The G Manifesto

Brazilian Girls, Los Angeles and Custom Suits

“Let your greatest cunning lie in covering up what looks like cunning”– Baltasar Gracián (Spanish Jesuit and baroque prose writer), 1601-1658

“Winning comes down to two things: Taking advantage of your opponents mistakes and perfect timing” – Michael John Mason VI (Father to son boxing advise when I was a young amateur)

This year, when I haven’t been traveling, I have been spending a bunch of time in Beverly Hills, working on some big “heists”, so to speak. So after Entering The Dragon at The Wildcard and a beautiful day at the Getty, I find myself at a Private Club in West Hollywood for dinner and drinks.

Here are the attendees at the dinner:

• Entertainment CEO, who I have never met
• Oscar nominated Producer, who I have met
• My friend in the Horse world and girlfriend
• My friend who works at big corporation putting it all together
• Some young Hollywood Actor, who I don’t know
• Hollywood stylist guy (British), who I don’t know
• Two Brazilian model girls, who came with Producer guy
• And Your humble author, AKA Your favorite International Playboy’s favorite International Playboy

It promises to be a pretty vague affair, and I have no real purpose being at the dinner, I was just invited by my friend, the corporate cat. It’s a meet and greet with a little biz on the agenda. You know, your typical Tableaux de mode turning into a Fête galante with potential to be a Bacchanale.

It should be noted that I feel slightly un-centered, possibly because of the fact that I completely out-gunned (so to speak) at this dinner, as almost everyone, save the girls, are more accomplished than I am (at least in a mainstream sense) and have longer dough. And it doesn’t exactly comfort me when I start having flashbacks of knuckle-ups “on the cobbles” with big Russian guys with bald heads and leather jackets, from a few weeks prior, either. It also should be noted that I have been increasingly been finding myself in these types of situations as I move up The Layer Cake of life.

However, I am dressed in a sick Custom Suit: jet black, peaked lapels, one-button, side vents and interior so crimson that if we were in South Central you might have thought I was Brim or Piru. Pocket Square the color of Colombian Blow.

The conversation at the table starts off cordial and loosens up as vino consumption is increased. I stay in the cut, and only add comments where necessary and when I can add value as I am well versed in many subjects these days (not bragging, just keeping it solid gold like 1oz American Eagle coins for you). Doing this keeps an air of mystery around me, and the table really starts coming around. Entertainment CEO double takes after I drop a few gems and asks me, “What is it that you do again?”

The Brazilian model girls take notice, which, of course, is not lost on me. Also, what is not lost on me is that the weesh Young Hollywood actor guys starts hating on me. Which, of course, I ignore and continue to stay in the seam.

Surprisingly, it is actually shaping up to be a great dinner; Entertainment CEO guy is running the show and is actually super cool, Oscar nominated Producer guy spins some good tales, my horse world friend and his girlfriend drop dimes, Stylist guy busts some hilarious tales that everyone loves, the Brazilian Girls are having fun and my corporate friend is gluing it all together. It is one of those rare occurrences: The whole table is gelling.

Well, maybe not Actor guy, as he is trying to “close talk” one of the Brazilian model girls (which is a weak move) but I notice her “body languageing” him away as I am busting out a story. I spit out a little Portuguese which the Brazilian Model girls love and the actor boy hates as he does not speak any.

Feeling good now, I drop some good lines:

I use the phrase, “like that guy from Wikileaks” multiple times, and even drop this one: “Oh you mean, Rahm Emanuel’s brother?” to check everyone as the discussion topics are a little too Hollywood-centric for my liking.

I also get involved in this one:

“…just got back from Latvia”, I say

“Where?”

“Latvia”

“Where?”

“Latvia. Kind of near Estonia”.

Since there is a lot of name dropping (albeit legitimate name dropping) going on, I comtemplate busting out my Wesley Snipes Story, but decide against it.

When Entertainment CEO guy asks me what I think of his favorite wine, I reply, “It is rich and decadent with seamless overtones of violets and homemade country jam, and it really has a Harmonious finish…” which sends the crowd wild. (Little did everyone at the table know, save my corporate friend, is that I always use that response when asked about the wine at dinners such as these.)

Hollywood stylist guy, throws out, “Who made your suit? It’s phenomenal…”
Entertainment CEO even shoots out a, “OK, that’s it, this is the best dinner I have been to all year!” after Stylist guy, who is a true raconteur tells another hilarious story (and I am not talking about those cats that made that dope movie Cocaine Cowboys either, or maybe I am).

“Camilla” the flyer of the two models, a true Beauty of monumentality and vulnerability, follows me for a smoke when actor boy is in the bathroom.

It’s on.

She starts asking me questions as I tell tales of Mediterranean courtyards and terraces and her vibe goes from romantic expectation to dreamy absorption to erotic playfulness quicker than a Samba dance at Carnaval.

I bust a Double Cigarette Light Move, I kiss her and notice the tactility of her Brazilian curves.

We roll back to the table and the dinner is still frolicking along at a decent pace. Some owner and GM type cats roll by as well as plenty of West Coast style Hipster/Douchebag fusion types that Los Angeles is leading the world in producing these days. They are probably actors if I am hard pressed to guess.

Actor guy, vanquished, leaves in discomfiture with a couple of Hipster/Douchebag fusion types, I am presuming in search of Beaks.

Entertainment CEO has to go home to the wife and kids and the extravagant meal kind of breaks up. Some go to smoke weed, some merge with other tables, Camilla and I split for a drink.

Back at my dope hotel (which my horse world friend hooked me up at a discounted rate, I may add), Camilla plays the part of a young girl defending herself against Eros.

I play the part of Mischief and Repose.

Camilla and I sip a glass of wine and admire the sensuous textures of my suite: marble, fur, tile, silk, flesh…

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

Disclaimer: Some of the above characters are merged and/or changed to protect the innocent. And the guilty. But then again, if you have a brain, you knew that already.

Ya Boy & Dr. Hollywood – We Run La( with lyrics)

Riga, Latvia: Truths, Myths and Things I Would Do Different

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“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:

Truths

The girls are insanely fly.

It’s mad cold.

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.

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Myths

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.

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

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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

Mobb Deep – Back At You

America’s Image Problem

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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

http://www.thegmanifesto.com

Dom Pachino – Vanishing

Sixth Night in Riga, Latvia: Reverse Rocky Marciano

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Finally, after a successful Succulent Youth fly Latvian girl swoop in Riga, I am finally firing punches from all angles. Even the super trippy dreams I have been having can’t slow me down.

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?”

My Salsa Game is getting mad tight since I was in Cartagena.

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.

I can only think one thing: Riga is tough.

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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

Third Night in Riga, Latvia: Karate Chop

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After realizing The Scam Night in Riga, I shake it off and Enter The Dragon.

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.)

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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

Eazy-E – It’s On