Mardi Gras Strikes Again
Today is Carnival - Mardi Gras – Fat Tuesday – National “Drunken Show Us Your Cans in Exchange of Cheap Trinkets” day.
I’ve quite honestly never celebrated Mardi Gras. Partially it’s because I’m not in New Orleans or Rio (it wouldn't be the same in frosty Iowa), and I'm not Catholic, so I don’t have to worry about surrendering my lustful and wanton ways for the next month and a half of Lent. What’s the point of having one last night of drunken debauchery if you know that if you really want, you can have another one tomorrow night without any fears of eternal damnation?
But a whole lot of non-Catholic party boys and girls are deep into the Mardi Gras tradition, too, which is fine, I suppose. I’m just not one of them. Getting rip-roaring snockered on a work night isn’t a good idea at my age (Geez - wasn't that an old coot thing to say?), and being such a lightweight drinker, it wouldn’t take much to put me under the table and into the gutter. I’d rather not wake up and find myself covered in empty beer cups and with other people’s underwear on my head. There’d be a whole lot of ‘splaining to do for that one, Lucy.
Oh, and just for the record, I’m not about to flash my pale 40-year-old man cans to anyone for plastic beads. Puh-leeze. A fella has to have at least a little bit of pride. Besides, you don’t want to go there. Trust me; you’ll have nightmares for weeks afterwards. But if you ask really nice, I might be willing sing a verse or two of “It’s Hard Out Here Bein’ A Pimp” for some swag… (Just ask the Lovely Mrs. G: It’s still musically painful, but not nearly as impairing as Tommy's Topless Dance.)
Regardless, Mardi Gras (Fat Tuesday) is a wild time in many parts of the world, and as long as the revelers clean up after themselves and go home with at least a little bit of their dignity intact, then I say let them party ‘til they puke rainbows. From a distance it always looks like a good time, as long as you keep an eye on your wallet, your car keys, and your teenage daughter.
I know the nice people of New Orleans have had a pretty crappy year all around, so if a week’s worth of celebration helps them forget their problems for a little while, then it’s a good thing. Still, I can’t help but wonder if the money they blew on it could’ve gone to better use. What’s more important – a parade or a roof over someone’s head?
But I don’t want to be a party pooper, so I hope everyone has a good (and safe) time tonight. Because tomorrow you’ll need to repent for your past. Or at least have to take a couple of extra-strength asprin.
Either way, live it up while you can. Then get back to work, you lazy animals.
I’ve quite honestly never celebrated Mardi Gras. Partially it’s because I’m not in New Orleans or Rio (it wouldn't be the same in frosty Iowa), and I'm not Catholic, so I don’t have to worry about surrendering my lustful and wanton ways for the next month and a half of Lent. What’s the point of having one last night of drunken debauchery if you know that if you really want, you can have another one tomorrow night without any fears of eternal damnation?
But a whole lot of non-Catholic party boys and girls are deep into the Mardi Gras tradition, too, which is fine, I suppose. I’m just not one of them. Getting rip-roaring snockered on a work night isn’t a good idea at my age (Geez - wasn't that an old coot thing to say?), and being such a lightweight drinker, it wouldn’t take much to put me under the table and into the gutter. I’d rather not wake up and find myself covered in empty beer cups and with other people’s underwear on my head. There’d be a whole lot of ‘splaining to do for that one, Lucy.
Oh, and just for the record, I’m not about to flash my pale 40-year-old man cans to anyone for plastic beads. Puh-leeze. A fella has to have at least a little bit of pride. Besides, you don’t want to go there. Trust me; you’ll have nightmares for weeks afterwards. But if you ask really nice, I might be willing sing a verse or two of “It’s Hard Out Here Bein’ A Pimp” for some swag… (Just ask the Lovely Mrs. G: It’s still musically painful, but not nearly as impairing as Tommy's Topless Dance.)
Regardless, Mardi Gras (Fat Tuesday) is a wild time in many parts of the world, and as long as the revelers clean up after themselves and go home with at least a little bit of their dignity intact, then I say let them party ‘til they puke rainbows. From a distance it always looks like a good time, as long as you keep an eye on your wallet, your car keys, and your teenage daughter.
I know the nice people of New Orleans have had a pretty crappy year all around, so if a week’s worth of celebration helps them forget their problems for a little while, then it’s a good thing. Still, I can’t help but wonder if the money they blew on it could’ve gone to better use. What’s more important – a parade or a roof over someone’s head?
But I don’t want to be a party pooper, so I hope everyone has a good (and safe) time tonight. Because tomorrow you’ll need to repent for your past. Or at least have to take a couple of extra-strength asprin.
Either way, live it up while you can. Then get back to work, you lazy animals.
posted by Tommy G at
9:44 AM
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