I've spent the past year infiltrating cults and conga lines throughout the world.
It was often dangerous. The food was awful. The music was unlistenable. My feet were stricken by blisters due to trekking through miles of wilderness, and also due to dancing. But somehow I survived, along with a tattered journal collecting the observations that I made along the way. Here, I present to you, "10 Ways a Conga Line is Exactly Like a Cult":
But wait! That's not all!
Before illustrating this, I originally organized my thoughts into a short article for McSweeney's. Unfortunately, they happened to have just published a totally unrelated story about conga lines, and told me to go dance somewhere else. Many jokes were cut out in the painful conversion process from "words" to "words with little pictures next to them," so you can read all the missing content here!