Krewe du Vieux gets Mardi Gras parade season off to a satirical start
~My friend Alex snapped this shot of your Ho Ho Homble Editilla being welcomed home from the front. In the midst of all that mayhem and ribald congroovience of Lewd Chaos and Coma, my friend, the Viking Sexpot Minx K, spotted me from her krewe. Pockets stuffed with Krewe du Booty, she managed still to get her hand down there to see just how glad I was to see her. Editilla was VERY GLAD ahem. Can't say what Minx K left there in my pocket though... jus'sayin... this scene was just the Beginning!
The rest of Krewe rolled by with ever increasing Stun to their Strut and a growing sense of impending FUN. Really, they have rolled on my birthday Twice. I have even stayed behind with my friend, The Mathist, to "clean up" all the left-over Jello Shots (yes, left-overs, it happens!) at the Den while the Krewe went on to their Ball elsewhere. Yet, last night was pretty much the Best easy pace, beautiful weather. It could have been me getting this House on Piety this week on my birfday, buuuut, I sensed in this parade a breakout, not so much a turning of page closing the book, more along The Line of re-writing The Story by cutting up and rearranging it with Burroughsian precision.
We caught them at the start, by the Flora Cafe (where I sit now laughing with my hangover as if it were a petulant child, Ha Ha Ha you floozy afterburn!) and then we walked over to lower Decatur to follow them at the end before they turned to assault Frenchmen with a Final Finger before pulling into the Michalopalos Den. 25 Years Wasted indeed, our Krewe du Viex hung it all the way to the last float. That was a long way to march, with horses, 18 of New Orleans' finest Killa Brass Bands and beer taps on the backs of these tiny Float Masterpieces, getting seriously drunker (or whateva y'know) with each step, and yet our Krewe rolled, laughing all the way to the banquette, smooth to the fine. They once again gave me the feeling that I could not face this angry world without them, without This happening in Our City of Living Metaphor. As the rest of the country goes to mall in a handbasket, it can go fuck itself with handmaidens' tail. But, down here, we can think of a million funner things to do with Ass.
Thanks Krewe du Vieux. You brought me in from this goddamned long road home and again my face is sore from laughing so hard and so long.
Lassezes Le Bon Temp Roule'!!! Who Dat!
Thank You All, Sinn Féin,
Editilla the Pun
