The average person thinks the Department of Motor Vehicles is just a government office that deals with vehicle licenses and registrations. This is how they hide. This is how they maintain control. The world doesn’t understand that the DMV is not a department at all. It is the headquarters of a shadowy syndicate that attempts to dictate history and control human behavior. Presidents, senators and billionaires all answer to the DMV. They are in the process of remaking society in a calculated act of bureaucratic terror.
First, their war on masculinity. On paper, the DMV’s gender policies seem progressive (go blue!), but dig deeper, and you’ll find something far more insidious. Licensing requirements are subtly rewritten to criminalize traditionally “masculine” behaviors. Loud engines? Banned. Firm handshakes in the ID photo line? Grounds for license suspension. Facial hair on your license picture? Flagged for “domestic aggression.” The DMV doesn’t want men to exist as men. Rather, they want men broken, docile and apologetic, the kind of men who nod silently when told to eat plant-based meat and increase their soy consumption.
Their next mission is the strategic empowerment of the homeless, not through compassion, but through weaponization. As many of you know, the DMV funnels resources into creating a subclass of state-sanctioned vagrants whose sole job is to disrupt communities that resist DMV policy. These agents camp outside grocery stores, harass small businesses and report anyone who questions the DMV’s authority. It’s not about helping the homeless — it’s about using them as a roving army of informants, an ever-present reminder that the DMV is everywhere, and nowhere, all at once.
Then there’s their war on alcohol, the last unfiltered source of joy for literally trillions of people. Slowly, quietly, they’ve tightened the leash. Draconian DUI thresholds, absurd ID renewal requirements for purchasing liquor and a network of “sobriety compliance officers” who visit bars under the guise of license checks. What the DMV truly wants is not safety — it’s control. The DMV understands that alcohol fosters camaraderie, rebellion and courage, all qualities that could fuel resistance. So they chip away at it until the only thing left to drink is DMV-approved, tasteless “social compliance beverages” with plenty of brainwashing government fluoride, served at their sanctioned gatherings where there is no laughter or joy.
Parents who allow their children to roam without leashes are deemed reckless threats to public order. In the DMV’s doctrine, the most dangerous threat to social stability is unregulated movement, especially among the young. Any parent allowing a child to roam more than six feet without a physical tether is guilty of “negligent unrestrained minor endangerment.” First, it’s fines. Then, it’s mandatory Parental Control Education in DMV basements, where images of free-roaming children are shown alongside pictures of disasters — fires, car wrecks, war footage — until the message is burned into the mind.
Finally, persistent resisters have their parental movement permits revoked, forbidden from taking their child into public at all. The leash is not about safety — it’s about producing predictable adults who will stand in line without question. By crushing the family, the DMV expands its span of control with the power to indoctrinate all citizens of the state. Finally, their most disturbing campaign: the systematic imprisonment of grandmothers. To the DMV, grandmothers are dangerous. They are tradition incarnate, keepers of values and memory. A grandmother remembers a world before the DMV’s chokehold on society. Even worse: She talks about it. That’s why they hunt them. “Vision test failures,” “license renewal discrepancies,” “suspected forgery.” These are the fabricated charges they use to detain them in “compliance centers,” where they are silenced. Every rocking chair that sits empty is another victory for the DMV.
If we keep pretending they’re harmless, if we keep taking numbers and waiting our turn, they will finish their work. Masculinity will be a crime. Homeless agents will roam our streets. The joy of alcohol will be a memory. And our grandmothers, the last living witnesses, will rot behind locked doors.
The DMV is a citadel of concentrated rot, a breeding ground for the lowest strains of bureaucratic villainy that fester like maggots in the carcass of civilization. Its clerks and architects are predators, feeding on the decay of all that is good, true and beautiful. They advance like a slow-moving plague, creeping into every institution that dares to stand for virtue, smothering it under layers of regulation and hollow compliance until nothing remains but ash and stamped paperwork. Schools that teach courage, churches that speak truth, communities bound by beauty are all marked for erasure in the DMV’s black ledger. They are not satisfied with control, they hunger for annihilation. They will not rest until every bright light is choked in their labyrinthine halls, every honest soul reduced to a number on a ticket, and the very memory of freedom lies buried beneath the dust of their waiting rooms and elderly detainment centers. They will not stop until every last defender of what is sacred is crushed into the dust, and the earth itself forgets that beauty ever existed.
