The TSA in and of itself has always been a make-work security-theatre project. Just as we did just fine without creating the Department of FatherHomeland Security, it’s not like there’d been a whole bunch of hijackings under the previous airport-screening scheme.

Sure, you’ve got 9/11, but that was far more of a failure on the part of the national-security apparatus writ large than the folks at security at any given airport.

At this point, the biggest danger in air travel is boarding a Boeing. It’s a shame Airbus hasn’t hired Tom Bodett for a “we’ll keep the doors on for you” ad campaign.

But back to the shoes. I have lived exclusively in Birkenstocks – the generic two-strap Arizonas at that – since 1993, with a minor excursion for my first job (“Men at the DN-R wear ties”). I have no idea what I could hide in those, especially in sufficient quantity to blow up a plane, without ripping the soles off, carving out some space in the cork and then attempting to reaffix the sole in a stable enough manner that I could even get to the airport, let alone to security.

This was a stupid rule from the get-go. That it took nearly 20 years to admit that tells you pretty much all you need to know about airport security.