Several points come to mind: (1) Mr. Monahan seems to think that lies on police reports are an artifact of 9/11. Welcome to the real world Mr. Monahan. (2) Monahan, and those like him who continue to fly, have nobody to blame but themselves: if you continue to feed these assholes by buying those tickets, then you have it coming: simple economics. If people refuse to fly, this will stop. (3) As to the ACLU, again, welcome to the real world. Many of us have been down that road before you Mr. Monahan - while the ACLU is not a bad thing per se, they are a lot like the cops and courts: they are not there for any one individual, there are there for "the big picture". And the Big Picture requires money, which means you must be a minority (since how can anyone of the majority ever be "oppressed"?). In a nutshell, Fuck The ACLU. (4) Lastly, as to your cesarian, fuck you and your wife, and her cesearean. We don't give a shit about your personal problems, just like you don't care about ours. Sure, it makes for a pulpy little story, but when you get right down to it, do we really care? No. Because, again, you helped to create this beast you are now bitching about, and after it bit you, you *continued to fly*, and thereby feed it some more. -- Yours, J.A. Terranson sysadmin@mfn.org 0xBD4A95BF Civilization is in a tailspin - everything is backwards, everything is upside down- doctors destroy health, psychiatrists destroy minds, lawyers destroy justice, the major media destroy information, governments destroy freedom and religions destroy spirituality - yet it is claimed to be healthy, just, informed, free and spiritual. We live in a social system whose community, wealth, love and life is derived from alienation, poverty, self-hate and medical murder - yet we tell ourselves that it is biologically and ecologically sustainable. The Bush plan to screen whole US population for mental illness clearly indicates that mental illness starts at the top. Rev Dr Michael Ellner On Sun, 19 Dec 2004, R.A. Hettinga wrote:

Date: Sun, 19 Dec 2004 10:25:32 -0500 From: R.A. Hettinga <rah@shipwright.com> To: cypherpunks@al-qaeda.net Subject: Coffee, Tea, or Should We Feel Your Pregnant Wife's Breasts Before Throwing You in a Cell at the Airport and Then Lying About Why We Put You There?

<http://www.lewrockwell.com/orig3/monahan1.html>

LewRockwell.com

Coffee, Tea, or Should We Feel Your Pregnant Wife's Breasts Before Throwing You in a Cell at the Airport and Then Lying About Why We Put You There?

by Nicholas Monahan

? ?? ?? ??

This morning I'll be escorting my wife to the hospital, where the doctors will perform a caesarean section to remove our first child. She didn't want to do it this way - neither of us did - but sometimes the Fates decide otherwise. The Fates or, in our case, government employees.

On the morning of October 26th Mary and I entered Portland International Airport, en route to the Las Vegas wedding of one of my best friends. Although we live in Los Angeles, we'd been in Oregon working on a film, and up to that point had had nothing but praise to shower on the city of Portland, a refreshing change of pace from our own suffocating metropolis.

At the security checkpoint I was led aside for the "inspection" that's all the rage at airports these days. My shoes were removed. I was told to take off my sweater, then to fold over the waistband of my pants. My baseball hat, hastily jammed on my head at 5 AM, was removed and assiduously examined ("Anything could be in here, sir," I was told, after I asked what I could hide in a baseball hat. Yeah. Anything.) Soon I was standing on one foot, my arms stretched out, the other leg sticking out in front of me `la a DUI test. I began to get pissed off, as most normal people would. My anger increased when I realized that the newly knighted federal employees weren't just examining me, but my 712 months pregnant wife as well. I'd originally thought that I'd simply been randomly selected for the more excessive than normal search. You know, Number 50 or whatever. Apparently not though - it was both of us. These are your new threats, America: pregnant accountants and their sleepy husbands flying to weddings.

After some more grumbling on my part they eventually finished with me and I went to retrieve our luggage from the x-ray machine. Upon returning I found my wife sitting in a chair, crying. Mary rarely cries, and certainly not in public. When I asked her what was the matter, she tried to quell her tears and sobbed, "I'm sorry...it's...they touched my breasts...and..." That's all I heard. I marched up to the woman who'd been examining her and shouted, "What did you do to her?" Later I found out that in addition to touching her swollen breasts - to protect the American citizenry - the employee had asked that she lift up her shirt. Not behind a screen, not off to the side - no, right there, directly in front of the hundred or so passengers standing in line. And for you women who've been pregnant and worn maternity pants, you know how ridiculous those things look. "I felt like a clown," my wife told me later. "On display for all these people, with the cotton panel on my pants and my stomach sticking out. When I sat down I just lost my composure and began to cry. That's when you walked up."

Of course when I say she "told me later," it's because she wasn't able to tell me at the time, because as soon as I demanded to know what the federal employee had done to make her cry, I was swarmed by Portland police officers. Instantly. Three of them, cinching my arms, locking me in handcuffs, and telling me I was under arrest. Now my wife really began to cry. As they led me away and she ran alongside, I implored her to calm down, to think of the baby, promising her that everything would turn out all right. She faded into the distance and I was shoved into an elevator, a cop holding each arm. After making me face the corner, the head honcho told that I was under arrest and that I wouldn't be flying that day - that I was in fact a "menace."

It took me a while to regain my composure. I felt like I was one of those guys in The Gulag Archipelago who, because the proceedings all seem so unreal, doesn't fully realize that he is in fact being arrested in a public place in front of crowds of people for...for what? I didn't know what the crime was. Didn't matter. Once upstairs, the officers made me remove my shoes and my hat and tossed me into a cell. Yes, your airports have prison cells, just like your amusement parks, train stations, universities, and national forests. Let freedom reign.

