It started with the hats.
Not the people. Not the institutions. The hats.
The crown does not derive its authority from whoever is wearing it. The bearskin does not earn its gravitas from the soldier underneath.
The helmet does not borrow its meaning from the constable inside it. These objects have been performing their roles for centuries.
The people are incidental. The hats are permanent.
HOMS™ — Hat On My Shoulders — is the logical conclusion of that observation.
Remove the head. Keep everything else. What remains is not diminished. What remains is, if anything, more honest.
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