Getting Carded
I've always liked to get carded every now and then. It makes me think that I'm not losing whatever remains of my youthful looks. But now, it's kind of silly. You'd have to be blind or a little confused to think that I might not be 21. Last weekend my wife and I were just at a local Mexican restaurant and I had to personally vouch for her so that she could have a margarita because she didn't bring her ID. These days it seems like most supermarkets or liquor stores are carding people unless they look to be over 40. In some places, even if you hobble up to the counter with a walker, they are still going to ask for some ID:

It had to happen, I suppose, but my local supermarket, a branch of Food Emporium, has now succumbed to the curse of Elizabeth Dole. It has instituted a mandatory carding policy for anyone, regardless of age, who wants to buy some beer. Adding insult to injury, the birth date of the suds-buying Methuselah has to be noted down before the sale can be rung up. Now, you'd think that this policy is dumb and demeaning enough for the Food Emporium's fun police without any added refinements. Unfortunately, you'd be wrong. A loathsome little sign boasts (I hope I have written this down correctly - a red mist of rage was beginning to obscure my vision) that this insolent imposition was part of the company's commitment to "our community" and, wait for it, you know what's coming, "its children". Bah!

Where is the ACLU when you need it?

I can't imagine what the poor kids nowadays have to do to get beer. At 16 or 17 we could buy beer at a couple of the more lenient liquor stores in town by just saying that we were 21.