After a short time I received a visit from the arresting officer. "Mr. Monahan," he started, "Are you on drugs?"

Was this even real? "No, I'm not on drugs."

"Should you be?"

"What do you mean?"

"Should you be on any type of medication?"

"No."

"Then why'd you react that way back there?"

You see the thinking? You see what passes for reasoning among your domestic shock troops these days? Only "whackos" get angry over seeing the woman they've been with for ten years in tears because someone has touched her breasts. That kind of reaction - love, protection - it's mind-boggling! "Mr. Monahan, are you on drugs?" His snide words rang inside my head. This is my wife, finally pregnant with our first child after months of failed attempts, after the depressing shock of the miscarriage last year, my wife who'd been walking on a cloud over having the opportunity to be a mother...and my anger is simply unfathomable to the guy standing in front of me, the guy who earns a living thanks to my taxes, the guy whose family I feed through my labor. What I did wasn't normal. No, I reacted like a drug addict would've. I was so disgusted I felt like vomiting. But that was just the beginning.

An hour later, after I'd been gallantly assured by the officer that I wouldn't be attending my friend's wedding that day, I heard Mary's voice outside my cell. The officer was speaking loudly, letting her know that he was planning on doing me a favor... which everyone knows is never a real favor. He wasn't going to come over and help me work on my car or move some furniture. No, his "favor" was this: He'd decided not to charge me with a felony.

Think about that for a second. Rapes, car-jackings, murders, arsons - those are felonies. So is yelling in an airport now, apparently. I hadn't realized, though I should have. Luckily, I was getting a favor, though. I was merely going to be slapped with a misdemeanor.

"Here's your court date," he said as I was released from my cell. In addition, I was banned from Portland International for 90 days, and just in case I was thinking of coming over and hanging out around its perimeter, the officer gave me a map with the boundaries highlighted, sternly warning me against trespassing. Then he and a second officer escorted us off the grounds. Mary and I hurriedly drove two and a half hours in the rain to Seattle, where we eventually caught a flight to Vegas. But the officer was true to his word - we missed my friend's wedding. The fact that he'd been in my own wedding party, the fact that a once in a lifetime event was stolen from us - well, who cares, right?

Upon our return to Portland (I'd had to fly into Seattle and drive back down), we immediately began contacting attorneys. We aren't litigious people - we wanted no money. I'm not even sure what we fully wanted. An apology? A reprimand? I don't know. It doesn't matter though, because we couldn't afford a lawyer, it turned out. $4,000 was the average figure bandied about as a retaining fee. Sorry, but I've got a new baby on the way. So we called the ACLU, figuring they existed for just such incidents as these. And they do apparently...but only if we were minorities. That's what they told us.

In the meantime, I'd appealed my suspension from PDX. A week or so later I got a response from the Director of Aviation. After telling me how, in the aftermath of 9/11, most passengers not only accept additional airport screening but welcome it, he cut to the chase:

"After a review of the police report and my discussions with police staff, as well as a review of the TSA's report on this incident, I concur with the officer's decision to take you into custody and to issue a citation to you for disorderly conduct. That being said, because I also understand that you were upset and acted on your emotions, I am willing to lift the Airport Exclusion Order...."

Attached to this letter was the report the officer had filled out. I'd like to say I couldn't believe it, but in a way, I could. It's seemingly becoming the norm in America - lies and deliberate distortions on the part of those in power, no matter how much or how little power they actually wield.

The gist of his report was this: From the get go I wasn't following the screener's directions. I was "squinting my eyes" and talking to my wife in a "low, forced voice" while "excitedly swinging my arms." Twice I began to walk away from the screener, inhaling and exhaling forcefully. When I'd completed the physical exam, I walked to the luggage screening area, where a second screener took a pair of scissors from my suitcase. At this point I yelled, "What the %*&$% is going on? This is &*#&$%!" The officer, who'd already been called over by one of the screeners, became afraid for the TSA staff and the many travelers. He required the assistance of a second officer as he "struggled" to get me into handcuffs, then for "cover" called over a third as well. It was only at this point that my wife began to cry hysterically.

There was nothing poetic in my reaction to the arrest report. I didn't crumple it in my fist and swear that justice would be served, promising to sacrifice my resources and time to see that it would. I simply stared. Clearly the officer didn't have the guts to write down what had really happened. It might not look too good to see that stuff about the pregnant woman in tears because she'd been humiliated. Instead this was the official scenario being presented for the permanent record. It doesn't even matter that it's the most implausible sounding situation you can think of. "Hey, what the...godammit, they're taking our scissors, honey!" Why didn't he write in anything about a monkey wearing a fez?

True, the TSA staff had expropriated a pair of scissors from our toiletries kit - the story wasn't entirely made up. Except that I'd been locked in airport jail at the time. I didn't know anything about any scissors until Mary told me on our drive up to Seattle. They'd questioned her about them while I was in the bowels of the airport sitting in my cell.

So I wrote back, indignation and disgust flooding my brain.

"[W]hile I'm not sure, I'd guess that the entire incident is captured on video. Memory is imperfect on everyone's part, but the footage won't lie. I realize it might be procedurally difficult for you to view this, but if you could, I'd appreciate it. There's no willful disregard of screening directions. No explosion over the discovery of a pair of scissors in a suitcase. No struggle to put handcuffs on. There's a tired man, early in the morning, unhappily going through a rigorous procedure and then reacting to the tears of his pregnant wife."

Eventually we heard back from a different person, the guy in charge of the TSA airport screeners. One of his employees had made the damning statement about me exploding over her scissor discovery, and the officer had deftly incorporated that statement into his report. We asked the guy if he could find out why she'd said this - couldn't she possibly be mistaken? "Oh, can't do that, my hands are tied. It's kind of like leading a witness - I could get in trouble, heh heh." Then what about the videotape? Why not watch that? That would exonerate me. "Oh, we destroy all video after three days."

