Updated July 3rd by Rick

The DMV

     Continuing in my series of articles about stupidity, today I bring you an adventure from my own life.  Today, I unfortunately had to journey to the deepest, darkest, cesspool that exists in our society today.  No, I didn't attend a taping of the Rosey O'Donnel Show.  If you bothered to read the title of the entry, you'd know I went to the DMV.
     It is probably my fault for being foolish enough to willingly go into the DMV in the first place.  Any smart individual knows to avoid the DMV like Richard Simmons avoids pork grinds.  I however, avoided the DMV like Eazy E avoided AIDs; you see, I decided it was high time I replace a drivers license that I lost several months ago.  I don't often drive, so it wasn't something that was really necessary so I was putting it off as long as possible.  However, with the Fourth of July near, I knew that I was going to need identification to purchase large quantities of alcohol to help cure my inherent bitterness at being lonely and friendless on the fourth of july.  I DON'T WANT TO GO TO ANY BBQS ANYWAY, YOU STUPID STUCK UP FUCKS!!!  GOD I HATE YOU ASSHOLES...I JUST WANT TO BE LOVED, WHAT'S SO WRONG WITH THAT??? ...er ..umm...I digress. . .
     I saw signs of trouble before I even left for the DMV.  It was in the middle of nowhere.  That worried me.  Now, I know that Tucson is a stupid little town and that they tend to make horrible decisions when it comes to placing such important things as Hospitals, Freeway (there's only one), Circle K's (there's one on every corner...who could possibly need that much cheap liquor and three-day old hot dogs?  Why, me, of course.)  and Fast Food restaurants.  Things are often put up in little bunches of cominality; in other words, all the fast food places are in one place, all the grocery stores are in one place, all the banks are in one place, etc.  Unfortunately, all the houses are in the same place, too and that same place is very far from anything useful (except circle K's).  Yet, the DMV was ridiculously out of the way of civilization.  This worried me.  I also noted that there was only one DMV in town.  Tucson has a fair population; sure, most of the people are too poor even to ride busses and are forced allow large trucks to drag them to their places of employment (aka: the welfare line).  Why was there only one DMV?  I was very, very concerned.
     More trouble became evident as I arrived at the DMV.  The sign out front was misspelled.  Now, I know three letter acronyms are rather challenging to spell, but, apparently, they still managed to fuck it up.  The sign said "MVD."  Not only did they fuck it up on the sign outside the building, but they apparently managed to misspell it on all their signs in the building as well.  The forms all said "MVD" on the top..  Someone needs spell-check!

You can tell this is a put on for the TV cameras because there is no violence, no marauding bands of abandoned children trading gasoline for teletubies , no crazy goths sacrafcing pig hearts to the Lord Belezebub or any of society's rejects that are uncontrollably drawn to the hellmouth that is the DMV.

