[Here’s an anonymous letter along with some parade photographs taken by our own Miss Pie. Visit her gallery to see these pictures (and more) in their full glory.—Ed.]
Dear Sirs, or Madames, or Pirate Cats, or whatever you are—
I cannot express how angry I am at the recent displays of outrageous behavior in our City.
While the world is fighting the War to End all Wars, our city is playing in the streets.
Saturday, February 25, was the day of the Annual Samedi Gras Parade. People filled the streets of New Toulouse, carousing like wild beasts or hedonistic fools, and behaving in a generally unchristian fashion. Men were wearing masks, in direct contravention of the laws of this city, and women were wearing masks, and little else, while shaking their bodies in immodest ways.
There was the occasional well-dressed woman, it is true. Mrs. Rose Whitefalcon and Miss Francesca Alva were modestly dressed, but when the post-parade party started, Miss Alva was out there shaking like a wild woman just like everyone else. Miss Beedit was showing entirely too much shoulder. My husband and I grabbed our child, boarded the ferry, and took refuge in the Bayou, fully expecting divine retribution as in the biblical stories of old.
And to what do we owe these expressions of sinfulness? It is our own people’s fear of penance, people who cannot observe a few weeks of Lent without preparing for it by drinking, smoking, carousing, idolatry, the worship of pagan gods, and every other imaginable vice.
The displays of flesh were appalling. I estimate that the City should have earned several hundred in Parade Fees, and at least that much in nudity permits. I hereby call upon the administration of this den of iniquity to donate at least that much to the Gumbo Charity.
This type of behavior must not stand. We intend to leave this damp wicked place and live somewhere safe, clean, and dry, perhaps Las Vegas.
—Color Me Gone