Trust Me, It Was Worth The Wait

My old friend Rodney and I finally met face to face the other day. In between jabbering at me a mile a minute about how his co-workers thought he was acting weirder than usual and how he had a stroke he said to me "You don't post anymore." Well I do post but I made myself a promise that my blog would no longer be me complaining like a bitch and that I would post only substance and quality insight. That seems to mean far fewer posts but I do in fact have something worthwhile to say when I do say it now. In other words, you should expect fewer posts labeled "whine" or "filler".

That Rodney is this guy. Actually, we didn't finally meet the other day. We had informally met years before in the now closed Burger King next to the Paradise Rock Club. That was the night he gave me the 'Beelzebubba' sticker that's on the bottom of my skateboard.

Anyway, a couple weeks ago in Philadelphia Rodney called me out for not posting enough and he's right. I'm his bitch for not having a better excuse than that I'm overwhelmed by the day job. I also really don't have much to say when I'm not whining like a little bitch. Today is different.

Today I'm going to pick a fight with TSA.

I told you it was worth the wait.

Back in high school I pissed off a good friend of mine when I, a little too emphatically, agreed with our English teacher that it is in fact a burden and a curse to be the guy every one trusts with far too personal confessions. I seem to be a magnet in life for people looking to unload their personal demons. I believe the late Reverend Sam Kinison would have called me an "emotional tampon" in between lines of cocaine. It's cool though. If you're a brother your secrets are safe with me. The rest of you should really think about entering the craft. It'll shut me up. But I digress. I'm also off my Ritalin this week. And I'm drunk.

Zack, that was that pure stream of conscience you love so much.

If you're sick and tired of getting picked on at the airport and want to do something about it then listen up. I know how to get bombs on board the airplanes.

Play golf. It seems that TSA can't tell the difference between nitrates used to fertilize the white mans playground and the nitrates used to make IED's. And since golfers tend to be the kind of white man who can defend themselves in court TSA gives them a free pass for smelling like terrorism.

This I learned tonight drinking with TSA "management" at Lisa's 20th HS reunion.

Also TSA does in fact know who everyone is before they show up at the airport. No one is pulled at random. We are in fact profiled -- "racially profiled" -- before we get in line. This suggests NSA style intelligence gathering of anyone passing through the airports.

This may well be my last post ever.

If so, Bye. And maybe I wasn't paranoid if I was right.