If we recall correctly, Marge Simpson’s sisters—Selma and Thelma Bouvier—work at the local Springfield Department of Motor Vehicles. Naturally, the writers for “The Simpsons” have chosen this as the Bouvier sisters’ occupations because it well fits their unpleasant dispositions.

As a result, it will come without much surprise to anyone to learn that the Department of Motor Vehicles—or the Registry of Motor Vehicles—is a horrible, horrible place. Which DMV, you ask? Why, any of them. Any one of them in these here United States of America. And in other countries, we’d wager, though we’re merely making an educated guess.

To inform you, then, that one of the senior editors here at “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly”—let’s just call him “Chip”—recently had a bad experience at the local DMV isn’t exactly a shock. It’s par for the course.

Even so, this experience left him so scarred that he simply must discuss it. We know youÂ’ve probably heard worse DMV stories, dear reader, but this one will just add fuel to the fire. Frankly, someone needs to burn these darn DMVs to the ground. If only the Islamist terrorists would attack unoccupied DMVs, we might all be able to see eye to eye.

Anyway, on with the tale of woe. As the result of a recent offer to accept an editorial gig at “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” “Chip” found himself moving across state lines to live closer to Hatemonger’s Headquarters. Hence he required a new driver’s license for his new state.

And hence he found himself at the local DMV. It was, in essence, an aesthetic disaster: Heavily soiled carpet; heavily soiled customers; heavily soiled employees; &. If someone attempted to get a sense of the USA merely from a trip to this DMV, he would think that it was a Third-World country. Perhaps Fourth-World, if thatÂ’s possible.

Unsurprisingly, a humorously long line greeted new arrivals. At the end of this line sat a woman whose temperament seemed like a mix of the Marquis de Sade’s and Hitler’s. Whilst “Chip” came closer and closer to this wonderful specimen of humanity, he noticed that she took great delight in rejecting people’s requests.

No matter who approached her, no matter what the request, this dreadful woman simply couldnÂ’t be appeased. She came up with one reason after another why no one could get anything they wanted.

Need a new license? Well, you better have eight forms of identification, a Commodore 64 computer, Donald TrumpÂ’s haircut, and a stool sample from Dolly Parton. Oh, and a Russian spy plane.

Posted by: Chip at 12:01 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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