Three Reasons Why the TSA is Wrong

If you've gone through TSA's new screening procedures you're likely to have an opinion on them. Some people don't think it's a big deal. Some are concerned about their health, and for others it's an issue of privacy. I was compelled to do a full body scan and a pat down before the new regulations were in place, and I have my opinions on these techniques. In short, I'm not a happy camper with the TSA. We've got some real issues here. These activities can be argued (and I am about to argue) to be in violation of many constitutional rights. Many have argued that they are totally ineffective, nothing more than a veritable dog and pony show to make people feel safer. Still further are arguments that they are rather Orwellian procedures. I'd like to take a few minutes and tackle some of these arguments head on.

One: Constitutional Issues

First, the very real Constitutional issue and the right to travel. I realize that there are really two constitutional questions here.
1) Do you have the right to travel as a US citizen and where, if anywhere, could the government abridge that right?
2) Does air travel fall within the purview of that right if it exists?

I'm going to address both at once, although honestly I think the second one is kind of silly. Nevertheless, I've heard it enough times that I feel like I have to contend with it.

I've read several comments and quotes from around the internets that suggest that travel isn't a right. Phrases like "You don't have to get on a plane" abound. There's this article that quotes a man as saying, "'Travel is not a birth-given right. It’s a choice. And it’s up to our government to make sure we’re safe while we do it.' He called Opt Out Day 'the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard of.'"

First off, let me correct this misconception now. If you're not a criminal convicted of a crime (or legitimately held under due process) you have the right to travel. Period. For details, keep reading.

But let's begin with the economic argument: Flying isn't just for fun, it is a critical part of our interstate and international commerce. The right to conduct interstate commerce is upheld over and over in a surfeit of circumstances by the Supreme Court. Still, you could argue that you don't have to use air travel to conduct your interstate commerce. True, you don't have to unless you live in America in the 21st century where air travel is a very important part of business. To suggest you don't have to travel is to suggest that you don't have to compete with other businesses using commonplace travel methods. As Art Carden argues in his OpEd in Forbes, "The TSA stands between me and those with whom I would like to trade, and I am not allowed to without their blessing."


Next up, let's consider that travel is considered by the Supreme Court to be a right.

And not just any right, but one that has been called, " virtually unconditional" (see quotes below).

357 U.S. 116 (1958) KENT v. DULLES(481)
Justice Douglas writes in the Court's opinion, "The right to travel is a part of the 'liberty' of which the citizen cannot be deprived without due process of law under the Fifth Amendment." In a nutshell he says that unless you are a criminal and have done something wrong the U.S. government does not have right to restrict you from any kind of travel.

Of course he gave an example of an exception to this liberty. Douglas writes that there are situations where the Government believed there was, "the gravest imminent danger to the public safety" which made legitimate curtailing some American's liberty to travel. However, he is specifically referring to the US sending Japanese Americans to internment camps during World War II. Oh, yeah, that thing.

If you're wondering if I just drew a parallel between full body scanners, pat downs and incarcerating American citizens, you're right. I did.

Let me drive this point home with one more quote from Kent v. Dulles

"Where activities or enjoyment, natural and often necessary to the well-being of an American citizen, such as travel, are involved, we will construe narrowly all delegated powers that curtail or dilute them. . . . We hesitate to find in this broad generalized power an authority to trench so heavily on the rights of the citizen."

Not only does this speak strongly to the limits to which the government can curtail travel, it says that it is a very narrow range on how travel can be curtailed. This case is specifically about a passport, but it clearly applies to any instrument related to making travel possible.



If you still think that travel can be restricted by the feds (or states for that matter - thank you 14th amendment) consider these:

In U.S. v Guest, 383 U.S. 745 (1966): the court said regarding travel that, "It is a right that has been firmly established and repeatedly recognized."

Shapiro v Thompson, 394 U.S. 618 (1969), Justice Stewart on travel: "it is a right broadly assertable against private interference as well as governmental action. Like the right of association, ... it is a virtually unconditional personal right, guaranteed by the Constitution to us all." (Check out http://www.usconstitution.net/constnot.html for some light reading on things you probably didn't realize about the Constitution.)