     Upon entering the DMV (I can spell it right, why can't Arizona?) I was immediately siphoned into an info line.  It's a good thing that I did indeed want info, because I had no choice on the matter.  You are forced to stand in the line as soon as you enter.  The line actually seemed to move rather quickly.  This simply confirms my theory that if there's a god, he's a cruel, teasing sadist.  As I aproached the oh so lovely (if you're a necropheliac) worker, I told her, "I have a California licenses, but I've lost it.  I would like to get an Arizona license.  I have the declaration letter from the State of California."
     " We don't take decolation letters!!" the harpie replied.
     " But, the person I talked to on the phone told me that I needed a decloration letter if I wanted to get an AZ license.  I also have the other required documents," I countered.
     "We don't take decloration letters!" she said, obviously preparing to strike me down where I stood.  She reached for a weapon from her desk, but somehow her hand came in contact with the rules for getting an AZ license.  Much like a small stupid child, she touched it, so she had to read it.  She read it and said: "This will be fine."  She handed me a number and I was on my way.
     My number was 'a078' and they were currently on 'a067" so I thought that perhaps I might get through this whole ordeal rather quickly.  My, how wrong I was.  I waited and waited and waited some more.  While I was waiting, I had the pleasure of observing many lovely members of society.  Like the strange teenage guy who wouldn't stop looking at me.  Or the redneck who was enthralled with  "ziggy" in the paper that he probably stole from a homeless man.  Perhaps the scarriest of the bunch were the five hundred children with an absentee mother.  No one knows where these children came from or why they remain; their culture is remarkably similar to that of post-apocalyptic band of radiation infected criminals.  They wander the DMV yelling incoherent phrases at a blood-curdling pitch.  They often bump into you at random times.  Even while you're sitting.  Perhaps this is some sort of marking of their territory.
     I somehow managed to survive the dregs of society as well as the everlong wait.  My number was finally called.  It seemed that fate finally was smiling on me.  Of course, I was wrong.  Before I aproached the cubicle that I was summoned to, a young teenage girl headed me off.  Now, she was semi-attractive.  Perhaps that's why I put up with it.  But the lady started to take care of some mindless business for her while I waited on.  And on.  And on.  FInally, The Great Mighty Evil Queen of The Whatever-MVD-Stands-For Omnipotent Trainee acknoledged my presence.  I explained my situation slowly and simply, in hopes that this would not become any more complex than it already was.  While I was explaining my situation,  The Great Mighty Evil Queen of The Whatever-MVD-Stands-For Omnipotent Trainee absentmindledly pressed buttons on her console.  This caused other customers (prisoners, in reality) to be called to the cubicle.  The Great Mighty Evil Queen of The Whatever-MVD-Stands-For Omnipotent Trainee let out a fat chuckle, ignorant to her own incompetence. The Great Mighty Evil Queen of The Whatever-MVD-Stands-For Omnipotent Trainee  asked them to wait, then asked for my paperwork.  The Great Mighty Evil Queen of The Whatever-MVD-Stands-For Omnipotent Trainee  looked over the paperwork I haded her for several minutes.  Then, The Great Mighty Evil Queen of The Whatever-MVD-Stands-For Omnipotent Trainee  said, "Do you have an application?"
     I stood dumbfounded. NO ONE SAID SHIT ABOUT A GOD DAMN APPLICATION. I nearly said "naw bitch, i got yo damn application, it's in my pants you heffer!  FUCK YOU AND YOUR GOD DAMN SUPERVISOR AND YOUR MOM AND YOUR FAMILY AND YOUR GOD DAMN GOD"  but, I simply replied, "the lady didn't give me an application?"
     So, as I saw the person who was mistakenly called instead of me get my place in line, I began to fill out the simple form. I quickly returned to the cubicle, despite the fact that my place was lost.  I knew that if I waited much longer, I would be too old to drive anyway.  I"d probably be too old to live.  I sat and watched as a young girl with strange hair(probably getting her first license) chatted it up with The Great Mighty Evil Queen of The Whatever-MVD-Stands-For Omnipotent Trainee.  I began to loathe both of their existences.  Then came the eye test.  Strange Hair was wearing glasses, so certainly she'd pass, correct?  WRONG.  They went through an entire battery of eye exams in an attempt to allow her to pass the test.  All of which she failed.  Of course, since she failed, she didn't get her license and I was quickly helped and went home happy.  WRONG.  They gave her the god damn license anyway.  Great.  All we need is Strange Haired Blind Teenagers out on the road.
     After eons dragged on, The Great Mighty Evil Queen of The Whatever-MVD-Stands-For Omnipotent Trainee saw it fit to finally deal with me.  She once again spent hours going over my paperwork.  Then, when she got to my application, I was forced to repeat every single line that I"d written on the application slowly, so her two-word a minute blubber paws could manage to correctly enter the data.  Her supervisor then asked to see my letter again.  She looked at it and said "Oh, he didn't need an application.
MOTHER FUCKER WHY THE FUCK DID I FILL OUT A MARY MOTHER OF GOD DAMN JESUS H CHRIST OF LATTER DAY DAMN APPLICATION?   JESUS.
     Thankfully, though, the ordeal was over after that. Twenty-five dollars later, I now once again am licensed to drive.  This alchohol better be damn good.

Those Wacky Nazis. They Think of Everything.