The G Manifesto

Wild Card Boxing Club, Hollywood, CA: It Ain’t Easy

“When I was a young fellow I was knocked down plenty. I wanted to stay down, but I couldn’t. I had to collect the two dollars for winning or go hungry. I had to get up. I was one of those hungry fighters. You could have hit me on the chin with a sledgehammer for five dollars. When you haven’t eaten for two days you’ll understand.” – Jack Dempsey

“I hated every minute of training, but I said, “Don’t quit. Suffer now and live the rest of your life as a champion.” – Muhammad Ali

Many people think I spend all my time in nightclubs, Gentleman’s Clubs, Restaurants, on Planes, getting Custom Suits Made and at Topless Beaches swooping fly girls during summertime.

I have to admit, there is some truth to that. Especially the swooping fly girls at Topless Beaches in summertime thing.

However, what many don’t know is that I usually take a month off from the difficult lifestyle of an International Playboy and get back to my roots. And when I say, “get back to my roots” I mean spending a month in Hollywood, in a small apartment, with no car, and go to The Wild Card Boxing Club, Hollywood, CA every day, all day.

I literally live on Vine Street. Minus a few trips to Beverly Hills to work on a little “project” I have going on. I did this in March and April this year.

I get real “street”. Every day I wake up go to the gym, chill for a while, then come back and workout or spar. I don’t wear Custom Suits until the weekend comes. And I swoop a little fly Mexicana girl I know from the hood some nights. Other nights I just stretch and read. Real soulful.

If you have never been to The Wild Card Boxing Club, the place is crazy. It’s small. It is about the size of four boxing rings (it has two boxing rings). There are about 100 people in there at any given time. The place has unbelievable characters. The intensity is off the charts. It is a straight up Madhouse.

But truth be told, I feel more at home in The Wild Card Boxing Club than almost anywhere in the world. I straight up love the place. It keeps me grounded. It keeps me humble. Freddie Roach might be the coolest cat in all of America. His MOM is a sweetheart. Pepper is funny as hell. All the regulars are cool as hell and are always helpful. All the pros are mad cool. Manny is The Man. The trainers are dope as hell. I love the energy and vibe. And even though I am basically at the bottom of the totem pole there (I am being humble as usual, I am really not at the bottom, more like a significant level below the Pros and real fighters), I do earn people’s Respect there, and that is really all that matters.

In fact, I think I will make at least a two week pilgrimage to The Wild Card Boxing Club for the rest of my life, no matter where on the globe my travels take me.

I probably won’t be going this summer to The Wild Card Boxing Club, but I do have plans to hit up another legendary boxing gym in another city. I typically do this when I travel.

Now that I think about this, this would be a great idea for a TV show: Have cameras follow me around the globe going to different Boxing Gyms. They could also follow me going to different tailors I know and get Custom Suits made. If it is a beachtown, I could bust some cutbacks and get shacked at some dope surf spots and swoop Topless girls at the Beach.

That would easily be the dopest show on TV. Maybe put it on HBO so we could show Topless girls. It’s kind of crazy that I just came up with this idea and no one else has.

I probably would want to wear a ski mask to keep me low profile.

I don’t want to jeopardize this whole “International Playboy thing” I got going on, after all.

Thoughts?

Photo credits:

Robert Gallagher And Michael Porfirio Mason.

Click Here for Roosh’s Day Bang: How To Casually Pick Up Girls During The Day

Click Here for The G Manifesto’s Free Gentleman’s Club Report

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

The History of Wild Card Boxing Club With Mickey Rourke

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)