Oh, that’s right. Don’t act like you don’t notice. I saw that furtive glance in my direction as you bent down to grab your algebra book from your backpack. I know you’re not looking at anyone else at my table.

They’re all nerds. Pocket protectors and chess games abound over here and yes, I hang out with them, but I’m the alpha-male and they all know this. Much in the way you’re the queen bee over at your table, talking about boys and female problems and such.

Oh, what’s this? You dropped your pencil underneath your desk? Well, why don’t you bend down and get it then, nice and slow. Take your sweet time, baby.

You’ve retrieved it, such a resourceful girl. But I noticed no new visual conquest in the meantime, like on January 15, when you wore a bright green thong, or on December 5, when the highest part of your ass was exposed for a full three seconds. One may wonder whether these things occurred by accident, or whether you let them happen for my own viewing pleasure. I can only assume it is undoubtedly the latter.

Why can I assume this with such self-assurance? All the signs are there. Never mind the daily 10-minute conversations you have with that football player Dave Hutchinson. Lean and muscular he may be, but I detect the consistent fraudulent nature of your laughter while the two of you interact. It’s the same thing with your friends; how can you find them funny? They’re a nauseating bunch of brats, and I know you’re not like them. I refuse to believe it. Never mind the days, even weeks, when you don’t even acknowledge my presence here at Martin Van Buren Middle School. Or the times when you respond to my smiles with low-key frowns while you’re in the hallways with your big group of friends.

Why am I so sure? It’s too obvious; there was the time two weeks ago when we were paired together to do math problems. What a day that was, you remember it well I’m sure. Oh, but you want to hear the story again anyway don’t you? It was a good one, I’ll admit:

You were quiet at first, perhaps nervous like I was. Dear God, I believed my heart was going to leap right out of my chest! But I settled down and helped you do the work, asserting my natural male dominance in the subject matter. Your silent respect and gratitude was much appreciated.

Then we got to talking about how much that class sucked. Indeed, why did we have to be in there for 50 minutes every day? I agreed with you, it totally sucked and was lame. I believe that conversation was a big step in our relationship, I really do.

What’s this? You’re walking up to me? Holy fuck, I don’t know if I’m ready for this, Jesus Christ!

“Hey, did you do the homework from last night?” you ask, but I’m too excited to speak, so I just nod.

“Could I have it then? Me and my friends all need to copy it.”

I hand my notebook to her and she walks away.

Such a clever girl, so enticing when you play hard-to-get. I know now you are within my reach, it is just a matter of me committing the action. But I know we both love the art of anticipation. A couple more months and you’ll be mine.

The fingering, which occurred at approximately 9:36 PM, did not go well, according to both Benson and Fletcher, who sat in silence in the backseat of the car during the ride home, each staring out the window and paying no attention to one another. Mid-trip, Benson’s mother asked if everything was all right, to which both parties responded with a flat, “fine.”

Disgusted nearby moviegoers said Fletcher made his move midway through the film.

“Yeah, he was much too obvious about what he was doing, everyone saw it. And he was way too nervous about it too,” one said.

“It was obvious he’d never done it before,” the man who sat directly to Fletcher’s right said. “I almost wanted to help him out, but I figured that would have been weird.”

Benson, who tolerated Fletcher’s uneasy, anxious genital strokes for four minutes, eventually turned and whispered into Fletcher’s ear, “Speed it up or get your hand out of my crotch now.”

Emasculated, Fletcher removed his hand and watched the rest of the film in a state of dejection and embarrassment.

“He’s definitely never touched a vagina before,” Benson said. “And I don’t think he was ready for it. I should have stopped him before he got the chance to start. I don’t know if he’ll be able to look me in the eye anymore.”

Fletcher admitted he made a grave mistake in pulling such a move at the theater. He added that he’s often felt sexually intimidated by a few close friends, who often boast about having much more experience then himself.

“I didn’t know what I was thinking. It was a public place and I just couldn’t loosen up,” he said. “I didn’t know whether to be discrete and do it while watching the movie or focus on just her so I could respond according to her reactions – I don’t know. Please, just don’t tell my friends about this.”