Two: MacGyver Could Blow That Plane Up With a Slinky in his Rectum
-or-
That Isn't Going to Stop Anything
-or-
TSA: the story of Pyrrhic victories


This is the section I'm most concerned with writing. As a kid I had a religious leader who worked for "the company" in a previous life. He wasn't a spook per se, but he did tell me about his job as some sort of doomsday situation comer-upper-with guy. Basically he sat in a room and thought of ways people could attack the U.S. and probably succeed. Turns out, that isn't a hard job if you play the, "how would someone try to take out this aircraft" game. I'll list a few really easy to spot weaknesses that exist that neither scanners or pat-downs won't catch:

Powdered binary explosives. They'll pass through the x-ray machine just fine. And no one cares about your body powder.

Detonators: You probably think explosives look like a lump of play dough with a switchboard full of wires hanging out of it. Well, you've seen too many movies. They call those "Hollywood Wires" for a reason. It's fake. All a detonator needs to be is something that can ignite easily and set off the main explosive. For military grade stuff like C4 or comp B, etc, you need a bigger charge. They are designed to be highly stable, and don't blow up easily. A SEAL team doesn't want something that goes boom if a stray bullet hits it. So what do you need? A hunk of wire with a chemical that gets really hot on it. "You mean like a match head" you say? Well, yeah, that stuff.

"Couldn't you make that crap at home easily and just coat it on a safety pin, headphones, or any of a thousand objects that are totally fine on a plane?" you ask. Well, no, unless you have access to Google. Oh, you do have Google? Well, crap, then you probably should be under observation by the ATF about now. You've got Google and probably access to everything you need to make the detonators!

Biological Agents: do you know how small coach is? Jet Blue has extra leg room, but seriously, you think it takes more than a couple CCs of some agent in a hairspray can to totally 'eff up a plane of people? Did you forget that Anthrax comes in powder form? "Well, yeah, but how would you spread it on a plane," you ask. Come on, really? You don't think someone who wants to take that kind of a risk couldn't get it past security? Do you really think they couldn't figure out a even kind of effective way of being a promulgator of death?

Chemical agents: see above.

The point is a drunk toddler could get passed our new security measures. And frankly, after being checked out by a TSA agent, I can't blame him for drinking.

Of course, if you can't disguise it and pass it through an x-ray machine, there's always your anus. Which, I believe will be the TSA's new motto for Christmas: "Clean Anus, Safe Flight." I got three letters for all you medical types out there: DRE. (No, it's not a rap reference.)

"But Nate," you ask flustered by my callous attitude towards security, "haven't plots been stopped." Yes! Yes they have. By hard working intelligence officers and analysts. By cargo screeners. By people on the plane.

What if we took some more logical steps like spent more on cargo screening or trained people on the proper use of profiling as Malcolm Gladwell explains here. (Ya know, racial profiling doesn't really work, but profiling can be a useful tool if you do it right.)


Three: The Moral Question: Do Guiding Principles Allow This?

I've always been a big believer that morals aren't just a philosophical or religious guide, but the results of practical application yielding good results. Somewhere along the way someone said, "Hey, I'm a lot happier if I really love, care for and am faithful to my spouse." After a while the idea probably resonated with a few people, and we got a moral. It works for a lot of reasons, and we don't really want to go into happiness here. (The Dalai Lama can help you with that.)

A principle or a moral describes how actions should be done when you can't predict outcomes. They're a kind of metaphysical equation. I don't know for sure where I'll end up if I drive X speed for Y time just by looking. But I can calculate that I'll be X*Y miles down the road. I'll probalby be off by a little distance because cars accelerate and decelerate, roads twist and have bumps. But I have a good idea of what will happen.

Above I discussed the Supreme Court's stance of travel as a fundamental liberty. in this case, I suggest that there are other fundamental principles at play. Unreasonable search, personal privacy, freedom from harassment, and perhaps most importantly the idea that the government serves its people and is subject to those who give it legitimacy.

As one explores these principles, it is pretty clear that most, if not all of them are being violated at some level by the TSA's screening process. Now the question I ask you to answer is where will it go? Do you have an answer? Can you predict? Unless you're Marty McFly, you don't and you can't. The best you have is the formula of these principles. That formula has served us well and still does. Of course, it is not a perfect formula. Moral systems never are. Even math and science formulas and postulates are off the mark by some measure. (Isaac Asimov suggests that we are never much more then "not as wrong" as we were before in most any idea. See The Relativity of Wrong for that philosophical debate.) However, if you violate them, you do so because you think you have a better method. Is a bureaucracy feeling you up and looking at you naked a good formula and principles to which we wish to subscribe?

