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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
It’s the middle of July and it’s 105 degrees in the shade. I’m drained but none the less I’ve got to Enter the Dragon. Went a bit too far last night, but damn, I looked good doing it. Picture this; bone white Ermenegildo Zegna tuxedo jacket with red silk pocket square, crisp white Gianni Versace couture button-down with black bow tie and tailored jet black slacks tickling the uppers of my Cole Haan mocs with the Nike Air sole. Stacy Dash… I see you lookin. I’m in Vegas and I feel like Tony right after he gets back to his crib… “I gotta get organized”. Montana, not Soprano, minus the blow. The Bella suite at the Venetian is perfect when you need an extra bed for your new found friends to sleep on. From my perspective, your body begins to shut down by your fourth day out here. You’ve got to pace yourself. Start every morning by sweating out the toxins, i.e. drugs, beer and liquor with a 30-45 minute workout at the gym in your hotel. No excuses. Water replenishment is another key to defeating the monkey that jumped on your back at about the time you strolled out of Spearmint Rhino with your pockets turned inside-out. This is the town that has the potential to spit you out with your shoestrings holding your pants up; remember Bell from Willie Dynamite?
Like The G Manifesto said, make sure that you’ve adequately stocked up on supplies before you arrive. Get your gum/altoids, Aleve, Visine, lip balm and cigarettes/cigars before you get into town. Your Zippo should be full of fluid. Time is yours to control as best you can. Also pack plenty of T’s, boxers and socks because you will sweat a lot. Good comfortable shoes are a must as you will be doing lots of walking. As a G you should be wearing comfortable shoes anyway because only cheap shoes hurt your feet. Steve Madden’s will be the death of you in Vegas.
With all of the wild summer pool parties going on, your day game has to be up to snuff. You should be confident enough in your appearance that taking your shirt off is not going to leave you feeling vulnerable and weak. Push-ups, crunches and pull-ups will help. If you’ve got weights, use em. I’ve even seen one G use hotel furniture (benches, coffee tables) to prep for the pool scene, its that important! The resort pool scene is the time to stack your lady count, or as I like to call it your kill score. Trust me, it’s very possible to pull a hat trick during a Vegas weekend; I’ve seen it happen. The dj’s will be spinning mostly top hits, but it’s your job to show off original dance moves. Listen to me. Learn from me. I was not the best because I killed quickly. I was the best because the crowd loved me. Win the crowd and you will win your freedom. – Proximo, Gladiato
If you are like me and you have a weakness for the green and red felt tables, you’ve got to do things to yourself so that you don’t ruin your life. Leave at least 200-300 dollars cash hidden either in your car parked at the airport or at your crib so that you have money once you get home. This prevents you from overspending what’s in your bank account. Limit your drinking at the tables. Casinos thrive on drunken gamblers, instead use this time to replenish your body with water and save the drinking for the clubs. And even then, don’t go overboard on the drinking, you have to be able to carry on a conversation with a fly honey and game spitting requires a clear head. Contrary to advice from the Big Tymer’s, this isn’t the time to drink till you throw-up. She will prolly be smashed out of her mind but that’s not your problem. Whether you bang it out or not you’ve got an image and a reputation to uphold. You’ve also spent too many chips on your gear to ruin it with vomit— be it yours or someone else’s.
Dress yourself in the best clothes you own. You can’t hit up Tao in a polo or a t-shirt and expect to get any type of respect. If you’ve got crappy gear, pack light and re-up at the Forum Shops (Caesars), Via Bellagio or the Grande Canal Shoppes (Venetian). You control your destiny and the perception that you portray is that of a G. As tempting as it may be to go with the common theme out here, you’ve got to stay in your lane—- no flashy T’s! Let them have that style all to themselves. I can’t begin to tell you how many times women commented on how nice I looked. I was suited for four straight nights! My game was on hyperdrive because of the Brock Lesnar/Frank Mir UFC title fight. Amongst a sea of print T’s adorned with sequins, bobby pins and safety pins, a well tailored suit really stands out.
