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The editors of NOLAFugees.com after a long night of making CREAM.
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The central tenet of life in post-Apocalypse New Orleans is Shit Goes Wrong. A corollary to this tenet is When Shit Goes Wrong, It Takes A Long Time To Get Shit Fixed. Your insurance check is lost in the mail, your electrician is stuck in traffic and can’t come until May, or maybe you’ve been evicted.
Here at NOLAFugees, our computer crashed and we lost all sorts of useful information, namely the entire architecture of the website.
Perhaps you are wondering why we didn’t back up our files to prevent this calamity. We will give you an answer in a moment, but first let us say that we hope you are not the kind of people who in the midst of the city’s flooding asked “why didn’t they leave?” In the Apocalypse Bounce Party that is NOLAFugees, white Ts are accepted (especially the ones we sell), but rationality and sanctimony get checked at the door.
Now here is our answer: we wanted an excuse to re-tool the site. And damn, don’t it look good?
At this point in our letter we can fall into two very gruesome cliches we see our colleagues employ all the time. One is to earnestly tell you how hard we’ve worked putting the issue together, and how we really hope you enjoy it. The other is to say, in carefully crafted stoner prose, how we sort of, uh, threw this thing together, uh, and, well, look at it if you want.
Editors who write those kinds of letters do not deserve the ad revenue that is heaped upon them. Tell your local shop owners this, and tell them their ad budgets would be better spent here with us at NOLAFugees.
In the interest of the public record, however, we offer this mildly truthful account of how our new issue came into being, in three parts:
I. For the entirety of the Mardi Gras season, we ignored the work needed to be done.
II. In the home offices late at night on Mardi Gras, we watched the Comus ball on public TV in a pill-induced stupor, listening raptly to the commentary of Henri Schindler and Errol and Peggy Scott Laborde. We debated at length over whether the sycophancy and denial of Schindler and the Labordes was genuine and heartfelt. It was argued that the level of obsequiousness on display was nearly impossible to produce without full sincerity. However, if you stare long enough into the eyes of Peggy Scott Laborde, you begin to recognize a calligraphy etched on the walls of her soul, and slowly the words take shape, and they read, “Please kill me. Please kill me.”
III. Ash Wednesday. A day to atone and to realize what is important and why we are here. Last night’s intense discussions over what was real and what was fake reinvigorated our sense of mission. Namely, to blur the distinctions. For that is what we do at NOLAFugees. And NOLAFugees is here for you.
Joe Longo and Jarret Lofstead are the Senior Editors of NOLAFugees.com. You can email them at editors@nolafugees.com.
