pilderwasser

how the hell can a person go to work in the morning

come home in the evening, and have nothing to say...

are you with me here? sing it ...

make me a buckle

carved out of plastic

make me some bike shoes with plexiglass cleats

strippin down to my skivvies

just to get in the courthouse

strippin down to my skivvies

is just a hard way to go...

Recently, powers that be, have turned up the suck on the metal detectors in the courthouse. I’ve been taking off my shoes to get into federal court for years. While at King County I could stroll in with a pocket full of change, keys, spd cleats on my shoes, a big rodeo champ belt buckle and a hefty wrist watch. But not anymore, those days are over. Now I have to take off my shoes and even my boy scout belt if I want to get in without getting the hand wand hold-up.

I ain't done nothin since I woke up today 

6 Comments

That new lady sheriff really wants to see you in your red panties. P.S. Even I grew up with that song. Both the B.R. and John Prine versions

Every time at the Nesbit court house bag and jacket through the X-ray, my mini-tool left on the bike because they fear I might spontaneously fix someones bike, no metal on my person but my time cleats. Beep every time the wand job. "We both know it's the shoes" They used to be more of a pain until one of the lawyers when asked to remove his belt explained briefly that it would be quicker and easier to take his pants off and did so and walked through the metal detector.

right on. I do actually spend more time putting my shoes and belt back on than it takes to throw a courtesy copy for the judge at the clerk. And now that I'm all layered up perhaps I should just drop my pants and leave the belt looped in them and walk through

of course I am always in favor of droppin trou any time I can and I think that if it ups the efficiency level man I am on it. plus you wear those cool castelli shorts if I were you I ould be droppin it all over town 701 pike, purple, the rail, 2u come on you know

In Houston, I perfected the sideways, spread eagle, walk through. Change, keys, metal snaps all over my jacket. One of the old (retired FBI) federal security guards taught me how to beat the system. They had the juice turned up pretty high. You can't have one of several thousand disgruntled ex-Enron employees trying to kill Ken Lay when he goes to federal court for ripping off the whole country. The smirking face of Dick Cheney can only wart off so much good.

I like to think that my smelly feet were a factor in having them stop making us x-ray our shoes.

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