The pizza delivery man. The cable guy. The plumber. All are cherished stock characters in the glorious, glory-hole lovin’ world of XXX porn. And there’s a reason. The pizza man is you. The cable guy is me. And the plumber is dear old Uncle Ebenezer. Each one is symbolic of the everyman, a lone soldier in the war against an endless succession of bills and the mundane drudgery of the modern world. And when that front door opens to the Miami Beach condo revealing two nubile young coeds wearing matching thongs and stilettos, we rejoice. His victory is ours.
But the days of the pizza guy are over. And we can say goodbye to the cable guy and plumber too. Sorry guys, but you have been replaced by a relative newcomer to the world of erotica — the TSA screener. No working schlub gets more action than that guy. And this holiday weekend, he’ll be getting more leg than usual.
There’s no need to be jealous, of course. You’ll get a little bit of something-something too — that is, if you play your cards right and refuse to stand in one of the TSA’s full-body scanners and let a few anonymous men and women sitting in uncomfortable chairs in a nondescript room watch real-time footage of your naked body and crack wise about the diminutive status of your willy and the funny way your boobs bounce off your belly.
If submitting to a full-body scan rubs you the wrong way, then you’ll receive a very playful pat down. And after that, who knows? But I’d be willing to bet that in a matter of seconds your ears will be filled with the swelling sounds of boom-chicka-wow-wow.
Now some people call the pat downs and the body scanners an invasion of privacy. Some say that we have finally gone too far in our never-ending war to terrorize the American people.
Trust me. I hear what you’re saying. First, they came for your fingernail clippers, and you did nothing. And then they came for your penny loafers, and you did nothing. And then they came for your tubes of Astroglide, and you did nothing. But now? They’ve crossed the line. The TSA has not only made air travel unbearably time-consuming, they’ve made it all touchy-feely and frisky too.
I hate to break it to you, but you are wrong. Truth be told, the TSA hasn’t gone far enough.
If we are truly honest with ourselves, we’ll have to admit the only way that we can prevent a terrorist from sneaking a bomb on a plane is to ban clothes altogether. Shirts, socks, shorts, and slacks — they’ve all got to go. As for boxers, briefs, bras, and boy shorts? Well, they’re a big no-no too.
Of course, a full-on ban on clothes will radically change air travel. But believe you me, it’ll all be for the better.
The cabin inside of each and every plane will be covered in wall-to-wall shag carpeting. The stiff seats will be tossed out so that everyone will have their own personal bearskin rug. Wedge-shaped Liberators will serve as flotation devices. The overhead compartments will be filled with adult toys — from handcuffs to Bubba the Love Sponge.
And when we show the flight attendant our boarding pass, she’ll place it in a glass bowl, along with the boarding passes of everyone else on the plane. Once the jet is at cruising altitude, it’ll be time to undo the chastity belts and draw a ticket out of the bowl. It sounds risky, yes. After all, you’re faced with the luck of the draw, so you’re never quite sure who you are going to get — the slice of hot beefcake in row 69 or the hairy-backed man ape on aisle 42 or the would-be underwear bomber that has a block of C4 and a blasting cap stuffed up his bum. The way I see it, it really doesn’t matter. If you’ve got an open mind, you’ll have a swinging good time.
Unfortunately, I’m willing to bet there’s plenty of you out there who don’t think flying in the buff is such a good idea. After all, there’s nothing that we can do to truly make air travel safe. Engines blow out mid-flight. Landings are botched. Gremlins attack. And mysterious and magical Pacific islands need a new batch of recruits to take on the Man in Black.
You’re right. I’m not going to argue with you. But that’s the risk that you take when you fly the now even friendlier skies.
Read more Haire of the Dog here.