Fletcher’s humiliation only increased as he was relegated to the backseat of Benson’s mother’s van. The musky smell emitted from Fletcher’s fingers was not commented on by Benson’s mother, who really just did not want to ask.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever go on a date with Nick again,” Benson said after she reached her home. “Right now, my inclination is no. I mean, I feel like he just wants to use me to get all his early sexual experiences out of the way. Plus, he definitely got a boner from seeing that blue chick in Avatar. I don’t know if I can deal with all that angst.”

Written by Jeason Katims, this hour long comedy about the tricks of the world’s oldest trade is an adaptation of Howard’s 1989 film by the same name. It was attempted once before in 1990. That clearly didn’t work out. This time, however, I think we’re off to a great start!

Parenthood, the series, follows the film pretty closely. The general plot points from the film are transferred nicely to television. There are still a few details missing from the pilot that were important in the film, and I can’t wait to see when they rear their hilariously awkward heads.

With a favorite of mine, Lauren Graham, as Sarah Braverman, I knew I’d love it no mater what. With the added bonus Peter Krause (as Adam Braverman) going for just as many jogs as he did in 6 Feet Under, I knew was sure to be a hit! The premise behind Parenthood really works well as a series. Katims did a great job at transforming the character arcs into ones that will be appropriate for television. More drama and more potential for all!

Just to cut confusion, I’ll be referring to characters by their names in the show. They’re different in the film, so keep up!

With recurring plot points, such as Crosby’s son, Jabbar, suddenly becoming known to him and Adam and Kristina’s son, Max, having social issues (in this case, Aspergers), the series stays closely connected to the film. But little changes help the show in its new format, such as Sarah’s daughter, Amber, not getting married in the pilot like she did in the film, and Crosby isn’t a gambling addict this time around. Katims is either picking and choosing his details or saving some good ones for later.

Most issues are still just as relevant now as they were 20 years ago when the film was made. Parenting—the decisions, emotions and responsibilities—doesn’t really change much throughout the ages.

I’d like to look at the casting decisions for Sarah Braverman (Graham), just because it’s been a topic of discussion. My editor at my internship and I were talking about how we prefer Graham in the role to Maura Tierney. We felt that Tierney would have made Sarah too depressing. The character is already down and out and struggling through some very difficult times. Graham’s style of whit and sarcastic humor brings a realistic optimism to the role.

Now, let’s go back and compare Graham’s Sarah Braverman to Dianne Wiest’s equivalent in the ’89 film, Helen Buckman. The soft-spoken Wiest is very timid in comparison to Graham’s Sarah. Technically, these are different characters with different personalities and slightly different problems. When looking at them side by side, both women really hit their roles on the head. Graham takes her sass to Sarah to give her situation hope, and Wiest fights through her quiet nature (with the ever so often hilariously placed outburst) to deal with the radical issues she and her family are faced with.

The pilot of Parenhood reminded me of a Nancy Myers film set to television. We’re in this beautiful house with beautiful and stylish people saying silly things and finding themselves in all sorts of middle-class relationship nonsense! Yet it also has the seriousness of other television shows like Friday Night Lights, which deals with very serious social issues.

With so many different story lines, and great characters like Dax Shepard’s Crosby and Craig T. Nelson as the no nonsense head of the household (with his rough and tumble ways and strong survival of the fitest vibe), Zeek Braverman, the potential for strong narrative and character development is definitely there. I see it growing into something really great. That or it’ll fizzle out after the second season. Let’s hope for the former!

I’ll be tuning in again this Tuesday at 10 PM EST on NBC to see what gonna go down next with the Braverman brood! Maybe they’ll give me tips on how to tell Posh to stop chewing her water bottle so loudly at night. It’s so hard being a mommy. Long live Parenthood!

There’s some debate about this, however. Some say it’s best to wait and watch the original afterwards, so as not to spoil key plot elements in the new and (usually not) improved version. With ‘70s horror films, however, you can pretty much watch the original whenever in relation to the remake. I’m not really a fan of ‘70s horror except for amazing trail they blazed for horror today. And by that I mean they provided us with countless amounts of material to remake.

With films such as Last House on the Left, I found the original to be more interesting. The odd juxtaposition of such graphic horror and such an odd soundtrack (and clothing choice) was enough to win me over. It had just enough surrealist elements to make sitting through a brutal rape and numerous creative murders tolerable. With the remake, however, the ending didn’t balance out the extreme emotional stress viewers experience at the beginning, making it a horrible time in the theater (and then walking out to your car alone in a dark parking lot).

