Invasion of the Body Scanners

Well, I've booked my flight to Vegas.  If you don't mind spending a day transferring from airport to air and back again (and who does?), it's still pretty cheap. I'm dreading having to pass through multiple security checkpoints, though. I just know those body scanners are going to slow me down. They get one good look at what I'm packing, and I'll get flagged for "private searches" every time. In this crazy war on terror, no one ever thinks of the cost to my people.  Singled out, stared at, subjected to leers and suspicion.  My whole life has been one of being ostracized and feared by 'normals', and this is just one more example.  And now I've brought a son into this world? Well I say "No More!"  This must end!  The well-endowed have rights too!  I am not a piece of meat, people. I am a human being. Some days I curse my magnificent manhood. Is it impressive? Yes. Is it useful? Sometimes. Say, to win a bar bet. Or, depending on the mood, clean cobwebs out of the corners of my ceiling.  But at what cost?  I have a right to fly the friendly skies unmolested. I have a right to walk through a supermarket without being accused of shoplifting.  I have a right to follow my dreams. I tried to join one of those puppetry troops, and they told me my Eiffel Tower was structurally unsound! They couldn't get insurance to cover any damage should it collapse.  A flight to Vegas used to be my only escape from it all. At home among the other freaks and garish displays; a brief respite from the prying eyes and scared whispers. And now the terrorists have taken that away from me. Consider yourself lucky, my average friends. Consider yourself lucky.