Saturday, November 7, 2009

Talking To Myself

A while back (Sept.?) there was a little dust up between Atlanta TSA (airport security) and a mommy blogger. The metal detector went off when she and her son went through and after that we have two different stories. TSA posted video tapes to back their side of the story, mommy blogger claims they're 1) incomplete or 2) edited and don't show that her young son was taken from her. Her blog was very emotional and created quite a stir. But in the end it appeared mommy may have fudged a few facts for journalistic impact. She's standing by her blog entry tho. Creative license she says. Doing the old "that's my story and I'm stickin' to it."

Many were outraged. "Why would you lie?" they asked. Why indeed. Someone else printed off the hits on her site. The site which has advertising. The site which had a minimal amount of traffic. The site which then zoomed to over 200,000 hits in one day.

Oh.

Call me a cynic. But money talks. Always has. Always will.

Fast forward. This morning. Farm Boy was sitting in his easy chair, reading the newspaper while the TV was on. I was listening to the news/morning show and they were talking about waiting in lines...grocery store lines, traffic jams, airport security lines...TSA.

Ahh, good ol' TSA.

So, just as he was finishing with his paper and started to lay it aside I began to recount the story above. But the poor man... for the life of him he could not focus on me for more than one second.

 Did I mention the TV was on?

So, no newspaper, but now his eyes darted from me to the TV. Back to me. Back to the TV...

TV just isn't that fascinating.

Is it?

But then obviously neither was I. So I quit talking. It took him a few moments to notice. Then he impatiently said, "yeh, and...TSA and something..." I just shook my head. "No", I said, "I'm through." He got this really annoyed look on his face and got all snitty. Apparently I was being difficult.

"Really, it wasn't that important." I said.

But thanks for making sure I understood that.
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