On a dark note...

A friend who I worked with doing background just posted from the ER. Apparently she got mugged and roughed up pretty bad.  The thugs took all of the money she had earned working the past 24 hours. As she laid on the ground dazed and bleeding, herds of revelers just stepped over her. Another girl from Tulane was shot tonight.

I'm sure tomorrow the news will be filled with gruesome stories of shootings, robberies and rapes. The lesser crimes will be so numerous that they probably won't even make police reports. One of the reason I don't mind staying in from the festivities that so many travel here to partake in. This city can turn vicious at the drop of a jester hat. Halloween night an Iraq war veteran was walking down Bourbon with his wife when a group of guys made a comment to her. The Marine of course defended his wife's honor. He was stabbed to death.

Thanksgiving day a popular bartender in the French Quarter had just finished a long grueling shift. While leaving the Quarter he had an altercation with a group of teens and was shot to death. As much as I praise the city I will not deny the ugly, vicious dark side of NOLA. For hundreds of years cutthroats, thieves and scum have roamed these streets in search of victims.



My friend who was cruelly attacked tonight was sober but tired after working for so many hours. She was lucky to have escape with her precious life. Many victims tonight can blame only themselves for not knowing the area and being an easy drunk mark. Tourists and money are like chum in these shark filled streets. 

I don't work on Mardi Gras

I knew a guy who made that statement anytime he applied for a job. Needless to say he never really worked. The painting company I am working for is swamped with work, in fact a few extra people have been hired on. So today we started off to work and gave up on the one job site on Esplenade in the Quarter. Thick sluggish traffic being detoured around parade routes and streets cluttered with  float traffic and dim witted drunks stepping in front of cars without even glancing up. The only way I could describe the entire City of New Orleans to New Jersians would be imagine Seaside Heights on a Fourth Of July weekend.



Beneath the overpasses on Claiborne large crowds flowed towards countless Bar B Qs as the music took on an eerie sound echoeing under the traffic of I-10. Every route that we tried to navigate was lined with brightly costumed groups of liquored up revelers who obviously don't work on Mardi Gras either. We were trying in vein to get caught up on jobs. Deciding that working in the French Quarter was out of the question today, we slowly headed to a painting and siding job uptown. While working, a surprised home owner stuck her head out and proclaimed "Oh, your:e working TODAY? It's Mardi Gras..." "Yea, well, we're Yankees, so here we are."

There are many people who are working today in New Orleans, bartenders, servers, cab drivers, cops and emergancy workers.  I know what they are going through having driven cab on the Jersey Shore for five years. Tomorrow they will wake up exhuasted, aching and with a hatred for humanity.

We were going to run an errand to the Post Office, but they don't work on Mardi Gras either. 

My first Mardi Gras Parade

Tonight I return from my first Mardi Gas parade. After hearing about it for the past 12 months and seeing how this city and it's population are dependent on this season, I had to go. Like a drunk working til Friday every year, New Orleans can finally cum on itself.  Three parades on right after the other tonight.

Bobby and I were joking today about the ladders. There are some die hard parade fans who make it a family event. One tradition is a small open sided box mounted on ladders. Parents bring them along to the parade, and set them up along the parade route. They place very young children into the boxes above the heads of the rest of the crowd so their two year old can catch the best throws.

Bobby commented "Let's see, you're going to place your toddler in a box, nailed to the top of an eight foot ladder, on an uneven sidewalk surrounded by drunks..." I added "THEN you encourage drunks on floats to throw a handfuls of plastic beads at your kid's face. Might as well just put the kid over a dunk tank with a toaster in his lap." Perhaps it's just us being from Jersey, we think this way.

