The Invasion of the Body Scanners

In one episode of "The Simpsons," Homer is sentenced to an eternity in hell. His particular assignment is to the department of ironic punishment. As one whose primary sin was gluttony, Homer is forced to eat doughnuts in perpetuity. After he's strapped in and forced to eat the pastries by the millions, the demons are confounded that the only word to leave his mouth between forced gulps is "more!"

Someone's apparently made a toy of the scene:


This irony of irony has been on my mind lately. Ever since the underwear bomber attempted to strike on Christmas Day, there's been a lot of discussion about mass deployment of full body scanners. The devices reveal not only items hidden beneath one's clothes, but also a fairly precise image of one's naked body. A natural first response is to recoil at the invasion of privacy. Then I began thinking, though: who would want to sit all day staring at such photos, or, better yet, administering full body pat downs?

It occurred to me that while for the traveler the search is rare and intrusive, for the person performing the search it's routine and dull. What could be a better punishment for sex offenders or even the mildly perverted than a career at the security line looking for explosives in underwear? I don't think there could be a Homer Simpson of voyeurs, someone who could view naked bodies or feel them in pat down searches for 40 hours a week and remain transfixed by human genitalia. In all likelihood, they'd lose interest entirely, and quickly.

So bring on the scanners and pat down searches. Homer may be in hell enjoying his doughnuts, but I don't think we're ever going to give the TSA agent any thrills.