I Have No Identity!

I don’t mean this in some metaphysical “Woooaaaahhhh…like, who AM I?” way, so you don’t need to be frightened that I’ve been transformed in to some hideos hippy-ish freak who likes nothing more than obnoxious jam bands and flower headbands and stinking clothing that may as well have been dipped in patchouli.

I mean that, for the past couple of weeks I have LITERALLY possessed no identity. I had to get my license renewed by my birthday, so I figured I’d just get it done and went in a couple of weeks ago. Aaaaah, the waiting in line…how I’ve missed thee, registry office. As always, I got the new girl, the one who has been there for a week and still really doesn’t have a full grasp on what she’s doing yet. She’s being watched, but the one who’s watching her is watching 3 other people as well. This actually brings up the Mystery of the Registry Office…where the fuck do these new people GO? I am almost ALWAYS being helped by a newcomer, yet the next time I go in it’s another newcomer and the same old staff. Are the old guard actually some sort of secret cannibal society, biding their time until they can bite in to the tender flesh of the unaware, their screams of pain and horror swallowed up by the inky night? Or are the new staff only there until the first moon of the new month when they are ritualistically sacrificed to the gods of government bureaucracy? Perhaps the truth is simply too horrible to know.

ANYWAY, after many false steps and restarts, we were finally on our way. After the paperwork and the excitement of watching someone else type was over, it was in to the back for the photo for the new license. Now, I sit down and I’m expecting a warning when BAMMO, it’s photo flash time! What the…was…was that it?! I was in no way ready for that! Apparently it was, though. Now I get to stand there and wait to see if the photo came out properly. She says it does…I don’t get to look. I leave with my shitty ‘temporary license’. Nothing like having just a piece of paper that basically just says “I am allowed to drive…really. Trust me!” Yes indeed, ID through the honor system. I was SURE I’d be pulled over by some cop who would look at the little paper, look at me, then promptly issue forth a harsh tazing (you know, as opposed to a light, gentle tazing) ‘just to be sure’.

It never did happen, and lo and behold my new license is here! So I checked it out. There are a few changes to the card, but what I was drawn to was the photo. There are two options for what this picture looks like :

-A photo of a man who has been arrested after killing, dismembering and partially consuming the entire population of some remote Russian village, a village SO remote that they don’t have color photography yet. He has no remorse…he is incapable of feeling it. He’s an emotionless automaton who knows only the faintest of pleasure after committing atrocities upon others.

-The example photo of the Alpha Zombie, the one who started the entire plague of restless undead currently walking the surface of the planet.

So, I figure that NOW when that cop sees my photo ID (I exist! Lo0k!), they’re just going to grab for Mr. Glock and put a few rounds through my skull. Great. Thanks, Alberta Registries!