Sure you do.

A few days later we heard from him again. He just wanted to inform us that he'd received corroboration of the officer's report from the officer's superior, a name we didn't recognize. "But...he wasn't even there," my wife said.

"Yeah, well, uh, he's corroborated it though."

That's how it works.

"Oh, and we did look at the videotape. Inconclusive."

But I thought it was destroyed?

On and on it went. Due to the tenacity of my wife in making phone calls and speaking with relevant persons, the "crime" was eventually lowered to a mere citation. Only she could have done that. I would've simply accepted what was being thrown at me, trumped up charges and all, simply because I'm wholly inadequate at performing the kowtow. There's no way I could have contacted all the people Mary did and somehow pretend to be contrite. Besides, I speak in a low, forced voice, which doesn't elicit sympathy. Just police suspicion.

Weeks later at the courthouse I listened to a young DA awkwardly read the charges against me - "Mr. Monahan...umm...shouted obscenities at the airport staff...umm... umm...oh, they took some scissors from his suitcase and he became...umm...abusive at this point." If I was reading about it in Kafka I might have found something vaguely amusing in all of it. But I wasn't. I was there. Living it.

I entered a plea of nolo contendere, explaining to the judge that if I'd been a resident of Oregon, I would have definitely pled "Not Guilty." However, when that happens, your case automatically goes to a jury trial, and since I lived a thousand miles away, and was slated to return home in seven days, with a newborn due in a matter of weeks...you get the picture. "No Contest" it was. Judgment: $250 fine.

Did I feel happy? Only $250, right? No, I wasn't happy. I don't care if it's twelve cents, that's money pulled right out of my baby's mouth and fed to a disgusting legal system that will use it to propagate more incidents like this. But at the very least it was over, right? Wrong.

When we returned to Los Angeles there was an envelope waiting for me from the court. Inside wasn't a receipt for the money we'd paid. No, it was a letter telling me that what I actually owed was $309 - state assessed court costs, you know. Wouldn't you think your taxes pay for that - the state putting you on trial? No, taxes are used to hire more cops like the officer, because with our rising criminal population - people like me - hey, your average citizen demands more and more "security."

Finally I reach the piece de resistance. The week before we'd gone to the airport my wife had had her regular pre-natal checkup. The child had settled into the proper head down position for birth, continuing the remarkable pregnancy she'd been having. We returned to Portland on Sunday. On Mary's Monday appointment she was suddenly told, "Looks like your baby's gone breech." When she later spoke with her midwives in Los Angeles, they wanted to know if she'd experienced any type of trauma recently, as this often makes a child flip. "As a matter of fact..." she began, recounting the story, explaining how the child inside of her was going absolutely crazy when she was crying as the police were leading me away through the crowd.

My wife had been planning a natural childbirth. She'd read dozens of books, meticulously researched everything, and had finally decided that this was the way for her. No drugs, no numbing of sensations - just that ultimate combination of brute pain and sheer joy that belongs exclusively to mothers. But my wife is also a first-time mother, so she has what is called an "untested" pelvis. Essentially this means that a breech birth is too dangerous to attempt, for both mother and child. Therefore, she's now relegated to a c-section - hospital stay, epidural, catheter, fetal monitoring, stitches - everything she didn't want. Her natural birth has become a surgery.

We've tried everything to turn that baby. Acupuncture, chiropractic techniques, underwater handstands, elephant walking, moxibustion, bending backwards over pillows, herbs, external manipulation - all to no avail. When I walked into the living room the other night and saw her plaintively cooing with a flashlight turned onto her stomach, yet another suggested technique, my heart almost broke. It's breaking now as I write these words.

I can never prove that my child went breech because of what happened to us at the airport. But I'll always believe it. Wrongly or rightly, I'll forever think of how this man, the personification of this system, has affected the lives of my family and me. When my wife is sliced open, I'll be thinking of him. When they remove her uterus from her abdomen and lay it on her stomach, I'll be thinking of him. When I visit her and my child in the hospital instead of having them with me here in our home, I'll be thinking of him. When I assist her to the bathroom while the incision heals internally, I'll be thinking of him.

There are plenty of stories like this these days. I don't know how many I've read where the writer describes some breach of civil liberties by employees of the state, then wraps it all up with a dire warning about what we as a nation are becoming, and how if we don't put an end to it now, then we're in for heaps of trouble. Well you know what? Nothing's going to stop the inevitable. There's no policy change that's going to save us. There's no election that's going to put a halt to the onslaught of tyranny. It's here already - this country has changed for the worse and will continue to change for the worse. There is now a division between the citizenry and the state. When that state is used as a tool against me, there is no longer any reason why I should owe any allegiance to that state.

And that's the first thing that child of ours is going to learn.

December 21, 2002

Nick Monahan works in the film industry. He writes out of Los Angeles where he lives with his wife and as of December 18th, his beautiful new son.

On Sun, 19 Dec 2004, Shawn K. Quinn wrote:

He may not have a choice.

Bullshit. 100% bullshit. Unless you are trying to cover a lot of lake, flying is an option, not a requirement. Driving sucks - I do it a lot, and hate every mile of it - but it *is* an option. Remember the buses. Remember what happened when "them negroes got uppity and stopped taking the bus"?

...

(4) Lastly, as to your cesarian, fuck you and your wife, and her cesearean. We don't give a shit about your personal problems, just like you don't care about ours. Sure, it makes for a pulpy little story, but when you get right down to it, do we really care? No. Because, again, you helped to create this beast you are now bitching about, and after it bit you, you *continued to fly*, and thereby feed it some more.

