Let's make a deal

I've already explained a little bit about jazz funerals to you here.  So this is my plan:

Let's start out at St. Augustine, my favorite Sunday morning hot spot.  We'll wander our way down to the Quarter, parade through Jackson Square, end up somewhere on Frenchmen Street.  Dancing will rule the day, and I think a costume party would be in order.  There should be umbrellas twirling, white handkerchiefs waving.  For fuck's sake, don't wear black.  As I said, think costume.  Think colorful.  I want you pie-rootin' your ass up and down the street decked out in all your finery, just like it was Mardi Gras morning.  Blue skies, the sun will be shining and the band will be playing...

Yeah you right!

Long overdue

Today I marched in one of the most significant jazz funerals this city has ever seen.  We've waited a long time for this one.  Best jazz funeral ever.  Whose death were we marching for?  The 'Aint's, of course.

The coffin, in all its glory...

                
We shall wear paper bags on our heads no more.

Yes.  We're STILL celebrating the Superbowl down here.  We'll be celebrating all year.  Forty-three years we've waited, OK?  We'll celebrate as long as we damn well please.

Some of you are asking, "What's a jazz funeral?"  Allow me to explain.

Around here, we don't have funerals.  We have parties.  We don't spend the day mourning a loved one's death.  We spend a day celebrating their life.  How does New Orleans like to celebrate things?  With music and parades.  What else?

A jazz funeral starts off somewhat somber.  The band generally breaks into "A Closer Walk With Thee" as the procession leaves the starting point.  But it's not long before they start to funk things up a little bit, and the funeral party following behind starts dancing.  It looks something like this:

The whole thing ends with a big party with even more music and dancing.  That's our reaction to pretty much everything around here.  Music and dancing.  It's a pretty good life.

Who dat!