Have you ever noticed how a hat can justify an entire situation? You could walk into a room with three nude boys stroking a blow up doll and the next-door neighbor’s wife in a pool of vanilla pudding, but so long as someone is wearing a cowboy hat, you probably wouldn’t think twice about it. "Oh, well, that makes sense. He’s a cowboy." You see, this is why pornos get off without a plot (please forgive the pun…please), they’ve got a whole lot of hats.
Hats explain so much to us. If you walk into a bank and there are four guys with shotguns, you’d probably be pretty scared, and you’d know that they’re robbing the bank. But if they were wearing stockings over their heads you’d think, "Wow, these guys know what they’re doing. They’re stockings." Then a friend might say, "No they’re not, they’re robbing." You would most likely get into a huge semantics argument over the matter, that simply involved a bad joke and a play on words.
Now, the other day I was driving down the street and saw a group of kids sitting in front of a 7-11. I noticed that their hats were all turned to different angles on their heads. I’m pretty sure this is how a gang distinguishes its hierarchy. The more the hat is turned around, the bigger a bad-ass you are, because, see, the man wants you to have the hat turned forward to flash his corporate logo, but when you’re a bad-ass you can tell the man to kiss your big, fat, bad ass. And then you can flash him a gang sign and steal his candy.
Why do we trust some people simply because of their hats? Does a chef really have to do something special to get that big white hat? Didn’t we all make that hat out of construction paper in kindergarten? All I could cook then was paste, and my love for the culinary arts was really more a budding affection for fire. Or how about Red Caps at the train station. There are entire signs devoted to telling you to only trust people with red caps to take your bags. Is it that hard to find a damn red cap? Are all the criminals sitting around saying, "If only you could buy a red hat in this city! I’d be swimmin’ in bags! Damn Amtrak! Damn it all!!" I had a red hat once. It had slash marks in it and was supposed to be covered in blood. It said "Shark Attack."
Magicians wear those top hats. That isn’t so magical. The Planter’s Peanut guy wears a top hat, and the only magic I get from him is having to suck down Benadryl for my violent allergic reaction to him, after he sneaks into brownies when no one is looking. If I were a magician I would wear a different hat every day, "See, I did that trick without the aid of my magic hat!" That would be my trick. I’d be the magician who wears different hats, and I would have no respect from anyone. People would come up after the show and just because I didn’t wear a top hat would say, "I have a newfound respect for you…oh, no, I’m sorry, disrespect. I meant to say disrespect. Sorry about that."
Hats control our perceptions of people. If you see some kid walking around with a beanie, you automatically think he’s a nerd or a prick. Beret? Frenchy prick. Or existentialist prick. Abercrombie and Fitch hat? College frat prick. Cowboy hat? Confederate prick. Santa Claus hat? Pervert. Sorry, I meant prick.
Have you ever been told about someone who has a lot of responsibilities, and whomever you’re talking to says, "He wears a lot of different hats." Do you ever wonder what those hats are? I like to imagine that they all say, "Buffalo Bills, NFL Champions." They would be the hats that they made every Super Bowl in case they won, but instead sent them off to the Third World after they lost. Because if you have a lot of responsibility, you should be able to get obscure hats from the Third World.
The worst of them all is the visor, which basically says, "Hey, I’m human and need to cover my eyes from the sun, but check out my beautiful head!" Only narcicists wear visors. If you wear a visor I will punch you in the face because I hate you. Your hair doesn’t know what to do. It’s confused because it’s for so long been oppressed by hats and now is free to dance around, well most of it anyway. The bangs and sides are still held down. Usually most of the hair stays down too in protest of the hair that is still forced in place by the visor. Hair hates visors too and actively objects to its being subjugated to a hat-head life.
So people, don’t let hats control you. Stay strong, judge people and situations on what’s really important, superficiality, capitalism and your own festering super-ego.