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It Takes a Shtetl 

This is the King of the Jieuxxx speaking from the Day After. The Day After being crowned king is the time to take stock of the potpourri of images in your head and sweep up the feathers left behind by the boas of the Pony Girls. The Pony Girls were so tall and strong that a fellow like myself could hide between them and be smuggled out of the country. A fellow kneeling could worship them at waist level like those Egyptian statues of Nefertiti. The tasks of the King of the Jieuxxx are multiple and complex, but presiding over the ball at CafŽ Brasil after the Panorama Jazz Band had the crowd hot and swinging has to be one of the perks of royalty, especially during the act of sitting on stage with Laura the Queen of Shabbos, being entertained by a nude dancer before us, while the Ramstein Twins tableau'd behind us. I don't believe that any kings in recent times had such fun. I read an interview with Michael, the King of Romania, and he says nothing about fun. To find kings who had a blast like this, you have to go back to Tamarlane.

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.

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