Author: Eric T. Styles

Oh the outrage

Our latest Quarter Rat Newspaper is our 7th issue in the past year. There were times we had editorial discussions asking ourselves if we were crossing any lines. Nope, we pretty much ran with every stupid juvenile idea we came up with. Brains on Bourbon Street, celebrity gossip, porn for hobos, accusing the First Lady of France of being a shape-shifting reptilian, mouth to ass recipes and page 3 girls with ample cleavage. Add to it Jay Slusher’s true stories that read like Tarantino scripts rejected for excessive violence.

A Mardi Gras issue is a must for us, but they are so boring. We locals don’t want to read about the time of the year we dread the most. Quarter Rats drink to forget Mardi Gras. We all know the history, the krewes and traditions. Parade routes can be found anywhere online so why waste the newsprint.

We figured if anyone was going to bitch about anything, it would be about our “FUCK MARDI GRAS” headline. That’s like a newspaper in Rome running the headline “FUCK THE POPE.” Some sacred things can trigger zealot outrage if disrespected. Over the past year and all the shit we have printed, the only negative feedback so far has been Issa’s centerfold in this February issue.

Really? This is The French Quarter, correct? Technically, she isn’t even nude. She could wear that to the beach if she wanted some amusing tan lines. We all walked past “Nipple Glitter” stands on our way to work this season, but a Vargas like pool table pose is too much for some Quarter Rats sensibilities? Most all of you loved it and were proud of Issa. One of her co-workers commented to me:
“I am impressed by her being so comfortable with herself and the don’t give a fuck attitude.”

So are we, that’s why she is part of our QR team. After she contributed her hilarious deadbeat Nicolas Cage story, this paper knew it needed her to contribute more. This issue was just a quick 8-page issue just to say we did it. For the FUCK MARDI GRAS issue, a middle finger and titties seemed like a great cover idea, let’s ask Issa.

No one has directed negative comments to the editorial staff of this fine publication, instead they were directed personally at her. That pissed me off. Issa is like a daughter to me, Ok, a stepdaughter. Maybe more like a cute stepdaughter in a Florida trailer park kind of way. We all love her and let her be her.

One person said to her: “Why did you do this? You must have been manipulated or coerced into doing it.” A real insult to any person, especially her. That statement implies weakness and a lack of self-agency on her part.

She was asked a week prior to the shoot and could have backed out at any time. As we shot the photos, she reviewed every one and gave feedback. Her boyfriend was there. Issa got to approve the final layout prior to being sent off to the printer. The readers I ran into who saw it cheered for her.

One of you fucks actually commented to her about a “double chin.” I’m sure the one who made the comment is a chiseled like a sculpture. What a dickhead thing to say. It’s socially unacceptable to say to a woman “Nice tits” but it is somehow socially Ok to say, “Nice chins?” Go back, apologize to her and buy her a shot.

No man has the right to tell a woman what she can or can’t do with her own body! Only a woman is allowed to tell another woman what she can do with her body.

If you are a 300-plus pound feminist with a shaved head objecting to a sexualized woman, I get it. If you are a male feminist objecting to it, you probably have never even touched boobies. Wait until your balls drop then comment.

We didn’t have a misleading headline with no hint as to the content. Big words above the fold “OUR VERY FIRST CENTERFOLD ISSA!!” Only after you unfolded the paper did you see electrical tape over her nipples. If that was too shocking for you then proceeding to the centerfold was probably a poor decision on your part.

The actual centerfold was totally absurd. A parody of sorts. Did we do the cliche’ accompanying text of: “This hot European import is Issa. Her turn-ons are Harry Potter and puppies.” No. Our centerfold was cluttered with Steve Buscemi trivia and a 9/11 reference. What kind of a fucked-up publication would print such dumb-ass shit?

Oh wait, yea.

Her body, her choice.
Picking up the paper, your choice.

Honored Guests

So, it’s a beautiful autumn day on Jackson Square in the French Quarter. The press photographers gather outside of 520 Saint Peters Street waiting for the front-page shot. France’s President Emmanuel Macron steps out onto the second-floor wrought iron balcony festooned with the red, white and blue flags of our nations. Photos taken from behind him are views of the square and the historic Saint Louis Cathedral. The press is surrounded by street performers, musicians and artists with their paintings hanging on an iron fence topped by fleur de dis.

(Scratching record sound effect)
Nope, not this visit.
This is the first French President to visit France’s former colony in 45 years. In 1976 we were visited by leader Valéry Giscard d’Estaing and by Charles de Gaulle in 1941. Wouldn’t it be great if we could offer the best view and accommodations to our special guest of such a prestige? The City of New Orleans did have such a place. It’s since been converted into “Teedy’s Boom-Boom Room.”

