Raven would have been 90 today, and I pay homage to his memory. I think I blanked out his 98th last year- I was just learning how to walk again, and had other things on my mind, I think. So much has changed since he took his leave with Big Mama a year and a half ago, and life does indeed go on.

In fact, it has flat out run over me the last week or so. A week ago I was humping stuff out of the old unit and into the new one. Less than a week ago I got out from under that awful mortgage. Last weekend I was unloading yet more crap into the garage at the farm, and packing to visit the sprawling river town of St. Louis.

Yesterday, I was realizing that the TSA was going to put its clammy hands on me- and maybe my junk- because of the suspenders I was wearing. I should have gone with the Canadian look: belt AND suspenders, just in case, since I could have shed one of the other (though not both) and kept my pants from descending to my ankles in public. Raven would have approved.

Unfortunately it is all or nothing with the TSA folks.

You know how these things spiral out of control. I had planned on driving out to the Gateway City, because I don’t like the agony of modern flying, and have significant issues with the constitutionality of the Transportation Security Agency regarding my junk. I understand the need for enhanced measures to protect the traveling public, but the way this trip played out, there was entirely too much going on to spend two days on the road on either end of the convention in St. Louis, so flying it was.

I was taking almost nothing, a single carry-on bag, but that naturally meant no booze or weapons, and jeeze, what fun is travel without those?

The suspenders are what put it over the top. I was looking for a loopy country-lawyer look at the conference, so the seersucker suit with jaunty clip-on bow tie was the way I was going to approach it. The trousers are held up by bright red suspenders, which feature two tiny brass clips to adjust the length of the braces.

You know that drives them crazy, and I should have realized it, too. I mean, there is a constitutional right to look as ridiculous as I want, part of the pursuing happiness thing, but the TSA asserts a right to fondle my personal parts if I exercise the right. It is a conundrum.

Mostly the Department of Homeland Security and me have a cordial, if somewhat stand-offish, arrangement. I try to stay away from them, and will do just about anything to avoid circumstances where I have to encounter the National Security State and their prying digits. It simply was not going to happen in the Saint Louis International Airport.

I had a choice. I could have stepped into the men’s room and disrobed so I could unbutton the suspenders from the trousers, but that could leave me with a wardrobe malfunction in line with my fellow travelers, and potentially a more humiliating situation than simply having to “assume the position.”

I could respectfully decline to be searched, citing the 4th Amendment, which reads something like:

“The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.”

I am reasonably confident that my suspenders are covered as being “effects,” since they certainly have the effect of keeping my pants up, though I am equally confident that the TSA would peevishly detain me at least long enough result in missing the flight.

I was thinking about that, and the Yemen Terror Threat, which resulted in the deployment of VIPR teams from TSA to Union Station and other rail hubs on the east coast. You may have heard of them, or worse, actually seen them. The TSA Visible Intermodal Prevention and Response Teams were deployed to look for terrorists on AMTRAK trains and platforms.

Don’t get huffy with me- this is a purely bi-partisan violation of our rights. They were set up in the wake of the Madrid train bombings under Mr. Bush, though they are burgeoning under Mr. Obama, growing from dozens to hundreds in number. Maybe you saw that YouTube clips of the Feds searching a four year old in one of their first outings?

This was not at an airport, by the way. The VIPRs showed up at the train station, established a security perimeter and started searching the prospective passengers.

Apparently the intermodal thing is asserted to include “airplanes, ships, trains and highway vehicles,” though there are not enough VIPRs to shut down I-66 at rush hour and make us assume the position.

I have tried to puzzle my way through the appropriate response to these manifestations of the New Security State, and had an exchange with a pal the other day about how to handle a future encounter with VIPRs away from the metal detector at the airport.

We put up with them there- and I just did it again yesterday- in order to get where we are going. I knew I was going to get fondled because I was wearing my suspenders.

I said the hell with it, and let them put their hands on me. I really wanted to get home.

But if the VIPRs are not between me and a plane or train, what are the magic words to use?

“Officer, are you detaining me? And if so, may I see your warrant? If not, I will exercise my constitutional rights and be on my way?”

I am reasonably confident that would make the VIPRs peevish. It certainly is an interesting country these days, wouldn’t you agree?

Copyright 2013 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Twitter @jayare303