To be honest, I've been dragging heals about going to a parade, it's just me. I hate crowds and dislike drunks, add a lot of walking and spending money to that combination to see why I put it off. Today I had a business meeting in the Quarter and a parade got in the way. So for the sake of this blog and being able to say I went to a parade, I went. I don't drink, however while on Bourbon Street I got downwind of "the wrong crowd."  Second hand smoke, I swear. Really. I was down wind of them from Toulouse to Canal. Caught a buzz. Anyways, that made me want to see a parade. I walked along the St Charles line looking more at the crowd than the parade. It was like watching the religious holiday of a shoe fetish cult.

How did I like my first parade? It was ok.

Coming soon

I've been commissioned to revamp quarterrat.com, look for it in a few days. Humor, stories and links to all of the great spots in New Orleans from the point of view of locals.

A few problems with my Mac, I had to up grade the OS from Jaguar to Tiger and that put me behind deadline. Once it's up on line you will be able to purchase quite probably the the funniest book of the year.



The publisher has been dropping off copies all over the French Quarter. At one location two copies were instantly bought by the store's employees. A tourist couple watching the employees flipping pages and laughing out loud inquired "What do you have there?"  The seasoned service industry workers responded "A book that makes fun of you guys." The elderly tourists from the Midwest asked to see a copy, examined the the front cover and read the introduction. They handed the publisher $20 and said "We'll take one."

Three copies of "Bourbon Street and Beyond" sold in as many minutes.  If we continue to sell one copy per minute, I will be able to pay off all of my outstanding stripper debt in 11 days, 14 hours and 9 minutes.

Locals can find copies throughout the French Quarter and along major parade routes. Give me a few days to get the new web site up and running and the rest of the world can enjoy The Quarter Rat.

"We're Everywhere"

Putting a face on Mardi Gras

If I had to describe Mardi Gras to the folks back in Jersey, I'm not sure I could. The entire Gulf Coast celebrate this season with passion and reverence as the Jersey Shore does with the start of summer. Imagine Memorial Day, Labor Day and Christmas all with in a couple of months.  Locals are a tight group down here, all share the joys of Carnival season and the fears of hurricane season. Someone tried to explain to me how the season starts and ends each year, all depends on when Fat Tuesday falls. 

This Mardi Gras poster is by artist Peter O'Neill who has completed several Carnival themed paintings for his New Orleans gallery. Peter says he enjoys painting for his NOLA gallery. I look forward to his Facebook postings of his latest work, great stuff. Mr. O'Neill said he's going to take four weeks off after I commented on how prolific he has been in the past few weeks.  Here is his web site to view more of his work, or to order a copy of his Mardi Gras poster.

www.oneillgallery.com

Enjoy your time off Peter.

"Bourbon Street and Beyond"

I got permission (kind of) to publish a tiny bit of the Quarter Rat book "Bourbon Street and Beyond" on line. If I had to choose one story as a favorite it would be this one. Perhaps because I have done mascot work before. One summer I had a job dressing up as a Seagull on the Seaside Heights boardwalk. Jersey's version of Bourbon Street. I hope you enjoy the sneak peek at the book, it will be up on Amazon.com, and available through out the French Quarter in time for Mardi Gras.

Two Queens and a Joker
An almost love story by: Jay Slusher

When I moved to New Orleans in the mid-90s my first job was at a club famous for its 190-proof, melon-flavored drink. They’re also famous for their mascot who dressed up in a heavy fiberglass suit with a full face of Styrofoam and a helmet. Part of my job was keeping drunks from beating on him. It was nerve wracking. I had to watch the door, the floor, and him. Needless to say, I got in a lot of shit.
Back in the day we had reps from the cigarette company come out and give away free smokes to the customers and employees on weekends. We had Winston and this one girl Gretchen. She was really hot for a merchant of death, let me tell ya. We talked about going out a couple of times.

Well, this particular night the mascot guy, named Chris, decided to drop a couple of hits of acid before he got into his suit. I’m at the door talking to Gretchen when I notice a commotion outside. Gretchen is just starting to write her number down, and I see these two drag queens beating the shit out of Chris. I’m talking two six-feet-tall black guys in heels, wigs, and mini-skirts. One of them is getting in some really good shots with a fanny pack with a brick in it. (Little known fact: NOPD doesn’t consider that a weapon. A lot of homeless people carry them.)

