This will be a title of a book in the future. But what of the genesis of these gangs? I may have some insight.
Kirk is 3 years old and he has 3 major imaginary cohorts he hangs out with. They are: Hot Sun, Mustard Bottle, and Spider. Those sound like hoodlum names to me. He often goes into lengthy diatribes about his associations with these three malfeasant youths.
Hot Sun is actually, well, the sun. You know it. It shines overhead bringing life to the world. Sometimes it's hot, like when you're in a carseat. This character seems to follow Kirk everywhere he goes.
Mustard Bottle is a duplicitous fiend. At one time he was used to squirt mustard onto our hot dogs and sandwiches, and now he lords over all of Kirk's toys with impunity. He may not have the profile of Buzz Lightyear, or Lightening McQueen, but he simply rules the room from behind the scenes. Mustard Bottle is the Karl Rove of Kirk's room.
And then there's Spider. I don't know anything about Spider, and Kirk won't tell me. This mystery man is probably the most dangerous of the wacky triumvirate of colleagues giving my son advice on how to manufacture his wave of naughtiness. I'm pretty sure that when we are at the restaurant it is Spider whispering into Kirk's ear telling him to scream uncontrollably for no damn reason.
My plan is to use these three members of his organization, to bring them into my camp, and to exploit them into getting their master to put his pees and poops in the potty EVERY TIME. I know it smacks of Cold War intolerance and subterfuge, but this is after all the security of the free world at stake. Or at least the security of me not having to change a poopy diaper 40 minutes after I put Kirk to bed. They will submit. After all, I'm the only one in the house capable of pulling off Mustard Bottle's head without the aid of a tool.
Daddy democracy. If it looks clean on the books, there was no wrong doing. At least when he calls me a fascist at age 14 I will have earned it.