There are so many traditions associated with Thanksgiving: Gorging on three days’ worth of food in one meal, bickering with in-laws over politics, a week’s wage lost on football games and the occasional errant balloon injuring dozens at the Macy’s Parade.
Here in New Orleans, specifically the French Quarter, the tradition of accusing businesses of being racist. This ritual stems from the Bayou Classic, the annual college football game hosted at the Superdome between Grambling State and Southern University. Again, we host the rival college game for the 52nd season. New Orleans will be populated by thousands of fans from historically Black colleges.
This happens to coincide with the time when many of our businesses may choose to close their doors for a few days around Thanksgiving and the following weekend. This has, in many previous years, brought up allegations of our local business having a racial motivation for the closures because it directly impacts the fun the visitors are able to have on Bourbon Street. There will be many social media posts calling out the “racist business owners” for blatant discrimination. The outrage is fatter than any genetically modified turkey.
As a service industry worker here in The French Quarter for the past 15 years, allow me to offer these insights.
First, as service workers we are expected, even demanded to work long, hard hours for every other major and minor holiday during the rest of the year. Christmas, New Year’s Eve, St. Patrick’s Day, Easter, Memorial Day, Mother’s Day, the Fourth of July, Labor Day and Halloween. Not to mention Mardi Gras, the rest of the city just shuts down for it.”
Good luck trying to find any local business to return a call as Carnival starts to get into full swing. Other than the essential government services like police and fire who like us have no choice, the city government practically closes down. If you were so presumptuous as to dare to ask your employer for time off, his laughter would drown out the jukebox. You either work 12 hour shifts for a week straight like your coworkers or you can quit.
Thanksgiving Day has become sort of a default for staff to have one holiday to enjoy being served instead of serving. We too have friends and families that we would relish time to spend with. Being a traditional family-oriented holiday, karaoke on Bourbon Street isn’t the first activity that comes to mind. It’s not that big of an ask. How about a little support for the working proletariat pushing back against heartless capitalist systems denying us of our basic human need to enjoy a holiday.
Second: This time is often spent by the businesses to do much needed maintenance work to their establishments. Most are open seven days a week and are only closed for a few hours per day. That’s enough time to clean and do simple repairs, but major work that may take a couple of days cannot be addressed in a couple of hours. I know of one establishment utilizing this year’s closure to do some floor tile work. It needs a few days of no one walking on it to set properly. These old buildings require a lot of services, plumbing, painting, electrical etc. That cannot be rushed.
Third: To accuse any establishment in New Orleans of being “rAcIst” is ludicrous. Take a look around any other weekend; half of the staff and customers are most likely Black. What do you think? Behind all of the shuttered doors and windows this weekend Klan meetings are being held?
Allow me to submit this piece of evidence. July Fourth weekend New Orleans hosts Essence Fest, an exclusively Black event that our doors are always open to welcome them and their money. We’re capitalists, the only color we care about is green. If they were the crackers that online warriors claim they are, then Billy Bob would be able to find an excuse to close for that Black event as well.
Just allow the service industry workers to have one holiday for themselves and allow the maintenance workers some time to glue everything back together.
Ozzy is dead??? WTF??? Did Ozzy Osbourne Die??? Fucking answer me? Did Ozzy Osbourne Die??? This is the saddest day in metal ever. I’m Fucking crying. The Goth Father of Metal Ozzy Osbourne Just Fucking Died!!! WTF!!! We just lost Ozzy Osbourne. I’m so sick!!! Please leave me alone. I’m literally puking. Ozzy Osbourne Died!!!
JUST HAD THE MOST METAL MOMENT EVER.SAW A DUDE WITH A JUDAS PRIEST SHIRT AT BIRDIES.I SAID DUDE.HE SAID DUDE.I SCREAMED OZZY!!! HE HUGGED ME UP.AND WE BOTH STARTED CRYING!!! NOW THAT’S METAL!!!
We lost The Goth Father of Metal Today! Fucking Ozzy Osbourne! I’m in Murder Mode Bro!!! I’m in Fucking tears!!! We lost Ozzy Osbourne!!!
OZZY RAIN I hid from the storm at my church and I cried myself to sleep. Ozzy Osbourne tried to get into heaven last night and there was a Thunderstorm!!! I can’t stop crying!!! I vandalized a car window. I bashed a Junky with my Smily! I Scream Ozzy at Rich White Folk! When I die you better snort my 2nd line!!! Ozzy Osbourne!!! Hulk Hogan!!! Ozzy Dying is Killing Me! I Can’t Stop Crying! My friend Carries Ozzy Tattoo!!! Ozzy Osbourne Died giving 96 million dollars to Parkinson’s! Fuck You Michael J Fox! THE DEATH OF OZZY IS FUCKING KILLING ME!!! Ozzy Died! I drank myself sick! Mom is Pissed! Cold Turkey 2 Days! Living Hell!
