"You're only 15—cover yourself," the man said to the 15-year-old girl. I suppose a father might say that to his daughter, but here the father is rightfully pissed off because the man who said it was a TSA agent at LAX.
Mark Frauenfelder, co-founder of boing boing, one of the world's most popular blogs—what are the odds that this is the only girl that agent has treated this way?
As Frauenfelder wrote, it doesn't matter how she was dressed, but he posted a picture anyway showing that his daughter was wearing a t-shirt and leggings—hardly rare these days—with a long flannel shirt over the whole thing. So there was no reason for the comment, in addition to there being no reason for him to comment and no justification for commenting. Is that redundant? Maybe. Mind your own goddamn business, is what we're all trying to say, not that there is any point to your business in the first place.
After demanding that the girl cover up, I assume they then moved her down the security line to a scanner where they could see her naked.
Frauenfelder said that he believes TSA management is taking the matter seriously, which is good, and that the supervisor he and his wife met with was apologetic and professional. Obviously not all TSA people are creeps, just as not all lawyers are—well, whatever some of us are. But here's another incident that shows why we better be careful who we give power to, because some of those people are going to use it in ways they have no business doing.
"We regret that this passenger had an unpleasant experience," said a TSA spokesman, because that's the kind of thing spokesmen say, as if the experience just sort of happened.
The defendants are charged with a string of armored-car robberies. As part of its investigation, the Government obtained (and later produced) phone records for the period beginning September 1, 2010. One of the defendants also wants call records for July 2010, when one of the robberies took place, because he says that will support his claim that he was somewhere else at the time. Previously, the Government said it tried but failed to get the records from the service provider, and therefore "advised Defendant that it did not have the records." Actually, Government (this recent order states), Defendant thinks you probably do:
Defendant Brown urges that the records are important to his defense because cell-site records could be used to show that Brown was not in the vicinity of the attempted robbery that allegedly occurred in July 2010. And, relying on a June 5, 2013, Guardian newspaper article that published a FISA Court order related to cellular telephone data collected by Verizon, Defendant Brown now suggests that the Government likely actually does possess the meta-data relating to telephone calls made in July 2010 from the two numbers attributed to Defendant Brown.
"Meta-data," as you probably know by now if you didn't already, is data about other data but not actually part of it (my definition). For a phone call, the main "data" would be the conversation, and the "meta-data" would be things like when you made the call, what the closest cell tower was when you made it, the number you called, and so forth. That's what Brown wants, and what the Government told him it doesn't have and couldn't get. Only, it does have his meta-data, because it has everybody's meta-data:
As relevant here [the court went on], the [FISA] Order appears to authorize, under 50 U.S.C. § 1861, the production of “all call detail records or “telephony metadata” created by Verizon for communications … wholly within the United States, including local telephone calls.” The Order defines “telephony metadata” as “comprehensive communications routing information, including but not limited to session identifying information (e.g., originating and terminating telephone number, International Mobile Subscriber Identity (MSI) number, International Mobile station Equipment Identity (IMEI) number, etc.), trunk identifier, telephone calling card numbers, and time and duration of call.”
I'm guessing Brown was a Verizon customer, but it probably doesn't matter.
Under 50 U.S.C. § 1806, the target of such surveillance can ask for the information obtained. If the Government claims disclosure would harm national security—and you get no prizes for correctly guessing whether it will do so here—then the court reviews the matter in private to decide whether the surveillance was lawful (otherwise the review is in open court). Accordingly, the court ordered the Government to make the national-security claim if any immediately (yesterday was the deadline), because the trial is apparently underway.
As the court noted, the Government could avoid this particular unpleasantness by producing the requested material and stipulating that it would not use it against the defendant. I shall now go see how it responded (if it did) and update accordingly.
Update: The docket available online doesn't show any response by the Government at all. There is a docket entry dated June 11, the day after the order was issued, that is described only as "restricted/sealed until further notice." That could be it, or it could be something else you're not allowed to know about.
Update II: The Sun-Sentinel reports that the Government asked for more time to respond (to be fair, they only had two days), and the judge agreed to allow "an extra week or two." "There are security procedures that must be followed," said an AUSA, and since this is a citizen asking for his own cell phone records, presumably the "security" problem lies in explaining just how the Government happens to have them when nobody else does. Or, more likely, in figuring out how not to explain that.
