ON BECOMING ENSNARLED IN ONE’S OWN JOCKSTRAP


The title of this essay is perhaps misleading in that only a small portion of it has to do with athletic supporters. Primarily it has to do with the stupidity of the federal government and the great state of New Jersey in demanding that every automotive driver have a photograph on his driver’s license. This seems to flow from a provision in the so-called Patriot Act. What my photograph on a driver’s license has to do with patriotism is beyond the ken of this old World War II veteran.
I first came to New Jersey in 1955 and went to the motor vehicle office to apply for a driver’s license. There was no eye examination, nor did anybody test me for my driving skills. No one asked me if I was color blind or did I have emotional fits when confronted by demanding situations. For all the years since 1955, New Jersey has issued me a driver’s license upon my payment of their fee. At no time has anyone ever examined my eyes or tested my driving skills. For those of you who have been unaware of recent events, I am now a blind person. Ah, but that did not prevent the federal government and the great state of New Jersey from demanding that I go to my nearest Motor Vehicle Office to renew my driver’s license with my picture on it.
Recently, the great state of New Jersey concluded that if every driver’s license had a photo on it, it would deter terrorists and stop crime completely. Now everyone knows that terrorists are often called Islamic Fascists who ordinarily operate with full beards and mustaches. I strongly suspect that terrorists would probably shave those beards and mustaches to have their picture taken for their driver’s license. Be that as it may, my confidential sources have told me that Osama Bin Laden fainted when he heard the news about New Jersey requiring photographs on drivers’ licenses. In perfect Arabic, Osama said, “This is the end of my terrorist operation.” So you see, New Jersey is doing its part in the so-called War on Terror.
The government has encouraged people who sell airline tickets, for example, to ask for identification and the photograph on the driver’s license will satisfy that request. While I have no great plans to travel abroad, it seemed to me that I could be a patriot and make my contribution to the War on Terror by having my picture on my alleged driver’s license. And so it was that my wife Judy took me to the nearest licensing bureau to undergo the bureaucratic process to gain a non-drivers driver’s license. Upon entry to the driver’s license bureau, we were given a card and whenever the number on the card was called, we would report to the proper clerks. There were at least three places where we had to report. Fortunately, Judy was with me and could read the number on the card. If that were not the case, I suppose I would still be sitting at the driver’s license bureau waiting for my number to be called.
I had a sense that there were large numbers of people working in the licensing bureau. The thought also went through my mind that here I am, with no hope of ever driving a car again, appearing before an army of licensing agents for this great state. It struck me also that my taxes are paying the salaries for this army of agents and that in due time I will be forced to pay for their pensions. That is not a pleasant thought at all.
Nonetheless, we reported to the first station and underwent a degree of processing. Then I was led to another set of chairs and waited for my number to be called a little later. Finally, after about 45 minutes, my number was called the third time. This was the climax of the whole operation in that my photograph was taken to be placed upon my non-drivers driving document.
Ordinarily my wife Judy signs receipts for me because I can no longer see them. But an officious lady at the traffic bureau insisted that I had to sign it myself. Predictably, I ran out of room because I couldn’t see the confines of the place I was supposed to sign. My signature, which appears on my non-driver’s license, has two “E”s and part of a “C” with the rest not being recorded. But that’s what the representative of this great state demanded that I do. In the end, she acquiesced as Judy signed it. Upon hearing this latest development, Osama fell into a deep coma.
The new non-drivers driver’s license is now in my wallet and whenever I am confronted by officials, I can show them the new license which proves that I am not a full-fledged terrorist. There is one drawback in that there are other cards in my wallet and I am unable to select the one that needs to be shown to the proper authorities. The authorities don’t want to see my Master Card or my social security card. They want to see my non-drivers driver’s license which assures them that I am not a terrorist.
When the whole exercise was completed, I presented the representatives of the great state of New Jersey with a check signed by my wife for $24. It might be observed that, after 51 years, there was no one there to judge my driving skills nor was there an optometrist to see about my visual acuity. I had often thought these items were important when operating a motor vehicle but apparently New Jersey thinks otherwise. The last step in the process was to present my former driver’s license and have the official punch a hole through it so that it could be identified by any arresting officers if I were to be caught driving a large truck or a racing car. In that respect, New Jersey is right on the ball.
In 2005, the New Jersey authorities issued me a card which attests to my blindness, and they have given me a blue card to be hung on the rear-view mirror so that a car I am riding in may be parked in a preferred space. I suspect that an arresting officer might notice the blue card hanging from the rear-view mirror and inquire about its origins. Again, the Great State of New Jersey has given me documents that attest to my blindness as well as a non-drivers driver’s license. In all of the civilized world, where can you find authorities as goofy as the ones here in New Jersey. Baghdad? Moscow? Katmandu? The North Pole?
In sum and substance, New Jersey is leading the fight on the War on Terrorism by having all the drivers and non-drivers carry a card with their picture on it. It is quite likely that this development will cause Osama to become a Christian.
The other day when Judy and I tried to open a new savings account at the bank that I have used for 25 years, the branch manager asked for me to present my driver’s license. I was sitting there with my sunglasses and my white cane in front of him. I believe he was thoroughly embarrassed at this faux pas which bothered me not at all. When I presented my non-drivers driver’s license, the account was opened. This is what I call participating in the war on terror to the fullest extent.
All things being equal, it strikes this old grizzled veteran as an exercise in being ensnarled in one’s own jockstrap. That is the way this state and this country operate.
Now to make the title of this essay somewhat more valid, I will report that when I entered high school, one of my friends either bought or was given an athletic supporter. When he took it into the boys’ locker room, older boys assured him that it was in fact a nose guard. My informants tell me that this youngster took the supporter home and wrestled with it for a day or two before an older boy revealed what it was intended to do. Whenever I think of New Jersey and its driver’s license requirements, the sight of this youngster comes to mind with his trying to figure out where the holes are for his arms so that the nose guard would be in place properly. But that was just one boy. In New Jersey, we have an army on the payroll attempting to unsnarl their jockstraps. But I am deeply comforted by the card in my wallet, which resides on my left hip, which is a non-drivers driver’s license. Every American should be so comforted.
E. E. CARR
January 31, 2007
Essay 231
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Kevin’s commentary: People credit Obama’s leadership with Osama’s death, but in reality the terrorist leader had been crippled for years as a direct result of Pop’s efforts.
P.S. We’re introducing the long-overdue “funny” tag. Hopefully it’ll get some good mileage out of 2007. Cheers!

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