April 27, 2007

The embASSy anonymous

Two perceptions of Visa/Consulate Time frames:

1. Intiallly:
The embASSy Assy

2. Lately:
The Anonymous worker

1. The embASSy Assy

British EmbASSy Effarts Faggots
I got B E E F
Exhortation FruSTATEd

Fisted Embasy officials are denying all foreigners the right to co-exist without first forking over four-hunred dollars and telling the embassy assy all of your most private and personal details.

The Embassy Assy approaches, his skin green like the jade, and his face and belly fattening from swallowing his oily duties as the human receptacle for british government practices. Spitting between the gaps in his yellow crooked teeth he says "In order for you Mr. uh, Whatever, to walk on this part of the earth, you will stick your dick in this tube for a few weeks or so while the Queen Blob will suck every bit of power and mystery from you, documented in triplet of course!" "And then you must pay me handsomely for it!" NOW BEND OVER IF YOU WANT TO SEE WHAT WE'RE REALLY INTO!!"


"Then I simply wave my prissy from the queen fingers and lightly stamp this piece of paper here. Then youre free to enjoy all the benefits of our great democratic Cunty, uh, Cuntry."

But I protest

"Ah tsk fart!" says the Assy, "You obviously had complete control over where you were born and under what conditions. Our Visa policies only relfect a fair and democratic process of punishment and torture for these choices," he laughs. "If you want to visit our Big Ben so bad, then you should have decided while you were still a non-existant universal particle B section F, that you should have chosen to be born British or American or French into a wealthier family that can afford to put someone else in your place."

He wipes the sweat from his forehead and rubs his hands together. Then he pulls out the smallest bit of tubing attached to some sort of modem or control box, its wires receding into the wall. "Now pull out your meat popsicle, and insert."

The tube must be an inch or two wide, I say "Um, you have a problem, my native floppy cock just wont fit in your hole. See?", I say 'accidently' swishing piles of paper from his desk with my unacceptable foreign cock.

Shocked, the Assy recoils in disgust, "Oh fuck, not another one! What's with you freaks, this tube's size is based on proper English standards!"


The Embassy official approaches, but he cannot be seen or heard. His presence is marked only by the blue squiggles he makes on Visa applications. No name, no address, no contact information, and no hope to discover his real identity. There is a reason for this anonymity: He doesn't care or matter.

But Behind the shrouded veil of uncertainty is a simple man, with unimportant features and a rather boring life. He comes to work each day to a stack of waiting Visa applications. Above all, His job is make sure he is not fired. But his primary duty as the Embasy offical is to grant or deny a Visa to the applicant. He does not care who is applying for a visa and prefers to remain emotionally and physically disconnected from the people involved. He is only concerned with comparing information applicants provide with the standards of Visa granting or denying. All the personal information collected is browsed only to serve this purpose. What happens next with this personal information is not in his job description, nor has he ever cared. Moreover, he has no idea who the queen blob is, or his own dick for that matter. He finds comfort in imagining he is just a interchangeable faceless visa machine. A cog dispensing out your plastic visa bubble operated by the action of many coins passing through

After unfolding a stack of applications, he gets to mine.
He doesnt even look at my name.
He starts processing.


Reasons: not a tourist, must re-apply for a business visa. (all expenses payable)
He didnt see my blog
He doesnt know who I am
He wont remember this experience
An interchangeable faceless Visa machine
nothing personal

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