After my post about the TSA's concern over Peter Mayhew's simulated fictional weaponry ("TSA Questions Chewbacca's Lightsaber," June 10), I heard from Patrick Smith, a professional pilot and author of (among other things) the long-running column Ask the Pilot at Salon.com (it's now on his website). He noted that this is not the first time TSA agents have defended the traveling public from a lightsaber, according to a reader comment he mentioned in a 2011 post (and also here):
One day, flying from Dallas to Jacksonville, Fla., [Stacey] Goldring and her toddler son were refused passage through the TSA checkpoint because the boy was carrying … get ready now … his Star Wars lightsaber. A lightsaber, if you’re not familiar, is a flashlight with a plastic cone attached—or, perhaps more to the point, a toy in the shape of a make-believe weapon from a galaxy, and a line of reasoning, far, far away.
“I believe it was green,” says Goldring, “indicating my son’s future Jedi path. We were told by the TSA professionals that the saber, which technically is something that does not exist, was a weapon. We were escorted out of security and sent to the ticket counter, where I had to fill out paperwork in order to check the lightsaber in as baggage.”
This lightsaber incident is significantly dumber than the recent one (which doesn't make that one non-dumb), because: (1) at least Mayhew's lightsaber cane was big enough to possibly injure someone with (if he were to get up out of his wheelchair to swing it), and (2) this was not just a simulated fictional weapon, it was a toy simulated fictional weapon; and (3) they actually sent these people back to check in the "lightsaber." I am guessing that in doing the latter, they consulted the TSA's Prohibited Items List, which does in fact list "sabers" as items that may not be carried on but are OK in checked baggage. That would be just the kind of genius-level work we've come to expect from this group.
To be fair, if you actually type "lightsaber" into the "Can I Bring My....?" box also found on that page, you will get this:
So at least one person somewhere in that organization is not entirely detached from reality, although for all we know this was added due to negative publicity after one of the lightsaber incidents, not because they thought of it first. And of course the goons in the earlier incident did not even apply the lightsaber policy correctly, so something is wrong in addition to the fact that they don't know "lightsaber" is one word and "Force" is capitalized. You'd think one of their nerdling agents would have pointed this out by now.
Speaking of extreme dorkitude, it is not actually clear what "Jedi path" is indicated by a green lightsaber (although I love that quote). According to "The Jedi Path," a recent book of some kind, this is the color of the "Jedi Consular," who prefers to use the Force rather than alternative means of dispute resolution such as cutting somebody in half. So make of that what you will.
As an aside, "Can I Bring My....?" may need to be updated, because it just says "ITEM NOT FOUND" in response to a variety of queries, like "artificial limb," "wife," "lawyer," "prostitute," "rocket boots," "henchmen," "copy of the Constitution," and maybe most surprisingly, "terrorist." Maybe the NSA is looking at that entry right now (hi, guys), but still, no canned response to "Can I bring my terrorist"? Disappointing.
If you ask whether you can bring your "fork," it will first ask you whether you mean "fork" or "tuning fork." Tuning forks are a "yes," although they warn you about size restrictions on musical instruments. So if you have a tuning fork as big as a cello or whatever they're worried about, please ship it. Table forks are also said to be ok, although if that is the policy it's one step above what Patrick Smith dealt with when his fork was taken away at a security checkpoint:
“No, no, no, no,” said the guard. “You cannot take this.”
Really? Let’s ignore for a moment the fact that even the most hell-bent of terrorists isn’t going to get very far with a hand-held weapon of any kind, let alone something as goofy as a fork.... And [e]very day, hundreds of thousands of stainless steel forks, not to mention knives, are handed out to passengers in the forward cabins of airplanes. (And why not? The hijacking paradigm exploited on Sept. 11 no longer exists.) Yet on-duty pilots are not allowed to carry them through the checkpoint?
“No, no, no, no.”
That's right—they took away a fork, which (A) is not going to help you get through a cockpit door, and (B) if it were useful, could just be taken away from any first-class passenger (if you weren't one already, in which case they would give you a fork). Best of all, they took it away from the pilot. Who, if he wanted to, would kill you with the plane, not one at a time with a fork.
That (the fork thing, not wanting to kill you) may be one of the topics covered in Smith's new book, Cockpit Confidential. His Salon columns were always good (including many sensible comments on security nonsense), so the book is probably quite good as well.
