At any given Cipriani benefit ball, midtown, soho, downtown, I perform like Michael, MPM, Tyson, Jordan, or Jackson. Suited down, pocket squared, no mobb boss but I’ve been performing hits since I stepped on the scene. Long Vol, Short Vol, you can try to understand the Greeks but I bet you are still beta. They say Kanye ‘you keeps it too real boy’.
Like stone crab claws at Lure Fish Bar on Prince Street. I’m dishing at chicks like the point guard on your favorite team. Late night at White Star on Essex on the DL. Like new cash bond issuance in the credit markets, high grade priced 8 Bill, it was all good just a week ago. High Yields on the rise, the bifurcation was so February. I’m trading single B’s off the break like E tabs at a rave. If you’re long credit, watch the DIP or you’ll get crammed down harder than secured lenders in Chrysler by Uncle Sam. Pimp Cadillac population excluded.
I’ve respected the game since my first dice roll Timberland booted down. Summertime is around the corner. Gucci loafers, no socks, Eric Ripert dinners. Girls at Da Silvano. Bisteca next door. I’m fam at the Waverly. For the futures market non fluent, trade the VXX as hedge. Thank me later. Euro dollar futures. Spooz futures. Treasury futures. Curves steep now. Its cross asset class but same school.
Stocks at 1, you can’t short it that much more. I see your 100 shares front running me. Monaco. Marbella. Mauritius. Go long the Kiwi and AUD when inflation hits and it will. The funeral of CDO. RIP Equity tranche 2006. Synthetic CDO was an infant death. The rebirth of cash. The ailing of CDS. Non-Financial Hybrids pricing in 21% at call but then again capital structure arb wasn’t you. I forgive your weak ass, hustling just ain’t you. I’m still seen at Masa.
I know the whole “Hipster” thing has been going on for a while now, but lately it is just taking over. Hipsters everywhere. And truth be told, even though I have swooped more Hipster Girls than any lead singer of any crappy band that they listen to, these girls really don’t respond very well to to your Humble Author.
Hipster Girls like Beta Males. They like “guys” with tight jeans, messy hair and emotions. Essentially, they like the antithesis of The G and his custom suit wearing, Alpha swaggering, cigarette smoking, Zippo Clacking, International Playboying self.
So I met this young fly Hipster girl named “Melissa” last week at this Art gig.
This “text message conversation” last night needs no further explanation:
Melissa The Hipster: Happy Thirsty Thursday! (10:16 pm)
Melissa The Hipster: Hey, where are you? (10:17 pm)
MPM: Where are you? (10:25 pm)
Melissa The Hipster: @ (insert name of high profile crappy boutique hotel spot)…come! (10:25 pm)
MPM: Who are you with? (10:30 pm)
Melissa The Hipster: My Boyfriend (10:30 pm)
Melissa The Hipster: Hes gay.. not to worry! (10:30 pm)
MPM: I am never worried (10:35 pm)
Melissa The Hipster: Where u @? Come meet me! (10:35 pm)
MPM: At (insert smooth French Brasserie with a solid Duck Confit and an owner who gives me huge Bordeaux pours, pro-bono) (10:42 pm)
Melissa The Hipster: Going home..class early tmrw..maybe this weekend we ll run into each other (10:42 pm)
Got blown like Miami Condo Debris, then bounced like them cars out in Long Beach.
“Some girls say I’m the cutest, others say that I’m the rudest,
meditate like a Budist, expose em like a nudist,
I’m Jesus they Judas, my diamonds the bluest,
got the answers, they clueless, Ashanti foolish.”
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
My name is Don Juan De Marco. I am the son of the great swordsman, Antonio Garibaldi De Marco. Who was tragically killed defending the honour of my mother, the beautiful, Dona Inez Santiago de San Martine. I am the world’s greatest lover. I have made love to over a thousand women. I was twenty-one last Tuesday.
No woman has ever left my arms unsatisfied. Only one has rejected me. And as fortune would have it, she is the only one who has ever mattered. This is why, at twenty-one, I had determined to end my life. But first… one final conquest.
Don Juan DeMarco – Restaurant Scene
Don Juan: May I?
Woman: Um, well actually… I’m expecting a friend, er, he’s been delayed, but he should be here soon.
Don Juan: Well, I will not linger…I am Don Juan.
Woman: That’s very funny. Is there a costume party at the hotel?
