Step Aside, Angelina

The topic today is one that touches all of our lives. It's not a pleasant subject, but it is one that can scar one's self esteem and create shame and humiliation for most of this county's adult population. If you're squeamish, turn away. If you have a difficult time facing an ugly truth, exit out of this blog now and save yourself the anguish that surely lies ahead.

If you've gotten this far, this is your last warning... much pain and suffering awaits.

Well... here goes and believe me, this will be equally tough for me.

I have lived in several states in this country... Texas, Ohio, California, New Mexico, Virginia, and now Missouri. There is one common thread with all of these states (and I assume all others as well) that is needless and can be best described as a blatant abuse of power. I have a fundamental belief that there is good in everyone but this practice pushes the limit of that belief. It's the ugliest side of humanity that I can think of, and yet it goes on many hundreds of times a day, day after day, year after year, unchecked and unchallenged by the very people it hurts the most.

My driver's license photo is hideous. That's the only way to accurately describe it. Hideous !!!

I don't look like this. I'm not in any danger of winning any Mr. America contests to be sure, but neither did I fall out of the ugly tree hitting every branch on the way down. Thanks to the lighting and the camera angle at the Ava DMV, I look like a deranged escapee from the mental block of the most maximum security corrections facility in the country. If I looked in the mirror and saw that looking back at me, I'd run outside and wait for vampire bats to attack so I wouldn't have a reflection anymore.

It's not just the current one either... Every license I've ever had has a horrendous looking photo on it. My eyes are closed... one eye is closed... I'm in the middle of a yawn, or a sneeze, or a cough... a bug just flew in my mouth... there's food on my face... something is hanging out of my nose... the color is off and I'm either green or orange... my smile looks more like a grimace from having a 250 pound anvil dropped on my toes... I look drunk, or stoned, or both. Something is going to be terribly wrong with the photo that they take.

Here's what I'm up against with this latest piece of artistry.I go to write a check at my local convenience store and when they ask me for my ID, they take one look at it and start shoving cash from the register into a paper bag, taking off their jewelry and handing it to me across the counter, and begging me to spare their lives or to at least have mercy when I kill them. All I wanted was a Diet Mountain Dew and some sunflower seeds but they act like I drove into the middle of their store armed with a Sherman tank and dressed like the unibomber. I have to remind them that I've lived a half mile from their establishment for over a year and come in on an almost daily basis usually paying for my purchases with cash before the color slowly returns to their faces, I get my license back with a nervous laugh, and feel that I can leave without fear of a personal visit from John Walsh of "America's Most Wanted".

Can someone explain to me why the DMV does this? Do they take pride in taking bad photos? Do they set-up the camera and lights when no one is there and then save the settings when the practice photos turn out barely recognizable? And why do we as taxpayers stand for this? We have certain unalienable rights, do we not? Didn't the founding fathers put something about this in our constitution?

And here is the worst practice they employ... they wait and wait and wait until just the right moment when you're the least prepared you've ever been for a photo shoot and then BAM. Right upside the frontal view of your face. I check myself in mirrors on the drive to the DMV. I check again in the men's room before it's my turn. There's always a mirror right there that seems to mock me and say "Go ahead and check... it's not going to matter anyway." But I make the one last check and when I'm mistakenly satisfied that this could turn out decent for a change, they somehow take a photo that makes all the posters in the post office look like Glamour Shots.

Is it because I'm just an average citizen with no real clout or leverage against them? I wonder if celebrities are treated this way. Take Angelina Jolie, for instance. She always looks so stunning, even when the paparazzi get a shot of her just grocery shopping with her kids and after several hours at the gym. Why can't my photo ever look that good? I'm curious what her driver's license picture looks like though. I'd wager real money that even Angie's photograph looks like she went a few rounds with Holyfield. And I'll bet that not even Donald Trump gets to re-take his photo if he doesn't like the way his hair looks. Is it just me, or is there another reason we never see celebs' DL photos?

I would think that local law enforcement could certainly enforce how their picture turns out, I mean they carry guns. So why not mine? Why couldn't I take my friend Phillip who has sworn "to protect and to serve" with me when I get my license renewed to make sure that I'm treated with dignity and respect? Is that too much for a taxpayer to ask? I'm just asking.

Do you think that this unexplained phenomenon occurs only in this country? Have any of you ever seen a drivers license from France? How about England or Germany? What about Mexico? They're pretty close to us. I wonder if the good citizens of Australia have to hide their licenses like we do.

Maybe the DMV will let me bring my own photo next time and then scan it into their computer. I could go to the mall and feed quarters into that little booth until I get a picture that doesn't make me look so maniacally insane and wondering what planet I'm on this week. I could even go to Glamour Shots and ask them to make me look like a rugged leading man type such as Harrison Ford. I could ask for the dashing ladies man look like Clark Gable. I might go to one of those kiosks at the mall where they take your picture and with the aid of a computer can give you 50 different hairstyles in a matter of seconds. I've been wanting to do that anyway... you know, to dream about how the other half lives... but hey, that's a topic for another day.

Even if I did all of that, what good would it do anyway? If I took my own picture in, I'm sure they would have to skew it this way and that way to fit their format and I'd end up looking like a very short and fat Harrison Ford or a really tall and skinny Clark Gable with hair so tall that it would make Marge Simpson envious. And if they couldn't do that, I'd end up green or with stripes or some other type of skin condition.

I'm telling you, the only good thing about these pictures is the fact that we are living in an age where we don't have to show ID as much anymore, what with the debit card and online banking and internet shopping. It's a good thing too... I really loathe the looks of pity that I seem to get whenever I have to drag this thing out.

So here I am with my latest excellence in photography. This last time I went in for my photo shoot to replace the license I "lost", I got myself ready, primped and preened in the mirror and made them wait. No food on my face... good. Nothing hanging out... good. Smile... good. Look like I'm not ready then smile fast enough at the slightest sound of increased pressure from her finger on the button... yes, I practiced that too.

I was ready.

I stepped in front of the camera and struck my pose and plastered an award winning smile on my face and became as stone. My nose itched and I didn't move. A roach crawled up my pants leg and I didn't budge. A gust of breeze from another poor hapless soul entering the building moved a few of the hairs out of their assigned places, and still I remained motionless. She turned away from the camera to answer a question from her co-worker, but I wasn't fooled for a second. I was frozen. Then she took her hand off of the camera button and started talking to the other lady about some bake sale for her daughter's cheerleading squad, and I saw the opportunity to become assertive and take some charge of the situation. I cleared my throat, glared at her for a few moments, then said through my sore jaw muscles "Look, Lady... will you just... take... the da...." CLICK

Step Aside, Angelina ! ! !

Until next time...