Mar 192010

Psycho KillerThe “R” word is just never spoken. You would think it is a very naughty word in reference to sex. It does affect the sale of sex. As salaries and jobs are lost, prices do come down as well as pants. The “R” word of which I speak is “RECESSION”. We have been in an economic recession for many years. I would say the .com rupture is what caved in the economy. You cannot recover from an event that gave incredible false representations of how the economy had worked in the past to a generation of people. Politicians NEVER use the “R” word for if they were to, they would melt in exactly the same way the Wicked Witch of the West did in the “Wizard of Oz” when water was thrown on her. The only difference between politicians and the Wicked Witch is she had scary, heinous, flying monkeys to do her bidding. I am not saying that there have not been any incidents involving politicians and monkeys but they are of an entirely different nature and usually involve some kind of sticky, sweet substance and rubber pants. Newscasters also refrain from using the “R” word since to many it is more important to represent a politician in a positive way since they support them than to give us the unbiased truth. One politician from California suffered a nervous breakdown and walked into a session of congress dressed as Adolf Hitler. A popular newspaper from S.F., instead of conveying to the people what had actually happened, moved this story to “Living” portion of the paper and spoke of it in a positive vein pertaining to starting a new fashion trend! “You can never wear too many swastikas and black looks SO good on red in springtime!” it proclaimed. If no one speaks the “R” word it will magically just go away! It will, my mommy said so!

S.F. is a magical place where one can and will encounter situations you thought would never transpire. I remember one year when Sister Boom Boom finished 5th in the mayoral race at the time. Sis is a transvestite who dresses in a nun’s habit and uses the most dreadful grease paint on his face. He has taken the place of clowns in my most horrific nightmares. I have a picture of myself in a Nun’s habit. My hips were just too wide and I had a 5 o’clock shadow but damn do I look holy! Maybe that is why I am an ordained minister; unfortunately, the chicks and money never rolled in.

The majority of people are not even fazed by the economy as long as they can drive their gas guzzling ATVs and have money to buy a latte from Starbucks and find cheap and abundant sex with animals at the local zoo. People who know me will always say I am somewhat insane but I have revised that perception to believe I am one of the sanest people I have ever met or known, but being a split personality, I often wonder which person thinks that. So as the recession DEEPENS I discover the DMV is only open 4 days a week which increases the crowds on a daily basis.

Tuesday I had to make a physical trip to the DMV. Online and postal attempts at resolving problems had been less than successful. To get back at me, the DMV started flooding me with brochures explaining what services they offer. Of course all were in Spanish. I would just toss them away in the trash except for one that displayed on the cover 4 scantily clad, over endowed women in latex all holding a bucket of Vaseline in one hand and cat of nine tails in the other. I did not know what it said but I was almost willing to just walk into the DMV and say “Can you fix me up, NOW?”

I arrived at the DMV at 9 A.M. just as it was opening. I surmised “Tracy is a small city and I should be in and out rather quickly.” That was a deduction that, upon seeing the line, stuck its size 12 shoe up my rectum. Hmm could it be this is the only DMV for miles around? The line already reached to the parking lot with a multitude of people joining the conga line continually. It was a chilly day out and every person seemed to be wearing winter gear and hemming and hawing as they stood in line. I had a tee shirt on and that was all. A number of people just looked at me on and off over the course of the following hour wondering why I was not freezing. I use an old Indian trick. I smoked peyote before I had arrived and I was hallucinating I was lost in the desert being chased by 300 Burger Kings. Now that will take your mind off the cold.

I took 1 ½ hours to reach the front desk to get a number but not before I had to fill out a form. As I was performing this task a dozen people stepped in front of me and received numbers. I have discovered that any person working for the DMV seems inhuman in some aspect. The gentleman handing out numbers weighed at least 500 plus pounds. He seemed to be having a great deal of difficulty moving and obtaining the proper forms to hand to people. At least I thought he was 500 pounds until I got close enough and realized he was wearing 127 shirts trying to beat the current Guinness record. Some I do not believe are human at all and that was substantiated by the Alien Grey working window 4 and the Sasquatch giving out the eye test.

There were at least 7 to 8 older gentlemen who must have not noticed they had left home and were in a public place. All were wearing their PJ bottoms, slippers, one was wearing a robe, another wandered around with his coffee mug in hand and yet another had a huge teddy bear named “Pookie” he was hugging for dear life.

What I found amazing was that no one had a book or any such item to divert their attention and to pass the time. They sat and stood and stared at the monitor awaiting the other worldly voice to call their number. Of course you always get the ass the yells “Bingo!” when their name was called. No laughter was heard. I thought I would try something a little different. I had been waiting another hour and 45 minutes when my number was called to the Alien Grey’s window which upon stepping up to, I realized was just a very emaciated young man with large eyes. I stood up with my right hand in my pants pocket and screamed “EVERYONE FACE FIRST ON THE GROUND OR I WILL BLOW YOU AWAY!” Amazingly everyone did as I said. It was hard to tell them all I was just kidding around. A few actually approached me and shook my hand and thanked me for snapping them out of their drowsiness since they had been there for 3 days and had fallen asleep. Some people really got pissed off. Some people just have no sense of humor, especially an eight month pregnant woman who resembled an elephant trying to rock herself back a forth in a vein attempt to get off the floor. Was it my fault she belly flopped to the ground and her water broke? NO!

No person who is in the employment of the DMV will ever admit to making any kind of mistake. What is incredible is if I were to query every person in there as to why they are there I am positive that I would find that a large percentage would be due to mistakes on the DMV’s behalf and much to my chagrin that 34% are not wearing deodorant and 42% did not brush their teeth that morning. I know the person I spoke with disavowed all culpability to the mistakes made trying to attain my registration. She could even see the dates that the forms had been filled out and mailed in (in marker mind you) but of course she just called me a lying sack of crap to my face, but in a NICE way. On my way out I grabbed a suggestion form and stated the DMV workers should be equipped with sodium pentothal and lie detectors so that they would know without a shadow of a doubt, that when used, the customer is telling the truth. Of course an employee could ask no questions pertaining to sex with dolls or using your intestinal tract as a gerbil habit trail. Did I use the word customer? Technically we are not customers but meat on bones to have to deal with. Not many people know that the DMV is a Nazi-contrived organization that was used by the Third Reich to track down cross dressers that never shaved their legs. At that time they were very successful. At the height of their power there were very few cross dressers that did not have smooth, lovely legs. Herman Goering is an excellent example. Betty Grable might have had the greatest pair of legs during WWII but Herman’s legs were in line right behind hers. The pride of the SS! Patton was secretly jealous of Herman’s legs his entire life. That is why he refused the Oscar when it was awarded to him for Best Actor for portraying himself in the movie named after him. Many people believe it was George C. Scott but he had everyone fooled. He was a crotchety old general.

Needless to say, I had aged 26 years by the time I had arrived home and found everyone I had known was dead. If someone had warned me that you encounter a worm hole that bends time when one visits the DMV, I would have stayed illegal. If a job is ever needed I think I could be stand-offish enough and wander around aimlessly looking like I am working while looking at porn. Hey, the perfect job!

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