Luckily for The Crazies, this isn’t an issue. The remake was a vast improvement over the original in character development, dialogue and fright factor. I give the Romero version props for giving us an inventive storyline that has been reworked to near perfection in the Eisner remake, and even applied to other great horror films, such as 28 Days Later. I love me a good bout of unidentified infection!

The Eisner remake tightened up character relationships, basing the film around sheriff David Dutton (Timothy Olyphant), his pregnant wife, Judy (Radha Mitchell), his deputy, Russell Clank (Joe Anderson), and Judy’s receptionist, Becca (Danielle Panabaker). Sheriff Dutton watches as strange occurrences pop up around town, and usually passive kind community members seem to…go crazy (yup, I said it).

The ex-town drunk saunters onto the baseball diamond with a shotgun, and a kind farmer and family man turns on his wife and child. It’s not long before the government sweeps in and takes control, attempting a half-assed quarantine that Sheriff Dutton and Judy get separated in. This sets the sheriff and Deputy Clank off on a mission to find Judy and get the hell out of there without being detected by either “the crazies” or the military team that was flown in to regulate the situation.

It doesn’t take them long to learn the properties of the disease (Trixie) or how their town became affected by it. They battle their way through cornfields and hay barns to work their way to freedom. They lose a few companions along the way, but that’s to be expected.

The approach to the gore in The Crazies was (I’m gonna use an odd word here) classy. For instance, when a crazy decides to take a pitchfork and skewer fellow infection sufferers who are strapped to beds, we see the pitchfork come through the bottom of the bed and an appropriate amount of blood seepage. This sort of thing keeps with the gross out theme while staying creative. But don’t worry, there are plenty of spilling guts as well.

The cinematography is gorgeous. With a setting like rural America, it’s hard to go wrong with sunrise shots and sweeping fields of grain. Combine that with your classic fast paced and tricky horror style cinematography, and you’ve got yourself a feast for the eyes, my friend!

The end leaves some questions dangling—much like the brains stuck on various walls throughout town. Question one: The government is clearly exterminating these people, infected or not, so how will the Duttons be able to start a new life? As soon as there’s activity in their bank accounts or if they try to buy a house or get pulled over by a cop, the government will know and go blow torch them. Question two: How does an explosion of that magnitude (at the end) not affect more surrounding area. They explain it away rather cleverly, but I feel like there would be a lot of problems with a massive (nuclear??) explosion in the middle of our country. I found that to be a bit extreme, to be honest.

My favorite change in the remake was the elimination of the father daughter duo from the original. They were replaced by Becca. The father daughter pair from the original got a bit too creepy when he becomes sexually attracted to her and attempts an incestuous rape. No one needs that. I think the writers of the original realized that, too, because they have their main characters leave the duo to be offed by the government men.

All that being said, my expectations were met! My year of waiting was not in vain, and I encourage all to go see the film. It’s fun to watch the original too, and definitely an education.

By Malti Jones

It was what I had been waiting for: an Intercom Alert e-mail with the subject line “Notice to Campus Community Concerning Severe Weather.” It had been snowing hard for over 24 hours and I just knew that classes would be forced to cancel. But I guess there was one thing I had forgotten: Ithaca College stays open in bad weather, “no matter how extreme” that weather may be.

The main reason Ithaca College feels it can stay open when over two feet of snow is accumulating rapidly on the roads is that we are considered a residential college. And no, when I lived in Terrace 2, walking five minutes in a snowstorm to a building I could see from my bedroom was not a big deal. But seeing as students were literally paid to live off campus this year due to the overpopulated freshman class, ignoring the Ithaca College community that lives outside the residential bubble is simply weird.

My roommate was one of many to get into a small car accident Friday, and what did she get in return? Was it an Ithaca College official apology—“Sorry for making you drive your shitty Civic up here?” No. Was it an e-mail from her professor excusing incapacitated off-campus students from coming to class? Of course not.  It was a warning from the campus police not to drive in dangerous conditions. Awesome.

However, walking isn’t the safest way to travel in these conditions, either. Every sidewalk I attempted to walk on that day was more or less indistinguishable from the lawns bordering it—slippery and white. The road was the easiest way to walk, and yet with the number of spin-outs I saw that day, I’m not sure I would have been comfortable even crossing the street. It’s also unbelievably hard to open your eyes when the snow is blowing directly into them; I still haven’t mastered walking a full mile with my eyes closed.