My landscaping boss named Allen McCoy is a pallbearer for the Catholic Cemeteries. He gave me a badass bike seat and we removed my kickstand with a Mausoleum Key!!! I’m More Goth Than You!!! Scary Jerry!!! 4 Days Sober Again! Still Shaky! Morning Call Coffee Straight Black Will Put Hair On Your Back Like Wolfman Jack!!!
Sharon Osbourne secured all of Ozzy’s assets from all the record label vultures within days after his death!Sharon Osbourne Is Fucking Awesome!!!But you can see how skinny she got!!! Grieving and Stress!!!I Love Her!!!
Chef Von Sear was displeased with Ramsey’s Turkey Sausage Meatballs! He had prep cook Jerr Von Scare Throw Them Away! 5 Days Sober! Still Can’t Sleep Well! Still Shaky! See You In Hell Ozzy!
LOUIE BABIN DIED AT 1:30 AM TODAY! MORNING CALL! MY AA SPONSOR! LIKE MY GRANDPA!
Due to the recent death of Louie Babin. Please respect my privacy. 6 Days Sober. Love Scary Jerry… Louie Babin and I Would watch Svengoolie every Saturday Night!!! Louie Babin and I Watched every game When the Chicago Cubs Won the World Series!!! Louie Babin was the Worst AA Sponsor Ever!!! And I was the Worst Sponsee Ever!!! I’m at Morning Call Waiting to hang out With the Ghost of Louie Babin!!! 6 Nights Sober Again!!! All I Need Is A Suitcase And A Gun! I’m Only Happy When I’m On A Drunk! There Is A Hell I Call New Orleans! What’s A Junkies Favorite Game? Hokey Pokey
RIP LOUIE BABIN 1947 to 2025
RIP LOUIE BABIN!!! WAITING FOR YOUR GHOST AT MORNING CALL!!! RIP OZZY OSBOURNE RIP LOUIE BABIN BACK TO BACK!!! 6 NIGHTS STILL SOBER STILL SHAKY!!! WAITING AT MORNING CALL WAITING TO HANG OUT WITH THE GHOST OF LOUIE BABIN!!!
Note to Vampires Without Sunlight All Vegetation Dies And We’ll All Be Eaten Alive By Rickets!
“Watch How You Treat People On Your Way Up! You Gotta Meet Those Same People On Your Way Down!” Ozzy Osbourne. I have a friend who is Doing bad. He works For an art Gallery. Never has not Even a Cigarette. Always begging and bumming. And His Boss Is Rich!
Chef Von Sear Fired Ramsey! I got Promoted to Prep Jerr Von Scare! 9 Days Sober Again! Still Got Mourning Panic! Starting A Nola Sludge Band Called CRETINS BEERWATER REVIVAL! Scorn On Da Bayou! Rain put me outta work 2 days in a row! Fuck!
I’m the kind of Drunk Who Fights a Cop then Does 32 Days In Jail. We Are Not The Same!
Barking at tourists in the mid-day sun The fucks I give always add up to none
You are looking for a job and sent by Wiener Joe Cause our barback got fired for selling fake blow Our manager got killed speeding on his Harley Now the biggest man here is a dwarf named Charlie
The work is hard and the work is steady Just don’t you be fuckin up around Big Eddie
Beer and titties beer and titties I scream it every day in this goddamn city Beer and titties beer and titties Why does this street always smell so shitty?
See that dancer with the big double D’s? She’s shaking it to pay for her master’s degree After ten years of serving in the Navy I now sail on this Bourbon Street gravy We’re not Toulouse and not too tight We run the hustle through another night
Where’s my shoes did you ask? In about two seconds they’ll be up your ass
Beer and titties beer and titties I scream it every night in this goddamn city Beer and titties beer and titties Why does your ass always smell so shitty?
We don’t mind if you act a little screwie But don’t be fuckin with our Uncle Louie If you get out of line you out of towners We’ll take you in the alley for a Quarter pounder Down on Decatur there ain’t no hope Just cheap drinks and punks on dope
We got some naked pictures of your mom Check them out at THE QUARTER RAT DOT COM
Beer and titties beer and titties I scream it every day in this goddamn city
I lost my job, well I didn’t lose it, I know where it is, there’s just some other guy doing it now. – Bobcat Goldthwait
Working in the French Quarter service industry can create tight friendships among co-workers. We count on each other and cover for each other. Years in the trenches together sometimes end when one co-worker moves on. We promise to stay in contact, but sadly we usually drift apart. A former work buddy sticking their head in for a little “hello” can bring smiles to everyone. A quick update, a little bit of gossip and a reminder of why we liked each other.