This part's not for the kids: Let me give you an example of why privacy matters to so many. It may not bother you to have them looking at you naked. It bothers me because I know that someone back there will remember what that sexy 16-year-old girl looked like and will, I promise you, go home and enjoy himself to that mental image. It violates what Michael Shaara described in his novel Killer Angels, as the only Aristocracy that actually exists. It is you; it is in your head. That's what we've got, and it is my feeling that anything that violates that principle, anything that violates that moral is unwise and provides no protection.

Americans have their principles. If you can't solve a problem without trampling on them, you are not the right person for the job.

Violate our principles at your own risk, not mine.

It's a friggin Holodeck!

These guys are making freaking holodecks! Ok, not yet they're not, but that's where this is probably going.

http://english.ntdtv.com/ntdtv_en/ns_asia/2009-09-16/163021253061.html

You should be listening to:

Mumford and Sons. If you like indie/acoustic/awesome-ness, then may I suggest Mumford and Sons? What, you haven't heard of them? Well, that's surprising, they're quite good. Although, I must say, that despite the video below, I do not in any way support the riding of scooters - especially by anyone without two X chromosomes. (I'll leave the question of those with three chromosomes up to the medical metaphysicists out there.) I think it's probably best if you just pretend that they're not on scooters in this video. Or maybe just set up a Pandora station with Mumford and Sons as the seed.

Really though, guys, just buy a motorcycle. They cost about the same if you look in your local classifieds.

Zombie Ad

I heard this ad on the radio today and I think it is awesome. I have no affinity towards any laser type surgery or laser surgery provider, but at least these guys are pretty clever. (I usually do my own surgeries with a bottle of isopropyl alcohol, a good sharp knife, and WebMD up on my computer, but I digress.) Even if they were to botch your eye surgery horribly, at least they'll probably have a good sense of humor about it. I can't say if you will have a good sense of humor about it, but hey, this blog post isn't about you. Selfish, geeze.

A letter to Pez

Dear Pez Manufactures,

I have been a loyal user of your product for many years. You candy is both delicious and fun. I spent many hours as a youth grinding your candy into a more sortable form. Hours of fun for the whole neighborhood!

However, it has come to my attention that my Pez dispensers' base is structurally unsound. Both my Star Wars dispensers (despite use of the Force) and my giant Charlie Brown Pez Package dispenser fall over on a regular basis. I would expect this of a Wookie dispenser, but Darth is constantly falling over.

That's just implausible.

Please make the feet of Pez dispensers in proportion to their delicious candy bodies and comically oversize tilt back head.

Love,

Nate

A letter to My Public School Science Teachers

Dear Public School Science Teachers,

You told me that lift on an airplane wing was caused by air going faster over the top of an airfoil than it does on the bottom because of it's shape.

Please stop lying.

Please read this: NASA explains lift

Which reminds me: I remember an elementary school teacher telling me that a cloud, "sucked up water from the ocean and poured it out on land."

Not cool. Neither clouds nor my vacuum suck.

Love,

Nate

FedEx

I buy a lot of crap online. Between the roommates and I, the post man has actually taken the time to stop and discuss how much stuff shows up at our door. However, tomorrow it's a different story. This one's different.

It's a new cell phone. And it's fancy. It's glorious. It has an AMOLED display.

And it came with "free" overnight shipping. (Free gets quotes because the phone was ridiculously expensive.)

Since it shipped this morning, I can't help but keep pinging the FedEx website every 20 minutes to see if there is tracking progress. Sometimes more than that. I think I've looked at it 4 times while writing this post. I'm like freaking Melvin Udall (before a gay Greg Kinnear tried to take Helen Hunt away from him . . . )

Anyway not the point.

I was doing well in my happily neurotic state until my package stopped in Memphis. I've got no issue with Memphis in general. However, today, Tennessee is apparently under enough water that dolphins have started mating near the recording studios in Nashville. (This according to my analysis of what I thought I overheard someone say that they read on the ticker tape on CNN while eating lunch at the mall Chic-fil-a.)

I still can't stop hitting F5 over and over.

Well, I'm off to lock the door and go to bed. Then get out of bed, unlock the door and re-lock it then get back in bed. Then get out of bed, unlock the door . . . .

A letter to my Vacuum

Dear Vacuum,

You don't suck. And I mean that in the worst way possible.

Love,

Nate

A letter to the Windows 7 Team

Dear Windows 7 Team.

You've tricked me. Like an ugly girl with tight pants and a lot of makeup at 10 meters I was in love with you. Well, with your product anyway. Well, with the look of your product.

But that's it. You've scorned me for the last time. I was happily installing software when the installer couldn't write to it's own log file.

