Women of Class Social Aid and Pleasure Club... I’m sorry but I cannot sign off on that. Easter Bunny Parade colored ensembles in November don’t bring to mind class as I was taught from the original women of class: Dynasty's Alexis Carrington, Dominique Deveraux and Dallas' Sue Ellen Ewing. Those three showed the world the true meaning of class: shoulder pads, black Caressa pumps, gold clip on earrings, and Jackie O super-shades, perfect for hiding everything from sorrow to schemes to a black eye delivered by rich abusive oil baron husband number four (the final season, episode 2). Also, women of distinction always have a pro tennis instructor with Dick in a Box and a scotch rocks in a Baccarat tumbler waiting in the wings AND a swimming pool nearby to toss the trick into who just threatened to destroy you! That’s basics, Class and Elegance 101. Know your history, pleasure club children.

Now dancing barefoot in the streets of New Orleans (as seen above) could count as a class act - but if and ONLY if your pinky toe is in the up and outstretched tea-drinking position which I could not confirm because the grand marshall’s feet were covered in Walgreen’s Back-To-School edition footies in teal with the plum starpoint pattern. But in the end, she shoots the doubters down at the 1 minute mark because nothing says class and elegance like graceful street splits followed up with a serving of skyward reaching ass. I kid, I kid... Let the record show that I LOVED their grand marshall. Girl could be America’s Next Top Model. She is giving you shaved head, prefect face, ballerina posture, lithe-y body, and enough attitude to make Tyra Banks pull her weave into a ponytail, take off her jewelry and vaseline her face - just in case. Now that I think of it, that’s exactly what Tyra Banks needs to check her bitchiness once and for all is a broad from New Orleans. Because, as I’ve told you before, The Ones to Handle: they are not!

But the real star of the show for me is the young boy with the Timberlands trying to get his fame on for the cameras so he could score a Hollywood agent, leave this one-horse town and become the big star he was born to be. But the adults in the line didn’t really seem to appreciate his talent. They keep patting his head and moving him along as if he’s holding up their progress. HOW RUDE! And notice how he was the only kid not dressed like the rest of the club - even the stuffed doll in his hand had a color-coordinated hot pink costume. Where was his Easter in November parade suit dammit?! On second thought, he probably told them to back up off him with that white, pink, and lime green foolishness. I picture him pounding his hand on the boardroom table, glaring at the club members and saying “Its Hunter’s Green or nothing! I have an image to think about beyond this mess-ass parade!” Yes, that’s exactly what happened.

What the Women of Class didn’t bring in color/season coordination, they more than made up for in their choice of band: The Hot 8 is THE TRUTH! Everyone knows that band has lived the life of Job, with members of prodigious talent being killed or maimed over the years. Most recently, three former members of the defunct band The Little Rascals joined the Hot 8 - Sammy Cyrus on snare, Gregory ‘Koon’ Veals on trombone, and Terence ‘TBell’ Andrews on base drum. And suffice it to say, they officially have their mojo back - Real Talk. Every song they blowed (yes, ‘blowed’) was more krunk than the last. Big Benny Pete on that tuba was like a battleship warning the tug boats to get their scrub asses out the way. The tune at the 2:30 mark is some cut from the Rascals that, according to Gregory, never got named. Let’s just call it “Top Quality No Name Rascals Song" and it’s FIRE!

And for a lagnaippe, the Sidewalk Masters Show at the 43 second mark. This brilliance is naturally New Orleans and you can’t get it no place else.