Funny Hats and Moral Dilemmas

Let me just start by saying that I like Shriners.

I like the ridiculous hats, I like the tiny cars, I like how they've co-opted the trappings of Islam without the slightest understanding of what they mean. I like that "Shriner" is the very highest Masonic degree, as if the reward for all those years of secret rituals and plotting to rule the world is to dress up in silly hats, get drunk and drive a tiny car.

But most of all, I like it when they sell hotdogs in front of the grocery store for charity.

I don't know what it is, but somehow they use their mysterious Shriner voodoo to make these hotdogs taste better than any other hotdogs on the planet. The goddamn things are irresistible.

Also, I once stayed in a hotel during a Shriners convention. There was an occasion when I was on the "up" escalator with my wife and kids and a group of elderly Shriners and their wives were on the "down" escalator. These guys had the most fabulous jewel encrusted fezzes, sporting snappy titles like "Past Master" and "Supreme Potentate."

This situation created a superb opportunity to reach out and pluck one of these beauties from a passing head, but it also posed a formidable moral dilemma.

On the one hand I could ignore the fezzes and teach my kids a valuable lesson about exercising personal restraint and respecting other people's property. On the other hand, I could snag a sporty new lid and teach my kids a valuable lesson about seizing opportunities when they're offered, and only stealing hats from old people, because they can't run very fast.

As is often the case in these situations, I had only a split second to decide, and I opted for the high ground, leaving the fezzes untouched. So now I'm the proud owner of a sense of moral superiority, but that hardly replaces a cool new hat to barbecue in. Sometimes I still lie awake at night wondering, did I make the right choice?

It's a question that will haunt me for the rest of my days.