"Egad!" I exclaimed. "Why canst not the system write to the log of mine own x:\log directory? For I am an admin, yea even the greatest of all system users! Wherefore didst mine privileges run afoul of thee, oh Sir William?"

After much searching, I determined that I must not actually be the owner of the folders. I changed the owner of all the folder in the C drive to my domain user account. I further enabled permissions for additional groups and even tried sharing folders. Alas, the installer still can't write to the log directory.

And this isn't the first time you've performed such shenanigans with my permissions.

So that's it Windows 7. I'm not enamored with you anymore. Next time you want to protect a user from themselves, go find a Apple user.

Love,

Nate

A letter to CitiBank

Dear CitiBank,

You keep asking me to "Go Paperless." Recently, you started trying to bribe me with a so very tempting offer to be "one of 5" to win some money by "going paperless."

As side from the fact that "going paperless" sounds scandalous and oh so fun, why would you want me to switch so badly? Oh Citibank, you must really care about the environment, that's it!

Or is it possible you don't realize that I realize what you realized about printing and mailing costs? Er, uh, I mean you'll save a bloody fortune if you don't send me paper statements.

Let's make a deal Citibank. Spit the savings with me. You probably save at least $0.40 on business class mailing and at least another $0.60 on printing costs. In essence, you're saving $12 per customer per year. Why should I give you another $12.00? Let's make a deal: You give me $6 bucks a year and I'll switch.

Deal?

Well, probably not because no one reads this blog.

CEO Hole

There is a vortex around any CEO's office. And, much like a black hole, you can see the things that are going towards it, but eventually they get completely sucked in, and you can't hear or see anything from them. Nothing escapes, except for some x-ray emissions coming back out of the office as the captured human body is separated into its atoms and added to the infinantly dense singularity at it's center, which, given enough mass being introduced into the CEO's office (also known as a meeting), will actually rip a hole in space time.

I guess I'm saying, don't go in there.

Oroku Saki (But You May Call Me the Shredder)

I have a new business plan. I'm going to start one of those companies that goes around shredding your important confidential documents in the back of a giant truck. You know the kind I'm talking about -- you're office probably has one come in and shred your completely useless print outs of funny e-mails.

But I'm going to do it better. I'm going to put a scanner on the shredder feeder. I'll save each document to a hard drive, then sell the documents later.

I'll make a fortune selling your credit card statements!

Tiger Scroll

My roommate's parents work for the State Department in Bejing. I asked them if they wouldn't mind picking up a "Tiger Scroll" for me. Having seen Kungfu Panda several times, I was quite certian that the scroll would provide me with magical Kungfu Powers. I mean, like the Panda I'm lazy, enjoy cookies, and think I know Kung Fu (Also similar to Keanu Reeves . . . He also knows Kung Fu.)

To date, however, I'm afraid to report that the scroll is not working as designed. My martial arts prowess has not improved significantly. Of course, I can't help but wonder if it isn't because it was painted by a guy who makes twelve cents an hour and eats dirt to survive.

I guess what I'm really saying is that I do not, in fact, know Kung Fu.

Airborne Diseases

I went to an Air Show at Hill Air Force Base, and saw a Al-Quida operative.

How could I tell you ask? Well I'll explain.

For the most part, Air Show attendees are your average truck driving, right wing, blow crap up, republican, red-neck type, nut job type.

Then I saw her -- Early 20's, shorts so short her butt cheeks were hanging out, piercings all over her face and and a tramp stamp on her back . . . and arm . . . and stomach . . . and chest . . . and legs . . . and butt . . . and boob . . . well, you get the picture.

I first realized something was wrong when she walked in front of my chair and stood their eying the FA18 Hornet. The closer she got, the more I realized that I was in mortal danger of catching a disease by proximity, a process that biologists call a "Species Jump."

And that's when I realized, she was a walking biological weapon. All she needed to do was get on a plane and it was all over.

So I did what any conscientious citizen would do. Pointed out to everyone that she was hanging out of her tube top, giggled and went back to watching the FA18.

Chasing My Tail

So I'm following myself on my own blog, because I thought it was embarrassing to have it say, "No one is following this blog, be the first, because it is clearly so uninteresting that no one reads anything I put here. That's pretty loosery -- like sending yourself flowers, seeing a movie by yourself, or eating lunch alone at Burger King. What, not even the hobo in the corner would eat with you? Geeze, that's pathetic, you should send yourself some flowers.

