Well, yesterday I went down to appear for a jury duty summons at the Maricopa County Superior Court in Phoenix.
Holy ****, things have gotten as bad or worse than the TSA at airports.
First, you get in a line to divest yourself of all things metal. Fine. I put my glasses, my pen, my watch, my belt with belt buckle, loose change, keys, etc. in a tub that was destined for an x-ray. I was nice enough to have left my 442 and my Benchmade folder in the trunk of my car. I was made to feel nekked; what an indignity for a free citizen of a country where the Second Amendment still is part of our Constitution.
After standing in line in front of the big U-shaped magnetometer, I finally got to go through with no "buzz." Others had, and were passed right on through. Clean, right?
WRONG.
The security guard on the other side of magnetometer must have singled me out for my steely gaze and the devil-may care attitude that I must have expressed by daring to look at his slack-jawed face.
This obviously laid-off portly former TSA employee now working for minimum wage brought out his magic wand, and first asked me if I had removed my belt. Duh. You're looking at my beltless pants, dude, nearly falling off of me now.
I answered "Yes." He had me turn around (twice), waving his magic twanger all over me. I was carrying a book to read (The Sojourn) an absorbing novel about a WWI soldier's experiences, which must have measured about 1/2 inch in thickness. He took that from me and flipped through just about all the pages. I don't think they make guns that thin, but I guess one can't be too careful.
Then he told me to lift my pants legs - I wasn't sure if he wanted me to flaunt my superior male endowment or what, but I complied, hopping on first one leg and then the other.
I don't know why I was singled out, but I think this cretin was possibly power mad after they gave him some authority. I am one of the estimated three percent of citizens who actually show up for jury duty, and I don't think there was any call to single me out for what I believe was harassment. I had obviously complied with all the hoopla and had passed through the magnetometer before he started in on me.
Do you think it was the "I'm the NRA" patch on my padded shooting shirt? And after all that, I didn't even get picked to serve on a jury!
John
Holy ****, things have gotten as bad or worse than the TSA at airports.
First, you get in a line to divest yourself of all things metal. Fine. I put my glasses, my pen, my watch, my belt with belt buckle, loose change, keys, etc. in a tub that was destined for an x-ray. I was nice enough to have left my 442 and my Benchmade folder in the trunk of my car. I was made to feel nekked; what an indignity for a free citizen of a country where the Second Amendment still is part of our Constitution.
After standing in line in front of the big U-shaped magnetometer, I finally got to go through with no "buzz." Others had, and were passed right on through. Clean, right?
WRONG.
The security guard on the other side of magnetometer must have singled me out for my steely gaze and the devil-may care attitude that I must have expressed by daring to look at his slack-jawed face.
This obviously laid-off portly former TSA employee now working for minimum wage brought out his magic wand, and first asked me if I had removed my belt. Duh. You're looking at my beltless pants, dude, nearly falling off of me now.
I answered "Yes." He had me turn around (twice), waving his magic twanger all over me. I was carrying a book to read (The Sojourn) an absorbing novel about a WWI soldier's experiences, which must have measured about 1/2 inch in thickness. He took that from me and flipped through just about all the pages. I don't think they make guns that thin, but I guess one can't be too careful.
Then he told me to lift my pants legs - I wasn't sure if he wanted me to flaunt my superior male endowment or what, but I complied, hopping on first one leg and then the other.
I don't know why I was singled out, but I think this cretin was possibly power mad after they gave him some authority. I am one of the estimated three percent of citizens who actually show up for jury duty, and I don't think there was any call to single me out for what I believe was harassment. I had obviously complied with all the hoopla and had passed through the magnetometer before he started in on me.
Do you think it was the "I'm the NRA" patch on my padded shooting shirt? And after all that, I didn't even get picked to serve on a jury!
John