I am out of the country for the summer, but I just got the call; The 5th Street Gym in Miami Beach was robbed. Cleaned out. Heisted.
Devastating news, as I am a member of The Gym and love that place more than anything. The stole all the equipment, photos, belts, hell, they even took the ring. It looks like the only thing left is the pull up bar and arm straps for hanging crunches. And the recently moved jump rope rack.
I can’t even imagine who would want all that stuff (except the photos) with all the blood, sweat and Dino’s dogs hair all over the place. Hell, there is some of my blood in that place. And for sure a bunch of my snot and saliva.
I am also amazed how they pulled this off. I mean hell, it is on the (Continue reading…)
Roberts returned from Vietnam to New York with screws and a metal plate in his head — the aftermath of an explosion. By the time he was 20, he was one of New York’s biggest nightclub impresarios, rubbing shoulders with everyone from Jimi Hendrix to John Lennon.
But after a business partner turned up dead and an informant told the police Roberts was involved, he hightailed it to sunny Miami. The year was 1975.
“When I first came to Miami, I wasn’t smuggling: I was like all the other dealers on the street just trying to make a living, and it got to a point where I had so much business that these people just couldn’t supply me,” he says.
That’s when Roberts shifted from being a drug dealer to a drug importer for the Colombian Medellin cartel.
Importing paid well: By the end of 1976, Roberts says he was moving 50 kilos of cocaine worth $500,000 or more a month. Roberts was living it up: He had half a dozen servants, a Porsche, multiple houses, dozens of race horses and friends in high places, including the Colombian drug lord Pablo Escobar.
The U.S. government labeled Roberts the “American Representative” of the Medellin cartel; he became known as “the bearded gringo” on Miami’s streets.
Roberts and a few American partners created a highly advanced drug-smuggling system that included secret airfields, listening posts to eavesdrop on Coast Guard communications, and homing beacons for tracking cocaine shipped by sea.
“We ended up getting, up by Tampa, a 450-acre farm and it was all surrounded by trees and we put two runways in there and we put hangars in for the planes to go in,” Roberts says.
Their drug-smuggling schemes stymied the U.S. government for nearly a decade.
Death came for Jon Roberts, the infamous cocaine cowboy, on Dec. 28 at age 63, after a long battle with cancer. But his public career as a charming monster is just beginning
A true-crime memoir, “American Desperado” (Crown; $28), written with journalist Evan Wright, has just been published. In Hollywood, director Peter Berg and star Mark Wahlberg are developing a movie based on his exploits.
Dying at his ease in Fort Lauderdale in the company of a devoted younger spouse and his 11-year-old son Julian, product of an earlier marriage, was an improbable end for a man who never repudiated his lifelong philosophy that “evil is stronger than good.”
“How many times have I encountered a crooked politician who wants to establish he’s a nice guy, or a killer who wants you to think he’s a good guy at heart,” says Wright. “I was fascinated because here is a guy who has done monstrous things and he’s not trying to portray himself as a nice guy or a victim.”
As Roberts tells Wright in “American Desperado,” “I might be a sociopath. Most of the time I’ve been on this earth I’ve had no regard for human life. That’s been the key to my success.”
If “American Desperado” is to be believed, Jon Roberts beat people to death in New York, skinned enemy POWs alive in Vietnam, and helped a future CIA agent murder famed mobster Meyer Lansky’s stepson in Miami – with Lansky’s approval.
Roberts first came to national attention as one of the stars of “Cocaine Cowboys,” a Miami-produced documentary that was a surprise hit in 2006. The film details the early 1980s, when Miami became a nearly lawless place awash in cocaine, violence and corruption.
As an American representative of the Medellin Cartel, Roberts helped import some $2 billion worth of cocaine into South Florida, working with infamous figures like Albert San Pedro, Pablo Escobar, Bobby Seal, Max Mermelstein and Bobby Erra.
“He’s a killer,” says Wright, author of the acclaimed Iraq War book, “Generation Kill.” “The notion that Jon is a monster because he kills people doesn’t disqualify a person in my code of life. He’s a killer — let’s move on from there. Let’s find out more.”
Last night, I spoke to Roberts’ smuggling partner and costar in Cocaine Cowboys, the laid-back and quirky Mickey Munday, with whom he had epic disagreements. The last time Munday saw Roberts, he recalls, was at a Miami restaurant with Peter Berg — where the cancer-stricken old criminal vowed to kill Munday before he kicked the bucket: “Before I go, I’m going to get you.”
“I told him: ‘If I had a bucket list, I might put that blonde over there on it,'” Munday says. “‘But not whacking somebody who’s known me for 25 years.'”
“I always thought that he would beat this, I really did,” Munday told me. “If anybody could, it was him, because he’s the meanest son of a bitch I knew. If cancer could get to him it could get to anybody.”
Munday later texted me, referring to Roberts’ nemesis Mermelstein, who also died of cancer: “I hope Jon is kicking Max from one end of Hell to the other.”
California Game VS Florida Game for International Playboys
One thing I have noticed during my life, in “The Life” is that many Playboys from California rarely go to Florida and most Florida Playboys I know rarely if ever go to California.
