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Over the last two years I have been sending "The History of Gasparilla" to my non-Tampa friends. It is an evolving document. I thought this year I would share. I bring you:
Gasparilla - A Newcomer's Guide
So you want to come to Gasparilla, but you don't know what "it's all about?"
Well, you've come to the right place. Gasparilla is a Tampa tradition. It's sets us apart from similar cities like, Des Moines, Buffalo, Cincinnati, Milwaukee and other medium sized metropolitan shitholes. Just take a moment and read through this comprehensive guide to our PirateFest (tm) and you'll be marauding this January like an old pro!
First, we begin at the beginning. About a hundred years ago - the great (?) leaders of Tampa thought it would be fun to dress up like pirates, get piss drunk and ride on horseback through the streets of Tampa raising hell and invoking the name of the Great Pirate Jose Gaspar.
Jose Gaspar probably doesn't exist. Who cares? Neither does economic viability in Centro Ybor or Channelside - that doesn't stop our great (?) leaders from believing in them...
Anytime you can let grown men wear eye patches and drink through prohibition - you are on to something. Over the last century, Gasparilla has continued to grow. The celebration truly gained popularity when a formal group known as Ye Mystic Krewe was formed. Still in existence, and with hundreds of dues-paying members, the Krewe is a themed drinking society of wealthy white males who miss their college fraternity. Understandably, they long for the good old days when they could drink grain alcohol, pressure their steady girlfriends to have sloppy, unsatisfying sex with them and then get a blow job from "Kenny" the "kitchen assistant" in the boiler room.
Of course time passes, and this behavior becomes increasingly unacceptable. Today, these same wealthy white males who, just yesterday it seems, were violently grabbing the back of Kenny's head and looking forward to cheating on their chemistry exam, now realize that to increase their Daddy's shareholder's profits and keep their mistresses well stocked in Dolce and blow, they have to hire IT guys from India and black women from Cornell and whoever-the-fuck-that-Mexican-thinks-he-is-he's-just-a-MBA-degree-from-Wharton-away-from-mowing-my-lawn.
Being rich and white just isn't the same anymore.
So as the times- they are a changing - these pirates find solace in spending a few soused hours partaking in the politically incorrect behavior they must keep carefully hidden from society.
Except there is one thing these bloated rich white men cannot resist – the clink, clink, clink of the golden coins. When faced with the economic benefit of allowing everyday people to join in the festivities, the pirates could not resist. Soon plunder and booty became available to all. Soon the Mayor was passing over a key to the city. Soon dressing like a pirate became cache. Soon if you walked more than ten feet in the month of January or February, somebody in Tampa was throwing fucking beads at you.
There are about 30 some odd Krewes now. There are Latin Krewes and Black Krewes and the Krewe of Venus (all debutantes), the Teddy Bear Krewe, the Krewe of People Who Should Mow My Lawn But Paid Us in Excess of $5,000 To Be Here, the Rough Riders, etc. etc. All paying with the clink, clink, clink of gold coin to the bloated rich white male pirates who sit back, smoke an illegal Cuban cigar, drink expensive scotch and piss on your girlfriend. (I'm sorry, you'll never know about it since he gave her a Coach bag, Gucci sunglasses, $500 and an eight ball to stay quiet about it).
I know what you're thinking…. you have to see all this for yourself! Great Gatsby meets Blackbeard meets Fanny Hill? Well, I can't blame you. Who wouldn't want to be a part of this? That's why 400,000 fucking parasites of humanity come by boat, car, foot, and shopping cart (more on that later) to witness and partake in the insanity of Gasparilla.
Festivities occur along the bay on a road called Bayshore Blvd. Home of the longest contiguous sidewalk, Bayshore Blvd. is known for it's striking views of the TECO power plant, Mosaic gypsum mounds and phosphate factory. The toxic waste belching out of the other side of this body of water is truly breathtaking. Although the inability to draw a proper supply of oxygen may come from the fact that the bay, on a good day, smells like a whore house in a third world country on Two-for-One day, and on a bad day smells like somebody drank a gallon of pig's blood and summarily took a shit on a pile of burning children.
