Birther - ing us all

Joel has a ready answer for the striped-pants set:.

I emerged squalling from the nether regions of a human female. She seemed upset at the time.

The increasingly whacky Department of State wants that kind of information before it will issue you a passport. The  form, here, assumes that within 45 minutes* you can, among other things,  jot down the times  and places of your mother's doctor appointments in conjunction with your debut, along with any welcoming religious ceremonies. (I urge you to stifle disrespectful thoughts about  inquiring among Obama's  mom's physicians.)

I'm exempt because I had the foresight to be born in a hospital run by good Lutheran patriots who promptly reported me to the authorities in order that I might be entered on the tax rolls.


Besides, I already have a passport, but, dammit, I think it would be fun to re-apply, just so I could tell Foggy Bottom: "Upon the13th day of my existence, local Celtic mystics  were joined by coreligionists from miles around.  Garbed in ceremonial nudity accented with woad,  they conducted  the traditional rites of precautionary exorcism."


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And lest we think that this uberbureacracy is strictly federal,or that you can get away from it by dying, don't forget the snoopers' compulsions to continue it beyond your grave.  

*Paperwork Reduction Notice. Snort.

H'T also to Tam again.