Here is a great interview with one of the financial characters I respect the most, Marc Faber.
Watch the whole thing, or start watching at 1:43:
Weesh Interview stiff: You have lived much of your life overseas in Asia?
Marc Faber: Yes.
Weesh Interview stiff: If you were to counsel a 20 year old American today, and say “go pick a country, go live there, go make your fortune there”, where would you tell him to go?
Marc Faber: Well, that depends obviously on preferences. I like Asian Women. Maybe someone else likes Brazilians or Cubans or Russians or Eastern Europeans. I mean there are lots of things to consider…
There is no doubt that George Bush damaged America’s reputation Internationally, as anyone who has travel the world extensively since the 1990’s will tell you.
This year however, I have noticed that the once great “Image” of Americans has also taken a header like Cisco did recently (and I am not talking about that weesh R&B artist, that wack food supply company, or that low-end booze that makes fools jump out of windows either).
I started noticing America’s Image Problem when I went to Barcelona earlier this year. I told the story of a stunningly beautiful Catalan girl who stepped to me in a dope hotel bar. (Side note: I can’t really blame her since I was feeling great and I was wearing a sicker than “foot in mouth” Custom Made Suit).
Anyways, after consummating the relationship in my dope apartment in the Eixample, she started off an interesting conversation:
Fly Catalan Girl: I am surprised you are American.
Michael Mason: (Not really in the mood for conversation, but I decide to bite) Why?
Fly Catalan Girl: Because you seem cool, and you have good style.
Michael Mason: Most American’s that come to Barcelona don’t?
Fly Catalan Girl: No. Most American’s are wankers.
(Side note II: She learned her English while modeling in London. Hence the use of the word “wanker”).
I really thought nothing of the exchange at the time.
Then fast forward to London Fashion week, when I was hanging out with a fly rich daughter of a Colombian mining family. We were taking a leisurely stroll near Wellington Square in Chelsea, puffing on jacks.
Michael Mason: Where have you traveled to in America?
Fly Rich Colombian Girl: NYC, California, DC, Miami Beach, New Orleans, Las Vegas etc (continuing a long list).
Michael Mason: Do you like America?
Fly Rich Colombian Girl: Yes, its nice to visit. But I am am always surprised by how fat the people are. Especially the girls.
This conversation was pretty interesting, as I aways thought that America had pulled one over on the rest of the world making them think our women were tops through our Media and Hollywood Hype Machine. But I didn’t think too much of it, as this fly rich Colombian girl had actually been to America, and thus “pulled the curtain back”, so to speak.
This whole thing really came to a “head”, so to speak, on my recent travels to Riga, Latvia.
I had no less that 5 different girls in Riga, Latvia say to me: “American Girls, they are really fat, yeah?” And only a couple of them had actually been to America.
I was particually brutal when I was hanging out with two fly Latvian girls, 18 and 19 years old, with thin, beautiful Baltic bodies and they said “American Girls, they are really fat, yeah?” and both girls started laughing evilly, wickedly and uncontrollably while sipping on cocktails.
It was then that I realized: America is a joke to the rest of the world.
How did we fall so fast?
The Rest is Up to You…
Michael Porfirio Mason
AKA The Peoples Champ
AKA GFK, Jr.
AKA The Sly, Slick and the Wicked
AKA The Voodoo Child
The Guide to Getting More out of Life
I continue with my routine of Entering The Dragon to get ready for the beautiful evil that nighttime brings. It’s Saturday night in Riga, and I notice that the energy levels on the street are a little lower than Friday night. (Note to self, Friday is the big night in Riga.)
I need to Fuel The Dragon, so I step into a little Latvian joint and get a grind on. The bartender girl, who is of course fly, gives me some pretty good Data Sheets on where to go for the evening. I appreciate her info, as some of my Nightlife choices so far have been a little off-point.
I get a few more “warm up” drinks, spit some Street Game, help and old Latvian Lady cross the street, and head over to one of the Latvian bartender girls’ recommendations. I enter the spot, and the place is dope (I can’t believe I never noticed it before, I think it was closed earlier in the week), but I can tell I am a little early. I need to find something better so I store the spot in my gulliver and head to another spot.
I arrive at the bartender girls’ other recomendation, and the place is on. Finally, I am in a dope spot in Riga: some hip-hop tracks, tons upon tons of fly Latvian and Russian girls, an upstairs smoking room with another DJ, and did I mention tons upon tons of fly Latvian and Russian girls?
I start spitting Game with a quickness. Girls are down. I start dancing with a couple of Russian sisters, both fly, and bust out some Salsa Game to some psedo-wack Pitbull track. The Russian sisters pick up the Salsa pretty quick and ask me, “Are you a Salsa teeecher?”
After making some rounds in the spot, I see a smooth black guy (one of the first I have seen in Riga) nod at me and I ask him, “American?”
He replies, “No mate, UK. You from America?”
I reply, “Yeah, mate. California. The beach.”