I got the real story from the Lucky Dog guy later that night (one of my network of spies and informants).
When the queens came by Chris says, “What’s up, dudes?”
One of the queens replied, “Say what, motherfucker?”
“You heard me, sir. How are you gentlemen doing this evening?”
They go ballistic. Chris is tripping his face off. So, I push Gretchen off and run out to break up the fight. It got rough, I got hit a couple of times, but finally I got that stupid fanny pack away. I hauled off and decked both of them, and they backed off.

I haul Chris to the courtyard where he fell out in the suit, tripping hard. His helmet was all twisted around, babbling incoherently. He couldn’t get up in that suit, so I left him there, face against a keg, hallucinating like a motherfucker. Now, I’ve had some absurd moments in my life but breaking up a fight between two drag queens and a guy in a Hand-Grenade suit is definitely up there.

I get back in the bar and Gretchen and the other, not as hot cigarette rep, are gone. I ask Jimmy the bartender what happened. He says they got scared during the fight and left. Well, shit! I look down on the ground and there’s the piece of paper with her name and the first three digits of her number on it. Double shit! Of course, I never saw her again. I left Chris in the courtyard until we closed; immobilized and tripping balls. Then to add insult to injury, I hosed him down just to help me ease the pain of the phone number lost.

Holiday Music

Look for it soon

Here is the latest. Look for it in finer French Quarter establishments in time for Mardi Gras.

Those Damn Beads

The first morning I woke up in my new home of New Orleans, I couldn't wait to go out and explore. As I wondered Magazine Street in the Irish Channel my toes kept kicking string after string of plastic beads. Some places they were so thick, they blocked storm drains. The disposable bobbles adorned fences, power lines, balconies and caused gutters to glitter. It was if plastic beads had been a form of precipitation that week.



I remembered the night before on my ride into the city seeing a large wholesale warehouse with a sign reading MARDI GRAS BEADS. Mardi Gras is not just essential to the spirit and reputation of New Orleans, it's a major part of the economy. Tourism pumps millions into pockets through the usual avenues of hotels, restaurants and drinking establishments, as well as specialty services. Rent a reveler for conventions, beads and throw distributors, float makers and overtime for police and public works employees.  Everyone benefits from out of town drunks tossing money around for experiences they will never remember.

Tossed from floats by the tons every year,  the simple inexpensive trinkets have become a symbal for NOLA. Most locals won't be caught dead wearing them, except for higher quality ones on Mardi Gras. You could hold up a string of rabbit turds to see tourists clammer over each other to catch them. Of course the rest of the country has heard about flashing for beads. That only occurs down on Bourbon Street. The main parade routes wind through the old neighborhoods lined with families who have their young children propped up on ladders to experience the joy of a float reveler tossing them a string of beads or a plastic cup with the Krewe's logo printed on it.

With a little on line research I found a dozen or so bead distributors through out the state, each with at least a dozen or so employees. One business data site estimated the largest distributors of having 1 to 2.5 million in sales annually from beads and associated products. Some will end up hanging from rear view mirrors as the only memory of a lost weekend in New Orleans, the rest draped over tree limbs until the next storm.

Mardi Gras beads

Mardi Gras beads - Mardi gras Imports has a HUGE selection of beads, trinkets, and supplies! We carry every fancy and unusual bead that you could ask for, naughty or nice!

The Season Begins

I arrived here in New Orleans last March after carnival season. According to Waffle it was even wilder than usual last year due to the Saints winning the super bowl. Since my arrival I have been hearing about the season, traditions and obsession over Mardi Gras. It's tough for an outsider to wrap one's head around all of the trappings and customs involved. Parallels with other cities' festivals would not do Mardi Gras justice. New York's Thanksgiving Day parade and Times Square New Years eve combined Philadelphia's Mummers attended by the Jersey Shore's Fourth of July revelers would still not even come close to the scope of Mardi Gras.