Don Juan: No. I am Don Juan. Directly descended from the noblest Spanish family.
Woman: And you seduce women.
Don Juan: No. I, I never take advantage of a woman. I give women pleasure… if they desire it. It is of course, the greatest pleasure they will ever experience. There are some women… fine featured, a certain texture to the hair, a curve to the ears that, that is sweeps like a turn on a shell. These women… have fingers, with the same sensitivities as their legs. The fingertips have the same feelings as their feet, and when you touch their knuckles, it is like passing your hands along their knees. And this, tender, fleshy part of the finger, is the same as brushing your hands along their thighs. And… finally…
Don Juan (voice): Every woman is a mystery to be solved. But a woman hides nothing from a true lover. Her skin colour can tell us how to proceed… a hue like the blush of a rose, pink and pale, and she must be coaxed to open her petals with a warmth like the sun. The pale and dappled skin of the red-head calls for the lust of a wave crashing to the shore, so we may stir up what lies beneath and bring the foamy delight of love to the surface. Although there is no metaphor that truly describes making love to a woman… the closest is playing a rare musical instrument. I wonder, does a Stradivarius violin feel the same rapture as the violinist, when he coaxes a single perfect note from its heart?
Don Juan: Muchas gracias, senorita.
Don Juan (voice): Every true lover knows that the moment of greatest satisfaction comes when ecstasy is long over. And he beholds before him the flower which has blossomed beneath his touch.
Don Juan (voice): Oh, well. Now I must die.
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
A Typical Tuesday Night in Southern California
“California’s like a beautiful, wild girl on heroin …Who’s high as a kite, thinkin’ she’s on top of the world, not knowing she’s dying even if you show her the marks.”
Its 9:30 pm when I roll Dolo in the Southern California “party sushi” joint like the Fly Girl Racker, Bean Stacker, Zippo Clacker, friendly neighborhood International Playboy you know and love.
The Scene breaks down as it usually does:
Multiple tables of Girls with fake boobs partying for “Jenny’s”, “Sara’s” or whoever’s birthday, a few weesh guys in Ed Hardy shirts, I’m guessing a few “Reality Stars” from their hollow, insecure posturing, and some hipster cats in fedoras. Maybe a few actors. Who cares, I am sure their movies are wack.
Not bad, since Me against this type of competition is like Obama going against Hillary.
Especially, considering that I didn’t leave anything to chance and I am dressed Sharper than Health Care:
My President is Black and so is my one button Gucci bespoke suit with peaked lapels and Cookie Monster blue interior. My shirt and Brioni pocket square are Baby Blue as if my name was Gerber, and I am not talking about Rande either.
My Bontoni loafers: c’est si bon and my E. Marinella tie: magnifique, and of course, I have the Brushed Chrome Desert Eagle for any sashimi style Kobe Beef.
Pockets: Greener than “energy tech” and Bankroll: thicker than Azerbaijan “daisy-chained” spot crude oil.
My Game: sicker than Hong Kong Chicken Flu and I got The John the Conqueroo.
I am by eons the dopest, sharpest dressed, most brutally handsome cat in the spot, but Hollywood has never come up with a movie star that is half-IRA, half-ETA so the girls in the party sushi joint have no frame of reference for me.
I then exchange glances with the target: A Orange County fake boobs blonde wearing a dress from South Coast Plaza and shoes from Fred Segal no doubt. Her boobs are Faker than the Horsehead that Tom Hagen puts in that bed.
She is not some fly Estonian Model Girl or the daughter of Hungary’s richest businessman, but sometimes you have to work with what the Nightlife Gods have given you.
I then float, like a Mardi Gras parade, to her table of three of her girlfriends, drinking sake, and get ready to sting like a Mayweather Jab (Roger or Floyd Jr., doesn’t matter which one). Two of the other girls look identical to her, the fourth: weesh. I pull up a chair holding a far superior bottle of Nigori.
I then introduce myself as the DJ is spinning some wack crap that every single other person in the joint is loving. (Doesn’t anyone have Special Ed’s “I Got it Made” on wax anymore?)
Special Ed – I Got It Made
I then wave to the DJ (who I have carefully cultivated a “functional” acquaintance with over the last few months) who gives me a “finger point” and a smile back.
Instead of “Defeating this DJ”, I have “locked down” this DJ simply for him to give me high-fives and finger points so I don’t seem “weird” to girls when I roll in the sushi joint Doloto pick up girls.