I understand that this is not the worst storm Ithaca, or many of us, have experienced. But still, most of the students off campus are not adequately equipped to deal with this much snow. Not only do most of us not quite know how to handle our cars correctly in such weather, we don’t own weather-appropriate clothing made to trek up a hill for 40-minutes to make it to a 50-minute class. And believe me, I have yet to have a landlord that plows my driveway before his own.

So next time I’m on my way to campus, spin out and wreck my car in an attempt to get to a class on time so that I don’t waste one of my oh-so-precious three absences, Ithaca College, it would be great if you could foot the bill. Thx.

- Carly Willsie

Image by Marc Phillips

By Marc Phillips

Loretta Jackson is not like most NJ Turnpike tollbooth operators. This 52-year-old woman’s genuine, perky attitude is contagious. Visit lane No. 3 at the Raritan Toll Plaza, and you will be greeted with her pearly whites. Many passers-by feel the immediate burst of happiness. But what is Jackson’s secret?

“I could be unemployed!” Jackson laughed, as she gesticulated wildly with her calloused hands. “When I was little, I loved to sit on the front porch of my row house in Irvington and people watch,” Jackson continued. “Being a tollbooth operator puts people watching on a more frequent and diverse scale, plus I get paid!”

A rusted window-mounted air conditioner blows cold, recycled exhaust fumes into Jackson’s 3-by-6 booth.

“In the summer, I love when families from Bergen County come to the shore,” she said. “They’re almost always in luxury SUVs clad with lacrosse and Long Beach Island-themed car magnets. The wife is usually controlling and makes the husband rush out of the plaza. I always give the husband an extra big smile for having to deal with some cold, Botoxed Barbie bitch for a wife.”

Jackson’s self-described “festively plump” body sits comfortably in a faded, yellow swivel chair. Her welcoming brown eyes connect with a single male driver approaching the service window.

“Hello darling!” Jackson said, beaming as she gives the apprehensive driver change for a five-dollar bill. The even-tempered driver cracks a smile. “Have a magnificent day!” she said, laughing as the gray Prius speeds away. “That nerdy guy is definitely going to the shore to pick up some drunk and easy girls,” the intuitive tollbooth operator said.

Jackson’s co-workers unfortunately do not share the same perky demeanor. Fluis Gonzales has been working in lane No. 6 of the toll plaza for ten long years.

“I hate it here,” she said. “The sun, the people, the heat, the cold. Get me out of this hellhole!”

Gonzales cites her main motivation for working as a way to “pay the bills and then some,” alleviating the burden from her husband.

“He’s a painter,” she said. “But with this terrible economy, no one wants painters. His painting crew is thinning.”

Ralph Jones sighed emphatically before his response.

“Lane No. 8 is insane,” he said. “I see the most traffic and tons of ignorant drivers. Just ‘cause I work in a tollbooth doesn’t mean I’m not educated! I’m goin’ to night school. I want to work in an office one day—high above the polluted toll plaza.”

Jones recounted several times in which people have thrown change at him and asked if he could count.

“That just made me furious, and I’m normally laid-back,” Jones said.

Jackson’s co-workers may not necessarily have the brightest outlook on their tollbooth careers, but they certainly do their jobs well. Gonzales was employee of the month in September—her overtime efforts wowed the Department of Transportation. In effect, a rivalry has begun between Jackson and Gonzales.

Jackson prays for her constant employment in an era of E-ZPass toll tags. Her biggest fear is being “phased out” as her electronic counterpart takes over her job.

“If I were unemployed I would have to get my people fix by watching Maury,” she said. “This is much more realistic than that garbage.”

For the time being, Jackson is serving up endless smiles as she gives you your change—in small bills and quarters.

____________________________________

Marc Phillips is a freshman Integrated Marketing Communications major who aspires to be more than just a tollbooth operator after graduation. E-mail him at mphilli1@ithaca.edu.

Image by Jess Hock

NASA Officials Bummed, Say It Would Have Been “Sick Nasty To See Shit on Mars” in Person

By Liz Kloczkowski

NASA officials announced yesterday the cancellation of their plans to send a shuttle to Mars following the U.S. government’s refusal to offer funding for the project. The government simply said NASA isn’t quite ready to make the leap.

