Don’t touch my junk is the anthem of the modern man, the Tea Party patriot, the late-life libertarian, the midterm-election voter. Don’t touch my junk, Obamacare — get out of my doctor’s examining room; I’m wearing a paper-thin gown slit down the back. Don’t touch my junk, Google — Street View is cool, but get off my street. Don’t touch my junk, you airport-security goon — my package belongs to no one but me, and do you really think I’m a Nigerian nut job preparing for my 72-virgin orgy by blowing my johnson to kingdom come?He thinks that the outrage the TSA has inspired will be a turning point:
The junk man’s revolt marks the point at which a docile public declares that it will tolerate only so much idiocy.I certainly hope he's right, but the forces of PC seem to be implacable.
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