I then yap to the girls about how the live lobster sashimi is the best thing on the menu, which, of course, they have never tried. When I describe it, one of them says it sounds “gross” as different waitresses say hello to me and I get a few “finger points” from the sushi chefs.
The Girls tell me they come here for “the california rolls”. Another one of the girls tells me that she loves “the rice”.
I roll my eyes, but I have been through this literally a million times before so I keep calm and don’t start ridiculing the girls or stab myself in the eye with a chopstick.
They then ask me how I know the DJ and I yap about how I have known him forever and blah blah blah. Topics fire back and forth at a rapid fire pace as we down the bottle of Nigori.
The Girls tell me The Hard Rock in Las Vegas is their favorite place to travel. I tell them The Hard Rock is wack. They ask me where I would love to vacation next and I say “Seychelles or Mauritius” and they look at me like I am speaking a foreign language. I ask them if they have been to France, and they said they haven’t but they heard people are “rude” there. When the girls ask what I do for fun, I am tempted to tell them I have been experimenting with Voodoo to help me swoop even more girls than I already do and to destroy my rivals, but thankfully the owner comes by to shake my hand.
Junior Wells – The Hoodoo Man (1966)
The owner then gives me another bottle of Nigori (pro-bono) and the girls ask me how I have known him and I lie, “we go back a long time” as I think the owner is weesh, and barely know him, but I remain friendly with him for situations such as these.
The girls now think I am the coolest thing they have ever met.
But then again, I have paid the cost to be the Boss, so it shouldn’t be a shocker that they are loving me like Ugg Boots and Mac Gloss.
Styles P- The Key
After polishing off the Nigori, I invite the girls to another nightclub where I know the owners to get in “libre”.
On the way to the club (located a few blocks from my crib, coincidentally or is it strategically?) I light up a smoke with a dope “reverse” Zippo Clack, that, I invented when I was 12 years old. None of the girls notice how dope I light the cigarette but one of the girls says she “hates smoking”. “Smoking is so gross…and so unhealthy”, says the most out of shape and unhealthy member of the girl crew.
I ignore both of them, and keep “Pied Pipering” the girls. The main “Orange County blonde fake boobs girl wearing a dress from South Coast Plaza” says she “loves smoking when she drinks” and takes a drag off my cancer stick. I notice she doesn’t inhale.
Almost to the club, I spark up a another smoke with a snap of my Zippo and interrupt the yapping from the girls by saying “Hey!” so they pay attention to the dope “snap light move”, but it gets zero reaction.
We skip the line like an old Run-D.M.C. record and enter Le Club.
I spend the next hour with more mind-numbing conversation, winning over the group, and deflecting “SliverBack Style” some beta male Ex-Mortgage Brokers in I am guessing, Christian Audigier shirts (One beta-ex-mortgage guy I make scamper off simply by saying, “Did you know there are free Red Bull and Vodkas at the back bar?”).
I then invite the “Orange County blonde fake boobs girl wearing a dress from South Coast Plaza” girl back to my crib for Champagne. (Really just a $9 bottle of Processco, but she can’t tell the difference).
After swooping her till 3:30 am, getting more two lips than a florist* and shimmying her out the door to her cab, I can only wonder:
Was this night worth it?
Probably not.
Even International Playboys win some and lose some.
But most likely, I will do it again next Tuesday.
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
*In case you are stuck. Blower = Two lips = Tulips. Get it?
I think I am going to hook one of these Canon Cameras. With the Down Economy, there are just too many girls willing to take their clothes off these days.
Compact, lightweight with environmental protection, EOS 5D successor boasts a newly designed Canon CMOS sensor, with ISO sensitivity up to 25,600 for shooting in near dark conditions. The new DIGIC 4 processor combines with the improved CMOS sensor to deliver medium format territory image quality at 3.9 frames per second, for up to 310 frames.
Triggered from Live View Mode, HD video capture allows users to shoot uninterrupted at full 1080 resolution at 30fps — for amazing quality footage with outstanding levels of detail and realism.
The integration of HD movie capability into a high-end 21.1-megapixel camera opens a multitude of new possibilities for photojournalists and news photographers. With its full-frame CMOS sensor and outstanding ISO performance, the EOS 5D Mark II will appeal to any photographer in search of the finest camera equipment available — from studio and wedding to nature and travel photographers.