Better Than Me

I once overheard someone being criticized for thinkging they were, "God's gift to Women." And then I realized how good it is to be narcissistic, because hey, no one is going to give me crap for believing I'm God's gift to me.

The Stuffy Head, Let Me Sleep When I Want Medicine

I had a cold, and so I bought some Nyquil. And some Dayquil.

First, let me tell you, I LOVE NyQuil. It's the closest I come to drinking, and man, I sip that little cup of cherry goodness for as long as possible.

But it has one downside: It makes you very sleepy. So sleepy, that one starts to wonder around the house muttering, "sweepy time for Naphan." Which, is pretty awesome when you've got a cold.

However, let's say you've got somewhere to be in the morning. NyQuil is the Stuffy nose, Stuffy head, make you sleep for 16 hours straight medicine.

DayQuil, however, has much the opposite affect (unless mixed with NyQuil, which is a whole different discussion.) That crap keeps me up.

So I ask you rhetorically, (unless you work for Vicks Pharmaceuticals, then I ask you specifically) Why do they have to make DayQuil and NyQuil? Why not SleepWheneverYouDamnWellPleaseQuil? Why must my Quil be related to my sleeping habits? I want medicine for my cold not my sleeping disorders.

Ikea is Swedish for Brainwash

The Swedes are evil. 100 % pure, 200 proof, complete and total evil.

All I wanted was a picture frame. And they manipulated me, confused me, possibly tortured me. I don't know how, but they've brain washed me to believing that I needed stuff -- A lot of stuff.

I walked in with a purpose. I needed one $10 item. A frame.

I bought 4 frames in two sizes. Three small accent lights. A floor lamp. A clock. A Rolling Pin. A Knife Sharpener. Glass Canisters. Some weird cable organizer thing, and a bunch of crap that I can't even identify at this point. What do I need glass canisters for? I'm a man. My flour came in a bag, it will stay in a bag. And that goes double for the sugar.

It's like a freaking pottery barn catalog exploded in here.

Then again, they provide a lot of convenient solutions for modern living. Bah! They've even infiltrated my blog!

Now if you'll excuse me I have to go get a new gun to undo all the gay left over from the "textiles" showrooms.

Freaking Swedes.

Giving the Toe

I got a pair of closed toed shoes. Well, sort of. They're Vibram Five Fingers. Think of it as a foot glove, each toe separated out. You're basically barefoot with a sole to protect you from heat and sharp rocks.

Now when my boss says I have to wear shoes, I can slip these bad boys on and give them the finger -- with a toe.

Score Bars

Does anyone else think that the Score Bars, the delicious toffee and chocolate candy bar, are ironically named? I mean, I just ate two of them, and I'm pretty sure that isn't going to help me score with anything, except maybe a hip-hop po-potamus.

Update: It turns out that one of the delicious candy bars was actually a Heath Bar; however, I have concern since I don't even know what a "Heath" is. For that that matter I don't even know what part of speech "Heath" is supposed to be -- is that an adjective, noun, verb or one of the less liked parts of speech? (That's right, I'm talking about you, gerund.)

In any case I feel less mislead by the Heath Bar people since I've never tried to "Heath" with anyone, so far as I know, and I feel more likely to attract a girl named Heath if I keep eating that much candy before bed. And that's what I really want in my candy. Truth about what I'll get after eating it.

Update 2: In a twist of fate, and after substantial additional and through Heath vs. Score Bar research, it turns out that I like the Score Bar better, despite what they've done to me. Delicious, ironic, despotic mistress of candy lies!

Magic Hobos

Why is it that hobos always have two things:

1) Cardboard
2) Really good magic markers.

I was looking in my house the other day for a magic marker and I couldn't find one to save my life. I buy bazillions of these things, but they're always missing.

Yet the guy with the "No food 3 days" sign has it written in thick, dark black ink -- all the signs of having access to a new high quality magic marker. Where did he get that marker if he couldn't afford food for three days? Maybe that marker was an investment, but I think something more sinister is happening.

At first I wondered if all the homeless guys get together and go in on a Costco pack of markers to save money. That's what I thought I would I'd do if I were homeless. Then I realized, I'd probably just come steal all you your magic markers, because chances are you bought a Costco pack of them at some point too.

And that's when I realized hobos have been stealing my markers, and probably yours too! So, the next time you see a hobo, instead of giving him money or a sandwich, tackle him and yell, "Give me back my marker, you thieving hobo!" At first he'll think you're trying to steal from him, but in the end he'll just give you the marker because he knows he stole it too.

