Sunday, November 21, 2010

Frankly Bonkers

Those fingers down your pants.
That arms-out-legs-spread stance.
That strips you with a glance.
It's search-craft.

And you've got no defense for it.
The cry is too immense for it.
Much good would common sense for it do.

'Cause it's search-craft, silly search-craft,
And although it's broken most strict taboos.

When knickers set to 'splodiate
TSA cannot hesitate.
Reduce fatality rates for you.

It's such a crazy pitch.
"We'll keep you safe"--that's rich!
Jihad, you see's, the glitch.
We're screwed!

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