And here’s the rest of the story

I don’t like to rant, but …

Who am I kidding? I love to rant. And I have one more rant about the Transportation Security Administration. Last week I wrote about the difficulties my son’s fiancé had getting on a flight because of a discrepancy between her nickname, which was on the boarding pass, and her legal name.

Here’s the rest of the story. My first time through security was relatively quick, in the sense that a turtle is relatively quick compared to a snail hobbled by slime disease. But then I went back out to help settle the problem with my future daughter-in-law’s flight reservation.

The second time through security I enjoyed the benefits of the full TSA experience.

Naturally, I had to empty my pockets, take off my shoes and have my carry-on X-rayed.

Naturally, I had to walk through the metal detector, and naturally I had to stand with my arms up for the full body scanner.

About the scanner: Here are some comforting words from Wikipedia: “Depending on the specific technology, the operator may see an alternate-wavelength image of the person’s naked body, or merely a cartoon-like representation of the person with an indicator showing where any suspicious items were detected. For privacy and security reasons, the display is generally not visible to other passengers …” (My italics.)

Doesn’t that make you feel better? Your naked body is generally not visible to other passengers.

I imagine it’s also not generally visible at TSA office parties and websites.

For which I am very grateful. Though to be fair, it’s probably more of a concern for those blessed with bangin’ bods, leaving me safe going back as far as the Carter administration and probably forever.

Despite my aging middle-aged frame, I remain a figure of hulking menace. Just ask the TSA officer waiting for me on the other side of the body scanner, the machine that generally doesn’t show an image of your naked body for the entertainment of fellow passengers.

He looked at me and said, “You have something in your front pocket.”

He was right. I reached into my left front pocket and pulled out four tissues. Let me state here for the record that I was indeed trying to board the plane with four Kleenex in my pocket.

Which I figured was OK, since I never heard of someone attempting to seize control of an airliner by threatening to blow his nose.

“They’re tissues,” I said, in an extremely calm, non-threatening manner, as I began returning them to my pocket.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed. “Don’t put your hand back in your pocket!”

“What do you want me to do?” I said, bewildered and trying not to look the part of a tissue-bearing terrorist.

“Put your hands up!”

I did as ordered. He then proceeded to give me as thorough a patdown as I’ve ever encountered, a prolonged, public display between two men that would be frowned upon in many jurisdictions.

Mysteriously, he allowed me to keep my Kleenex, perhaps satisfied he hadn’t detected any Mentos, which combined with Coca-Cola pose a serious threat to our nation’s security.

But, seriously, what is it about finding Kleenex on a man who has taken his shoes off and passed through a metal detector and a body scanner that warrants another level of security? (Meanwhile, you can stroll unaccosted into the White House. But that’s another rant.)

Perhaps that morning’s TSA security briefing had included warnings about middle-aged men attempting to board domestic flights armed with Kleenex.

This would all be grimly amusing, if we in the U.S. weren’t committing a sort of murder by moral cowardice. “We have nothing to fear but fear itself,” is more than just a good line. It contains a real truth.

We combine an ordinate fear of terrorism with an irrational aversion to risk, or rather, some forms of risk.

The result: a massive security system that discourages people from flying, which, statistically, is about as safe as sitting on your couch.

Meanwhile, we ignore less exotic but more deadly perils. Imagine a threat that each year took the lives of 3,000 Americans - the number who died on 9/11.

You don’t have to imagine. That number, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, is how many people die from foodborne illnesses. In the nearly 14 years since 9/11, foodborne illnesses have killed about 40,000 Americans.

What’s more, the CDC estimates these illnesses send 128,000 people to the hospital and sicken one in six Americans - more than 50 million - each year.

You might think we would be responding to this threat by, say, stepping up meat inspections.

You would be wrong.

According to Food Safety News, the “FDA is more likely to inspect only after a tip about a food safety violation, so random inspections can occur up to 10 years apart or, in rare cases, not at all.”

Up to 10 years apart. It doesn’t sound to me like meat plants are exactly being hounded by federal regulators.

As Dr. Richard Raymond, former USDA under secretary for food safety, put it, “It’s not that they don’t want to inspect more, they just don’t have the funding.”

Instead, we’re paying for enhanced security against nearly nonexistent threats. That’s post 9/11 America.