This is downright insensitive. (Mr. Monahan, if you actually get to read this, Terranson does *not* represent the views of all of us in the least.) I really have a good mind to archive this and send it back to you when your wife gets pregnant and something similar happens to you.

Archive any fucking thing you want, and send it to whomever you like, whenever you like. Insensitive? Maybe. But it's true as well. I have zero tolerance for you and Monahan and those like you, who will feed this bitch while continuing to complain. Put up or shut up. Fly or don't. But if you're going to feed this fucker, then you *will* eventually pay this kind of price - and you will have DESERVED IT. If for no other reason than you helped to heap it upon other through your financial support.

And again, he likely didn't continue to fly because he wanted to. See #2 above.

And, again, Bullshit. -- Yours, J.A. Terranson sysadmin@mfn.org 0xBD4A95BF Civilization is in a tailspin - everything is backwards, everything is upside down- doctors destroy health, psychiatrists destroy minds, lawyers destroy justice, the major media destroy information, governments destroy freedom and religions destroy spirituality - yet it is claimed to be healthy, just, informed, free and spiritual. We live in a social system whose community, wealth, love and life is derived from alienation, poverty, self-hate and medical murder - yet we tell ourselves that it is biologically and ecologically sustainable. The Bush plan to screen whole US population for mental illness clearly indicates that mental illness starts at the top. Rev Dr Michael Ellner

Excellent rejoinder to Mr. Monahan. The same could be said of the Internet, hell, make a leap, same applies to the government. Stop using the Net and digital security and privacy problems will vanish. Stop paying taxes and the gov will disappear. Nothing about 9/11 changed that. Well, the Net got more invasive and the gov more intrusive. Still, just give them both up, retreat to the hilltop or Okefenokee or no census nabe, eat spiders and snakes and varmints or even better get eaten by them, your cold dead middle finger marking the scene of dawinism off the grid. Meanwhile a small fat-bellied band in the heartland of birght-lit luxury will crow at the rigged suicide of another useless eater, the group log on to Rummie's inbox to type, thanks old man, those invites to defiance work wonders to red dot the hot blood bitchers. Burp, hiccup, lick lobe, suck snot, poot, pat glock, order more fodder, clap for market uptick, bray for another Walter Reed amputee refit Dell-modeled efficient.

"(4) Lastly, as to your cesarian, fuck you and your wife, and her cesearean. We don't give a shit about your personal problems, just like you don't care about ours. Sure, it makes for a pulpy little story, but when you get right down to it, do we really care? No. Because, again, you helped to create this beast you are now bitching about, and after it bit you, you *continued to fly*, and thereby feed it some more." Funny how most Americans only wake up after it happens to them. Case in point? How 'bout that proud-n-patriotic lady in "Farenheit 911"? As far as I could tell, prior to her son's death she was all in favor of the Attack on Iraq and even encouraged her son to "serve" (I hate that fucking word)...the only thing that changed her mind was that HER son was killed (the piles of dead Iraqis in their own country didn't matter and hell nor did the other dead US soldiers). So when she was hanging around in front of the White House I didn't have a hell of a lot of sympathy. -TD

From: "J.A. Terranson" <measl@mfn.org> To: "R.A. Hettinga" <rah@shipwright.com> CC: cypherpunks@al-qaeda.net Subject: Re: Coffee, Tea, or Should We Feel Your Pregnant Wife's Breasts Before Throwing You in a Cell at the Airport and Then Lying About Why We Put You There? Date: Sun, 19 Dec 2004 10:53:26 -0600 (CST)

Several points come to mind:

(1) Mr. Monahan seems to think that lies on police reports are an artifact of 9/11. Welcome to the real world Mr. Monahan.

(2) Monahan, and those like him who continue to fly, have nobody to blame but themselves: if you continue to feed these assholes by buying those tickets, then you have it coming: simple economics. If people refuse to fly, this will stop.

(3) As to the ACLU, again, welcome to the real world. Many of us have been down that road before you Mr. Monahan - while the ACLU is not a bad thing per se, they are a lot like the cops and courts: they are not there for any one individual, there are there for "the big picture". And the Big Picture requires money, which means you must be a minority (since how can anyone of the majority ever be "oppressed"?). In a nutshell, Fuck The ACLU.

(4) Lastly, as to your cesarian, fuck you and your wife, and her cesearean. We don't give a shit about your personal problems, just like you don't care about ours. Sure, it makes for a pulpy little story, but when you get right down to it, do we really care? No. Because, again, you helped to create this beast you are now bitching about, and after it bit you, you *continued to fly*, and thereby feed it some more.

-- Yours,

J.A. Terranson sysadmin@mfn.org 0xBD4A95BF

Civilization is in a tailspin - everything is backwards, everything is upside down- doctors destroy health, psychiatrists destroy minds, lawyers destroy justice, the major media destroy information, governments destroy freedom and religions destroy spirituality - yet it is claimed to be healthy, just, informed, free and spiritual. We live in a social system whose community, wealth, love and life is derived from alienation, poverty, self-hate and medical murder - yet we tell ourselves that it is biologically and ecologically sustainable.

The Bush plan to screen whole US population for mental illness clearly indicates that mental illness starts at the top.

Rev Dr Michael Ellner

On Sun, 19 Dec 2004, R.A. Hettinga wrote:

...

Date: Sun, 19 Dec 2004 10:25:32 -0500 From: R.A. Hettinga <rah@shipwright.com> To: cypherpunks@al-qaeda.net Subject: Coffee, Tea, or Should We Feel Your Pregnant Wife's Breasts Before Throwing You in a Cell at the Airport and Then Lying About Why We Put You There?