Since 1837 a combining of various religions, politics, social cliques and cultures have evolved into one of the most recognized and unique festivals in the world. This city's identity and life force comes from the season. Without it, the city would be no more special than Memphis or Birmingham. A delicate balance of music, art, spirituality and decadence combine to unite a community that otherwise might implode with racial and economic tension. Carnival, not levees protect New Orleans.

 

One sign that the season is approaching is the emergence of "King Cakes." An old tradition that I researched on line and found way too much information on.  History of King Cakes  Popular with locals the baked delicacy is as much a part of the season as Pumpkin Pie is to Thanksgiving for the rest of the country. A long held tradition of each cake having a a small plastic baby baked inside, (porcelain dolls were used in ancient times.) Today the custom dictates that whoever gets the slice of cake containing the trinket is obligated to buy next year's King Cake. 

You could never have such a tradition back in New Jersey. With all of the lawyers in Jersey, it would only be a matter of time before massive lawsuits would be filed against bakeries for "Intentionally baking a choking hazard into pastries."

GAMBINO'S BAKERY

Sneek Peek

If you noticed that this blog hasn't had as many illustrations as usual, it's because I have been busy working on the Quarter Rat book. Look for it to come out late February 2011. My editor Ottis B. Easy will have it on the shelves and on Amazon.com in time for Mardi Gras.

Early on my friend Aaron told me that negative forces in the universe would be trying to trip me up and prevent me from reaching my goal. Turned out he was right. A few negative slams have hit me, but focusing on positive notions and not allowing evil to win has actually brought to a much better place.

If it's called "Tourist Season" why can't you hunt them?

The book I am illustrating is written by those who work in the service industries down here in the French Quarter. I know the book will appeal to any bartender, waitress, bouncer or cab driver who works in a tourism area.  The Jersey Shore, Miami or Vegas, when folks leave their native environment and travel they forget to pack their manners.

Tourists will behave in ways on vacation they would never dream of acting in their own neighborhood bar or restaurant. When I was driving cab at night in the summer I would encounter individuals from North Jersey or New York who seemed to be void of any courtesy or respect for anyone outside of their drunken circle. Alcoholism does that to humans.

I would politely ask them to please stop screaming at the top of their lungs, not to play with the radio or point out the fact they can't throw pizza out the windows of my cab at pedestrians the general response was "You need to lighten up! We're just trying to have fun." Yea, well so is the total stranger in the white shirt walking down the street who you just hit with a slice of Sicilian.

The Quarter Rat highlights the difference between tourists and travelers. Travelers are welcomed and embraced by New Orleans. A traveler will stop in front of a 300 year old home and soak in the rich architecture and beauty. A traveler will marvel at the fact that people still live in and nurture these historic homes that have survived wars, fires, floods and countless hurricanes. A tourist will piss on the front steps of the same home at 3 am while singing "House of the rising sun" at the top of their lungs.

A traveler will seek out the hidden history and wonders of the city, a tourist will seek out blow jobs. One approaches the locals to find the heart of the land they visit, the other dehumanizes the local population for amusement.

Travelers behave like house guests respecting their hosts, tourists treat their hosts like servants. One summer I had several Guidoes in my cab and one juicehead loudly stated while staring at me in the mirror "Jersey SUCKS! You don't sell beer in 7-11's, the pizza stinks, and everything is overpriced"
"Then why do you come down?" I queried.
"Ta fuck yo bitches."

He was a tourist.

Bourbon Street Tease

"Welcome to the Big Show. Grab your artillery and let’s whoop today’s ass! File rank and gear up. Shotgirls and Strippers, Barkeeps and Barkers please report to the front lines. This is the battlefield known as Bourbon Street, where heroes are made and brain cells are lost. You take your post amongst the madness." 


