On Thursday night—traditionally known as Momus Thursday—the void was once again joyfully, loudly, and mercilessly filled as the Knights of Chaos rolled Uptown, delivering one of Carnival’s sharpest, smartest, and most unapologetically satirical parades. In a Mardi Gras season packed with spectacle and tradition, Chaos remains the krewe that exists to poke the bear—no matter how powerful, political, or protected that bear might be.
The krewe’s origin story is rooted in mythology and Mardi Gras history alike. In Greek mythology, Chaos was the void from which the universe and all its gods were created. In New Orleans, Chaos emerged in 2000 to fill a very real Carnival void left behind when the legendary Knights of Momus ceased parading in 1992 after a century-long run. The result was not a replacement, but an evolution—one that preserved Momus’ biting satire while cranking the volume and absurdity all the way up.
Now a 225-member, all-male krewe, Chaos continues to parade on the Thursday before Fat Tuesday, honoring the spirit of Momus while carving out its own identity. Like its predecessor, Chaos is fiercely committed to secrecy. The parade theme is never revealed in advance, and the identity of the king remains a mystery. What is guaranteed, however, is that nothing—and no one—is off-limits.
This year’s parade delivered a full-scale Carnival roast aimed squarely at Washington DC, New Orleans City Hall, Baton Rouge, and beyond. Float after float rolled by with elaborate, often outrageous designs that skewered politicians, public officials, institutions, and scandals with equal-opportunity irreverence. The laughter from the crowd came fast and loud as spectators tried to take it all in before the next punchline rolled into view.
Local politics took plenty of heat. One float took aim at former New Orleans Mayor Latoya Cantrell and Jeffrey Vappie, while another skewered ongoing City Hall budget woes. The Orleans Parish jail escape from last year was transformed into dark humor, reminding the crowd that Chaos doesn’t shy away from uncomfortable truths—it leans into them.
National politics fared no better. Floats roasted President Donald Trump alongside Speaker of the House Mike Johnson, while other designs targeted U.S. Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth and U.S. Secretary of Homeland Security Kristi Noem in a depiction that left the crowd gasping and laughing in equal measure. A float lampooning U.S. Secretary of Health and Human Services Robert F. Kennedy Jr. turned his food advocacy into Carnival absurdity, while another mocked the U.S. government’s dramatic destruction of alleged drug cartel speedboats.
Global power struggles also made the cut. A float poked fun at the competing desires of Russia, China, Venezuela, and the United States to control oil, reducing geopolitical tension to papier-mâché spectacle. California Governor Gavin Newsom and U.S. Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez were also skewered, reinforcing Chaos’ long-standing philosophy: satire works best when no one is spared.
Even Louisiana State University wasn’t safe. LSU football coaching decisions—complete with appearances by Governor Jeff Landry and Lane Kiffin—were roasted mercilessly, earning some of the biggest cheers of the night from fans who clearly appreciated seeing their gridiron frustrations turned into comedy.
The Uptown route was packed with spectators who knew exactly what they were signing up for. Chaos attracts a crowd that appreciates wit, political humor, and the deeply New Orleans tradition of laughing at authority. The throws—often as clever as the floats themselves—were snatched eagerly, but it was the commentary rolling past that kept people engaged, phones raised, and conversations buzzing.
What makes the Krewe of Chaos endure isn’t just its shock value—it’s its intelligence. Each float is layered with references, inside jokes, and cultural critique that reward attention. In an era when satire can feel risky, Chaos leans fully into its role as Carnival’s court jester, reminding the city that humor has always been one of New Orleans’ sharpest tools.
More than two decades after its founding, the Krewe of Chaos continues to prove that Mardi Gras isn’t just about beads and beauty. Sometimes, it’s about holding up a distorted mirror, laughing hard, and letting the absurdity roll.
See the 2026 Mardi Gras Parade Schedule Here.