Check it:
11) Slaughterhouse 90210
Slaughterhouse 90210 combined lowbrow TV screencaps with highbrow literary quotes, making it kind of the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups of Tumblr blogs. Another comparison: an intellectual I Can Has Cheezburger. Seeing a quote from, say, The Bell Jar underneath a Friends screencap is pleasantly shocking — especially after you realize the quote fits the show perfectly — and a reassurance that it’s okay for smart people to like stupid things. Could be a good candidate for a book deal, if it weren’t for those pesky copyright issues. (See also: The G Manifesto and Fuck Yeah Subtitles.)
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
Here are the 2nd G Manifesto Awards. The 1st G Manifesto Awards, are here: The G Manifesto Awards, The Best of 2007. I missed 2008 as I was busy swooping girls and had a little street War to contend with at the time. (Also check out the Outlook for 2008, where I was like the Nouriel Roubini of this Game s*it, of sorts).
Again, these Awards are places or things that I have been to or experienced in 2009. So don’t get itchy if your local nightclub in Cleveland doesn’t make the list.
Best Comeback City: New Orleans. My love affair with New Orleans is well documented. This year was the first year since Katrina where the swagger seemed to return. Do as a G does; visit often and drop CASH.
Best High-Action City: Tijuana, Mexico. I wouldn’t exactly call it a love affair with Tijuana, but I have spent mad time there and turned mad dollars there. The place is actually a lot safer now than the papers would lead you to believe.
Best Day Game City: Buenos Aires. The volume of fly girls for Street Game makes it hard to ignore.
Best Beach Locals: The Somali Pirates. These guys made the boys from The North Shore and The Bra Boys seem tame. They made mad dough, raged hard, protected their coast, swooped mad girls and even caused real estate bubbles in other countries. Hell, I have been seriously considering rolling down there and joining the fun. I wonder if there are some un-crowded points to be had to the brain?
Best International Restaurant: Restaurante Arzak in San Sebastian. Spain is really kicking out the best grinds right now. And Restaurante Arzak is top rank. I am frothing at the mouth thinking about it. Will be there again in May.
Best US Restaurant: Galatories. The best goddamn restaurant in America. I love how they even make President’s wait for a table.
Me?
I get top tier service.
Honorable Mention: Gramercy Tavern. I have to include this spot because of the first class treatment, pro-bono wine pours and the sweet breads. Nothing about it the meal was “so-so”, more like “fabuloso”. Additionally, I was politicking with this fly chick and digging her moves because she smooth and she choose to pay dues.
Best International Hotel: Four Seasons Hotel George V, Paris, France. Decadence since 1928. I really like the indoor pool surrounded by tromp l’oeil murals of the Versailles gardens.
Best US Hotel: The Waldorf Towers, New York. The one bedroom Grand suites with the separate entrance are style and elegance defined. They are not cheap (about 5k), but they really do pay for themselves.
Best Fight: Juan Manuel Marquez VS Juan Diaz. Marquez proves once again how he is The G in a come from behind devastating knockout of an 80’s baby.
Most Masterful Performance: Floyd Mayweather, Jr. VS Juan Manuel Marquez.
Best Blog: Roissy in DC. I would have said The G Manifesto, but that would have seemed rigged, right? In all seriousness, Roissy kicked out gem after gem almost every day of the year and truly transcended.
Best Forum: RooshV Forum. If you like traveling and swooping fly foreign girls, then this is your forum.
Best Hip-Hop Track: I Hate My Job, Cam’ron. Nothing captured 2009 better than Cam’s “recession rap” track when most American’s were coming out with a pitiful rookerful of money.
Funny too.
Ayo I’m lookin’ for a job, ain’t nobody hiring,
Then I ask the boss, “when y’all doin’ firing?”
Great sample from Barbara Mandrell’s “Sleeping Single In A Double Bed”.
Best Break out Hip-Hop Artist: No, not Asher Roth or Drake. It’s Black Milk. “Losing Out” was enough to do it.
Best Soul Track and Album: Maxwell – Pretty Wings and BLACKsummers’night. The cat was gone for eight years. No wonder this decade was terrible. Come to think of it, anyone seen D’Angelo?
Woman of The Year: Ashley Alexandra Dupré. It is truly amazing how this girl has kept her mouth shut (so to speak) for the entire year. She deserves all the props in the world, and a shining beacon of hope for her self-absorbed peers of her generation.
Honorable Mention: Sonia Sotomayor
G of the Year: Joaquín Guzmán Loera. No one did it bigger in 2009 than “El Chapo”. Untouchable like Elliot Ness. Hell, he even came in at #701 on Forbes’ list of richest people in the world with an estimated net worth of $2 billion. A low estimate if I have ever seen one.
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
One of the things I respect most about Pernell Whitaker (and for that matter Roger Mayweather) was the fact that he would do whatever it takes to win.
I remember the Pernell Whitaker vs. Roger Mayweather fight from back when I was a young cub running all kinds of hustles. I was shocked with the violent beauty of it all.
I was even more impressed with both fighters will to win at all costs. No holding back. Rules are meant to be shattered.
Check it:
Pernell Whitaker vs. Roger Mayweather
• Even before the fight starts, Whitaker is landing blows (0:15). Mental Warfare.
• Uses Impeccable Technique in Round One to score a knockdown (1:18) with a sick right hook – left hook combo.
• Throws five punches after the bell (1:30). Mayweather, dazed goes to the wrong corner. Referee has lost all control of the fight.