<http://www.lewrockwell.com/orig3/monahan1.html>

LewRockwell.com

Coffee, Tea, or Should We Feel Your Pregnant Wife's Breasts Before Throwing You in a Cell at the Airport and Then Lying About Why We Put You There?

by Nicholas Monahan

? ?? ?? ??

This morning I'll be escorting my wife to the hospital, where the doctors will perform a caesarean section to remove our first child. She didn't want to do it this way - neither of us did - but sometimes the Fates decide otherwise. The Fates or, in our case, government employees.

On the morning of October 26th Mary and I entered Portland International Airport, en route to the Las Vegas wedding of one of my best friends. Although we live in Los Angeles, we'd been in Oregon working on a film, and up to that point had had nothing but praise to shower on the city of Portland, a refreshing change of pace from our own suffocating metropolis.

At the security checkpoint I was led aside for the "inspection" that's all the rage at airports these days. My shoes were removed. I was told to take off my sweater, then to fold over the waistband of my pants. My baseball hat, hastily jammed on my head at 5 AM, was removed and assiduously examined ("Anything could be in here, sir," I was told, after I asked what I could hide in a baseball hat. Yeah. Anything.) Soon I was standing on one foot, my arms stretched out, the other leg sticking out in front of me `la a DUI test. I began to get pissed off, as most normal people would. My anger increased when I realized that the newly knighted federal employees weren't just examining me, but my 712 months pregnant wife as well. I'd originally thought that I'd simply been randomly selected for the more excessive than normal search. You know, Number 50 or whatever. Apparently not though - it was both of us. These are your new threats, America: pregnant accountants and their sleepy husbands flying to weddings.

After some more grumbling on my part they eventually finished with me and I went to retrieve our luggage from the x-ray machine. Upon returning I found my wife sitting in a chair, crying. Mary rarely cries, and certainly not in public. When I asked her what was the matter, she tried to quell her tears and sobbed, "I'm sorry...it's...they touched my breasts...and..." That's all I heard. I marched up to the woman who'd been examining her and shouted, "What did you do to her?" Later I found out that in addition to touching her swollen breasts - to protect the American citizenry - the employee had asked that she lift up her shirt. Not behind a screen, not off to the side - no, right there, directly in front of the hundred or so passengers standing in line. And for you women who've been pregnant and worn maternity pants, you know how ridiculous those things look. "I felt like a clown," my wife told me later. "On display for all these people, with the cotton panel on my pants and my stomach sticking out. When I sat down I just lost my composure and began to cry. That's when you walked up."

Of course when I say she "told me later," it's because she wasn't able to tell me at the time, because as soon as I demanded to know what the federal employee had done to make her cry, I was swarmed by Portland police officers. Instantly. Three of them, cinching my arms, locking me in handcuffs, and telling me I was under arrest. Now my wife really began to cry. As they led me away and she ran alongside, I implored her to calm down, to think of the baby, promising her that everything would turn out all right. She faded into the distance and I was shoved into an elevator, a cop holding each arm. After making me face the corner, the head honcho told that I was under arrest and that I wouldn't be flying that day - that I was in fact a "menace."

It took me a while to regain my composure. I felt like I was one of those guys in The Gulag Archipelago who, because the proceedings all seem so unreal, doesn't fully realize that he is in fact being arrested in a public place in front of crowds of people for...for what? I didn't know what the crime was. Didn't matter. Once upstairs, the officers made me remove my shoes and my hat and tossed me into a cell. Yes, your airports have prison cells, just like your amusement parks, train stations, universities, and national forests. Let freedom reign.

After a short time I received a visit from the arresting officer. "Mr. Monahan," he started, "Are you on drugs?"

Was this even real? "No, I'm not on drugs."

"Should you be?"

"What do you mean?"

"Should you be on any type of medication?"

"No."

"Then why'd you react that way back there?"

You see the thinking? You see what passes for reasoning among your domestic shock troops these days? Only "whackos" get angry over seeing the woman they've been with for ten years in tears because someone has touched her breasts. That kind of reaction - love, protection - it's mind-boggling! "Mr. Monahan, are you on drugs?" His snide words rang inside my head. This is my wife, finally pregnant with our first child after months of failed attempts, after the depressing shock of the miscarriage last year, my wife who'd been walking on a cloud over having the opportunity to be a mother...and my anger is simply unfathomable to the guy standing in front of me, the guy who earns a living thanks to my taxes, the guy whose family I feed through my labor. What I did wasn't normal. No, I reacted like a drug addict would've. I was so disgusted I felt like vomiting. But that was just the beginning.

An hour later, after I'd been gallantly assured by the officer that I wouldn't be attending my friend's wedding that day, I heard Mary's voice outside my cell. The officer was speaking loudly, letting her know that he was planning on doing me a favor... which everyone knows is never a real favor. He wasn't going to come over and help me work on my car or move some furniture. No, his "favor" was this: He'd decided not to charge me with a felony.

Think about that for a second. Rapes, car-jackings, murders, arsons - those are felonies. So is yelling in an airport now, apparently. I hadn't realized, though I should have. Luckily, I was getting a favor, though. I was merely going to be slapped with a misdemeanor.

"Here's your court date," he said as I was released from my cell. In addition, I was banned from Portland International for 90 days, and just in case I was thinking of coming over and hanging out around its perimeter, the officer gave me a map with the boundaries highlighted, sternly warning me against trespassing. Then he and a second officer escorted us off the grounds. Mary and I hurriedly drove two and a half hours in the rain to Seattle, where we eventually caught a flight to Vegas. But the officer was true to his word - we missed my friend's wedding. The fact that he'd been in my own wedding party, the fact that a once in a lifetime event was stolen from us - well, who cares, right?

