Men. In Hats.

By Adam Greene

Journey with me, for a moment, down whatever fevered path might convince a grown man that he could successfully wear a cowboy hat. Now, it should be obvious there are only five groups of people who can pull off wearing a cowboy hat:

Actual cowboys,



People pretending to be cowboys,



Strippers,



Gay dudes,



And “The American Dream” Dusty Rhodes.



The cowboy hat, you see, is a tool. When poking cows and various other kinds of pack animals in the barren Hellscapes of Texas and New Mexico, the sun can cause quite a problem for humans. Problems like killing you and cooking your corpse to a nice golden brown for various carrion eating predators to devour, for instance.

The way you keep all that from happening is a little thing God invented called shade. Shade is created by the sun’s light being blocked by a rock, tree or an overly medicated, unconscious Rosie O’Donnell. Huddled under said rock, tree or slumbering lesbian, one can escape the sun’s beaming ray of death. But how to carry it with you on the lonesome trail? The rock would be too heavy, it’s nearly impossible to grow a tree from your head and, God help you, Rosie would eventually sober up and want to talk about the WNBA. No, there had to be better way.

Enter General Ignatius P. Pigglepootham and his “Fantabulous Great Beast Poking Cranial Contraption of St. Louis.”



The General, who was not actually in the military, gained notoriety throughout the Missouri territory for starring in his own original German language one man show, “Der Frankenfurter”, performed entirely in the nude, save only for a British policeman’s hat. Being chased naked through the streets of the early west was not without its dangers as The General learned on one sunny day in July of 1852. If not for the protecting tar and feathers the good townspeople had been nice enough to cover him with, Pigglepootham knew he would have been dealing with quite the nasty all-over sunburn. Knowing that adding any clothing would ruin the strength and raw power of “Der Frankenfurter”, Ignatius decided to make one subtle change to his sparse wardrobe. By sewing a piece of foamy cloth to the British constable hat, he was able to create a large shadow in which to hide his attenuate frame almost completely from the solar rays that had so threatened his achromatic buttocks and indiscernible genitalia.

He also found it provided ample cover when indulging in his favorite, non nude German play pastime, violently raping male goats. It was during one of his goat humping outings that Pigglepootham was shot seventeen times in the face by local ranch hand Roy McCubbin. Fascinated by the large brimmed hat that he had blown from the dead goat molester’s head, McCubbin, who had been working all day herding cattle in the sweltering Missouri sun, knew exactly what he would use such a headpiece for.

It was the perfect item to perch atop his brow as he posed for pictures with his favorite harlots at the local saloon.



“McCubbin’s Ten-Gallon Photographic Whore Helmet”, as it came to be known, became all the rage and soon men all over the southwest were wearing large-brimmed hats and posing with prostitutes.

It wasn’t until 27 or so years later that a young man ventured out of a hooker photography session wearing his McCubbin and changed the west as we know it. It was a broiling August day. Usually, after a few moments, the young man would succumb to the heat and pass out in the middle of the street like everyone else in Missouri, but for some reason, he hadn’t. “Hmm,” he thought to himself. “This Photographic Whore Helmet seems to keep the hot sun off my head and shoulders. I should wear this while I work on the ranch.” Unfortunately, that young man’s name has been lost to history, but his idea caught on for some curious reason and soon everyone working or riding outdoors began wearing a Whore Helmet. After a few years people started referring to the whore helmet as a “cowboy hat”. The rest, as they say, is history.

The original “Fantabulous Great Beast Poking Contraption of St. Louis a.k.a. McCubbin’s Photographic Whore Helmet” is currently on display at the Missouri State House Museum.



Knowing now, as we do, the origins and uses of the cowboy hat, why then would you wear one if you, say, for instance, hang from wires over a crowd of mouth-breathing morons while singing about beer and trailers?



Singing about cowboys does not make you a cowboy. Shocking, but true. The dictionary defines a cowboy as “A hired man, especially in the western United States, who tends cattle and performs many of his duties on horseback.” It doesn’t say “Jackass holding a guitar, singing through his nose, and wearing an unfortunate shirt.”

Listen, I don’t go to work wearing a motorcycle helmet or hockey pants. You’ll never see me hard at work at my computer in a medieval suit of armor or an astronaut’s space suit. If you ever meet me on the street, I can assure you I will not be wearing a diving helmet or F-14 flight gear. Is it too much to ask that country music singers grant me the same kind of courtesy?

I know what you’re asking yourselves right now, “What about Kenny Chesney?”

And I say, of course he can still wear his cowboy hat…



...because he’s gay.