It’s hard to believe that I’ve been publishing this rag for five years now. That’s right, this issue of Red Shtick Magazine marks our fifth anniversary.

It truly is amazing how time flies when you’re having fun. What’s even more amazing is the fact that we’ve been around for five years. Most business ideas conceived during a drunken stupor typically don’t last that long.

The fact that we’re still alive and kicking after five years – while a number of other publications with significantly more capital and lots of pretty pictures printed on shiny, glossy pages have come and gone since our inception – is a testament to the support of our loyal readers and advertisers. If I’ve never done so before, I’d like to take this opportunity to thank all of you who fit into those categories.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t also thank our awesome stable of writers. Without them, we wouldn’t be Red Shtick. After all, we don’t print pretty pictures, just the ugly truth.

The whole idea of a comedy magazine began to take shape in November 2003 when I was producing a comedy open mic show at the old Richoux’s in Downtown Baton Rouge. After a show one night, a bunch of us stand-up comics gathered together at what used to be Russell’s Grill on Airline Highway. It was there, while about a dozen and a half of us with skewed views of life shoved greasy food into our alcohol-laden stomachs, that Red Shtick began to evolve from a larkish notion in my head into a viable entity.

Not long after that fateful meeting of the warped minds, we soon decided to unleash our premier issue a couple of months later on February 21, 2004. We specifically chose that date to launch our publication because it happened to be the day of the Spanish Town Mardi Gras Parade, the one day of the year that hundreds of thousands of Baton Rougeans let their hair down and act as satirically and irreverently as they wish. What better time to introduce a satirical, irreverent humor magazine to the citizens of our beloved, conservative college town?

Five years later, the Spanish Town Parade rolls on the exact date of our fifth anniversary, which is poetic since, over the last few years, we’ve cultivated a pleasant relationship with the parade’s organizers, the Society for the Preservation of Lagniappe in Louisiana. In fact, we recently became the official publication of record for SPLL, and we couldn’t be prouder of that accomplishment. We kind of feel like we’re politically incorrect kindred spirits and they’ve adopted us as their kid brother.

According to a narrative provided by my friend and SPLL board member Jim Work, the story of how the parade began is an interesting one that sort of resembles our own first steps, in that it was started by a small, ragtag group of people who decided to join forces to do something fun. In each case, there was no vision quest or grandiose plan to become a tour de force of satire. It simply took root and gradually developed a rabid following.

The parade reportedly all began in 1981 when three guys returning from a fishing trip, with a bateau strapped to the top of their car, joined up with a few neighborhood kids drumming on boxes and trash-can lids. Together, they strafed fellow Spanish Town residents, throwing ugly beads and fresh fish that looked suspiciously undersized.

Over the next few years, the parade steadily lured more participants and spectators. 1983 marked a significant milestone because that was the year the Yazoos, a perennial crowd favorite, were “released from the asylum” (Jim’s words, not mine), grabbed their decorated lawnmowers, and marched downtown as the unmerciful “Cat Shredders.” Mee-Yow!

To celebrate the 10th anniversary of the parade, the first annual Spanish Town Mardi Gras Ball was held in 1990. That decade saw the parade grow into the phenomenon that it is today.

Likewise, the ball has become an event like no other in Baton Rouge and must be experienced to be fully appreciated. Finding a ticket nowadays to the Spanish Town Ball is almost as hard as finding a virgin at the Spanish Town Ball.

The Spanish Town Parade may seem weird because it’s different from other Mardi Gras krewes that roll through town, in that it focuses on satire. Past themes include “Louisiana’s Dirty Laundry” (1992), “LA Purchase: Name Your Price” (2003), and my personal favorite, “FEMAture Evacuation” (2006).

Spanish Town’s uniquely satirical raison d’être, however, is actually a throwback of sorts that recaptures the original spirit of Carnivals of yore. According to Gordon Russell of The Times-Picayune, satire is an integral part of the history of Mardi Gras, dating back to the mid-1800s.

In a piece written two years ago, Russell said the first North American version of the festival, celebrated in Mobile, Alabama, started as a joke. A bunch of drunken guys (see, alcohol can lead to some good ideas) decided one day to “liberate” a handful of rakes, hoes, and cowbells from a store and paraded with them through the streets of Mobile. Thus was born The Cowbellion de Rakin Society. With all those lawn implements, they sound like the Yazoos of their day.

After relocating to New Orleans, a group of the original Cowbellions formed what is today the oldest Carnival krewe in the Crescent City, the Mistick Krewe of Comus. Satirical themes were commonplace back in those days, especially after the Civil War. Reconstruction and carpetbaggers provided inviting targets.

In 1873, the Comus parade was themed “The Missing Links to Darwin’s Origin of Species.” In it, Ulysses Grant was depicted as a tobacco grub while Ben Butler, the general in charge of the city’s occupation, was portrayed as a hyena. And you thought the Spanish Town folks were mean toward Kathleen Blanco.

Eventually, though, satire lost its rightful place in Carnival. Other krewes came along and infused into the festivities Greco-Roman mythology and elaborate rituals, which ultimately overshadowed any remnant of irreverence.

What started as a vehicle of satire soon began to take itself quite seriously. It’s the same thing that happened to Al Franken.

So if you decide to join the 150,000-plus, pink-clad revelers assembled in Downtown Baton Rouge for the largest Mardi Gras parade in the capital city, don’t just show up for the beads, boobs, and beer like an unlearned rube. Get there early, walk around, and examine the floats before the parade starts rolling. Chances are, if you’re reading this paper, you’ll appreciate the various degrees of spoofing offered by many of the 90-something krewes that make up the Spanish Town Parade.

And oh, if you see a float toward the front of the parade featuring a parody eerily similar to this month’s cover (this year’s theme is “Buy Yeaux Bailout”), don’t worry, they didn’t plagiarize Red Shtick. It’s hard to steal from yourself.