The Krewe du Jieux is the blue brain-egg of the great L.J., an outstanding citizen of New Orleans and my very own gonzo lawyer. Beloved by many for his rakish take-no-prisoners approach when it comes to either Jieux or artistic license, L.J. is behind the yearly coronation of kings, the sinuous and daring march, the Kiss-a-Shiksa Booth, the blue egg throws, the "New Orleans -- Oy! Such a home" bumper stickers (krewedujieux.org), and the huge cloud of wonder that emanates from spectators at the sight of such Jieux.
This year's Jieuxxx had three Xs on them, because L.J. believes firmly that pleasure and fun are going to rebuild New Orleans faster than the Army Corps of Engineers. If the ACE makes the city safe to party again, great, but if it doesn't, we go down with the ship singing "Hava Nagila."
I wore the crown and waved the scepter over a lot of half-naked people who were not feeling too well before I performed my psychic scrofula-removing gesture. My subjects asked for the granting of many wishes, most of which I granted, and some of which I'm going to have to think about. A great local sage, a man who travels regularly to other planets, asked me to pen some letters from Socrates, Jesus and Leonardo DaVinci to use in a film. This is going to test my kingly mettle. I will try contacting them by standing on the shoulders of the Pony Girls. From there you can see straight into heaven and I might just spot Socrates, Jesus and DaVinci.
Now I'm going to let my queen read to me from a book of kings while the oven, still in Sabbath mode, is slowly cooking a dripping hunk of restorative protein.