As this is my first post on Scrivel.com, I've been trying like a midget at the Olympics to come up with something that matches my kind of humor, but to no avail just yet; so I'm going to talk about something that we all hate and no one can figure out, but everyone pretends to understand.
Imagine you're a teenager (some of you a**holes probably still are) and you want to take up driving, you know, as a second hobby to being a douche and wearing those God-awful plaid pants. First of all you need a car.
But wait! Don't you need insurance to drive a car?
Of course you do, why didn't I think of that? But you have to have insurance to buy one and you need a car to insure if you're going to be driving as slow as Tila Tequila at a science fair. 
But wait, there's more! You need a license, cowpoke. You need two forms of ID to get your license in North Carolina , but you don't have any ID, do you? At least not until you get your license, right? You also have to take the driver's test, which you need a car to do. Luckily there are two alcoholics (usually one for you trailer kids) in your living room that'll loan you theirs. You're screwed otherwise, just like Bret Michael's house guests.
So now you need to make sure you have your Social Security number. If you don't, you'll have to go to the hospital to get your medical records, which you'll need at the S.S. office. Try to get past all the pregnant teenagers in the waiting room.
Have your birth Certificate? The S.S. office won't accept it, because you might want to retire with the rest of Cuba in Florida as someone else; but they take Medical records and a driver's license. The DMV will take the certificate, but won't take medical records.
Why, you ask? Because each of these places require two forms of ID and your license should be one of them, but you don't have your license because you're trying to get one...and here's the kicker!
Who's gonna pay for all of this govern"mental" hopscotch? I am. Your parent(s) just bought you a car with the money I pay them to keep pumping out babies... and I only drink when mom calls.
Now imagine you're not a teenager anymore. Imagine you're an escaped German inmate that dreams of one day joining a polka band and making love to a football, just because you feel naughty………yeah……… wasn't that fun?
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