Let me tell you about my life as an American outlaw. A bandito. A scofflaw. The Hells Angels cut down an alley when they see me coming.
A couple years ago, my driver's license expired. I didn't even notice. You think I'm the kind of guy who knows when his driver's license is up for renewal? Ask the Hells Angels if I'm that kind of guy.
I drove on that expired license for about six months. Hell yeah! Nobody asked me any stupid questions, either.
You want to know something else? During those six months, I bought groceries without a photo ID. Our president, Donald Trump, says you need a photo ID to buy groceries, but I don't take orders from draft dodgers who can't get their tie to come out the right length.
Does Trump even do his own tying? Maybe he's got a lackey to tie his overlong tie. If he does, he needs to say, "You're fired!" to that guy.
I didn't just buy groceries without a photo ID. I bought liquor. I bought cigars. I bought underpants at Walmart. I bought my wife a sterling silver bracelet for her birthday.
Yeah. I didn't give a damn.
At the time, I used to pick up prescriptions for an elderly relative. The pharmacy had her insurance information on file, so I just had to show up, pay her co-pay, and pick up the drugs. When she was battling a bad case of shingles, I had to pick up a controlled substance for her. I went in, they asked me for a photo ID, I showed 'em the expired driver's license, I walked out with the dope. Smooth as silk. They looked at the picture, but they never checked the date. I was ridin' dirty. I got the drugs to her just in time for her to take one before watching "Everybody Loves Raymond" and going to bed.
And it's not like that's all I've done. Ask the mafia.
When I was 16, I got into R-rated movies because I knew a drive-in movie where they never checked IDs. It was an outlaw drive-in, maybe 10 miles from the suburb where I lived, but I never minded operating in enemy territory.
And beer? Step back, Russian mob. I am your master.
I bought beer underage all the time. If the clerk asked for ID, I tried another store. I was tall for my age; I had a good mustache and a deep voice. Most clerks never blinked.
One hot July day, I stepped into a branch of my bank I didn't use very often. I had a cocky smile on my face, and a check for $47.18 in my shirt picket. It was an expense check from my job, mostly mileage.
The teller didn't know me.
"Do you have an ID, sir?"
I handed over my driver's license.
"Do you know this is expired?" she said.
Just then, the head teller stepped out of a back room.
"Hi, Marc," she said. "How've you been?"
"Do you know him?" my teller asked her.
"Yes," she said. "He used to come into the other branch where I worked."
I walked out of there with $47.18. Smooth as 20-year-old scotch.
But it had been close. Too close.
I renewed my license.
Lemme tell you, at first, buying groceries without a photo ID is a kick, but, sooner or later you're gonna find yourself taking bigger and bigger chances. Eventually, you'll be buying patio furniture without a photo ID. If you're lucky, it'll end in a hail of gunfire. If it doesn't, you'll end up in the joint, doin' 20 years because you thought rules were for other people.
To find out more about Marc Munroe Dion and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit www.creators.com. Dion's latest book, "The Land of Trumpin," is a collection of his columns from before, during and after the election of Pres. Donald J. Trump. It is available in paperback from Amazon.com, and for Nook, Kindle, iBooks and GooglePlay.
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