My parents' social group had Vegas Nights in our basement to raise funds. There were food, drinks, and penny-ante gambling. The next day, we'd be cleaning up and find the occasional cig butt on the the floor. Smoking is a drug addiction. For the smoker, the only thing that matters is having cigs and smoking them. Where do the butts go? "Who knows, who cares?"
My Filipino uncle had a mural of a bucolic scene of the Philippines on his kitchen dinette (in the U.S.). The people in the mural wore these hats, though they were brown (perhaps smoke-hardened, as described in the article). My sister and I (Filipino but U.S. born and raised) called them "Hershey Kisses hats."
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