I don’t recall when or if the situation ever arose, nonetheless, I felt if I ever claimed “artistic license” and was challenged on that point, some actual back-up might be of use. Drawing upon the under-utilized virtue of self-reliance, I made my own…and a “poetic license” as well. While I was at it, I fashioned a gang o’ them for family and friends. This whimsome, laminated photo-ID card was actually once accepted at a hospital. It has not yet gotten me through an airport check-in, but my buddy Dave claims to have had success in doing so.