Mission Mission

Coming back from visiting some family for the holiday weekend, I came upon the new option of either going through TSA’s full body scanner or “opting out” and getting the full feel up. Going out of SFO there was nothing like that, but coming back from the San Diego airport they gave us the reach around, I mean run around, I mean full monty, I mean full treatment, I mean . . . no, that is what I mean.

Anyway, I opted out, along with the two female passengers I was traveling with. I’ve read a little bit on the health concerns and remain convinced that there are dozens of things I should be addressing about what we’re exposed to daily before I worry about a few seconds of this level of radiation. I opted out because I don’t think it should be easy to push us into new areas of decreased options without some push back. Not intended to slow down progress, but to put pressure on the deciding bodies to check their intentions. Blah blah. So I got the pat down.

Actually, it seemed quite like the body searches I’ve had plenty of times while being picked out of the line to be touched all over.

Seeing the Giants temporary tattoo on my forearm the TSA Toucher got me comfortable by talking about baseball. Despite being a Red Sox fan, he was a very pleasant fellow. He didn’t give me grief or even ask me why I was choosing to opt out of the scan. I asked him if the opting-out had created bottle necks in the process and he said that he usually worked at a terminal that didn’t have body scans and people would walk up to him exclaiming “I want to opt out!” and he would just sigh and tell them to go on through.

He started off by telling me that he wouldn’t do anything to me that would require him to buy me a drink. First he patted me down and when he got to the bottom of my happy trail area he quickly brushed across to my inner thighs with the back of his hands, making no moves to grab or fondle anything he may have found. A couple leg pats and that was that. Residue tests came back negative and I was on my way. Not so bad, but also not so great. Safety first, for sure, but with complications like privacy issues and racial profiling, this whole business becomes quite tricky.

Then we had some free time and since the TSA guy hadn’t bought me a drink I got the round and we did some airport karaoke.

Any other TSA thoughts?

In addition to being a publisher of personal appeals, Wikipedia is also a vast repository of knowledge. Here’s a sampling:

The Egg War is the name given to an 1863 conflict between rival egging companies on the Farallon Islands, 25 miles off San Francisco. It was the culmination of several years of tension between the (Pacific) Egg Company, which claimed the right to collect the eggs on the islands, and several rival firms. The resulting violence claimed two lives, but left the Egg Company in sole control of the islands’ eggs. Its victory was short lived; the company sold the rights to use the islands in the late 1870s and the federal government removed all egging companies from the islands in 1881.

Read on.

[Thanks, Penelope!]

Or do you have to go to Europe?

[Photo by cacalote]

UPDATE: Rainbow! Thanks, Rich!

Gonzo cartographer David Enos debuted this gripping drama about a year ago, and today has finally made it available for purchase. Just in time for the holidays! See here.

Maybe Four Loko is really over. Maybe this award-winning Nicaraguan rum is the new jam. Carlos Reyes has a bunch more compelling evidence right here.

Not much content posted yet, but it’s about our esteemed neighbor to the south, it’s called Bernalwood and it looks like it’s going to be fun.

From the wrong angle this Mission Street Santa Claus creeps me out.

These happy people and more are in the bathroom at Oddball. Just one of many reasons to hang out at Oddball.

Even though I’ve lived through quite a few Christmas seasons here in the Mission, for some reason I’ve never noticed these Christmas lights adorning all the trees lining 24th Street.  Do these get put up every year?  Who is behind this festive endeavor?  With Thanksgiving weekend still in its death throws, they sure didn’t waste any time!

For those of you who want to get a sense of how we celebrate the holidays here at MM, just pour a little whiskey in your champurrado and sit around the fireplace listening to this:

Also . . . ABBA CHRISTMAS.

At the least the one good thing about being stuck in bumper to bumper traffic in the middle of California on the 5 (or is it I-5?) is that it afforded us the chance to enjoy the beautiful sunset.

I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving weekend.