As problems go, anything involving Carnival in New Orleans “doesn’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world” as Bogie said to Bergman in Casablanca. I’ve kvetched about the selfishness of the Krewe of Chad several times here. This post is NOT about them. It’s about why their takeover of my parade watching corner is a big deal for me.

My corner is gone.

We moved to what became Adrastos World HQ in August of 2000. The neighborhood was sketchier before Katrina, but we didn’t flood so gentrification accelerated after the storm. I preferred the more racially and socio-economically mixed pre-Katrina hood, but what can ya do? That neighborhood is gone. I say the same thing about what’s happening at the corner of Magazine and Valence during Carnival.

My corner is gone.

When we arrived in the 13th Ward, one of the first people we met was the man I came to call the Mayor of Valence Street. Wallace Klein was a crusty but lovable retiree who lived in the house in which he and his wife raised their family. It was also Wallace’s wife’s family home. Dr A and I still call it the Klein house. It’s on the 800 block of Valence Street, near the corner of Magazine.

Wallace was one of the spryest octogenarians I’ve ever met. He cut our grass and moved the trash bins off the street for us and other favored neighbors. He refused payment, so I’d buy him a six-pack of beer to thank him. He preferred cheap beer. I once bought him Miller High Life, which he thought was too fancy so after that it was Old Milwaukee or Busch. I still drank it with him because he was the Mayor of Valence Street.

One of many things Wallace did for us was to make us honorary Valence Street residents, which meant that every year on Thoth Sunday we walked around the corner to attend the Valence Street block party. Wallace introduced us to the cast of characters we’d watch parades with for the next decade: Maggie, Mike, Ed, Al, Darcy, Jim, and Linda.

The neighborhood party was always a blast. Chaddery was restricted to the Endymion parade route back then. At my corner, there were no tarps, tents, ladders, or any of the accoutrements of contemporary Chaddery. Carnival was still a moveable feast.

For many years, Thoth was the only parade that rolled up Magazine and past my corner. That changed after Katrina. At first, the impact was limited but eventually the Chads found my corner. Additionally, the mainstays of the block party have moved or died: It had its last gasp in 2023.

My corner is gone.

It’s not just my corner; the Chads are out in full force everywhere. The Uptown parade route looks like a poorly organized camp ground complete with ladders, yellow caution tape, and double wide wagons here, there, and everywhere.

Back to the corner of Valence and Magazine. One particularly obnoxious group ran a generator during a night parade. It was an electric generator, so the risk of fire was low but who needs power during a parade? It was undistilled Chaddery, which is malakatude dressed in purple, green, and gold.

As to their politics, many Chads come from the ruby red suburbs whereas New Orleans is deep blue. Speaking of deep:

Deep Carnival Thought: Not all Chads are Trump voters, but all Trump voters are Chads.

— Shecky (@adrastosno.bsky.social) 2026-02-14T22:11:48.046Z

I mentioned politics because of the recent strengthening of city ordinances against the worst forms of Chaddery. City Council President JP Morrell has publicized the changes; his efforts have fallen on deaf ears since most Chads come from other parishes. Ordinances such as these are largely self-enforcing so I don’t blame the city. Chads are like The Who’s Tommy: Deaf, dumb, and blind; figuratively, not literally. I hope the city will have more money for enforcement in the future. In the immortal words of Johnny Mercer:

I’ve focused on Thoth Sunday, but I have many fond memories of my corner during other parades. There’s been creeping Chadism there on other days: Thoth Sunday is when it really irks me. It was yesterday.

My corner is gone.

I realize that this is not the most important thing I could write about, but it’s deeply personal. Carnival is supposed to be fun, but things have been going downhill since the Cursed Carnival of 2020. That was the year a fatal accident took place near my corner. I don’t usually believe in jinxes and superstitious shit. I may make an exception in this case.

My corner is gone.

The last word goes to Bad Company: