CRUDE flew into the cuckoo's nest
After a couple of years of cock-biting and sleeping in the wet spot, we strived to select a theme that would celebrate the ups and downs of life and mock the precarious mental state of post-Katrina New Orleans. We decided to roast a bird of our choice and settled on “CRUDE Flew Into the Cuckoo’s Nest,” featuring NOLA's own Chief Bromden, “Ray Ray” Nagin as our Cuckoo feathering his nest with storm debris.
As Hunter S. Thompson aptly stated, “When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.” The pros in this case used the clockwork mechanism to make Ray-Ray turn in his nest and make the clock hands on the float turn, appropriately, backwards.The feathers, beer, and scotch were flowing as freely as the Mississippi River after the levees were breached. The brass band was smokin’ (or was that us?) and everyone immersed themselves in bacchanalian revelry.
Our well-medicated King, Chris Rose, had received a letter from a Catholic group who protested the sacrilegious blasphemers of the KdV parade, particularly the 2005 stab at their beloved Virgin Mary (it wasn't us). They protested at City Hall the afternoon of the parade and awaited us along the route as voyeurs titillated by the debauchery that is the essence of KdV. Apparently, the First Amendment only applied to them. The newspaper headline the following day raised the appropriate question, "King of the Damned?"
And damned if God didn't bless us sinners with the most delightfully temperate weather in memory as we, “rolled wid it” as Gary said, attired as sexy 'head' nurses, psychobabblers, birds of pair-o’-dice, shlong birds, COCKatiels, and many hybrids, all in tie-dyed tights, and many with huge cocks that put the “P” in Penis envy! The crowds were large and jubilant, clamoring for beads, bawdy baubles, and buzzing vibrators. One never feels more like a rock star than when one marches with KdV!
The Shaved Pussy Ale tapped out of our float was smooth and tasty and kept us coming back for more, just as Cap’n Joe promised. The Black Hole Ale was pungent as formaldehyde and just as toxic as that college gal Joe named it after. Cap’n Jack got off to a late start but he made up for lost time and got into the swing of things and well beyond in no time.
We stumbled into the aromatic, dilapidated State Palace and retired to our balcony lair to rest our feet. Billy Iuso, Bo Dolis and the Wild Magnolias, All Stars with Leo Nocentelli and Zigaboo Modeliste, and “Frogman” Henry gave us happy feet again and we danced the night away….C’est Levee!
As Hunter S. Thompson aptly stated, “When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.” The pros in this case used the clockwork mechanism to make Ray-Ray turn in his nest and make the clock hands on the float turn, appropriately, backwards.The feathers, beer, and scotch were flowing as freely as the Mississippi River after the levees were breached. The brass band was smokin’ (or was that us?) and everyone immersed themselves in bacchanalian revelry.
Our well-medicated King, Chris Rose, had received a letter from a Catholic group who protested the sacrilegious blasphemers of the KdV parade, particularly the 2005 stab at their beloved Virgin Mary (it wasn't us). They protested at City Hall the afternoon of the parade and awaited us along the route as voyeurs titillated by the debauchery that is the essence of KdV. Apparently, the First Amendment only applied to them. The newspaper headline the following day raised the appropriate question, "King of the Damned?"
And damned if God didn't bless us sinners with the most delightfully temperate weather in memory as we, “rolled wid it” as Gary said, attired as sexy 'head' nurses, psychobabblers, birds of pair-o’-dice, shlong birds, COCKatiels, and many hybrids, all in tie-dyed tights, and many with huge cocks that put the “P” in Penis envy! The crowds were large and jubilant, clamoring for beads, bawdy baubles, and buzzing vibrators. One never feels more like a rock star than when one marches with KdV!
The Shaved Pussy Ale tapped out of our float was smooth and tasty and kept us coming back for more, just as Cap’n Joe promised. The Black Hole Ale was pungent as formaldehyde and just as toxic as that college gal Joe named it after. Cap’n Jack got off to a late start but he made up for lost time and got into the swing of things and well beyond in no time.
We stumbled into the aromatic, dilapidated State Palace and retired to our balcony lair to rest our feet. Billy Iuso, Bo Dolis and the Wild Magnolias, All Stars with Leo Nocentelli and Zigaboo Modeliste, and “Frogman” Henry gave us happy feet again and we danced the night away….C’est Levee!