Bayshore is shut down to traffic for the day and the "flotilla" comes in around 1pm. This is a group of approximately 500 boats that come up the Bay with the big pirate ship leading the way. In these 500 boats are a stunning array of haves and have-nots. In the flotilla, you will see boats ranging from yachts to fucking canoes with outboard motors and occupants who wear shirts that say "Let Go of My Ears, I Know What I'm Doing." Clothing tends to be optional in the flotilla. A good rule of thumb is this – the droopier your titties and the fatter your gut – the more you are encouraged to be naked.
The primary pirate ship holds all of the leaders of Tampa, piss drunk, and raising hell. The Mystic Krewe in all of its glory. These guys have been drinking since the night before, and keeping Kenny quiet in the ship's head (no pun intended) with Moon Pies and RC cola. Here they are – our great (?) leaders.
It's a sight to behold. Invasion makes you want to drink to forget your godforsaken place in this world and how life is about as fair as the hooker that sticks her finger in your ass to make you cum faster but still charges you for the full hour.
I digress.
After they land at the Convention Center the Invasion is complete. The Mayor hands the Key to the City over to the Pirates and the debauchery begins. Tampa is a Pirate Town – woo hoo! That's so crazy! Pirates are so cool! Let's all run a train on your mom, just like the Pirates used to do!
After we get done running a train on your mom, we find good spots on Bayshore to watch the parade. This is the official point that everyone begins to get blind drunk and are both entertained and enraged by a non-stop onslaught of drunken Krewes, throwing beads, drinking heavily and making complete idiots out of themselves.
Did I mention we're all drinking? Okay, just wanted to be clear.
Did I mention that Bayshore is home to mulit-million dollar mansions? That's the part that really brings it all home. There is the undeniable comfort in the existence of a karmic wheel, when folks pay millions of dollars for a home that costs thousands in property taxes, so once a year Billy Bob and his buddy can relive themselves in the front yard. Of course many of the houses employ security for the day – but I find that for about $20 and some Lighting tickets – you can totally piss on or near the security guards.
Don't miss the sights! You will see people with shopping carts holding kegs. You will see grown adults removing their children from strollers so they can put a case of beer there instead. You will see breasts that had their glory in the Carter administration. You will see what the 17 year old skeeze bag and her 20 year old boyfriend had for breakfast this morning! You will see what happens when you mix alcohol, beads, blue collar workers and the business elite! You will see what would happen if Pirates controlled major metropolitan cities! You will see why almost one ton of trash is picked up the next day (but dude, like 25% of that was your mom).
"Ohmigod – the president of My Daddy's Bank totally stuck his tongue down my throat and gave me these beads."
"Seriously? That's so fucking cool – I let the son of Rich as Fuck Motorcars finger me for this cigar."
"Both of you shut up! I got on the float for Successful Cubans with Chips on their Shoulder – fucked half the krewe in the port-o-john on the float – and got to keep this pirate hat."
"Cool"
"Bitchin"
"Well, come on –we have to go catch up with the rest of the National Honor Society of Plant High float before anyone knows we are missing."
And that – my friend – is Gasparilla.
Arrrgh!Current Mood:  drunk Current Music: A Pirate Looks at 40 - or some other shitty Pirate song... |
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RIP
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Nov. 9th, 2006 @ 03:54 pm
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Ed Bradley
You were a bad ass in so many ways.Current Mood: sad |
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Well, let it be said that in a true democracy - VIP or SOL we can all end up MIA on voting day:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/midterms2006/story/0,,1942081,00.htmlCurrent Mood:  cheerful Current Music: Happy Days Are Here Again |
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Let me answer a few questions on the front end:
Yes, I want to see it.
Yes, that makes me dirty.
No, I don't care in the slightest.
Yes, it is disturbing.
Yes, I am in therapy.
Off to price tickets to London...Current Mood: strangely aroused Current Music: This is the Day - The The |
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I’m going to multi-task for a moment.