Those visits should happen more, only IF the former employee leaves on good terms. They give in plenty of notice and work just as hard on their last two weeks as they did on their first two weeks. If the employer shakes their hand and says, “You’re always welcome to come back to your old job at any time.” Ideal departure.
If an employee quits a job with no notice or with high drama, perhaps they shouldn’t comeback, even as a customer. Show a little self-awareness. If you are 86’d as an employee, you probably shouldn’t consider yourself a welcomed patron either — especially if you were fired. I’d be damned if my dumb ass got fired from a business, I’d then go back to spend money earned from my current position. I have seen it happen for years.
“Oh, I just came back to visit with my good friend who works here!” If you really are good friends, they can come visit you at your new job or you can arrange to get together somewhere else. If you were actually fired from your job, then there is a very good likelihood that the rest of your co-workers weren’t as fond of you as you think.
Think about all of those who you have worked with over the years that have been out and out fired, did you really miss them? Most of the time it’s those remaining workers who think “About time, we have been carrying their ass and putting up with their bullshit too long.” If your boss thinks that you are a lousy employee, probably everyone else thinks it too. If your “good friend” still works there, then odds are they were the 2nd worst worker.
“Just getting caught up” quickly evolves into workplace gossip, talking shit about the other workers, talking more shit about the business and the boss. Malicious words to portray yourself as a victim of an “unjust firing” and to lay seeds of discontent among the remaining staff. Perhaps that one person is happy to see you (or is only pretending to be) while the rest quietly whisper: “How can they show their face in here?”
It’s really cringe and has a “stalky” feel to it, like always showing up where your ex is.
We as Quarter Rats are, by nature, gamblers. Perhaps not in the traditional gaming kind of way, just in our daily lives. We gamble on career changes, roommates, dope deals and what streets we choose to walk down at night. Why should this publication be any different? Working on this website and printing this newspaper is like having a slot machine in our living rooms. “OK, one more spin…” We all have something for a vice.
Otis told us: “When the odds seem really against you just double down.” So, we started a second newspaper based on the same premise as “The Quarter Rat.” A service industry-oriented publication that advertises the small businesses catering to the locals. But any new city would have to have crazy tourist stories, weird residents, intrigue and be as unique in character and history as the French Quarter in New Orleans for the idea to work. What city could possibly produce the same wild content as us? Las Vegas, baby.
A year ago, we launched The Strip Rat in Las Vegas, Nevada. I thought of this idea over a decade ago when I was an artist for the first incarnation of the rodent-themed rag. I’m just getting around to it now. I’m old, I’m running out of time to put off dreams any longer. Besides, the gamble looked risky and stupid, which I seem to have a fondness for.
We have published four issues over the past year with a lot of free ads for the places to where we distribute them as a thank you and an example of what we can do. We love that city from a publishing standpoint, so many damn good stories, and good people. So far, the city has dealt us with a few good hands.
During my first visit out there, I stayed on Fremont Street and spent days exploring the downtown area and it’s the French Quarter of Las Vegas. Same vibes: wild but homey, artsy and historic, crazy or placid. It might be a good bet.
The catalyst for this risky venture was the passing of my older brother Kevin in December 2022. Kevin was a retired Air Force veteran and had been stationed at Nellis Air Force base back in the mid 1970s, and vowed he would retire there. He did and spent his last 30 years in Las Vegas. Being nine years older my senior, family history and dynamics made a distance but we tried hard to maintain a brotherly bond. Monthly phone calls were often redundant of “same old-same old” accounts of what we were doing.
Kevin rode his bike at least 10 miles a day, hit the gym and then hit the bars, often many. I found out from his friends that his drinking rose to an epic level that surprised even seasoned bartenders. I also discovered he did a bit of loan sharking on the side, which impressed this kid brother. The only exception to his chosen grind was an on-again-off-again relationship with a criminally insane cocktail waitress from Venezuela. Family genetics granted Kevin good looks, athleticism and financial smarts. I only got the “talent” gene.
As a teen he would spend his summers working 80 hours a week on the New Jersey boardwalk. He ran the games, “10 cent a spin” to win a stuffed Scooby-Doo. Kevin was the kid you would toss a quarter to so you could squirt water into a clown’s mouth to pop a balloon. I think it explains why he would eventually migrate to Las Vegas to live his life. I would end up on Bourbon Street.
Every few months my older brother would ask: “So, are you still doing art for that newspaper or magazine thing about rats?” “Yea we are. It’s doing good, we just published another couple of issues. Do you want me to send you some?” “Naw, that’s OK, you’re broke, don’t be spending your money on postage.” “You know, I think this kind of a paper would really do well out there in Vegas…” “Don’t bother. We have dozens of those tourist rags that no one reads. You would be wasting your time and money.”
