This Weekend at the Square

A few notes from this weekend at the Square…

Protest V Protest
Saturday afternoon there was a protest in front of the cathedral by the one-and-only Westboro Baptist Church. They had their “God Hates Fags” signs out and everything. There were about six of them. Next to them was a counter protest of maybe 12 – 15 emo-type kids (one of whom bought a piece of art from me). Facing both groups were four NOPD officers on horseback. There was a crowd of 40 or so onlookers just checking it out.

The Baptists were there to protest the Catholics, calling them molesters and rapists and such. I thought the emo kids and the Bishop being on the same side was quite amusing. When the Baptists began their protest, the emo kids began to shout over them and there was a large cacophony of shouting until the Cathedral came in and showed them all what was up by ringing its bells for 5-minutes straight.

Gutter Punk Assimilation
Last week, a fellow artist and friend, Josh Duncun started talking to a forlorn and road-weary young kid with a ukulele who said he was missing his traveling partner, a girl dressed as Capt. Jack Sparrow who hitched with him to New Orleans from Oregon. They were separated during the Halloween parade Saturday night and he still had not found her Sunday morning after all the insanity of Halloween night. The kid asked us to keep an eye out for a girl fitting her description. I opined that perhaps this girl didn’t want to be found because the kid seemed a little needy and clingy. Josh even stated he saw him crying.

That afternoon, Josh found a girl fitting her description and got her to stay at our spot until the forlorn kid showed back up. She told us of her wild night making out with lesbian gutter punks and ending up in someone’s luxurious apartment sleeping on the couch. Eventually her road boy showed back up and this joyful reunion took place. Then he played us a song on the uke and they left together.

I saw them again this weekend and both of them had been fully assimilated into the Gutter Punk Borg. They were both rolling with a large group of street urchins clad in rough brown Earth tones towing malnourished pit bulls.

The PM at JAX2
Protesters interrupt Netanyahu New Orleans speech

NEW ORLEANS — Hecklers interrupted Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s speech to a prominent American Jewish group on Monday, the same day his government said it would move ahead with hundreds of new housing units in disputed east Jerusalem.

All that excitement must have gotten Ben in the mood for a Lucky Dog beignet because he showed up on Decatur a little while later with something close to eight Secret Service looking guys in tow. I was sitting there in front of the gate and saw these guys wearing suits and sun glasses and little things in their ears, looking all around, talking into radios. I thought I was part of a flash mob or on Trigger Happy TV or something. These guys looked less like Secret Service agents and more like guys acting like Secret Service agents. They drew a ton of attention to the fella they were protecting who otherwise just looked like a foreign tourist in the Quarter.

The Prime Minister was strolling among them and I didn’t even recognize him. If I did I would have mentioned that I interviewed his brother Iddo a few years back about Operation Entebbe in which their other brother Yoni was killed in an otherwise brilliant rescue of hijacked Jewish hostages at an Ugandan airport terminal. How much would my fellow Jackson Square artists and buggy drivers have been freaked out to look up and see Varg straight chatting up the fucking Prime Minister of Israel with Secret Service agents surrounding them? That would have been awesome.

Netanyahu’s arrival bizarrely coincided with the collapsing of one of the balloon men and the arrival of an ambulance to haul him away and the climax of Dragon Master Showcase at Washington Artillery Park and a chorus of “Who dats” after the Saints’ victory.

So for a few moments there was a lot of shit going down. I had consumed a few beers watching the Saints destroy Carolina at a Daiquiri Shop and then celebrated with an Abbey Ale so I was thoroughly enjoying everything in spite of making pretty pitiful money that day. That’s the thing about being out there in Fall, Spring and Winter. Even if you don’t make any money, you can still enjoy yourself by kicking it with your fellow artists and just watching New Orleans do its thing.