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?

[Tyler Durden]

"(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 at mfn.org>
>To: "R.A. Hettinga" <rah at shipwright.com>
>CC: cypherpunks at 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 at 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 at shipwright.com>
> > To: cypherpunks at 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.