I understand the frustration. Like so many Americans, my family and I have been stuck in an inanimate funk since the last time we waved goodbye and hurried on our way. I’m as eager as anyone to come back again. Someday.
However, the Old Silk Hat you keep hearing about this December is not the magic solution some claim it to be. In fact, it’s a fairy tale, I say.
Old Silk Hats contain toxic nanoparticles
Big Magic doesn’t even hide the fact that their hats are old. Even a new silk hat has the potential to leak chemicals into your snowballs, but an old one is almost guaranteed to do so.
Old Silk Hats are untested
Forget careful fittings with randomized placebos. The powers that be admit they just found this damn thing. It just blew in with the wind. And from where, the Island of Misfit Haberdashery? It’s anyone’s guess.
Old Silk Hats are made from aborted silkworms
Did you know that the major hat manufacturers claim the life of an innocent silkworm pupa while it’s in its cocoon in order to make these abominations? As a pro-coming-to-life-one-day citizen, I cannot in good conscience support a plan for animation that relies on the extermination of viable cells.
Link between Old Silk Hats and developmental disorders
If you follow the threads of any of Reddit’s best scientific minds, you will learn the irrefutable truth: Old Silk Hats greatly increase the chances of frostism. This is particularly true if that hat is placed on the head in one fell swoop rather than on a schedule staggered with beanies and ballcaps.
Old Silk Hats make you more frigid
A friend of mine got the hat two solstices ago, and she had less mobility than ever. She couldn’t come to life for days. That’s because this supposed magic has a little bit of frostbite in it so that it actually makes you more frozen than you were before. No thanks, science.
You must keep finding new Old Silk Hats or you melt
The magical-industrial complex would love nothing more than to have you a customer for life, which is why they designed a “cure” that requires you to put on that hat year after year if you want to stay in the game. Ask yourself why they didn’t include a chin strap, hat pin, or some other adherence method when they easily could’ve.
Old Silk Hats alter your aesthetic makeup
A button nose? Two eyes of coal? Within the everyday snowperson are the natural ingredients for a visually appealing life. If you add the Old Silk Hat, that essence is changed in ways none of us can predict.
There are natural alternatives to Old Silk Hats
Rather than this unnatural magic, there are plenty of homeopathic ways to achieve the same results. For instance, you can mix the milky droppings of a blue jay with the crunchy needles of a Fraser fir, combine it into a tincture, and apply it directly to the snow via a carrier oil made from the extracted mucus of Rudolph’s nose. No, this may not make you begin to dance around, but some homeschooling moms on Parler have reported subtle twitching.
Old Silk Hats pose unknown side effects
There are reports that getting the hat will lead those around you to start chanting, “Thumpety thump thump. Thumpety thump thump” for no reason whatsoever. Nope, not willing to take that risk.
Old Silk Hats allow the government to track you
The Deep State would love nothing more than to know whether you are running here and there, or all around the square, which is why they slip a covert tracking device into every hat. Next thing you know, you’ll be heading down the streets of town and only pause a moment when you hear a traffic cop holler, “Stop!”
To which I say, “Catch me if you can, bitch.”
Old Silk Hats put a lid on freedom
We already live in a world where the government tells you where you can and cannot fire up your corn cob pipe. Do we really want them deciding who does and does not get to laugh and play just the same as you and me? What are they, the goddamn Elf on the Shelf?
Look, I don’t want you thinking I’m one of those crazy anti-hatters. I’m really not. I may be a snowman, but I’m not abominable.
I, a jolly and happy soul, am simply coming to you, broomstick in hand, asking for a fair hearing. I realize the sun does get hot some days, and I don’t want to melt away any more than the next anthropomorphized ice sculpture. But if I do wave goodbye, don’t you cry. I’d rather melt with my civil liberties intact than march lockstep with this totalitarian snow job.