NASA scientists and researchers have not been at a loss for words to express their disappointment. Some have commented on what a “bummer” it is that they can’t send up their “really cool” rovers to explore the red sands of Mars.

“I was bummed out when they told us the government wasn’t gonna lend us any money for our project,” NASA administrator Charles Bolden said. “It’s a huge loss for the scientific community, and in fact, the world. It’s a damn shame, for sure.”

Officials came to an agreement that they were all “grumpy” that it wasn’t going to work out.

“Those government morons are a bunch of zipperheads,” scientist John C. Mather added.

“Yeah, what a group of punks who don’t want to share all of the cash they get from taxes,” NASA microbiologist Bob Jones said. “We spent all of ours, like, ten years ago.”

“It was gonna be ridic! We had plans for some sweet rockets we’ve been dying to launch,” Mather said. “We have these cool rover droids, and we were all super psyched to race them across the red sands and shit.”

Apparently, the rocket NASA scientists were planning to build was called “Marzie,” and had some “pretty sweet” features. The designs resemble a B-Wing fighter from Star Wars, and even the robotic pilot was planned to have a round, white and blue head and little mechanical arms that plug into the rocket.

“Mars rocks are über cool,” added astronaut Clayton Anderson. “Man, it would’ve been sweet to beast on some Martian noobs once we got our wicked sweet rockets into the atmosphere. We were planning on upgrading our laser missiles to level 27!”

“It would have been sick nasty to see some shit on Mars up close,” he said after the announcement yesterday.

NASA scientists say they’re now going to have to come up with some other “fly shit” to work on.

____________________________________

Liz Kloczkowski is a freshman journalism major who thinks it would be totally nice to go drag racing on Mars. E-mail her at ekloczk1@ithaca.edu.

There’s a reason Stephen King is known as the “King of Horror,” and it isn’t because his surname makes the moniker a half-decent pun. Nor is it because of his supernatural-themed novels. Sure, the vampires in Salem’s Lot are scary, but far more disturbing is the realistically deranged antagonist of Misery, Annie Wilkes.

King is a master of creating horrific tales with an “it could happen to you” atmosphere by putting a few creepy things in an otherwise normal town, and letting human nature run its course. King’s latest novel is no exception.

Under the Dome begins when a mysterious force field cuts off the town of Chester’s Mill from the rest of the world. The dome is of unknown origins and materials; some believe it’s a terrorist attack while others claim it’s more supernatural in nature. The military is quickly called in but can’t destroy it, even with large missiles.

Meanwhile, inside the town, corrupt politician “Big Jim” Rennie takes over the police force and the government offices. He finds himself in a power struggle with Dale “Barbie” Barbara, a former captain in the army who is pulled back into service to deal with the crisis. The situation deteriorates as Rennie and his men exert their control over the town. A resistance forms, creating violent factions among the citizens trapped within the mysterious dome.

Like Carrie, Needful Things and The Shining, Under the Dome contains paranormal elements. However, its true horror is found in the way the residents of the town react. King creates a tense and disturbing mood, combining repressed paranoia and flat-out terror to scare characters and readers alike.

In Under the Dome, King’s strengths are also his weaknesses. His characters are fully realized, but in his efforts to create a realistic small-town setting there are dozens of them, each with a completely fleshed-out back story. It makes the 1,074-page story hard to follow when one has to frequently refer to earlier pages to figure out the difference between Jim, Joe, Junior and Johnny.

The overwhelming number of characters does work somewhat to King’s advantage, as the reader is often uncertain of each figure’s motives. It makes the novel far too complicated to guess the ending. Unfortunately, the payoff is disappointing—a problem found frequently in King’s work.

Those familiar with King’s other novels may also notice a continuity error in that the book is clearly set in the present-day, with references to Lost and President Obama. Yet there are also references to Castle Rock, a fictional town King has used as the setting for many of his novels, though he irrevocably destroyed it in Needful Things, which is set long before the 21st century. It isn’t a huge detraction from the plot of the story, but readers who have read enough Stephen King novels to notice will most likely experience moments of confusion and annoyance.

Despite these problems, King still proves himself as capable of crafting a thrilling and complex story as ever. His skill at description and dialogue make his characters believable and his settings realistic. The plot is solid, and though it doesn’t rank among King’s best creations, it’s still a captivating and chilling story. Under the Dome may not be a masterpiece for the King of Horror, but it certainly proves he isn’t yet ready to surrender his crown.

