When someone puts their hand on the package of Og

that they get this odd expression on their face.

No, it hasn’t happened for years, but I used to really look forward to that moment, when a woman slid her hand south and got a handful (or three) she didn’t expect. The open mouth, the wide eyes. the questions- ‘Do you have a hernia? Is there a marmoset in your pocket? why isn’t your voice deeper? ‘

South Park notwithstanding, women do not seem to like large balls. So, every one who has experienced them up close and personal has worked (or so they claim) very hard to purge the memory from their system. Some use alcohol, some have contemplated lobotomies.

One way or another, I suspect it’s a good thing. Having hundreds of TSA goons sitting alone at night in their rooms, lights off, drinking that sensation out of their heads, can only be good. Maybe eventually they’ll all go barking mad and we’ll go back to “Normal” airport security, where grannies and six year old cubscouts with dull pocketknives are left alone, and muslims get stripsearched and sedated for the duration of the flight.