One of the downsides of being a jet-setting, International Playboy on the rise and on the move is you have to say goodbye to girls you have spent passionate nights with.
Saying goodbye to girls in and of itself is not too bad, what is bad is you have to deal with dramatic, tear-filled farewells in train stations, hotel lobbies, and airports. Not smooth.
One thing I have learned to minimize this hassle is to leave early in the morning. And I mean real early.
No matter how much a girl will miss you, if she is mad tired, the tear-filled Arrivederci will be avoided. As will be the potential tear drops, make up and snot on your Custom Made Suit.
So next time you swoop a fly girl, make your exit and say Peace, Au Revoir, Adios, Paalam, じゃまたね, Selamat tinggal, Dasvidania, Ciao, Tchau, or Uz drīz redzēšanos!, make sure you do it in the early am.
“Invincibility lies in the defence; the possibility of victory in the Attack.” – Sun Tsu
“I’ma a bubble-head, I never listen to nothing my mother said
Ayo, I hold n*ggas ransom for money like Johhny Handsome
been sonnin’ n*ggas for so long, I think I got a grandson.” – Big Pun
Here are a couple of notes from my recent trip to Riga, Latvia:
Riga also has this weird vibe about it. It seems like the place could use some more people. I mentioned before that during the Occupation, something like 550,000 people died, were murdered or disappeared. About 1/3 of the population. It seems like Riga could use about 33% additional heads on the streets. All girls would be nice.
Riga, Latvia is not really a “cheap” place to roll around. Especially, in the old city, unless you know where to roll. Or where not to roll. Refer to my Riga, Latvia: Nightclub Data Sheets.
Riga does party pretty heavy, but really only goes off on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights. However, compared to a decent or good city in America (with its draconian smoking laws and early closing times), it rages pretty hard.
There are not a lot of prostitutes. I heard this would be pretty prevalent, but I think I was solicited only once.
Drug use isn’t very prominent. I was offered drugs once on the street during the day. The guy had no teeth and when I told him I wasn’t interested, he asked me for money. So I kind of doubt the guy had the Manchurian Connection to the Afghan Opium pipeline. Or had Francisco Rafael Arellano Félix on speed dial.
Things I would do different
Next time I go to Riga, Latvia, I would go when it was warm. The cold weather really threw me off. Keep in mind that I am someone who’s coldest night in the last few years has been a summer night in San Diego. I also failed to listen to my MOM’s advice she gave me as a young pup and went out at night with wet hair. That, coupled with all the raging and swooping girls, almost gave me a cold (my first one in almost 5 years) by the end of my stay. But my rugged constitution staved it off.
I would also try not to rage too much early in the week especially before you have the place wired. Raging early in the week makes you more susceptible to scams. Next time, I would Street Game heavy early in the week and save your bullets for the weekend.
I have literally made a career out of Going for Dolo, however in Riga, Latvia, it would have been smooth to have some backup (even just one homeboy with heavy hands will do). I wrote about my Judo Throw and a Karate Chop I received from a Russian cat earlier, but I actually ended up in one more fight before I made my exit.
Here is how it went down:
I was outside a night spot spitting some ill Game, mad melodic like Mandolins and Violins, at a fly Russian girl that was digging my moves cause she smooth while I was smoking a grit. A big Russian cat rolls up to me says something I don’t understand then, breaks my cigarette.
Unreal.
I had no intentions of fighting, but after two earlier altercations, I am more than ready. I try to calm him down but Russian cat swings on me.
I am a little faded from boozing, but my reactions are still sharp and I “catch and throw” on his mug trying to rock his face and stab his brain with his nose bone.
We end up in a “leather jacket tangle” and I have some leverage so I continue to torque uppercuts into his mug. At this point things are working out pretty well, until he gets his weight behind him and slams me, like Onyx, into a 600 year old stone wall, which wouldn’t have been so bad except there is like some 600 year old stone protruding from the wall which spears my back and almost knocks the wind out of me.
I am in pretty phenomenal shape right now and my senses are heightened since I feel real danger, so I recover pretty quick and keep on drilling him in the mug until his face looks like a plate of Latvian food with some spilled Claret.
Luckily, two big bouncers from the club separate us and I am thankful that they don’t take his side and play it straight up.
I bone out of there as soon as I get a moment. Girl vanished.
The next day, I was in Major Payne like Damon Wayans. Primarily my back. But you never know. It could have been from all the Beans I had consumed as a youth.
(Keep in mind, I am not writing these fight stories to make it seem like I am the second coming of Muhammad Ali, and Bruce Lee mixed with a healthy dose of Jack Dempsey. I have written The G Manifesto for 5 or so years and I have never mentioned Street Fighting before and I really avoid it at all costs.)
Another thing I would have done different is roll to some of the smaller cities like Jelgava. The first girl I swooped in Riga was actually from Jelgava and I would bet my last 1oz Silver Eagle coin that she wasn’t the only one from there that was mad fly.
Update: In my haste of writing this Data Sheet, I forgot another great tip that I have written about before: Language Lessons. I would definitely bone up (so to speak) on some Russian and Latvian Language Lessons with some fly tutor girls before rolling to Riga. I hate when I don’t follow my own advice.
Side note of sorts: African American G’s, from everything I saw there would clean up in Riga. I would just make sure I got some rounds in before going.
“The first and best victory is to conquer self; to be conquered by self is of all things most shameful and vile.” – Plato
So how did I finish up in Riga?
After all the trials and tribs, I ended up swooping two more insanely fly girls in addition to the fly 19 year old from Jelgeva. I really started wiring the place like copper. Every day, I continually stuffed the pipe with new fresh leads. In fact, on my last night there, I had two different girls that were mindblowingly fly both calling me and texting me to meet them out. I was pretty tweaked by then and ended up shutting off my phone as I had an early flight.
Now that I am back in America, I really wish I could have that night back. But that is how it goes sometimes in The Life of a G.
“Flawless victory, you n*ggaz can’t do shit to me
Physically, lyrically, hypothetically, realistically
I’m the epitome of catching wreck
catch you when you cash your check
Smash you when you pass then jack you for your f*cking Lex.” – Big Pun
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