Image by Anika Steppe

Why the illusion of safety may be more important

By Sam McCann

The Department of Homeland Security’s latest creation sounds like it was ripped straight from an Orwellian novel: After a failed plane bombing Christmas Day, the government debuted a device that virtually strip-searches citizens when they arrive at the airport.  Civil liberty advocates are up in arms about the invasion of privacy. Critics claim the scanners don’t even do their job properly. But here’s the secret no one’s talking about: None of it matters. In the world of aviation security, perception trumps all. As long as we feel safer, it doesn’t matter if the scanners actually slow down terrorists at all.

According to a USA Today/Gallup poll, 84 percent of Americans believe that full-body scanners will prevent terrorists from smuggling bombs onboard planes. Whether they actually do or not depends upon whom you trust.

The effectiveness of full-body scanners has been at the center of public debate since Jan. 4, when TSA announced it would expand the use of the devices in airports across the country. The decision came just days after a Nigerian man, Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab, tried to blow up a plane on its way to Detroit from Amsterdam. He apparently smuggled explosives past security by sewing bomb components to his underwear; now, TSA agents virtually strip down passengers at 19 airports every day, and that number continues to grow.

Scott Johnson, General Manager of Field Operations for the Transportation Security Administration (TSA), and his colleagues assert that the security benefits are well worth sacrificing some of our privacy. It’s not a perfect solution, but another layer of security.

“We wouldn’t be putting in technology if we weren’t comfortable with the safety aspect of it, and that the technology would work,” he said.

Not so, says Jay Stanley, public education director for the American Civil Liberties Union’s Technology and Liberty Program.

“Many people seemed to assume that [the scanners] were some sort of magic bullet that would have prevented [the Christmas Day] attack, and that is very far from clear,” Stanley said. “They’re very invasive of privacy, they can view very intimate details of the human body, and the benefits don’t justify that kind of invasion.”

Plus, the devices would have to be in every airport in the country—even the world—in order to effectively stop an identical attack, he said.

The privacy risks are glaring. The thought of stepping through a scan with your entire body on display is undeniably frightening. Yet TSA assures its passengers that it has done everything it can to protect anonymity.

The system currently funnels passengers through the machines one by one, aided by a security agent. That agent never sees the image generated by the scanner. Instead, another employee mans a computer in a separate room, checks for hidden weapons and then communicates with the other guard through a wireless headset.  The person who reviews the images is not allowed a camera or camera phone in the room, and the computer that displays the image can’t save, transmit, or print the pictures.  The computer blurs facial features to prevent the passenger from being identified.

According to Johnson, TSA carefully implemented the protocol over the course of years; it wasn’t hastily thrown together in the wake of the Christmas day attack.
“These privacy issues were put into place before we even deployed advanced imaging technology. This wasn’t something new that just popped up in December,” he said.

He’s confident that the system’s design means passengers have little to worry about. Stanley, on the other hand, is skeptical.

“I don’t have a lot of faith that the integrity of these systems will be maintained over time,” he said. “Our experience is that when the government introduces new privacy-invasive technology, they come wrapped in all kinds of promises and protections which unravel over time.”

And what about religious objections? Islamic scholars say the scanners violate the teachings of the Quran. TSA contends it provides options for individuals who object to the new methods, offering “an equal level of screening… and a pat down procedure.” In pilot programs designed to test the devices, the agency claims less than 2 percent of individuals chose the alternative methods.

So far, the public debate on the issue has centered on security versus privacy. Certainly, the primary cost of the technology must be paid in passengers’ rights, but the new devices are also setting the taxpayer out a cool $1 billion. That’s a staggering number, out of context.

A study conducted by the University of Newcastle in Australia reveals that for every life saved by American airport security, taxpayers spend $180 million. The study says the average cost per life saved by other federal programs is far less.  The U.S. Department of Transportation spends about $3 million per life saved, and other agencies adopt a figure somewhere between $1 million and $10 million dollars. This would seem to indicate the TSA fails the cost/benefit analysis miserably.  The money TSA spends to protect the public would seem to save far more lives if it were spent on, say, cancer research.