According to the TSA's website, you can even bring it with you on the plane. Well, "book" in general. Maybe not that one.
Peter Mayhew, the actor who played Chewbacca, is almost 7' 3" tall, and because of his size (and possibly his age) he has some trouble getting around. He walks with a cane (it's designed to look like a "lightsaber") and when he travels, for example to make appearances at conventions and charity events, he needs a wheelchair to get around the airport. None of this stops him, but there is one force in the universe that can delay him: the TSA.
Last week, Mayhew—who is on Twitter at @TheWookieRoars—tweeted this picture of himself at a checkpoint at Denver International Airport waiting while two members of the elite legion that guards America from disaster stand around waiting for a better trained supervisor to come over and help them examine a cane.
Or did they think it was a dangerous lightsaber? Here's the deal, guys—it's either a cane, or a FICTIONAL WEAPON. Wait—possible third option: it potentially could have been a cane with an old-school metal sword hidden inside it, in which case maybe the guy in the WHEELCHAIR would try to hack his way through the cockpit door with it. Was that the theory? Please.
The TSA claimed later that it was the "unusual weight" of the cane that required supervisor intervention. As Mayhew also tweeted, "Giant man need giant cane" was the fairly obvious explanation for that one.
If these guys wanted a picture of themselves with Chewbacca and his lightsaber that they could put up on the wall and admire when they go home to their moms' basements, I'm sure all they had to do is ask.
I haven't always been that kind to Justice Scalia (or to Justice Scalia's hats), but I do think he's a very good writer, and so I'm glad to be able to quote him saying something I agree with.
If you have forgotten what "panopticon" means, that was Jeremy Bentham's idea for a prison that would keep inmates under control at little cost to the State. It would be a circular building with the watchmen in a "hub" at the center so they could see all the inmates at once, but—just as importantly—the inmates would not be able to see them. As he wrote in the 1790s:
It is obvious that ... the more constantly the persons to be inspected are under the eyes of the persons who should inspect them, the more perfectly will the purpose X of the establishment have been attained. Ideal perfection ... would require that each person should actually be in that predicament, during every instant of time. This being impossible, the next thing to be wished for is, that, at every instant, seeing reason to believe as much, and not being able to satisfy himself to the contrary, he should conceive himself to be so.... The essence of it consists, then, in the centrality of the inspector's situation, combined with the well-known and most effectual contrivances for seeing without being seen.
The genius of the idea, in other words, is that it makes attaining the institution's purpose much more efficient because although you can't watch everybody all the time, Panopticon inmates would always have to act as if they were being watched, because they couldn't be sure if they were or not.
That may sound bad, but Bentham argued that inmates would be better off in a Panopticon because of this idea that they would regulate themselves all the time due to the perpetual fear of being watched. An inmate would not need to be chained, for example, and really wouldn't have much to complain about at all because he would have "perfect liberty within the space allotted to him...."
Even better, the principle could be extended to other areas of society. For example, it'd be great for schools:
All play, all chattering—in short, all distraction of every kind, is effectually banished by the central and covered situation of the master, seconded by partitions or screens between the scholars, as slight as you please.
All non-productive activity would be effectually banished by fear of the invisible watchman. Pupils would otherwise have perfect liberty, though, within the space allotted to them.
No Panopticon was ever built, partly because they really did not have the technology to permit seeing without being seen. Since we do now, you can see where this is going.
Scalia brought up the Panopticon in his dissent from the decision in Maryland v. King, in which the majority held that if officers make an arrest supported by probable cause to suspect a "serious offense," then taking a DNA sample from the suspect doesn't violate the Fourth Amendment. The majority reasoned that the state has a significant interest in positively identifying suspects and the intrusion required, "a gentle rub along the inside of the cheek," is minimal. Basically, the majority held, this is no different than photographing or fingerprinting subjects.
Which is nonsense, because DNA has the potential to reveal far more about a person than his or her identity. According to the majority, though, the particular test at issue can't do that, or at least that is "open to dispute." Plus, it continued, the officers are not using it for that purpose, and there is even a state law saying they can't. "The Court need not speculate about the risks posed" by a system that doesn't have such protections, said the majority. Right, because information, once gathered, is never illegally misused. Hey, Justice Kennedy, how about the risks posed by a system that does have such protections but in which those protections are continually ignored or maybe pushed aside by constant invocations of "national security"? Could you speculate about that?