Trying to Look Like Jesus

Yesterday in church I met Jesus. Not the Jesus, mind you, but a guy who looked a lot like him. I decided to institute a new policy due to this experience: Always be really nice to people who look like Jesus, because, hey, you never know.

GoDaddy (oh)

I just went to pay my Amex bill and found a charge for $143 from GoDaddy.com. Now, I know I have a hosting account with them, and I buy random domain names from time to time, but really, what the hell did I buy that auto renewed for $143 bucks -- www.I'mAMoronWhoBuysDomainsForNoReasonAndSetsThemTo
AutoRenewBecauseIDontCareAboutMyMoney.com?

Luckily I get 3% cash back so I'm only 97% as pissed as I otherwise would be.

Ye Elders O' Israel

So I, of all people, was called to be an Elder's Quorum teacher. Are they completely unaware of the shear quantity of blasphemy that I think is funny?

Fitches and Hoes

I saw a group of people the other day that looked like they fell out of an Abercrombe and Fitch catalog. The males of the group whom up until now I referred to as "Sweet Dudes" had their sweet dude attitude along with their sweet dude attire, and their sweet dude female counterparts. I noted that they looked like an nightmareish Ambercrombe catalog, to which my friend responded, that they're just a bunch of Fitches.

"Fitches and Hoes," I replied, "Fitches and Hoes."

Punctual Hippies

I've got a beef with the Harri Krishna temple. Earlier this year I tried to go to the Festival of Colors at the Harri Krishna temple. It was so crowded that we had to park some distance out. I was about a mile out when I saw a giant plume of colored powder go up, right at 5:45 PM, just when they're fliers said it would happen. Now I ask you, when did all hippies at this festival become so bloody punctual that when they say they're going to to chuck a bunch of powdered colors at each other that they do it at exactly the time they prescribe? I mean really 5:45 sounds like a time you tell people to get there when you know they're going to be late and you actually mean show up around 6:00.

I'll give them another chance with Llama fest, but if they don't have Llama burgers for sale, I just don't think I'll be able to trust them anymore.

Stupid Staff Doesn't Part Anything

I'm a simple man, with simple needs. For example, when I find myself riding shotgun in a Jeep on the edge of a 200 foot cliff driving over the remainder of an avalanche field in June at 1:00 AM, I'm reminded of my basic need for not dying in a flaming ball of steel being crushed by my own body weight and the boulders that would inevitably follow into the black chasm of doom.

(For those of you playing the home version of Horrible Ways to Die here's your bonus question: the human body can withstand around 10 kilo newtons of force during a fall without completely shattering. How many KN of force would be exerted by a Jeep Rubicon over 200 feet rolling down a 80 degree slope? )

As it turns out, Squaw Peak Road, nestled above Utah Vally at between 6,500 and 8,300 feet still has substantial snowy patches in June. Who would've guessed, a high mountain road cut into the face of 11,000 foot peaks still has snow. And that therefore, one should not wear flip flops in case you get the Jeep stuck behind say a gigantic pack of snow and ice left by an avalanche on the edge of a big cliff in pitch black dark, where said snow pack is only really passable going one way? Who would assume such a thing when driving over the giant avalanche remains the first time? Huh?

OK, so I suppose I'm exaggerating a bit about how tough/dangerous it was. Yes, the cliff really was about that high based on my Google Earth satellite imagery estimates, but we had a fair amount of clearance between us and where the road stopped being road and started being a drop off. On our way up the road, we climbed the snow field with minimal problems. Once over it, we kept on going until the road narrowed, the mountain became north facing and there was only 2 to 3 feet of passable roadway with shear drop-offs. So back we went (in reverse for a while, because, when I say big cliffs, I mean really big cliffs.)

What really made it exciting was when we got back to the avalanche field we hopped earlier, we discovered that it wasn't exactly shaped in a way that made it easy to cross back over. We decided that despite having the right drive systems, we were going to need to use a wench to help pull the Jeep up and keep if from falling off the mountain. I climbed up on top of the snow in my hobbit footed flip flops to find a suitable tree. And that's where I found my souvenir -- an awesome quarterstaff like stick that the avalanche had pulled down from the trees above.

Thinking quickly I used the staff to try and part the snow field in a Mosaic fashion that hasn't been seen in thousands of years.

Then we hauled the Jeep over using the wench because apparently I was being smitten for blasphemy as evidenced by the fact that the snow didn't part at all. What good is a quarterstaff if it doesn't part stuff? That thing couldn't part the hair on Conan O'Brian's toupee.

Stupid staff.