He then introduces me to some of his friends he is with. They are rolling five deep or so, and I figure it can’t hurt to have a little “insta-crew” since I keep finding myself in Karate Chop and Judo Throw situations in Riga.
His friends are all from UK and some are pseudo-Indian and Pakistani cats, and are all pretty cool. I have never hung out with any pseudo-Indian and Pakistani cats before, so its all new to me. These guys actually have some Game and are getting some girls cooking. They say they have been to Riga a bunch of times so they seem to know the score.
With a little “back up” I start doing what I do best: Swooping Fly Girls. I am feeling 120% off of my fresh swoop and Entering The Dragon session and my Game is coming real clean with no filler. Puro like Colombian Snow.
Moving from fly girl group to fly girl group, I am looking to swoop tonight. A few of the girls are so beautiful, my heart skips a beat a few times, but I am so seasoned at this stuff that I stay ice cold like a snow cone.
Outside the spot smoking some grits with some more fly Latvian girls, I notice a curious thing: A group of the Latvian girls are dying to have their pictures taken with the homeys from the UK. And they have no interest in taking a photo with me.
I ask one of the UK cats what its all about, and he says, “I think they like people with darker skin, Mate. It’s new to them I guess.”
Interesting.
We all roll back in and get back to work.
On second thought, the DJ sucks. He is playing tracks like this:
Instead of what he should be doing and spinning tracks like this:
Either way, there are still tons of fly girls in the spot. High Heels. Short Skirts. Thin. Fly.
My Game is on like Vietnam. (And I don’t mean that ETF, Market Vectors Vietnam (VNM), either).
I keep making solid, dynamic approaches, non-stop. Then I realize something: I have literally tried to swoop about 30 different girls in the spot to no avail. It’s really strange. If I am in America, and my Game is this tight, and I am feeling this good, I would have banged out two different girls by now, and back at the club ordering another Goose Soda Lime. All I have for my efforts is a couple of “loose” Number Crunches.
I kind of feel like Miguel Cotto must have felt in his fight with Antonio Margarito; I am landing clean shots, moving well and winning the fight on the cards, but I feel like I am ultimately going to end up in a bloody heap on the canvas.
Like I said before, it’s Strange.
I keep plugging away. (So to speak).
After a bunch more Game spitting sessions, I end up empty handed. By my count, I am something like 0-49 on the night. Unreal. A “Reverse Rocky Marciano”, of sorts. I literally don’t think this has ever happened to me. In my whole life.
The spot is still dope, but I ditch the UK cats and head back to the earlier spot. I need to switch up speeds like Bruce Lee riding the Fuji in that movie. It’s more on, this time.
I make a good love connection, as if my name was Chuck Woolery, with a fly Russian girl name Jekatarina. I get pseudo-stepped to by a big Russian guy, but Jekatarina helps and translates me out of another potential Karate Chop situation, and I smooth it over.
Jekatarina is pretty down, but I can’t close. She kisses me before she steps into her cab. I will have to swoop her tommorrow.
I can’t believe after one of the sickest, award winning Game performaces I have ever put on in my life, I am empty handed again.
“With most women his manner was a mixture of taciturnity and passion. The lengthy approaches to a seduction bored him almost as much as the subsequent mess of disentanglement.” – Ian Fleming
“If you catch me sexing a chick, its a bisexual chick or something foriegn, I’ll never forget” – Juelz Santana
I wake up feeling pretty brutalized, and contemplate pulling an Amsterdam Nap, as frustration, depression and suicidal thoughts start to consume me.
I shake those thoughts off, thankfully, and decide instead to Enter The Dragon, late in the Riga afternoon. During a jump rope session by the Daugava, little Latvian kids and some teenage girls stop to watch me in action. I can’t really blame them as they probably thought they were witnessing a young Roberto “Manos de Piedra” Duran in action.
The pseudo-Celebrity I am gaining in Riga, Latvia, bolsters my resolve and contemplate what I am going to do for the evening (Friday Night). After a shower, I go on a little reconnaissance to check out the nightlife scene, which, surprisingly, has been somewhat lackluster so far.
Friday night is definetly on in Latvia. The streets, bars and energy are heightened 10 fold compared to Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday night. Dope. I do notice that there are some sightings of the infamous, goofy “Stag Parties” I have been warned about. But nothing that can’t be overcome.
Now, I am caught in a classic dilemma after two nights of raging till 6 am:
– Should I pack it in early and save it for Saturday night as I only feel 80%?
– Or should I just power through Friday Night, beat up, and also feel sub-par on Saturday Night?
Fortunately, my questions are answered by the form of a text message from Inga, that super fly 19 year old Latvian girl from the night before.
Inga: How your day? (8:16 pm)
Michael Mason: Let’s meet up tonight for a drink. (8:46 pm)
Inga: Meiby! (8:48 pm)
I hate text messaging, because, well for one, its super gay, so I call Inga instead of perpetuating world wide nonsense. We make plans to get a drink in an hour and eat dinner.
