What Would Jesus Hate?

Jesus. What’s with the fat man at JFK asking me to take my sandals off at the gate and frisking my robe like it’s some sort of creepy Government-Mandated Frotteurism Program? I mean nailclipping people to death hasn’t been done since back when I was a baby, my Dasani bottle won’t blow anything up, and old lady slippers can’t be thrown hard enough at the flight attendant to cause anything more than a few weird stares? Confiscating nail clippers, forbidding water and Starbucks on airplanes, and shoe inspections aren’t going to keep the air safe - prayers and accepting me into your heart are.