Dear Ralphie

Dear Ralphie,
Every once in a while, I get on this unexplained jag where I find large groups of people and their interactions and jokes and general habits so utterly vomit-worthy that I simply must remove myself from their presence at once and retreat to some secluded place of my own. I sit tormented by the groupie mentality: the way girls obsess about the same idiotic subjects together in loud, shrieking tones and how men feel the need to not literally but almost literally parade their nut sacks around the confined area with said women until every one of us wreaks of dick sweat and pheromones.
It’s a disgusting ritual. Group meals and conversations. Anytime a joke of any sort is uttered, and especially if the joke is of a degrading manner towards any person trapped in said group, the group's members will explode in an uproarious and nerve splicing laughter—​not out of enjoyment, but out of a need to prove to everyone involved (including themselves) that they are happy and they are whole and a part of this dumbfoundingly dull group of humans. 
You can watch it happen, it applies to groups of all sizes (numbering more than three) and to people of all backgrounds, statuses, and interests. Watch their eyes dart from person to person, both judging and learning the habits of the collective. It is a sort of pointed and unconscious study in human behavior that will happen—in which the observer will both learn the actions and habits that they are to adopt should they continue to be welcomed in this mold, and learn which actions and behaviors are repelling to this nauseating republic of idiots, so as to avoid them at all costs.
It is not hard to spot everyone’s position in these coagulations of the human breed. The leaders speak loudly and with conviction. They hold a certain unmistakable confidence and composure, aware that everything they say and do is law while they hold these people’s court. The usurpers are always close behind, they have almost mastered the curious attributes of the leaders and believe that they practice them flawlessly, but upon careful study, it isn’t hard to point out at least several chinks in the proverbial armor--clear and apparent slip ups in their performance that render them subconsciously to the rest of the group worth of only half of their attention and respect. Then we come to the largest and least interesting faction in these groups: the herd. 
The herd does little else besides fill empty space, following the leaders blindly and unflinchingly, laughing at all the right jokes, responding with all the ooh and ahhs that can be expected of them. They hold all of the correct opinions at the correct time, knowing exactly when to reverse and modify them under a new regime, as well as when to hold fast in favor of a leader that warrants loyalty even in their absence. 
There are many smaller factions of herd members within its realms: The brainless, the wannabes, the jokesters, et cetera. However they are so fluid and irrelevant to this rant that I won’t even bore you with any more detail on their ultimately meaningless attributes and quirks.
At the very bottom of this sickening totem pole lies possibly one of the most important categories in any group, and that is the faction of outcasts. The outcasts serve to strengthen the bond of the other group members, as they unite in jokes and disgusted or annoyed opinions of whomever their chosen victims are. The outcasts are usually uncomfortably aware of their status or even more uncomfortably (for those of the higher castes)--unaware. Unknowingly walking straight into jokes, or ill-tempered rants that will be carried on at later times behind closed doors, always in a clinically prescribed effort to assert themselves in said-group and gain acceptance and respect, something that almost never materializes out of said-efforts.
Of course, if a group forms and no easy targets for an outcast are present, the group will resort to extracting one of its more liked members and proceed to perform the tradition of degradation at their unwilling expense. This is not often a malicious practice, but simply one to keep up the methods of group think that have become so popular and well respected by all group attendees. This is an incredibly important tenet to the survival of these pitiful schools of drones, for if protocol is broken even for a moment--the results could lead to anarchy.
When no clear leaders are present in a certain group function, an interesting and often amusing battle begins to take place between the group's usurpers for a hold on the fleeting and meaningless power of the moment. Much of this struggle is created not by the self-aware usurper, but by troubled and unselfconscious usurpers who believe themselves the natural and witty leaders of the group anyways, never fully grasping how little power they actually possess.
But anyways, here I lie in my bunk chuckling at my own clever analyzation of these idiots while not fully knowing which category of these I fall into when not riddled with such sour distaste for the entire practice in itself. I probably fall amongst the mindless herd of followers not caring where their loyalties lie either way, just trying to make it to tomorrow without falling into the dark realms of the outcast. You probably find yourself in the leader category, or at least amongst a decent usurper. I seem to remember you always well liked at parties, extracting a laugh from your audience without much trouble. I don’t know when the last time I made someone laugh was, or even the last time I laughed at myself—not to avoid ostracization--but for pure and simple joy. Strange. 
​
Sincerely yours,

Max