The following is a piece that I submitted to
my college’s student-run magazine. Then, for some reason, they accepted it.
This is basically a not-so-brief explanation for the whole hat thing.
On Hats
By
Benjamin Sonnek
Anyone who
occupied my presence for more than five minutes may note that I like to wear
hats. I do, I confess. I do quite a bit. But these presence-occupiers can
occupy my said presence for five, ten, even fifteen minutes (if the butter
knife they’re using to saw through their restraining ropes is dull) without
asking me the Question: What’s up with the hat? Translated: Do you use that
accessory for any other reason than to take up the vacant space around your
cranium? That unasked Question, therefore, has remained unanswered throughout
my lifetime hat-wearing sojourn. I intend to answer it today—to spare you the
agony of sitting through this multi-pointed explanation in person (if that
butter knife is too slow on the ropes, you might go for the wrists, and I don’t
need death on my conscience). So, first reason:
It keeps stuff out of my eyes. Allow me
to start with the practical side of a hat. If anyone sits within a ten-foot
radius of an eyewear-selling optometrist, no doubt you will hear the countless
negative effects that nature has on your eyes. The sun is a vicious killer, not
only of your retinas but also of your skin. Rain in the face is simply
annoying. And I’m certain someone in Sodom (or maybe Gomorrah) was at some
point complaining about either fire or brimstone nailing him in the face.
Things falling from the sky are clearly an issue, and the hatmaker gives
everyone a head-mounted shield in the event of such catastrophes. Sun? Your
face shall remain unscorched and your eyes unmelted. Rain? Not in the eyeballs,
it’s not. Wrath of the Almighty? At least you won’t get it in the face.
However, I must add that your nose may be in the lurch. I definitely have a schnozz.
The spurned sun, in a fit of burning cruelty, typically goes after my nose in
lieu of my whole face, and my hat is powerless to help (unless I look down or
go inside or something). So, unless I get a mask, lose the nose, or add three
inches to my hat brim, I’m not wholly protected. But who cares, because…
It looks awesome. Hats look awesome.
Let us skip the philosophical proofs and just agree that as a rule. Indiana
Jones has a hat. Captain Jack Sparrow—hat guy, and all pirate leaders seem to
be wearing hats as a matter of office. Carmen Sandiego—probably stole that hat,
but still wears it, and it works on her. Cad Bane—yes, the reference is nerdy,
but the hat is still excellent. The list rambles on and on and on. But you’ll
notice, not only are the hats awesome, but they confer some of that awesomeness
to the bearers beneath them. Without hats, Miss Sandiego is merely some petty
thief and Dr. Jones is just a middle-aged schmuck on a treasure hunt. A hat is
right up there with the cape in terms of the amplification of the theatric. But
before I continue, I must clarify: good
hats amp up the awesome. That effect never comes about from a baseball cap.
Ugh. Sorry, dedicated cap-wearing peoples, but when you wear a baseball cap
even the right way around I have a
hard time taking you seriously. Kids can pull it off. Baseball players are
toeing the line. The rest of you suffer instant schmuckification in my eyes by
branding your foreheads with a duck bill and a sports symbol. Again, this is
only in the best-case scenario when you are wearing it the correct way ‘round.
(Editor’s note: Try not to worry about
it. If something annoys him, that’s probably a good sign for you.) But if
you get a good hat…
It enhances the ego. Glowering from
under a hat brim. Throwing your hat in the air in celebration, or stomping on
it in reverse celebration. Adjusting your hat before charging out the doorway
on a mission of (*snort*) great importance. Mexico even has a dance that is
sombrero-centric. Yes, a hat can amplify all sorts of emotion, which is a good
thing for me—my normal emotional state reduces me to but a nutrient-consuming
security camera.
It distracts from my face. I gave up on
my face years ago. At some point I had to accept that the giant potato in the
mirror wasn’t going to get any better, and odds are it will be all downhill
until I end up a cross between a toucan and Jeremy Clarkson. But hats, while
they cannot fix anything below the hairline and above my neck, can at least
provide a remedy. Reread the “hats are awesome” claim one more time, and you
should better understand what I mean. People are blinded by the majesty of the
hat while completely forgetting the face beneath it. Be careful, though, or the
effect could become so powerful that your presence will be completely absorbed
and the only sign of your existence will be a fedora floating around the
campus. It’s a remarkable sight, but it gets old quickly.
It is circular. And here, obviously, I
rule out hateful baseball caps. The circle has been an important symbol from
the ancient era, whether it be the blueprint of the wheel or a representation
of God or a visualization of the infinite or the typical shape of a pizza. A
round hat draws the mind to the infinite, like the wearer’s infinite quest for
perfection or the perpetual nature of the soul or its never-ending desire for
pizza. It’s a miniature meditation on the protective omnipotence of God—the hat
is slightly out of my peripheral vision yet can be felt by its effects. A
tricorn hat with its Trinitarian shape can claim this idea as well, but the
turning of the centuries have subtly ushered that fashion out of fashion. For
shame. At least we have pizza to console us. It can also be triangular, I
believe.
It helps me receive the signals from my
alien crime bosses. This again relates to the hat’s circular shape. My
ordinary, round, thick-skulled skull can only get garbled static from space,
much like the interference you get when there’s a thunderstorm and your
favorite TV show is about to come on. When I wear a hat, though, the radius of
the broadcast receiver antenna is increased significantly and therefore I get a
better signal. It’s not yet perfect, mind you. I can’t tell if the
extraterrestrials want me to move three feet to the left or conquer Austria,
but until Windows sends out a useful software update I suppose they’re not
getting any better. Oh well—I can receive just enough of their instructions so
that I know exactly how to ignore them. With any luck they’ll give up and use
the extra transmitting power to continue melting brains via earth’s native
television technology.
That is only a
taste of the reasons I wear a hat, my dear clearly captive or very bored
reader. When my ten-volume work of hat-related benefits comes into your local
Barnes & Noble, I’ll expect you to further your knowledge of the subject so
you too will be convinced to find such a hat for yourself. Or at least you will
remember to dive out a window if you see me coming. I’m the one with the hat.
