Neurotic Owl

flying through clouds of uncertainty on wings of existential dread

The Hat I call Jayne

In honour of a certain asshat network who killed a certain awesome show, intending (and failing) to leave it all corpsified and gross, and are now intent on draining it of its vital juices and such, allow me to present a hat sans ass, which I call the Lady Jayne:


That was a long sentence.  Before you say it, I know the colours are backwards; also, mine is pretty and girly and crocheted lace with a tassel, so hush your face.  I was actually thinking about a cosplay character named Vera Cobb (a certain mercenary’s much younger sister), who runs a little drinking establishment/whorehouse out on the Rim, where you can rent the prettiest boys and girls in town.  My brother’s not welcome, as he’s something of a troublemaker.  Obviously my hat’s infinitely more cunning because Ma loves me best.

Anyway, I don’t have copyright concerns over my hat, since it’s a different design, construction, and not for sale (have you ever crocheted lace?  Do you know how time consuming it is?  Prospective purchasers would pretty much have to pile money in front of me till I smile), but I do make jewelry that certain folk might consider to be not entirely on the right side of the law.  Either way, this thing with Fox is a huge dick move, considering that Jayne hats have become something of a cottage industry among Browncoats that I would argue only adds to the demand for people who don’t knit/know a knitter, plus an awful lot of Jayne hat sales are for charity events.  Props to ThinkGeek for a classy response, though.

Again anyway, here’s the hat on mah head:


And because I will never stop being a dick to him, here it is on my cat:


It’s a little roomy.  Still, cat walks down the street in a hat like that, folks know that’s a cat ain’t afraid of anything.  Well, except for that bitch who keeps putting him in hats.


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