Justice Scalia, joined by the liberals except for Breyer, who surprisingly voted with the conservative majority, was willing to "speculate" about the risks involved:
Today’s judgment will, to be sure, have the beneficial effect of solving more crimes; then again, so would the taking of DNA samples from anyone who flies on an airplane (surely the Transportation Security Administration needs to know the “identity” of the flying public), applies for a driver’s license, or attends a public school. Perhaps the construction of such a genetic panopticon is wise. But I doubt that the proud men who wrote the charter of our liberties would have been so eager to open their mouths for royal inspection. I therefore dissent, and hope that today’s incursion upon the Fourth Amendment, like an earlier one,6 will some day be repudiated.
6 Compare, New York v. Belton, 453 U.S. 454 (1981) (suspicionless search of a car permitted upon arrest of the driver), with Arizona v. Gant, 556 U.S. 332 (2009) (on second thought, no).
He was talking about the "all-seeing" aspect of the Panopticon there, of course, but we should also remember that the "essence" of the idea, according to Bentham, was not just the watching but that the watched population would control itself in the first instance because of the fear of being watched by an invisible keeper. Replace the keeper with a faceless bureaucrat or secretive national-security agency and it doesn't take any speculation to see the same chilling effect at work.
Bentham had an answer, though, for the obvious question of who will "watch the watchmen" in this system of his. The answer is that the keepers who are watching the inmates will be watched by the head keeper in exactly the same way:
Another very important advantage, whatever purposes the plan may be applied to, particularly where it is applied to the severest and most coercive purposes, is, that the under keepers or inspectors, the servants and subordinates of every kind, will be under the same irresistible control with respect to the head keeper or inspector, as the prisoners or other persons to be governed are with respect to them.
And who watches the head keeper?
Still looking for his answer to that.
Bentham quotes are from Jeremy Bentham, The Panopticon Writings (Miran Bozovic, ed.) (London: Verso, 1995) at pp. 29-95 (transcribed and posted at cartome.org); see also Walter Olson, "Big Brother Invades Your Genes," The Daily Beast (June 4, 2013).
Now here's a guy I can sympathize with. It's bad enough when a sign is misspelled. It's much worse when the misspelled sign is the sign for my state's Teacher Standards and Practices Commission, for God's sake, which gives out teacher's licenses. But when the bomb-making instructions I download to blow up that sign are also full of typos, and then my bomb doesn't work—well, that's just, I don't know what.
I'm thinking, the bomb fails, and at that point he does a slow-burn glare into the camera accompanied by either <sad trombone sound> or <boing!> Either one works, I think.
According to the Salem Statesman-Journal, a 50-year-old man came into the office of the Oregon Teacher Standards and Practices Commission on Wednesday, plunked a pressure cooker down on the counter and told the receptionist he had tried but (obviously) failed to blow up their sign because it's misspelled. (It is missing a "D" so it reads, "Teacher Standards an Practices Commission.")
Let me digress here for a second and just marvel at the fact that Google Street View exists. The Statesman-Journal has a picture of the misspelled sign, but it's their picture; they have a link where I can buy it, but I'm too cheap for that yet I don't want to infringe. But the sign is sitting out there in public and anyone can take their own picture of it if they want to. Google, of course, has taken a picture of the whole neighborhood (and everybody else's too, probably). So I took it as a challenge to find an image of the misspelled sign. And I did, but unfortunately <sad trombone sound> it was not misspelled at the time Google was there. This is the same sign pictured in the Statesman-Journal article, and as you can see the "D" is clearly present.
What that means, of course, is that they originally got the sign right. The letter wore off or fell off or somebody scraped it off, and maybe the only way this story could get better is if the bomber's fingerprints turn out to be on the sign, suggesting he created the typo himself to have a pretext for his pro-literacy attack.
Anyway, let's get back to the receptionist, who at this point is still staring at a pressure cooker with wires sticking out of it. This area must also be visible to other employees, because the commission's executive director saw him come in and knew he was trouble.
"He walked quite confidently into our office as though he had a mission," she said, "and I think that was what alarmed me right off the bat." (Because no one who wants to be a teacher comes in with a good attitude? My guess is that the pressure cooker with wires sticking out of it might have also played a role in her alarm.) The man explained that he was upset with their misspelled sign and had just tried to blow it up for that reason. Didn't work, and you know what else?
