Cocklaphobia is the irrational fear of hats.  That word tickles me, and I just couldn't resist commenting when I read about the uber-snowflake who claimed to be triggered by MAGA hats.  Rebecca Makkai is, indeed, a Pulitzer Prize–winning short story–writer whom even I, a certified knuckle-dragging conservative NRA member, have heard of.

Looking at the breadth of Makkai's writings, she seems to be in touch with many things, excepting her own emotions.  All of us are afraid of something.  Some people don't like large hairy spiders.  Others aren't particularly fond of komodo dragons.  But to be triggered by a red hat seems a bit much.

Maybe the red hat reminds her that the whole world does not subscribe to her way of thought.  This is really tough for liberals to swallow.  I know.  Maybe the red hat screams at her that America is great despite the socialist mantra.  Maybe she, like most super-liberals, is just so self-centered that the red hat is telling her she's wrong about being the center of the universe and just about everything else.  Maybe we'll never know what power the red hat holds.

Makkai is definitely afraid of the red hat.  She wants to sneak into her safe space and cuddle up with her party-issued comfort bunny.  Makkai is no spring chicken; she's 41 years old, so one might expect she has had a little practice at growing up, but that is a fact not in evidence.  She needs to put on her big girl panties and move along.  Her act is getting stale. 

I still love cocklaphobia.