I had a post cooking in me from last night – literally – I made some damn good grub last night and as we like to post our culinary accomplishments (or at least some of us) here we go:
Okay, I learned yesterday that, while it sounds white trash, micro waving crab legs is the only way to go. I got a hankering for crab legs – which I do – and so I did a wee bit o’ research on different ways to cook ‘em up. See, I’ve always steamed them before…
Bad move.
All crab legs sold in the store are pre-cooked and then flash frozen. So when you steam them you are double cooking them. That’s why we get used to soft crabmeat. When you microwave them – they defrost and heat up all at the same time and the meat is still tender but it has more substance and meatiness to it.
It also only takes about 4 min. per pound. It’s faster than a tv dinner. I HIGHLY recommend. After all, if you’re dropping cash on crab legs – do them right, even if the method sounds wrong…
Now if you’re really feeling decadent try this shit out: Loaf of sourdough bread, cut out center, set aside. Line inside of bread hole with thinly sliced granny smith apple and one tablespoon minced garlic – drop a round of Brie in that hole of goodness (top of rind cut off) and then tuck apple slices all around the gap. Are we done? Oh hell no… now drizzle Raspberry Jam on the top and bake that glorious goodness in the oven at 350 for 20 minutes.
Holy Mary Mother of God!
There was something quite fun about having a Saturday night dinner on Tuesday night! It was like playing hooky from school or something.
I should get out more.
Anyway, here’s my second task of the post - http://www.cnn.com/2006/POLITICS/07/25/ivins.candidates/
Read it and write a letter – this is the only thing that has kept me from wanting to vomit every time I think of the ’08 elections. This excites me. A lot.
So in closing, eat well and raise the debate.
Yum!Current Mood:  dorky Current Music: CentrePeace - Badly Drawn Boy |
| » Rescue and Recovery |
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I guess the good news is - It's July 5th at 11:30 and my ass is sitting at home.
No it is not a vacation day.
The bad news is, this impromptu vacation is the result of my air conditioner taking a fucking header last night. Fortunately, my best friend, The New Yorker, and I had a place to crash - but this morning I am sitting in a stifling fucking hot house waiting for a fucking window of 10-1 for an air conditioner guy.
Sorry, had to vent - get it? Vent? Air condition... ah! I kill me.
Fortunately, and I am very impressed, I called my landlord on the 4th, told him what was going on, and the air conditioning place had me on the schedule at 9 am today. That's pretty impressive.
Got the New Yorker on a plane at 5:45 this morning - after he kept his "new boyfriend" (aka the Englishman) and I up until about oh - 4 am chatting and laughing. I must say though, when your best friend and the best friend that you sleep with, manage to finish each other's sentences within about three hours of knowing each other - that doesn't suck.
Okay, here's the worst part of it all...
I can't find Ike the Angry Cat.
I tried to get him to come in last night before we all loaded up to go to the Englishman's house for air conditioning. He ran off. I didn't know what to do. Now, knowing that he listened to fireworks all night and probably got really scared and he wasn't by the door when I came home this morning... Well - send your good thoughts to Ike the Angry Cat coming home.
Special thanks to ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=92.2) maladr1n for a fabulous 3rd of July and a great deck - we had a faaaaaah-bulous time.
Off to look for Ike and wait for the air conditioner guy...
Jul. 5th, 2006 @ 11:29 am
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| » Almost nap time |
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There are just some days that the hour can’t go by fast enough.
I actually had a very productive day, which is great because getting used to my new job has been an exercise of staring at old documents and trying to piece together something to do for the day.
I am well caught up with my web surfing.
But the last week, things have started to swing into gear. Which is great, because I don’t sit quietly well. I like to be busy – really busy.
No more excuses – I have been out of surgery now for almost four months. I finally am back up to my fighting weight – so it’s time to start fighting. I will be joining a gym this weekend. While I must say I’ve had fun eating cheesecake and homemade macaroni and cheese – it’s time to keep everything in check. I think now is the time to actually start eating healthy instead of just crap and maybe try to get back into the shape I was in before all the health crap happened. For those keeping score at home - it will be a year July 28th. Yep. Yuck. I like the idea of just being active again.