After discussing his failed attempt to detonate his bomb, the man complained that the instructions he downloaded to make the bomb also had misspellings. [According to the director, he] implied that [she] and her employees should be concerned about the level of education children receive, given that his [bomb-making] instructions were rife with errors.
I think that only follows, though, if these were official State of Oregon bomb-making instructions that he'd gotten hold of. Then it would be fair to worry that our children are not getting the kind of training in literacy and improvised explosive devices that they will need to be successful in today's competitive economy. But if these were just any old bomb-making instructions, then the state's not to blame. You always have to be careful with what you find on the internet.
This was not in fact a bomb or really an attempt at one, according to police, just a pressure cooker. And the man left after the director "motioned with her hands for another employee to call the police," which suggests to me she didn't see him as too much of a threat if she was doing that right in front of him. And she did "focus on the idea that, if he was holding the bomb, then perhaps it wasn't going to explode immediately." Still, it's good to be careful.
Police found the man sitting in a van nearby and arrested him. Still, the director said they would keep their doors locked for a while from now on, just in case there are any other typo-driven aspiring terrorists in Salem.
The report did not say whether they have fixed the sign yet, which would be one proactive way to deal with the threat.
Actually, the pastry-gun incident (see below) hasn't ended yet, but however that ends it will still be worse.
The "New Development in Lego Gun Incident" reported by WGGB (Springfield, MA) yesterday was that the school decided it would not discipline the six-year-old boy who got in trouble for having a Lego-sized toy gun.
Reportedly, the boy brought the tiny piece of plastic that sort of looks like an assault rifle onto the school bus, and another student told the driver. According to the boy's mother, the bus driver "said he caused quite a disturbance on the bus and that the children were traumatized." The school sent a letter home (from which that image is taken) stressing that there was never any danger, but still initially said the boy would have to write a letter of apology to the driver and serve detention.
The "new development" followed a viewing of the bus surveillance video (sadly, I guess that is a thing now) which showed no actual disturbance or trauma of any kind. "There is no issue here," said the chair of the local school committee. "There's going to be no disciplinary action taken. This is not a story and you can quote me." Well, it's not a story anymore.
Still a story: the Pastry Gun Incident.
As you may recall (it caused quite a disturbance and legal-humor bloggers were traumatized), in that case a seven-year-old was suspended because he took bites out of a pastry until it resembled a gun, thus invoking the zero-sense-tolerance policy. In that case, common sense has not prevailed.
- School Gun Incident Ends Peacefully Because It Was a Gun That a 7-Year-Old Made Out of Pastry Are You Kidding Me
The pastry-wielder was required to serve the suspension, but the family has since been pursuing an appeal trying to get the incident expunged from his record. Does it matter? It might. "Who knows what doubt he's not going to be given the benefit of later?" the attorney was quoted as saying. Whatever that means, he should know, because it is apparently the fourth such non-weapon case he has handled.
On May 15, the Baltimore Sun reported that the two sides had met with no resolution. According to the attorney, school officials said they would not expunge the record but offered to change the wording of the suspension, an offer that was rejected. The school district's spokesman would not even confirm there had been a meeting, although if there hadn't been he probably wouldn't have been so upset that the attorney talked about it.
"This is a student-specific matter," the spokesman said, in case anyone thought they had suspended every student in the district, "and our school system is not going to have any comment on it, except for this: This is a matter between the school, a student and his parents. It's not, and it should not be, fodder for a publicity stunt by an attorney who seems to believe that his young client's best interests are somehow served by trying this case in the media." News flash: this has been in the media since long before they ever had an attorney, and that is not their fault.
The next step was said to be an appeal to the superintendent of schools, so the battle continues.
Shortly after this incident, a state legislator introduced a bill that would have precluded discipline for gun-seeming things that aren't guns unless they are actually used in a "direct act of violence" (presumably by hitting someone with them). That has been sitting in committee since March 20, so common sense may be dying a slow death there as well.
