I wore either school uniforms or suits. At home it was jeans or dickies. And a suitjacket or a barn coat, in deep winter I wore a parka.

Hoodies were for- well, hoods. That’s what I was told and I wasn’t allowed to own one.

Last year for Christmas the wife and daughter bought me one, custom imprinted, and it has become one of my favorite posessions. But having come so late to ownership of this article of clothing, I have learned something I would never have expected.

The hood, while warm and wonderful, is a pair of blinders. And now I understand how impractical they are- when Obi Wan or Arwen or Merlin pull that cloak up over their head, not only can they barely hear anything not directly in front of them, any fat slow old knucklehead can walk right up behind them and clobber the fuck out of them. What I need is a hood with a rear facing camera. Maybe my parents weren’t that stupid after all. I would get one of those Jayne hats but I’d look even more ludicrous than I do now.