I’m currently camped out at the Englishman’s house with the dogs. Seems that in the process of dating someone from the UK, my a/c has been set a bit lower than the native Floridian is used to having it. Ditto for the native Floridian air conditioner, which decided to vomit condensation all over my closet last night.
It did give me an excuse to crawl up into the attic – which is in REALLY great shape it turns out. I was hoping for a steamer trunk and a wardrobe and some really magical shoes – but I just got a pretty well preserved roof and well laid insulation. Oh well.
So the decided plan of action was to turn the a/c off and let it all dry out and see what happens. I will be co-habitating along with the dogs through the weekend. In return, I am helping the Englishman work on his American dialect for an audition. Funnily, he sounds rather mid-western. It’s not bad actually, just a little unnerving to hear someone suddenly sound like they’re from Chicago when they’re from right outside London. It’s a little “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” but with a really polite edge.
Well, it’s at that point where I just can’t be bothered to start another project so close to leaving for the day. I guess it was nice to post – I haven’t done it in a while. I haven’t’ a lot to say, but by my standards that is so refreshing. It just means I’m happy and content.
Although I could use a nap.
Jun. 22nd, 2006 @ 05:33 pm
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| » Sand in my soul... |
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Waking up to a thunderstorm was an absolute delight this morning. I miss rain. A lot. Lately I have found myself defending the fact that I have always chosen to live in a tropical (or at least warm) climate – Florida and California.
No, I have never seen leaves turn.
I don’t think this makes me a bad person.
Yes, I have seen snow – five times, once it even fell from the sky – that was cool, I was 30.
Does this make me a bad person? I just don’t think so.
I can navigate a boat by the stars.
If I am within two miles of water I can point you in the right direction (even thought I’m lousy with knowing my direction any other time).
I think sand is the best exfoliate in the world.
I think watching a sunset into the water is the closest thing to seeing God.
Beer tastes better on the beach.
Peeing in the ocean is very satisfying.
Now tell me again why freezing my ass off and raking leaves is better?
Apr. 27th, 2006 @ 04:14 pm
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| » A year in review |
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Well, I did it. I made it through Christmas in one piece. No minor accomplishment - all things considered.
Spent time with my family – Mom, Dad, Brother, Brother’s girlfriend. Mostly just sat quietly on the porch and reflected over the year.
2005 is almost officially fired. I couldn’t be happier. There was some good in the bad and lessons to be had. I think I can say I have lived five lifetimes in one year and I wouldn’t be too far off…
I turned 30, got some skin cancer dug out of my back, dealt with the first “move – out,” learned that marriage counseling is a huge racket, spent the 4th of July in North Carolina, nurtured and directed the Great American Play, passed four kidney stones naturally, one with surgery, dealt with the “final move – out,” nursed my perfect old dog back to health, lost 15 pounds, discovered an innocuous breast lump, got a promotion at work, figured out how divorce laws in the State of Florida work, went to Chicago, and learned that life isn’t all that bad when old friends come to the rescue.
I also learned that Ambien doesn’t help me sleep, Valium does, Vicodin can be your best friend (and worst enemy) and things never look as bad surrounded by friends at the HUB or New World.
I watched audiences stand up and applaud.
I smoked a cigarette in the rain on a best friend’s front porch and realized that there is beauty in all things.
I hit bottom and then hit it again, and then decided I didn’t like the bottom and got up.
I spent Thanksgiving surrounded by the best family in the world.
I stood in the snow in Chicago and felt beautiful.
I remembered what it was to be me, and that it’s not such a bad person to be.
I lived through it all.
Would I do it again? Given where I am now and where I know I will be in the future, you’re damn right I would.
Here’s to more good days in 2006 – and a life fully lived.
Dec. 27th, 2005 @ 02:01 pm
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