If there’s a right way and a wrong way to start your vacation, then having the TSA spill mom’s ashes all over your khakis isn’t a hot beginning, right up there with having your plane hijacked and getting stuck next to someone who should’ve purchased three seats.
Hey you pieces of shit at @TSA next time you assholes feel the need to go thru my mother’s ashes for no reason, make sure you close it back so her remains aren’t spilled on all my clothes… the least you pieces of garbage can do is your fucking job pic.twitter.com/GcJDMXvWfO
— FRAN¢ (@AJFrancis410) July 9, 2018
TSA Spill Mom’s Ashes: Shockingly Not A Shock
First of all, let’s all come to the agreement that the TSA is really just a federal jobs program that’s been cheaply painted-over to make it look like we’re doing something about domestic terrorism; never mind the fact that I’m more scared of being shot at a school or mall than I am of somebody hijacking a plane. Do you know how hard it would be to hijack a plane these days? The minute you stand up and start making a fuss the whole plane legally obligated to lynch you right then and there, because it’s 2018 and we all just want to get to our destination in one fucking piece. The only exception here seems to be belligerent white women in their 40s, as the only people self-destructive enough to deal with them are the police:
See how those two dudes got the fuck outta her way as she stormed down the aisle? Socking a dude trying to take over the plane is one thing, but dealing with Midwest Marsha from Kentucky who just sat through eight hours of layovers is another.
Unsurprisingly, the TSA is largely ineffective at their jobs, which explains why I know several people who’ve flown with pill bottles of cocaine in their carry-ons and act like it’s akin to eating ice cream in a park. The TSA don’t fucking care. The TSA don’t care about the weed you’ve got stashed in that tampon applicator, but they’ll empty out all the liquids in my suitcase because apparently two bottles of shampoo equates to obliterating a plane mid-air. And if dear ol’ mom died and you’re trying to take her ashes home? May as well smuggle them up your ass onto the plane, because the TSA fucking hates your mom too, and they ESPECIALLY hate your khaki pants.