LINKEDINCOMMENTMORE

Each year on the day before Fat Tuesday, Phil Johnson would deliver this classic editorial:

And what else is there to talk about except that which everybody is talking about of course, Mardi Gras.

It's that time again, that wonderful, crazy, colorful, crowded, happy, mixed-up but glorious time when all New Orleans forgets itself for a day, lets its hair down, puts on a rubber nose, a funny hat, and walks around laughing at the silly people in the crazy costumes.

It's a day for contrasts, a day for change. A day when legions of quiet, timid, introspective little men forsake their cashier's windows and their neat clerk's desks, put masks across their faces, and suddenly become Don Juan. A day when a secretary can become queen of England. A housewife, Annie Oakley.

Mardi Gras is fantasy in a fright wig, reality with burnt cork on its nose, a dream with a scepter in its hand, and pompousness about to be punctured.

Mardi Gras is fun and laughter, vulgarity and coarseness, color and light, and at the end, quiet.

Mardi Gras is a state of mind, an attitude, a pose, an opinion. But at its most basic, and perhaps most satisfying of all, Mardi Gras is the day when New Orleans can tell the whole world: we're going to have fun. And we do.

That would be followed each Fat Tuesday by these words:

Good evening.

No one should be serious on Mardi Gras Day. So we won't be. But we do reserve the right to be serious tomorrow.

Good evening.

LINKEDINCOMMENTMORE
Read or Share this story: http://www.wwltv.com/story/news/2014/08/25/14296978/