Today's Bizarro made possible by Meaningless Bureaucracy Unlimited. "We control your life because we can!"
Everyone dreads a visit to the local DMV, but none more than those of us in New York City. Because this place is huge and untold dozens of people live here, all city services are as deep into the "Completely Sucks" range as one can get. It takes four days minimum to get a cable repair guy to show up at your place, for instance, so if your TV and internet are out, you're just living in colonial America for the better part of a week.
A visit to the DMV is a great way to get a feeling for what our ancestors felt as they waited on Ellis Island for in indeterminate time, in line after line, unsure of whether they would be allowed to pursue their dream, or be sent back home empty-handed and suicidal.
Because of the endless bureaucracy of getting a motorcycle license in NYC (you wait in line at the DMV to take a written test, which has little to do with actual driving rules or principles, then go online to schedule a driving test to be taken a month or more in the future – to which you must bring a licensed, registered, inspected car and a driver, licensed both for cars and motorcycles, to chauffeur the examiner as he follows you through the streets, honking in code to tell you what maneuver to execute – then back to the DMV within 90 days to trade the paper receipt the examiner gives you for another piece of paper, which you carry around until they send you the actual license 6 weeks later … I really wish I were kidding) I drove my old Vespa scooter, which I've had since 1981, unlicensed for four years. I finally got caught, and that's what forced me to submit myself to the local Gitmo to become legal.
Hence, this cartoon.