Upon our return to Portland (I'd had to fly into Seattle and drive back down), we immediately began contacting attorneys. We aren't litigious people - we wanted no money. I'm not even sure what we fully wanted. An apology? A reprimand? I don't know. It doesn't matter though, because we couldn't afford a lawyer, it turned out. $4,000 was the average figure bandied about as a retaining fee. Sorry, but I've got a new baby on the way. So we called the ACLU, figuring they existed for just such incidents as these. And they do apparently...but only if we were minorities. That's what they told us.

In the meantime, I'd appealed my suspension from PDX. A week or so later I got a response from the Director of Aviation. After telling me how, in the aftermath of 9/11, most passengers not only accept additional airport screening but welcome it, he cut to the chase:

"After a review of the police report and my discussions with police staff, as well as a review of the TSA's report on this incident, I concur with the officer's decision to take you into custody and to issue a citation to you for disorderly conduct. That being said, because I also understand that you were upset and acted on your emotions, I am willing to lift the Airport Exclusion Order...."

Attached to this letter was the report the officer had filled out. I'd like to say I couldn't believe it, but in a way, I could. It's seemingly becoming the norm in America - lies and deliberate distortions on the part of those in power, no matter how much or how little power they actually wield.

The gist of his report was this: From the get go I wasn't following the screener's directions. I was "squinting my eyes" and talking to my wife in a "low, forced voice" while "excitedly swinging my arms." Twice I began to walk away from the screener, inhaling and exhaling forcefully. When I'd completed the physical exam, I walked to the luggage screening area, where a second screener took a pair of scissors from my suitcase. At this point I yelled, "What the %*&$% is going on? This is &*#&$%!" The officer, who'd already been called over by one of the screeners, became afraid for the TSA staff and the many travelers. He required the assistance of a second officer as he "struggled" to get me into handcuffs, then for "cover" called over a third as well. It was only at this point that my wife began to cry hysterically.

There was nothing poetic in my reaction to the arrest report. I didn't crumple it in my fist and swear that justice would be served, promising to sacrifice my resources and time to see that it would. I simply stared. Clearly the officer didn't have the guts to write down what had really happened. It might not look too good to see that stuff about the pregnant woman in tears because she'd been humiliated. Instead this was the official scenario being presented for the permanent record. It doesn't even matter that it's the most implausible sounding situation you can think of. "Hey, what the...godammit, they're taking our scissors, honey!" Why didn't he write in anything about a monkey wearing a fez?

True, the TSA staff had expropriated a pair of scissors from our toiletries kit - the story wasn't entirely made up. Except that I'd been locked in airport jail at the time. I didn't know anything about any scissors until Mary told me on our drive up to Seattle. They'd questioned her about them while I was in the bowels of the airport sitting in my cell.

So I wrote back, indignation and disgust flooding my brain.

"[W]hile I'm not sure, I'd guess that the entire incident is captured on video. Memory is imperfect on everyone's part, but the footage won't lie. I realize it might be procedurally difficult for you to view this, but if you could, I'd appreciate it. There's no willful disregard of screening directions. No explosion over the discovery of a pair of scissors in a suitcase. No struggle to put handcuffs on. There's a tired man, early in the morning, unhappily going through a rigorous procedure and then reacting to the tears of his pregnant wife."

Eventually we heard back from a different person, the guy in charge of the TSA airport screeners. One of his employees had made the damning statement about me exploding over her scissor discovery, and the officer had deftly incorporated that statement into his report. We asked the guy if he could find out why she'd said this - couldn't she possibly be mistaken? "Oh, can't do that, my hands are tied. It's kind of like leading a witness - I could get in trouble, heh heh." Then what about the videotape? Why not watch that? That would exonerate me. "Oh, we destroy all video after three days."

Sure you do.

A few days later we heard from him again. He just wanted to inform us that he'd received corroboration of the officer's report from the officer's superior, a name we didn't recognize. "But...he wasn't even there," my wife said.

"Yeah, well, uh, he's corroborated it though."

That's how it works.

"Oh, and we did look at the videotape. Inconclusive."

But I thought it was destroyed?

On and on it went. Due to the tenacity of my wife in making phone calls and speaking with relevant persons, the "crime" was eventually lowered to a mere citation. Only she could have done that. I would've simply accepted what was being thrown at me, trumped up charges and all, simply because I'm wholly inadequate at performing the kowtow. There's no way I could have contacted all the people Mary did and somehow pretend to be contrite. Besides, I speak in a low, forced voice, which doesn't elicit sympathy. Just police suspicion.

Weeks later at the courthouse I listened to a young DA awkwardly read the charges against me - "Mr. Monahan...umm...shouted obscenities at the airport staff...umm... umm...oh, they took some scissors from his suitcase and he became...umm...abusive at this point." If I was reading about it in Kafka I might have found something vaguely amusing in all of it. But I wasn't. I was there. Living it.

I entered a plea of nolo contendere, explaining to the judge that if I'd been a resident of Oregon, I would have definitely pled "Not Guilty." However, when that happens, your case automatically goes to a jury trial, and since I lived a thousand miles away, and was slated to return home in seven days, with a newborn due in a matter of weeks...you get the picture. "No Contest" it was. Judgment: $250 fine.

Did I feel happy? Only $250, right? No, I wasn't happy. I don't care if it's twelve cents, that's money pulled right out of my baby's mouth and fed to a disgusting legal system that will use it to propagate more incidents like this. But at the very least it was over, right? Wrong.

When we returned to Los Angeles there was an envelope waiting for me from the court. Inside wasn't a receipt for the money we'd paid. No, it was a letter telling me that what I actually owed was $309 - state assessed court costs, you know. Wouldn't you think your taxes pay for that - the state putting you on trial? No, taxes are used to hire more cops like the officer, because with our rising criminal population - people like me - hey, your average citizen demands more and more "security."

