Mardi Gras 2007
Posted by schroeder915 on February 21, 2007
It’s hard to choose favorites, but after a cursory glance at my Mardi Gras photos as a whole, I’d have to say that this wins the prize for the best political costume — Uncle Sam leading Louisiana around on a leash would ask people if they wanted money, and then ask if they were from Louisiana. If they answered yes, Sam would pull back the money and nonchalantly quip, “Oh. Well you can’t have any.” (Related: Roxanne at Pandagon made reference to a pretty good Wall Street Journal article about why the recovery isn’t happening).
The wrestlers win for best group costume as well as for the day’s best performance.
It was a glorious day. After a week of chilly weather on the parade route, the sun came out and warmed up the streets for maskers, and the rain was held at bay. The joy in the streets was palpable. This is a town like no other. For all of her troubles, on a day like this, the grief, the misery, the exasperation, are all momentarily suspended as revelry reigns supreme.
I captured this video (wmv) on my little Canon A510 not so much for the images, but for the sound. Here’s one of those occasions where I wished I had brought my audio recording gear with me, and in particular, wished I had talked more to the creators of the float (hint: if you know who these people are, please let me know — I’d still like to talk to them). The reason I’m so interested is because, after listening to the video, I realized that the singer of the song “The Opposite Machine” was Paul Gailiunas. The float designers must have been friends of his. Oddly enough, I was thinking specifically about Paul when I traded in a trouble card for a prize. The song can be found on the “Here Come the Troublemakers” CD. The Opposite Machine wins for best sentiment and idea implementation.
Here’s a short video (wmv) of the Krewe of St. Ann band playing “When the Saints Go Marchin’ In.” The joy of such celebrations shared in the streets is in marked contrast to the hateful Christian tourists marching around with their loathsome banners while stealing glances at titties. I considered for a moment catching video of a guy who was protesting the Christians in Jackson Square by drowning out their megaphones with one of his own. He just kept repeating ad nauseum, “Stop the hate. Stop the hate. Stop the hate.” I remarked to one of the Christians who begged me to take some of the water nobody would accept at the table piled high with donated clothing nobody needed that, “People don’t need clothes anymore — they need houses. You should be building houses.”