But that overlooks the true purpose of airport security: perception. The government wants us to feel safer so we continue to fly, continue to spend money and continue to trust it. If these scanners happen to directly save a few lives, it’s just gravy, but their value lies in the fact that 84 percent of Americans now feel more secure.

The headquarters of the Transportation Security Administration isn’t like other government offices. While it’s just a couple miles outside Washington, D.C., it seems a world apart from the regal architecture of Pennsylvania Avenue or even the stern walls of the neighboring Pentagon. But the innocuous 12-story buildings sit in exactly the right place, just an exit past Ronald Reagan National Airport and directly across from one of the largest malls in the entire metro region.  Hundreds of shoppers pass by on their way to the upscale stores on the other side of the street, which suits TSA nicely; its policies affect commerce as much as security.

“Get down to Disney World in Florida,” former President Bush said, not long after the 9/11 attacks. “Take your families and enjoy life, the way we want it to be enjoyed.” The message seems innocent, but shows that the true impact of terrorism is not lives lost but behavior changed. Counterterrorism, therefore, is designed to maintain a sense of security, not save lives.

Adam Rose of the Center for Risk and Economic Analysis of Terrorism Events at University of Southern California places the amount of money lost in the wake of 9/11 significantly higher than the commonly accepted figure of $25 billion. He argues that the public’s fear of flying cut into not only airfare, but tourism and hotel revenue as well, slicing $85 billion out of the U.S. economy. The AMEX index of airline stocks alone fell 40.1 percent, and many airlines needed government bailouts to stay afloat. By at least creating the illusion of increased safety, the TSA is able to minimize similar shockwaves in the aftermath of other attacks.

And from the looks of it, the scanners are a runaway success in this regard. According to CNN, airline stocks fell only 1.7 percent on Dec. 26 and fully rebounded by the time the TSA announced the expansion of full-body scanners. The relative stability is at least partially due to the perceived security benefits of the devices.

9/11 changed a lot more than our spending habits, though.  It’s impossible to evaluate terrorist attacks and counterterrorism techniques in terms of economic impact alone. Recessions come and go, but we’re still grappling with the most profound reverberation of the attacks: the war in Iraq.

Fear permeated America after 9/11. The assault had so badly shaken the American people’s confidence that they were running to their government, refusing to consider the implications of the deadly attacks.  Journalists who asked “why?” were blacklisted, and the public generally accepted the administration’s version of events. Bush told the American people the reason behind the attacks was that “they hate our freedoms—our freedom of religion, our freedom of speech, our freedom to vote and assemble,” and he went virtually unquestioned.

Almost immediately, the administration went after our civil liberties.  The Patriot Act, which greatly expanded the executive branch’s ability to invade the public’s privacy while simultaneously limiting judicial oversight, saw the American people willingly surrender their rights out of fear. The law, which remains in place today, stomped on our civil liberties far more than any kind of airport security.

That state of acceptance generated by fear of further attack also allowed the Bush administration to systematically tie 9/11 to Iraq and justify an invasion when in reality no link existed. Bush himself claimed that Mohamed Atta, the lead hijacker, “met with an Iraqi intelligence official to plot the attacks,” even though the 9/11 Commission concluded that no such meeting had taken place. In January 2004, Paul O’Neil, Bush’s former treasury secretary came forward to present evidence that the president wanted to invade Iraq more than eight months before the towers fell. Nevertheless, the American people bought into Bush’s distorted logic out of fear.

Authorities say 2,973 people died in the 9/11 terrorist attacks. The number of American soldiers dead in Iraq hovers around 5,000. Iraq Body Count, a group that tallies the approximate number of deaths using news reports, says approximately 100,000 Iraqi civilians have died violently since the US-led invasion.

That number might be zero had the American people not been scared.

What does this mean for the new scanners?

Since the TSA’s job is to counteract the effects of terrorism, it must fight fear over all else. And that means our current national dialogue is flawed; it matters relatively little how many people the new scanners save. It doesn’t even matter if the government thinks only in terms of economic benefits. What really matters is that 84 percent of people feel safer with the scanners in place.

So then the question becomes: is a public less likely to approve of an unjust war and wiretapped phones worth a billion dollars and blurry naked images at airports?

I certainly think so.

Editor’s note: The author’s father works for the Transportation Security Administration.

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Sam McCann is a sophomore journalism major who wants you to scan his body. E-mail him at smccann1@ithaca.edu.