• Throws a punch on the break (2:01) and lands it on the referee’s mug.
• Whitaker and Mayweather go to war and exchange heavy shots.
• Whitaker fights like a demon possessed (3:30).
• Sweet Pea not afraid to use an occasional elbow or two (4:20).
• Pernell notices that The Black Mamba is having trouble with his trunks, and takes advantage (4:47). First rule of boxing: Protect yourself at all times.
• Then taunts Mayweather (4:56).
• Much respect to Mayweather for channeling his energy to dropping Whitaker then hitting him while he is down (5:27).
• Whitaker is hurt, and is smart enough to hold.
• Regaining his head, Whitaker throws bombs back (6:49). Wobbles Mayweather.
• Mayweather plays possum (7:20).
• Whitaker “spins” Mayweather (8:10).
• Both fighters pour it on till the closing bell.
• Mayweather lands a late punch.
• Whitaker wins.
Apply these lessons of “winning dirty” to your own life.
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’m lushin Russian women, via satellite I’m watchin
I dare a n-gga say he want to battle me, I’ll crush ya
Even blind girls rush next to Hammera and scream out
“Oh my gosh, get the camera
~ Slick Rick (w/Rae), Frozen
These Russian Models (FTV, FYI) are mad, mad fly and I’ve been running into them (so to speak) more and more on the international scene. The distinguishing feature about Russian women is they are women in every inch. They dress for men, they expect gentlemen to be gentlemen, and they don’t take any bullshit. Unlike other haute couture model types, these enigmatic girls have a unique modus operadi that I dig. Or maybe it’s the sinister accent. Maybe it’s the ice cold attitude.
So cold I need theraflu,
I’m so high I need parachutes,
I’m error proof, I’m never spooked,
and my suit, heaven blue.
Let me share with you some personal maxims I live by when swooping these krutay dorogaya’s… check the technique so you can come correct:
• You have to have G appeal. Scratch that, you have to be G… 24/7
• Always be a polite and well-mannered G. Real Russian women dislike men being rude and ill-bred.
• You are intimidated by nothing. Fearless. (Russian woman do not tolerate weesh suckas.)
• Thick bankrolls & pockets stuffed like Thanksgiving; ability to flash cash like Coltrane brass, but not sweatin’ it like trendsetting it. (side note: don’t count $$ in front of them — cream on the inside, clean on the outside.)
• Grits. Keep it pugilistic (or ballistic, in the case of my .38 snubby), ie. Must be able to kick-ass in a fight, because with girls this fly it’s gonna go down (frequently) with douchebags attempting to cramp your style.
• You have to be able to drink like a man, as in, you have to be able drink more vodka than a Russian Grizzly bear (and still be able to handle yourself). Zapoi.
• Russians, much like the French, have an admiration for outlaws, mafioso types and G’s.
• Your greatest strength is also your greatest weakness.
• Stay unpredictable (but thinking of a Master Plan, like Chilly Tee said, gotta keep ahead, gotta keep my head).
• Don’t supplicate (I’m not even sure that word exists in Russian vocabulary).
• Aggressive, yet mellow and cool.
They look at me as that cat that know how to box, know about glocks, know about runnin’ from cops and switchin’ up spots.
Get out my shit, Please let me be, I don’t see why — you KGB
Why you gotta be all up on me like that, Trying to get over
like a fat rat, but I understand — I’m a woman in the land of hip-hop
And the shit don’t stop, it goes on, on, on, on
You see the shit don’t stop till the break of dawn
And now who makes it liver than a hip-hop, scuba diver, chillin with
a pina colada, kidada hooked me up with Tommy now I gotta
lot of gear from everywhere that I’d like to share (yeah right!)
[MC Lyte]
A few years ago, I would sit back in my Base of Operations, kick up my Gucci loafers, spark up a Macaudo with my Dunhill lighter and stare at a big world map in my office.
Younger Prototype G’s, that I sometimes bankroll, would often stop by and ask me what all the different “pins” in each city were for. Most of the time, they would guess that the pins signified where I moved weight or places that I have heisted.
They were wrong. I used the pins to mark how many fly girls I had on my team in each city. (And by “fly girls” I mean, top tier Nightlife Princesses, Sophistos, Super Rich girls, Model girls. Essentially girls that even most high ranking players would settle down with. Furthermore, all of these girls I got on with really well).
That map was glorious in those days. I had like 10 pins in LA, 7 pins in NYC, 4 pins in New Orleans, 2 pins in DC, 3 pins in Chicago, 6 pins in San Diego, 5 pins in SF, 8 pins in Miami Beach, and 12 pins in Las Vegas. Top shelf all the way. And that’s just the mainland.
A funny confluence of events happened this year though. For some strange reason, that I still need to analyze, I stopped making connections with top flight girls. Sure I have still swooped plenty of fly girls, just not girls worthy of putting on my team (mostly, for personality reasons). Basically, I committed a cardinal sin; I stopped refilling my pipe.
On top of that, about twenty of these girls got married with some beta or closed up shop with some weesh guy. (I blame The Down Economy). In addition, I lost contact with many of these girls through many of my cell phone number changes. (I don’t use Facebook to keep in touch with girls, I am too old-school.)
Interestingly enough, as the worst decade ever comes to a close, I have a very slim team.
Time to rebuild.
Either way, the lesson to learn is: Always Drink Fresh Blood
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