I get dipped in the freshest fabrics, and meet Inga with a two kisses greeting. She is wearing high heels, and a short skirt with leggings covering her Succulently Youthful 19 year old Latvian body. She is down.
We get a couple drinks and go eat at this hotel restaurant that I have locked down over the course of the last few days. Hand shakes all around to the restaurant staff, we sit down to eat. I am now in my element.
I keep the wine flowing at dinner and during numerous smoke breaks, there is blood in the water.
Coincidentally, (or maybe strategically) the hotel restaurant we finish eating at is directly across from my hotel.
I suggest we check out my hotel. She agrees.
You know how this ends.
You really thought I would get blanked in Riga, Latvia?
(For those scoring the fight at home, I am now 1-3 with 1KO in Riga, Latvia. And still 1-0-1 on the physical confrontation tip.)
The Rest is Up to You…
Michael Porfirio Mason
AKA The Peoples Champ
AKA GFK, Jr.
AKA The Sly, Slick and the Wicked
AKA The Voodoo Child
The Guide to Getting More out of Life
http://www.thegmanifesto.com
I decide to get some culture in me, so I check out Latvijas Okupācijas muzejs or in English, The Museum of the Occupation of Latvia. Definitely, worth checking out. Real depressing though. Here is the basic rundown of the spot and the recent history of Latvia:
1. The Soviets took over Latvia and screwed them over.
2. The Nazi’s took over Latvia from the Soviets and screwed them over.
3. The Soviets took back over Latvia from the Nazi’s and screwed them over again.
Something like 550,000 people died, were murdered or disappeared. About 1/3 of the population. Not too many bright spots either. Like I said, pretty depressing stuff.
As I was leaving the Museo, I get a text from an 18 year old girl, named Karina, I met during a Street Game Session the day before while getting a SIM card from Rimi.
She wants to roll tonight.
She is not the flyest girl I have met by a long shot in Riga, but I figure 1) She’s 18 years old, 2) She speaks English really well, and 3) The whole affair has the promise of entertainment value and I can learn about the culture.
So I agree to meet up.
After another Vampire Nap, I get dipped and roll to meet her.
When I see her, she is with a girlfriend named Inga. 19 years old and super fly. Smooth. How often does that happen?
I roll with the two girls to get some drinks and these girls are buying me some Vodka shots, so I start to chip back away at the Scam dollars lost. The conversation is real basic stuff, which I actually prefer, as my Russian and Latvian skills are pretty weesh, and the two girls English is pretty basico, although Karina speaks pretty good.
Karina gets up to go to the bathroom at one spot, and Inga kisses me. It’s on like Eazy-E.
We roll to some weesh club, but it hardly matters as a “weesh club” still has mad fly girls in it, being we are in Riga, Latvia.
The night starts getting a little hazy, and I start rapping out with other girls and locking the place down Boa Constrictor Style ie The Bouncers, Bartenders and Waitresses.
I sit down and start talking to two fly Russian girls named Anna, and I think Christina. I notice there is some Russian cat kind of giving me the ice grill, but I pay him no mind.
The conversation with the two Russian girls is going smooth and according to plan as I Number Crunch the more fly of the two.
One of the girls says something in Russian to the cat ice grilling me which I take to mean “Beat it” or something. My Russian language skills are not too dope. She then tells me, “Don’t worry about him, he’s drunk.”
I respond, “I am not worried”. I glance over at him to see what he is up to then commence to spitting Game, my back turned to Mad Dogging Russian.
I continue with some dope story when I feel a pain in my neck. Russian Homeboy Karate Chops me from behind!
Unreal. When was the last time you were Karate Chopped? Maybe 4th Grade?
I stand up, Russian Homeboy backs off (he is pretty big), and I get ready to let him hear the birdies chirp.
The Russian girls jump in between us and I hesitate. I am not sure why? Maybe its maturity? Or maybe I don’t want to spend time in a freezing Latvian prison? But I don’t light up the Russian kook with a combo.
One of the Russian girls runs and gets one of the Bouncers I locked down earlier.
The bouncer comes out and grabs the Russian guy and ejects him from the club, using his head to open the door.
Smooth.
I trip out for a moment trying to make sense of what just happened, cause I want to know what’s going on like Marvin, but after a second of that nonsense, I do another shot of Black Balsam.
I continue raging till 6am trying to convert some of these leads back to my hotel to kick up their high-heeled boots, to no avail.
Good night though. Two physical confrontations in three days. Not bad.
But just like that, I go 0-3 in Riga, Latvia.
(Well, technically I am 0-3 on swooping girls in Riga, Latvia, but I am 1-0-1 on the physical confrontation tip. We will rule tonight’s action with the Karate Chop Kid, a draw.)
Michael Porfirio Mason
AKA The Peoples Champ
AKA GFK, Jr.
AKA The Sly, Slick and the Wicked
AKA The Voodoo Child
The Guide to Getting More out of Life
http://www.thegmanifesto.com