Finally I reach the piece de resistance. The week before we'd gone to the airport my wife had had her regular pre-natal checkup. The child had settled into the proper head down position for birth, continuing the remarkable pregnancy she'd been having. We returned to Portland on Sunday. On Mary's Monday appointment she was suddenly told, "Looks like your baby's gone breech." When she later spoke with her midwives in Los Angeles, they wanted to know if she'd experienced any type of trauma recently, as this often makes a child flip. "As a matter of fact..." she began, recounting the story, explaining how the child inside of her was going absolutely crazy when she was crying as the police were leading me away through the crowd.

My wife had been planning a natural childbirth. She'd read dozens of books, meticulously researched everything, and had finally decided that this was the way for her. No drugs, no numbing of sensations - just that ultimate combination of brute pain and sheer joy that belongs exclusively to mothers. But my wife is also a first-time mother, so she has what is called an "untested" pelvis. Essentially this means that a breech birth is too dangerous to attempt, for both mother and child. Therefore, she's now relegated to a c-section - hospital stay, epidural, catheter, fetal monitoring, stitches - everything she didn't want. Her natural birth has become a surgery.

We've tried everything to turn that baby. Acupuncture, chiropractic techniques, underwater handstands, elephant walking, moxibustion, bending backwards over pillows, herbs, external manipulation - all to no avail. When I walked into the living room the other night and saw her plaintively cooing with a flashlight turned onto her stomach, yet another suggested technique, my heart almost broke. It's breaking now as I write these words.

I can never prove that my child went breech because of what happened to us at the airport. But I'll always believe it. Wrongly or rightly, I'll forever think of how this man, the personification of this system, has affected the lives of my family and me. When my wife is sliced open, I'll be thinking of him. When they remove her uterus from her abdomen and lay it on her stomach, I'll be thinking of him. When I visit her and my child in the hospital instead of having them with me here in our home, I'll be thinking of him. When I assist her to the bathroom while the incision heals internally, I'll be thinking of him.

There are plenty of stories like this these days. I don't know how many I've read where the writer describes some breach of civil liberties by employees of the state, then wraps it all up with a dire warning about what we as a nation are becoming, and how if we don't put an end to it now, then we're in for heaps of trouble. Well you know what? Nothing's going to stop the inevitable. There's no policy change that's going to save us. There's no election that's going to put a halt to the onslaught of tyranny. It's here already - this country has changed for the worse and will continue to change for the worse. There is now a division between the citizenry and the state. When that state is used as a tool against me, there is no longer any reason why I should owe any allegiance to that state.

And that's the first thing that child of ours is going to learn.

December 21, 2002

Nick Monahan works in the film industry. He writes out of Los Angeles where he lives with his wife and as of December 18th, his beautiful new son.

On Mon, 2004-12-20 at 11:56 -0500, Tyler Durden wrote:

Well, there's a TINY little hole in your logic here...

[J.A. Terranson wrote:]

...

Scale of distance is the only difference. Either you support the system or you don't. I don't: I either drive to jobs (charging for mileage) or I pass on them, rather than take part in the police state that is todays air system. You have the very same choices. The argument eveyone is making here is that it is too much of an inconvenience (financial or otherwise), *not* to fly. Sorry, but that's just pure self-serving BS.

For one, Flying can easily be a requirement, not an option. But that's besides the point here.

The real point is that some Super-JAT could (5 years from now when there are ubiquitous highway checkpoints) argue that "walking from NYC to Boston may be difficult but it IS possible". Or of course (after Tenent's vision for the internet is realized) "You could simply Fedex those files, you don't need to use the internet"

Agreed, if you want or need to get between cities faster than land-based travel will allow, flying is in fact a requirement. That was, in fact, my point. (Would anyone actually resort to walking between NYC and Boston?) As an aside, I often jokingly used the phrase "the only broadband connections we would have would be UPS and FedEx" back in the days when DSL and cable modem connections were not as ubitiquous (yes I know satellite is also an option but it's $DEITY-awful slow and only usable for the most basic of needs). However, regulation of the Internet such that couriers would be the only feasible way to move large amounts of data around (burned to CD or DVD as the case may be) is not a joking matter in the least. -- Shawn K. Quinn <skquinn@speakeasy.net>

On Mon, 20 Dec 2004, Shawn K. Quinn wrote:

Agreed, if you want ^^^^

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is what it boils down to. You *want* things your own way, but you are too fucking spoiled to fight fo it - so instead you whine and moan. Put up or shut up. Either you fight it with your most effective weapon (dollars), or you actively support it (again, with dollars). There is no middle ground. -- Yours, J.A. Terranson sysadmin@mfn.org 0xBD4A95BF Civilization is in a tailspin - everything is backwards, everything is upside down- doctors destroy health, psychiatrists destroy minds, lawyers destroy justice, the major media destroy information, governments destroy freedom and religions destroy spirituality - yet it is claimed to be healthy, just, informed, free and spiritual. We live in a social system whose community, wealth, love and life is derived from alienation, poverty, self-hate and medical murder - yet we tell ourselves that it is biologically and ecologically sustainable. The Bush plan to screen whole US population for mental illness clearly indicates that mental illness starts at the top. Rev Dr Michael Ellner

On Tue, 21 Dec 2004, Tyler Durden wrote:

put it this way it starts to make some sense. In other words, avoiding travel whenever possible will (when added to sheeple starting to do the same because of all the terible screening stories) eventually start putting some squeeze on the airlines.

