In his hilarious piece testing out the TSA’s new pat-down procedures, Atlantic writer Jeffrey Goldberg gives us a little TMI. “We have to search up your thighs and between your legs until we meet resistance,” the security officer tells him when he opts for the physical pat-down over a trip through the notorious back-scatter imager.
“Resistance?” I asked.
“Your testicles,” he explained.
’That’s funny,” I said, “because ‘The Resistance’ is the actual name I’ve given to my testicles.”
He answered, “Like ‘The Situation,’ that guy from `Jersey Shore?’”
Yes, exactly, I said. (I used to call my testicles “The Insurgency,” but those assholes in Iraq ruined the term.)
We suppose, though, that like the pat-down procedures themselves, this anecdote reveals both too much and not enough. If that’s what he calls his balls, what does the award-winning writer call his actual schlong?
For the First Time, the TSA Meets Resistance [Atlantic]
We suppose, though, that like the pat-down procedures themselves, this anecdote reveals both too much and not enough. If that’s what he calls his balls, what does the award-winning writer call his actual schlong?
For the First Time, the TSA Meets Resistance [Atlantic]