Just 10 years ago myself and a good friend, Robert Hotalen, were painting contractors hired by the Upper Pontalba property management to renovate that very apartment. We considered it to be quite a privilege, not just to be hired to work on a historic 1850s era structure, but also this particular apartment.

We gushed over the assignment and asked the property manager many questions. His response from what i remember:
“The mayor doesn’t actually live here, it’s primary purpose is to be a guest residence for visiting dignitaries and VIPs. The mayor may host parties here for special events or hold meet and greats.”
“Hold campaign fund-raisers and the like?”
“Oh no. He wouldn’t be permitted to use it for that since its a city owned property. It’s only for city affairs and special visitors.”

It’s not like Macron would be there for long. It would function like a base of operations during his brief visit. A secure location for him and his entourage. From the standpoint of security, it’s ideal. One main front entrance, a small courtyard only shared with the adjacent 522 Saint Peters Street location. The stairway only shared by two other apartments with full-time residents.

A short walk down Lower Decatur Street, (OK, maybe beef up the security on that route) to visit one of the few remaining statues in the city. A gift from France in 1972, the statue of Joan of Arc is still an impressive landmark. “Joany on a pony” as we locals like to affectionately refer to her. Show the people of France that we do still have it and mostly graffiti free. A majestic monument to transgenderism. Again, a magnificent photo opportunity for both the press and the city.

Maybe followed by a stroll up to the river, a city skyline as a backdrop to answer reporter’s questions and more pictures. A short walk back to the Pontalba apartment to return important phone calls and state business. Perhaps an overnight stay or probably just a quick shit and shower before he hops in a limo to the airport to jet back to Frogland.

New Orleans needs all of the positive press it can get at this point. Most images hash tagged #Neworleans lately have been those from blurry security camera stills of hooded figures pointing firearms at crowds. It’s a tourism downer to be known as the deadliest city in America. It’s about optics, something our mayor has no clue as to the meaning of.

Back when I was painting the 12-foot-high walls I imagined what the finished room would look like. Adorned with valuable fine art on loan from collections, antique furniture that wouldn’t see daily use, only for very special guests. I hate to think how it must look now. I envision bean-bag chairs and a day-glow poster of Snoop Dog hanging over the marble fireplace. The apartment probably smells like the VIP room at a strip club by now.

Maybe the city can book him a room at the Four Seasons on Bourbon Street. After all, it’s where the old French Opera House use to stand before it burned down. President Macron can stroll Bourbon Street for the international press. Toss a few Euros to the bucket kids, toss a couple more Euros to the dude who knew where he got his shoes. We’ll even comp him a Fishbowl drink.

The local press giggling at Macron’s security getting jumpy at the sounds of gunfire from Rampart Street by people who never even heard of Macron. Thanks Latoya. We really wish to be seen as a world class city, not a worldstar city. A chance to polish the image of the city in eyes of the world and you blew it like, well, you know, a cop.

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Banks Street Bar

Did the Banks Street Bar new owner really fire every employee? Sounds like it. That sucks, but there are plenty of other jobs out there. Good luck to you all.

“The new owner is an asshole!”
Well, ok. That happens sometimes, sounds like a bit of fortune being put into a position to have to move onto better things. Lots of good employers out there looking for good help.

“He lives in a mansion and pays his employees shit!”
Ok, another reason to move on. If he has difficulty keeping good staff, he will have no choice but to increase wages. Supply and demand apply to human resources as well.

The business was sold and the new owner decided to clean house and start with fresh staff. Sometimes it’s easier to start with new staff and reorganize than trying to correct issues. Is it a mistake? Time will tell. His money, his choice.

Most employers would rather hire someone with little or no experience and train them in how to do things than hire someone with “years of experience.” If you buy a business, the old staff will be reluctant to any changes, falling back on: “But this is how we always do it.”

An inexperienced applicant with a good attitude will more likely get the position than the industry veteran who is sure that he knows how everything should be run. Perhaps the new owner has a slightly higher standard of performance than the previous.

Someone who buys an established business is purchasing the name, location, equipment and the like. They are not buying the staff. The last I checked the buying and selling of workers was illegal in most states.

Sorry you are looking for a new job. You are not entitled to that job or any other. Their business, their choice of who to employ. Every job is just a contract. “You do this, I’ll pay you that.” Either one of you break the terms of the contract, the other can walk away.

I’m laughing at the comments on social media. I can picture all of them as co-workers. The ones who make it a point to take a shit on company time and boast about it. “I got one over on the boss! 20 minutes on the bowl playing with my phone.” While your co-workers had to pick up the slack. So much for the worker’s collective.

We’ve all worked with such people. Those who steal from the boss and justify it with, “He doesn’t pay me what I am worth.” Those who spit in customers’ food and back-stab co-workers at the drop of a hat. Often, it’s easier to just tear down and build new than to try repairing what’s there.

An employer owes you nothing more than the agreed upon pay on schedule.