After his passing I went through the same grieving process we all experience. Countless guilt trips of “I wish I had called him more or went out to visit him.” Except for my son, he was all the family I had left. Kevin left me a great inheritance, his friends. One was a Marine veteran named Chick. The first time I ever spoke with Chick was when he called me to inform me of my half-brother’s death. Over the upcoming months he was integral to wading through the matters following our loss.
After many phone calls and dilemmas our friendship grew, and Chick would ask about my life in the French Quarter and what I did with my free time. I sheepishly tried to describe the off-beat publication that has been my sole passion for the past 13 years or so. It really is difficult to accurately convey what the Quarter Rat is like. Nothing exists to compare it to. Chick seemed intrigued by the concept.
“Chick, if you like I could send you some copies.” “Could you? I would love to see what you work on.” Upon receiving the bundle of my past work he called me. “These are great! Did you really do all the artwork? Fantastic.” “You know, I always toyed with the idea of starting a similar publication out there in Las Vegas. I think maybe…” “Oh you should! These are amazing. There’s nothing like this out here, I think it would go over big with the local bar crowds.” “Do you know any local writers?” “Funny you should ask. Your brother was good friends with this guy Tony Medina. He does a little writing and was a bartender years ago to Tony Spilotro, Frank Cullotta and all of them mob guys. Man, he has some stories to tell. I nicknamed him “Bartender to the mob.”
I took all my raw emotions from grief, loss and anger and funneled it into the creation of The Strip Rat. I’ll admit there was an element of “Kevin, you said I couldn’t do this, I’ll show you that I can.” Anyone with an older sibling will understand. I dedicated the paper to his memory and with getting to know his friends I felt closer to my late brother.
In the following months I bounced the idea around with my good friend and fellow QR cohort editor Dave. Not that he doesn’t have enough on his plate. A full-time professional reporter who has a wife, a house, a dog, The Quarter Rat website and paper, and all that involves his time. Dave also could envision the potential in the much larger market.
Since he was also a fan of the film, Casino, I would satirically send him clips as our business plan. It reflected our personality as well. One of us was an obsessive micro-manager to every detail of his chosen project, the other could effortlessly stab someone in the neck with a pen as a writer, figuratively of course. We made a great pair.
A little over a year after Kevin’s death, we were ready to go to print on issue #1. The same style and look as our Quarter Rat newspaper. Quirky news stories, satire and juvenile humor packaged in a sensational supermarket tabloid-looking publication. We were starting off cold, complete unknowns printing a new paper. In issue #1 we introduced ourselves with a brief history of The Quarter Rat publications and even offered a “Travel and Leisure Section” enticing Vegas locals to visit The French Quarter with a list to our best dive bars.
A good tabloid will often have celebrities splashed across the front page. However, celebrity worship goes against our ethos. Featuring a headline with a day actor who you may have seen but never knew his name? Yea, that’s more our style. Not being able to find him for an interview? Sounds like a non-story, so we made it the headline. It became a quest, posting missing ads and a reward for finding him in subsequent issues.
Far be it for me to ever offer business advice, but as far as advice on creative goals? Don’t wait until you “get all of your ducks in a row.” If you wait for that it will never happen. Get a couple lined up and start marching forward, the rest will fall in line as you go. Chick helped with the early distribution but he’s kind of up there in age. I sent my son Adam and his girlfriend out there to distribute the first two issues. To make it fun, I set it up in the style of the Grand Theft Auto video game, I knew then my kid would pass the mission.
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The Strip Rat was well received by the service industry people who got it in their hands. A publication for them not the tourists. Not a social media site or YouTube channel about life in Las Vegas, but a tangible printed publication. Having to put down your phone to view something is almost a novelty in today’s world, people seem to be enjoying it.
Our team was joined by a young writer in Las Vegas, Nereyda. With her education in journalism and marketing she got it and saw the potential for alternative counter establishment fun. She also offers a different perspective from us rickety old men.
We got dealt an ace for our fourth and one-year anniversary issue. We were contacted by a reader and tipster who knew where to find the elusive Brian LeBaron. She knew him well and had interviewed him years before. We found not only Brian but a new local writer to welcome aboard. By sheer luck our first four issues followed a story arc of sorts. Concluding with our “Scorsese’s Casino 30th Anniversary” issue featuring LeBaron on the cover for the second time.
We would like to thank Derek for sponsoring us in this last issue. A local business owner, and art enthusiast who appreciated the idea of a local paper to focus on the arts district. We think of supporters not as advertisers but investors.
For the next year of publication, I think we will be having fun with “The Rat Pack.”
A heartfelt sense of gratitude to those who helped me fulfill my dream of starting this newspaper. Thank you to Dave, Chick, Tony, Adam, Rhiannon, Nereyda, Heidi, Brian and Derek. To Kevin, I miss you my brother and wish you were here to see it.
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