Nope. He does not:
Of course, neither did Alberto Gonzales, or if he did, he didn't recall:
Now, I don't know whether it's worse to not know anything or to not recall anything. I mean, if you don't know, you don't know, but if you don't recall, then you might know but not recall knowing or you might not know and not recall whether you know or not. Although I guess if you say you don't know, we don't know whether you never knew or whether you once knew but don't know now, which would be the same as not recalling. On the other hand, saying you don't know could potentially be disproven, like by a document showing you did know at the time you said you didn't. But if you say you don't recall, and then it turns out you knew, you could still just say you didn't recall. So I would say that saying you don't recall is worse because we can never really know whether you do or not.
I'm glad I could clear that up, although if they're both lying their asses off, which seems likely, it doesn't matter.
As you may recall, John Brennan took off all his clothes last April at an airport checkpoint in Portland to protest being hassled by the TSA (they got a false positive on that swab test), and was then charged with indecent exposure. See "TSA: Wants to See You Naked, Complains When You Get That Way," Lowering the Bar (Apr. 18, 2012). He was acquitted in July after a state judge found that his action was "symbolic nudity" of the kind that Oregon cases have held is constitutionally protected.
Well, if he was acquitted on constitutional grounds, why does he need to appeal? First, because he's not appealing the state criminal charge, he's appealing a $1,000 civil fine the TSA imposed on him; and second, because the TSA cares more about its own authority than about the Constitution.
The TSA has charged Brennan with violating a regulation that says "No person may interfere with, assault, or intimidate screening personnel in the performance of their screening duties." 49 C.F.R. § 1540.109. Brennan didn't assault anyone, and if the TSA can be "intimidated" by a calm, motionless naked man, then God forbid they should ever have to deal with an actual terrorist. So they are arguing that he "interfered" with screening operations when he took his clothes off.
This report speeds up the video and makes it easier to see that the only thing "interfering" with screening operations was the TSA agents' decision that it was more important to hassle him while running around finding stuff to shield the public from his nudity than to just clear him and get back to their jobs. This is the same argument some cops use when they arrest people for taking videos or pictures of them doing something questionable, and it's bogus here too. Since photography is not a crime, police should hardly be able to interrupt what they were doing to hassle the photographer and then claim he interfered with them because of a decision they made. That point is even more valid here, since as previously discussed TSA agents have no law-enforcement function. None. Once it was clear that Brennan was not carrying any weapons or explosives—or at least, there was only one place left he could have been hiding them, and they don't look there anyway—the TSA's role ended and it should have sent him on his way. This "interference" argument is just bootstrapping, and is being used as an excuse to punish someone who challenged TSA authority.
There is a previous case in which this regulation has been challenged on First Amendment grounds, the argument on which Brennan prevailed in state court. Rendon v. Transportation Security Admin., 424 F.3d 475 (6th Cir. 2005). In that case, Rendon also protested TSA bullshit, which he loudly and belligerently declared to be bullshit while still at the checkpoint. As in Brennan's case, the TSA agent then stopped his screening line to call his supervisor and then a police officer, and the agency later argued that this qualified as "interference." Rendon argued that the regulation was unconstitutional because, just as in his case, it allowed punishment based on speech (profanity is still protected speech if you're using it to protest). He lost.
The Sixth Circuit held in part that the regulation was not overbroad because it only prohibits conduct that "interferes," and is interpreted to prohibit only conduct that poses "an actual hindrance to the accomplishment of a specified task." I don't buy that result. Again, I don't see how Rendon or Brennan hindered the screeners. Had the TSA just cleared them, there'd have been no reason to stop the line. In both cases the TSA stopped the line, and later punished the traveler, just because the agent didn't like the traveler's attitude, not because he was hindering them. That should be unconstitutional.
But Brennan and his lawyer, Robert Callahan, won't be able to bring up the Constitution tomorrow, because the first step in challenging the fine is a hearing before an administrative law judge, and for a reason that's still not clear to me, the ALJ will not or cannot rule on constitutional issues. The proceeding may be limited to factual determinations. (There will be testimony -- in fact, I am told that the TSA has seven agents and two police officers on its witness list. All of whom will likely just say "the naked man was interfering," or words to that effect, over and over.) The con-law defenses will have to be raised on appeal if Brennan loses this week.
The hearing is Tuesday at 9 a.m., at the U.S. Bankruptcy Court in Portland (ninth floor, Courtroom 2). The TSA persuaded the judge to keep out cameras, but the hearing is still open to the public. If you do attend, please wear clothes. You may have a First Amendment right to be naked, but let's fight one battle at a time, please.