Who listens to my Saturday midnight radio show that originates from the French Quarter?  

People who are not your typical Volvo drivin', latte' and tofu feastin,' overly-earnest public radio listeners.   Nope, not to a show that features; "music you've never heard by musicians you've never heard of..."   That's a formula that attracts "listeners you never imagined could exist."   Like Binge Styles, the cartoonist for Quarter Rat magazine who wrote the following after I saw him on Decatur Street escorting three girls wearing paint instead of clothing.
 

Jamie,

Nice seeing you last night and meeting Mary who beamed with grace and sophistication.  

Sharp contrast to my company.  The naked girls were our "promotions" for Quarter Rat Magazine.  Where else but New Orleans could three nearly naked girls push their unconscious friend down the middle of Frenchman Street in a shopping cart while refusing to allow a column of taxis pass?  Anywhere else, we would have been in  jail.  

Instead we ended up in an apartment over a live music club where we listened to New Orlean's versions of vintage country and western while two pit bulls humped on the living room floor.  Then a long stumble home with no cigarettes because the girls had bummed all mine.  I couldn't even find Verti Mart until I refilled on intoxicants. 

A perfect New Orleans night.  

I didn't believe it really happened until I saw the photos posted on Facebook.  Yeah, I guess it happened.  Only in this city of magic and decadence. 

Good luck with tonight's show  -  Styles

P.S.   The scariest part about that night: We discovered that you could carry a seemingly lifeless half naked woman covered with fake blood down Esplanade and no one will look twice.