For those idiots out there who were deprived children and never played Mortal Kombat as a kid, this is Raiden:
As you can see, Raiden has a funny looking hat:
A buddy of mine has been recently married and he sent out a picture of him wearing a Raiden Hat to some weird ass Art festival that his wife dragged him too. He justified it as an acceptable thing to wear because he would be among thousands of crusty, granola filled hipsters. Needless to say, he was crucified by our text chain. He’ll probably be shitting blood well into next week, but that’s not the point of this blog.
My question to you is this: If you wear a Raiden Hat in public, you’ve given up on life right? There is no coming back from that. Once you’ve traveled down the road of a Raiden-hat toting, dad-bod rocking, middle aged approaching male, you have nothing positive going for you. That’s it and that’s all. The fat lady has sung her last note.
I feel kind of bad because his life is over. There is no coming back from the Raiden hat. I know how this story ends, and it isn’t pretty.
A few years from now, my Raiden hat buddy is going to be sitting alone at a pub at 11 am on a cold Tuesday in November wondering silently to himself “where did it all go so wrong?”.
I’ll tell you where it went so wrong. The answer is the day you decided wearing the Raiden hat in public was a good idea. I’m already dreading the day when we’re sitting in a bar reminiscing about the good ol’ pre-Raiden-hat days.
PS- The whole time I was writing this blog, all I could think about was “I’m a Lead Farmer, Mothafucka!”