Back in the hippie days I acquired a white Stetson 5X Beaver cowboy hat. It had been a gift to a big-headed man. As it did fit me, it was convenient to us both.
I flattened the brim, pushed the top out round, and put a feather in it. I had a vision of some dreamy hippie chick admiring the hat, leading to some free love.
Never got the chance.
My first hour under my new brim among my buddies and some loudmouth called, “hey man, nice hat!”
I doffed and smiled.
He said, “I’d like to have two of them, just like it.”
I had to ask, “Why?”
“One to shit in, the other to cover it up with.”
I turned the corner, took it off, and never wore it again.