Excerpt from the Quarter Rat book that I am illustrating.  I'll keep all of you posted on it's due date.

And over to your left....

 

"Tour Guides Bullshit"

Just completed these...

 

"Little Person, Big Waste"

This book I am illustrating is a compilation of stories about living in and working in the French Quarter of New Orleans. A relatively small neighborhood known world wide and respected by other cities of leisure.  Only in this town can a passed out dwarf in a window sill could become and overnight shrine to the patron Saint of Pushing the limits.

I know this book will appeal not only to those who live and work in the Quarter, but with bring laughter to anyone who has worked as a waitress, bartender, bouncer or manager in the service industries.  As a Jersey Shore cab driver I know that assholes are universal.

"Yo-ho-ho, it's a Pirate's wife for me..."

 

More cartoon fun from the book I'm doing illustrations for. Above is the finished color version, the grayscale version for the book. 

Six Flags at half mast

Six Flags over New Orleans closed for hurricane Katrina and never reopened. Here is a rather creepy and depressing video of how it looks today. It's scheduled to be demolished next year. Until I moved down here and could view the area in person I never realized how extensive the damage was, and is. I know coming from another part of the country the Gulf Coast destruction is "out of sight, out of mind." 

There are so many areas and structures that still hold the scars of damage and water marks. The people too still carry the memories and trauma of the event. It looks like the Gulf Coast has managed to get through this last hurricane season without as much as a threat. Some of the locals admit, every hurricane season brings with it anxiety, and a little rush of excitement. 

Here in New Orleans locals are already planning and anticipating Mardi Gras. These folks live for it. A Yat can tell you exactly what they wore, who they were with, and what they drank for every Mardi Gras going back four decades. The rest of the country is preparing for the Christmas season, down here that holiday takes the back seat to Carnival season.  Christmas? Leave that for the rest of the world, it's kind of lame.

art, coffee, dogs

Well, here it is. The first piece of art that I've done in over five years. I knew New Orleans would inspire me. Creativity drives NOLA the way greed drives New Jersey. I fit in better down here.

In the lower right hand corner is my studio assistant "Buddy Boo-Boo." He's a gravity defying Min Pin who was rescued by my landlords. The artwork was literally  discovered items that had gathered behind the garage. Same thing for the paint, exterior latex with some enamels. I designed the rail so one could display Mardi Gras beads off of the artwork. This town loves it's beads. 

Still There

 4'X4' discovered material

As you can see, it's a real New Orleans inspired piece. The shutters are actual shutter slats that were salvaged for paint stirrers, I turned them back into shutters. I've commented on how the blue tarp should be Louisiana's State flag. There is a ton more stuff behind the garage for art. A lot of it is storm items.

The New Orleans Bingo! Show

Here's a show I hope to catch one day. Looks fun and unique.

Don't you want to be in that number.....

A little background work is starting to come in. The film industry slows down every year from August to about late October. Hurricane season. No producer wants to get half way through filming a project and then have to evacuate. His set might be gone when he returns. Tonight I did a "REVEL" down at the Roosevelt Hotel.

A convention was being held and to make it in true New Orleans style, a brass jazz band marches into the room and a parade starts. The band played loud and sharp as we reveled in behind them in our costumes. We met the guests at the end of cocktail hour and paraded them through the grand lobby of the Roosevelt Hotel to dinner.

THE ROOSEVELT

Great fun for everyone. Colorful costumes flinging beads at drunk optometrists. We paraded the party downstairs and thru a magnificent grand lobby and back upstairs to the dinning room. In the lobby were two of my friends wearing big heads. Sweating their asses off to pose for hundreds of cell phone pictures.

Yep, it's considered a job down here. It was the first Revel for my friend Bobby from Philadelphia. He did great, he has a Mummer background.

 I just can't get "When the Saints go marching in" out of my head now.