I expect that "eventually" in this context would == (hours to [one or two] days)

(But then again, DC has plenty of our tax dollars ready to bail out an incompetent set of airline managers.) It won't hurt at least.

Even DC can't bail out *all* the airlines. That kind of boycott *would* hurt, and hurt badly. And *fast*.

As for the former, I am suprised you even need examples...asking for them weakens your main point. There are plenty of examples to be had, and I'll give you an easy one. You're a hot looking, leggy and not super-bright saleschick that ALWAYS makes the sale in person (read: Big Bonuses), and much less frequently over the phone (read: failed sales quotas and eventual layoff). Your territory is "Northwest" meaning Oregon, NO Cal, Washington, Vancouver, and lots of those weird states over there like Idaho and whatnot. You can't possibly drive fast enough to make all your meetings in your territory. Will you...

1) Phone it in 2) Do some kind of lameass video conferencing 3) Fly 4) Get a job at McDonalds

First of all, this is a *great* example of why flying is an *option*, and not a "requirement". That said, option number 4 is the obvious choice - however, our leggy bimbo's mileage may vary. The people of this country have long lost their voice for anything but whining about how bad things are. Since collectively, our economic voice is our loudest voice, it is the one that should be used for the effecting of immediate and comprehensive change. The various non-arguments against this all amount to the same thing: "we want change, but we don't want to have to do anything that might also have any kind of unpleasantness associated with it". Fuck that shit. Either you believe that this shit is wrong, and you are willing to put your money where your mouth is, or you can STFU when the nice TSA lady jams her fist up your ass looking for a reason to show you who's really in charge here. -- Yours, J.A. Terranson sysadmin@mfn.org 0xBD4A95BF Civilization is in a tailspin - everything is backwards, everything is upside down- doctors destroy health, psychiatrists destroy minds, lawyers destroy justice, the major media destroy information, governments destroy freedom and religions destroy spirituality - yet it is claimed to be healthy, just, informed, free and spiritual. We live in a social system whose community, wealth, love and life is derived from alienation, poverty, self-hate and medical murder - yet we tell ourselves that it is biologically and ecologically sustainable. The Bush plan to screen whole US population for mental illness clearly indicates that mental illness starts at the top. Rev Dr Michael Ellner

On Tue, Dec 21, 2004 at 11:57:08AM -0600, Shawn K. Quinn wrote:

If you *need* to get to Hawaii, Puerto Rico, etc., driving, riding Greyhound, or riding Amtrak are NOT OPTIONS.

Emigration is always an option, though. Quite a few have done that already. -- Eugen* Leitl <a href="http://leitl.org">leitl</a> ______________________________________________________________ ICBM: 48.07078, 11.61144 http://www.leitl.org 8B29F6BE: 099D 78BA 2FD3 B014 B08A 7779 75B0 2443 8B29 F6BE http://moleculardevices.org http://nanomachines.net [demime 1.01d removed an attachment of type application/pgp-signature]

The subject header is very nice. --- "J.A. Terranson" <measl@mfn.org> wrote:

Several points come to mind:

(1) Mr. Monahan seems to think that lies on police reports are an artifact of 9/11. Welcome to the real world Mr. Monahan.

You say that like it's a bad thing. The real world, that is. Most people find that the real world isn't all bad, and get on with their lives.

(2) Monahan, and those like him who continue to fly, have nobody to blame but themselves: if you continue to feed these assholes by buying those tickets, then you have it coming: simple economics. If people refuse to fly, this will stop.

Oh, it's even simpler to deal with than that. Technology (for real this time) will eventually make air travel, at it's current state-of-the-art, obsolete, thus obviating the immediate inconveniences that spur like complaints. It's all simply a matter of obtaining the proper perspective.

(3) As to the ACLU, again, welcome to the real world. Many of us have been down that road before you Mr. Monahan - while the ACLU is not a bad thing per se, they are a lot like the cops and courts: they are not there for any one individual, there are there for "the big picture". And the Big Picture requires money, which means you must be a minority (since how can anyone of the majority ever be "oppressed"?). In a nutshell, Fuck The ACLU.

This is fairly cogent. In the real world, large bureaucracies are not so good at handling a wide variety of different things. Corporations usually specialize in one major product area, and don't do so well when they expand into areas that differ too much from their core product. Don't blame the ACLU too much, it's really not their fault if they fail to fully leverage their expertise and influence in every single case.

(4) Lastly, as to your cesarian, fuck you and your wife, and her cesearean. We don't give a shit about your personal problems, just like you don't care about ours. Sure, it makes for a pulpy little story, but

That's strange. I find that one's personal life is never really much of a concern to for most people in our society. I know a large number of people, personally, who give virtually no thought to their own lives outside of work. Myself, I am also inclined in that direction. Today, most of the people I know are out satisfying their Christmas obligations. And while those who choose to enjoy the season are fully engaged in the spirit of merrymaking, it is very nice that at least the holiday is entirely voluntary. So far, I have not had to fight off any Christmas carolers, nor have I received any unpleasant gifts (although I will tell you more later about the non-Jewish group I saw recently that seemed to be confused by Chanukah). Which is why, incidentally, that I rarely have to care about my personal life. As much as can be expected, my personal life caries on in the best way possible, thus requiring none of the time and attention that would be better directed elsewhere.

when you get right down to it, do we really care? No. Because, again, you helped to create this beast you are now bitching about, and after it bit you, you *continued to fly*, and thereby feed it some more.

These things happen from time to time. The best advice that you could give to the original author would be to suggest that he relax and wait until the incident passes. Regards, Steve (Sent only to Mr. Terranson yesterday, thought it would amuse the list and so resent.) ______________________________________________________________________ Post your free ad now! http://personals.yahoo.ca