If you aren’t satisfied with the Boise beauty queens or the Tallahassee trailer tramps, you can easily find a money pro honey sitting at the hotel bar. Trust me, it ain’t hard to tell. No real G will judge you for spending 2-3 hours with a Jessica Alba clone and her girlfriend. We don’t have to know that you blew last week’s paycheck on ass. Take a Polaroid picture of them, not with them and stash it away in your sin box.
Finally, you’ve got to eat good food. Avoid the buffets and venture beyond crappy hot dogs and cheeseburgers. You can get that stuff anytime back home. Eat foods that you’ve never had, I ordered the Eggs Benedict at the Grand Luxe Cafe and I’ll never forget that experience. It could have been my wonderful waitress Natasha or it could have been the fact that I chopped it up with Suge and almost knocked him for one of his lady friends. Unintentionally I might add. Suge, got much love for you big homie. This is the time to be a grown-up and channel your inner Anthony Bourdain. Real G’s eat real food.
Dead Prez Summertime music video directed by Tao Ruspoli
Thanks to Chris R.
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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
Rumor No. 1: “Goldman Sachs controls the U.S. government.”
Every time we hear the phrase “the United States of Goldman Sachs” we shake our heads in wonder. Every ninth-grader knows that the U.S. government consists of three branches. Goldman owns just one of these outright; the second we simply rent, and the third we have no interest in at all. (Note there isn’t a single former Goldman employee on the Supreme Court.)
Rumor No. 2: “When the U.S. government bailed out AIG, and paid off its gambling debts, it saved not AIG but Goldman Sachs.”
The charge isn’t merely insulting but ignorant. Less responsible journalists continue to bring up the $12.9 billion we received from AIG, as if that was some kind of big deal to us. But as our CFO David Viniar explained back in March, we were hedged. Our profits from AIG “rounded to zero.”
Rumor No. 3: “As the U.S. government will eat the losses if Goldman Sachs goes bust, Goldman Sachs shouldn’t be allowed to keep making these massive financial bets. At the very least the $11.4 billion Goldman Sachs already has set aside for employees in 2009 — $386,429 a head, just for the first six months — is unfair, as the U.S. taxpayer has borne so much of the risk of the wagers that generated the profits.”
Really, we don’t know where to begin with this one. It is wrong-headed in so many different ways!
Let’s begin with the idea that the taxpayer is running a bigger risk than we are. The billions he stands to lose are trivial; after all, they round to zero.
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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
Another Manhattan summer is upon us. But I don’t dip for the Hamps.
There’s something about the concrete jungle that keeps me comfortable.
Red ribbon players give off a doubtful vibe. No worries. I know the competition is tapioca.
Been a busy summer at the High Line, thus far. I’m posted, naturally. Swagger drippin. Gettin that brie. Curb servin like American History X. Carryin the 8 like Jon and Kate. Sockless. Purple Label because Ralph’s a friend. Rubber band money clip keepin me grounded. My equity givin haters heartburn. And no, these aren’t Tums I’m bundlin. Brushing up on RICO precedent. The pre-paid cell keep the Feds panties in a bunch. Startac. I’m so retro. Shielding risk like a fideicomiso. Look it up. My LLC’s LLC’s got LLCs. They’ll send your lawyer back to undergrad. His public school undergrad.
(Here is my Facebook, New Twitter and The G Manifesto Facebook Page)
Ahhh…NYC summers. Humiliating wannabes who “heard Shake Shack burgers are sweet”, and “have boys who can get us into TenJune”. Meanwhile, I “have boys who know your PIN number”, and I “break bread with U.N. security personnel”. Twisting up lavender fauna on the hour. Puffin those Barney farts. I maneuver best when I’m over levered. Like Linens N’ Things. Summertime, so I keep things in the linen. Pulling fire alarms at Soho House. Bending flat brims on hipsters’ 90’s Starter caps. Bet they can’t name one Charlotte Hornet. Morimoto is a hack. Lunching down the block at Son Cubano with a third-stringer
that’ll make your Dad leave your Mom. And then tell her “keep the kids”.
Enjoy the sharehouse, Neil. I’m at the Core Club. Ask for me.
Fly,
King Jaffe
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