Dangerous cargo

I approve - don't we all? - of heightened security at airports and other public places, but I sometimes wonder if it's little more than window-dressing. Going through security in the States has become quite farcical in some ways. Because I have a pacemaker, I have a physical "patdown", usually by a nice filipino man who assures me in a soft voice that "I will only use the back of my hand for the more intimate parts, sir." So sweet.The shoes come off, of course, but nobody bothers to look at them. It's just ritual. And the last time I went through LA, the fingerprint bobby couldn't cope with the fact that the annular finger of my left hand is badly crooked. I explained to him that it was the result of Dupuitren's Contracture, but that didn't stop him spending twenty minutes - I don't exaggerate - determined to straighten it and get an imprint of the pad of the finger into his records.
Another thing that fascinates me is that they take the same information every time you enter the country. This means that they now have at least TWELVE Jake Allsop's on file, photos and prints and biodata, and all of them ME. If they ever set out to find me, they'd be running round like hot-arsed bluebottles.