A friend wrote "It seems that the good old USA is not the only place this foolishness happens. Could it be our British heritage, or that idiocy knows no boundaries?" when he sent me this copy of a letter mailed to the minister in charge of passports by an exasperated Australian. This was too good not to be included in my blog.
Dear Mr. Minister,
I'm in the process of renewing my passport, and still cannot believe this.
How is it that Dick Smith has my address and telephone number and knows that I bought a TV cable from them back in 1997, and yet, the Federal Government is still asking me where I was born and on what date?
For Christ sakes, do you guys do this by hand?
You have my birth date on my social security card, and it is on all the income tax forms I've filed for the past 30 years. It's on my health insurance card, my driver's license, on the last eight bloody passports I've had, on all those stupid customs declaration forms I've had to fill out before being allowed off the planes over the last 30 years, and all those insufferable census forms that are done at election times.
Would somebody please take note, once and for all, that my mother's name is Maryanne, my father's name is Robert, and I'd be absolutely astounded if that ever changed between now and when I die!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I apologize, Mr. Minister. I'm really pis*sed off this morning. Between you an' me, I've had enough of this bulls*hit! You mail the application to my house, then you ask me for my fuckin' address. What is going on? You have a gang of Neanderthal assholes workin' there? Look at my damn picture. Do I look like Bin Laden? I don't want to dig up Yasser Arafat, for sh*it sakes. I just want to go and park my ass on a sandy beach. And would someone please tell me, why would you give a sh*it whether I plan on visiting a farm in the next 15 days? If I ever got the urge to do something weird to a chicken or a goat, believe you me, I'd sure as hell not want to tell anyone!
Well, I have to go now, 'cause I have to go to the other end of the city and get another fuc*kin' copy of my birth certificate, to the tune of $60! Would it be so complicated to have all the services in the same spot to assist in the issuance of a new passport the same day? But nooooo, that'd be too damn easy and maybe make sense. You'd rather have us running all over the fuc*kin' place like chickens with our heads cut off, then find some asshole to confirm that it's really me on the goddamn picture -- you know, the one where we're not allowed to smile in?! Fuckin' morons!
Hey, you know why we can't smile? 'Cause we're totally pissed off!
Signed - An Irate Fuc*kin' Australian Citizen.
P.S. Remember what I said above about the picture and getting someone to confirm that it's me? Well, my family has been in this country since 1770 when one of my forefathers took up arms against the Pommies.
I have served in the military for something over 30 years and have had security clearances up the yingyang. I was aide de camp to the Lieutenant Governor of our State for ten years, and I have been doing volunteer work for the CMF for about five years. However, I have to get someone "important" to verify who I am -- you know, someone like my doctor WHO WAS BORN AND RAISED IN COMMUNIST FUCKIN' CHINA!!!
David
DAVID TREACHER
Senior Partner
Advice First Pty Ltd
Ph: 07 5593 1600
No comments:
Post a Comment