Unless you live in one of a handful of places scattered across the globe, either still sucking on the dregs of medieval Catholicism or entrenched in the aftermath of colonialism, Carnival probably means jack shit to you. Or maybe it does, but it's likely not an entity in and of itself, a swirling vortex of chaos and disorder that obscures both time and space and encompasses every facet of your existence for the better part of a month, until you have no choice but to be sucked into its belly, tossed about like flotsam until it's time to smear ashes on your forehead, abstain from self-indulgence, and reflect on the nature of mortality and suffering. Or, you know, fly back to whatever no name, no fun town ya came from with the hangover of the century and a suitcase full of grimy plastic, and maybe a hazy memory of some illicit activity you hope don't wind up on one of them reality TV shows or viral videos or your mom's Facebook feed.

Anyhow. Right now in my little world, it's about the exact moment where one realizes their impotence against the yawning maw of the Mardi Gras void and surrenders one's bodily and psychological autonomy, to be swallowed by the rising tide of revelry. And by “one”, I mean me. I'm that guy. And I ain't gonna try to put together an involved post about comics on account of in about an hour I'll lose reliable cell and internet service until right about the time that it's time to do this again. See, it ain't just businesses and government offices and roads and ideas of dignity and self-respect that get shut the hell down during Carnival. Everything shuts down. Everything stops. It's join or die- well, maybe not die, but definitely crawl into a hole and pray hard that it doesn't find you. Oh, but it'll find you. You can't escape the Mardi Gras.

Well, sure, but what does that have to do with comics? Is this some kind of metaphor? Not a damn thing, and no. This is the dang Mardi Gras, I thought I done told you!

On that note, I'll see y'all next week with something or another!