How to be an Aristocrat
A common belief is that the aristocracy is born of old money. This may be true in England, Spain, Mexico, or any other country that cares too much about soccer. But here in America, behavior determines class. Blue blood and silver spoons are remnants of society past. The following behaviors circumvent the fuddy-duddy order, and penetrate the social froth directly.
People introduce themselves by name, not so you can remember it, but so you can forget it. You’re too important to remember names. The lower classes don’t really care about people who care about them—they only care about people who are too big of deal to care about them. It’s a psychological kind of self-flagellation.
Give one compliment
“So if I’m not supposed to care about people, then I shouldn’t give any compliments!” you’re probably thinking. Wrong-o, bucko. Not giving any compliments is just as subservient as giving too many. When you meet somebody, give them one, sincere compliment. Stare them down as you do it. Grab their arm and reign them in, as if they’re your horse. People may get compliments all the time, but they’re usually performed as approval-seeking barfs to fill voids in conversation. It’ll be special when you do it. The lower classes will look up to you and give you their hard-earned money to get more compliments.
Never be too impressed
Similarly, never over-react to the achievements of others. When somebody tells you about something cool they did, respond in a way that acknowledges what they did, but without any enthusiasm. This is much more condescending than it sounds. You’ll be elevated to the aristocratic order so fast your seersucker pants will get whiplash.
Relish being the butt of jokes
Yes, being made fun of is an important part of being an aristocrat. The only two groups who are rarely the butt of jokes are retards and black people, and they’re the reason government housing exists. As regularly as members of the societal ooze go to Rent-A-Center, they will criticize you for things they would hate to be criticized for, like being selfish, mean, and stuck up. They may even try to pick apart your physical appearance. You just smile and say, “thanks for noticing.”
Laughing is just another way of giving approval. Now that you’re an aristocrat, only your jokes matter, as you tell them with wit dry enough to kill a cactus. Laughter can be powerful when done consciously, not as a reaction. Append a sentence with laughter to emphasize how much better you are than everyone. This is preferably done in a derisive, throaty fashion (think John Travolta in Grease).
Whether sitting or standing, stillness communicates your life isn’t an existential struggle. Fidgeting is for starving artists who blame their problems on their parents. Be like the statue that society is sure to erect of you when you die.
Don’t watch television
All TV shows pander to the nerds and herds. After all, if shows were for people like you, they would never be popular enough to make money. It’s best to pretend the neurotic and desperate lifestyles of How I Met Your Mother or The Office don’t exist. This way, when you are confronted with such wretchedness in real life, you’ll be more disgusted, like a true aristocrat.
Be particular about everything
Everything you have or do, from your bed sheets to the way you go to the bathroom, is an opportunity to be picky. Only drink a certain type of coffee, only eat certain foods after a certain time, and only buy a certain type of bookend. Being particular pays the most aristocratic dividends when you’re particular about things that seemingly don’t matter. Refusing to eat dinner because the restaurant doesn’t have your brand of mineral water is a great way to be the cream of the crop. If you were the leader, you’d run a tight ship. If union guy was the leader, he’d say “whatever” until America turned into Estonia.
Being a racist is stupid, but being called a racist by the less important probably means you’re on the right track. Revolving your life around eschewing racism is good for everyone else, because everyone else has to get along with all the people who have to get along with everyone else. You, on the other hand, have a duty to make jokes about how black people have to be careful not to trip over their lips when they run the 100 meter dash. When you’re called a racist, this does two things (1) it gives the hoi polloi one more reason to blame you for their problems, and (2) it implies your alleged racism is the trump card in the lives of the lower class, thus validating your aristocratic power.
You may have noticed that being an aristocrat is just as much about how people react to you than about how you act to people. Class dichotomy is a two-way street. The proletariat is the proletariat because they need an aristocracy. They need leaders, and they need scapegoats. If you can give them both, you do them a great service. Going through life miserable and poor requires a lot of psychological baggage. The masses need to project some of their baggage onto someone else to manage the burden. When you show up with your parted hair, boat shoes, and the ability to look at people without seeing them, it’ll be a perfect match. Therefore, only become an aristocrat with a deep sense of purpose and contribution. It not only gives you what you need—it also gives the world what it needs.