It’s just like those wily Islamoaisleseatgrabbers to try and sneak onto an airplane posing as Muslim clerics jibber-jabbering in their weird moonman language saying things like “Allah” and “Ice Age: The Meltdown is the in-flight movie…again? Crap!”. But, in a post-9/11 world, you can’t slip anything by the sharp eyes of a nation of Annie Jacobsens.
Quite frankly, I know the feeling. Last Friday when the childlike and excitable mrs tbogg and I were at Disneyland, a family of four sat at the table next to us at the Pizza Port, joined hands, and commenced to pray before turning to their over-priced pizza slices. I hate to be, you know, one of those suspicious kind of people, but I couldn’t help but wonder if the father was one of those Christian family men I keep hearing about, who sneak off to cheap motels to smoke crank and indulge in tawdry (yet strangely exhilarating) gay sex with masseur-hookers.
I though about alerting security, but we had speedpasses for Buzz Lightyear Astro Blasters and I didn’t want to be late. While eternal vigilance may be the price of liberty, it won’t get you to the front of the line to blast Spaceislamicists.