigger.
Boom.
***
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