I am not sure why this is; however I have noticed that usually when California Playboys go to Florida they usually don’t do too well and vice versa. California players get blindsided by the late nights and lack the multi-lingual Game that is necessary in South Florida. And most Florida players are stylistically “off” when on the Wessyde and they have logistical troubles when they try to close in Southern California.
I estimate there are maybe 10 guys in the world can run heavy Game in both California and Florida. And I am 3 of them. And I probably know the other 7 personally.
So, being that I am the most qualified guy out there to write this comparison Data Sheet, here it goes:
(Side Note: for purposes of this Data Sheet, when I refer to “California”, I am really referring to the Southern California Mega-Plex ie Los Angeles, Orange County and San Diego. And when I am referring to “Florida” I really mean South Florida ie Palm Beach, Fort Lauderdale, Boca Raton and Miami. San Francisco is its own animal and I don’t do North Florida.)
Girls
There is no doubt that Southern California and South Florida both have mad fly girls. Actually, both places serve up some of the best quality in our rapidly deteriorating country. Generally speaking, the comparison is pretty much a wash because superiority is more determined by the individual International Playboy’s taste. Personally, the Latinas of South Florida get the nod from me. Also, I give a big edge to South Florida in terms of approachability. South Florida girls always leave the door open. They are also comparatively more open to fun. (California girls are not slouches in this department either). I attribute this to the warmer weather, humidity and Latin influence.
Granted, I swoop the top girls in both spots, but it seems like I have to work a little harder to get the same results in California.
Girls Edge: South Florida
Competition
It’s kind of funny to compare Southern California and South Florida in terms of competition from other players. It seems like you see the exact type of guy in both places, only in Florida, it is usually a lower budget version of the same guy you will see in California and there are less of them.
For instance, you might see that idiot with a goatee and sleeve tattoos in Newport Beach and see that same idiot in Fort Lauderdale only he will be a cut rate version of the Newport Beach guy. Or you might see three moronic West Coast Hipster fools in LA at the spot and see one of them in Miami. Except that the one in Miami will have less going for him. Those two “tough guys” mad dogging at the bar in San Diego? You will see the same two in Hollywood, FL but they will have less bite.
Sure, the comp can be pretty heavy from some of the Latin Playboys in Miami, but the sheer volume of girls seems to offset it.
Competition Edge: South Florida (because it’s weesher)
Ratios
Florida gets the edge with way more of a surplus of hot girls to smooth cats. California is pretty comp heavy. The only places in California where you get good ratio’s are events like Grammy parties, Oscar gigs, special parties and the like. In Florida, you get more girls than guys even if you walk in cold to a boutique hotel bar.
Ratio Edge: South Florida
Nightlife vibe
Surprisingly, to most people, South Florida has a way more laid back nightlife vibe. More freedom and less rules. Southern California has all but become a police state with its open container laws, anti-smoking laws and last call laws. Plenty of drugs in both, although it seems easier to cop drugs cold in South Florida than Southern California.
Just because Dr. Dre once said, “California, knows how to party”, doesn’t really hold water in real life. (Keep in mind, Dr. Dre also said, “I still express, yo, I don’t smoke weed or cess” and then came out with an album called “The Chronic”. So his credibility is highly questioned.)
Nightlife Vibe Edge: South Florida
Stylistically
Girls have good style in both. Again, however, the Latinas in Miami tilt the favor to South Florida as they are in non-stop high heels and skirts and dresses. And the Russian girls and Models push it over the top. California comes off a little weesh with girls wearing too many flip-flops, Ugg Boots and sweatpants. Too much West Coast Hipster crap as well (which has really been gaining tons of speed in the last 16 months).
South Florida also gets a huge edge at the beach. Girls just flow bikinis in South Florida. Girls in California bust too much of that “girl board short” crap. And they cover up real quick. South Florida girls just roll in their bikinis. They go topless as well. Which is huge in my book.
Then again, I really like topless girls.
Guys have terrible style in both. But who cares about guys?
Stylistic Edge: South Florida
User Friendliness
Travel times can be devastating in Southern California. South Beach with its ease of usage gets the nod here. A top playboy in South Beach is swooping more fly girls than a top playboy in Hollywood on a day to day basis.
User Friendlyness Edge: South Florida
International Girl factor
South Florida wins this one again. In a month, in South Florida you can swoop mass amounts of Venezulanas, Colombians, Brazileras, Peruanas, Cubanas, Bulgarians, Latvians, Moldovans etc etc etc. It would take you 2 years to achieve that in Southern California.
International Girl factor Edge: South Florida
Boxing Gyms
It’s all about the Wildcard Gym in Hollywood and the 5th Street Gym in Miami Beach. I am inclined to give the edge to Wildcard, however the history of the recently re-opened 5th can’t be denied.
Boxing Gym Edge: Draw
Racetracks
It’s no secret that I love Gulf Stream in South Florida and I love Del Mar in San Diego. Anyone that has been reading The G Manifesto knows that I got to go with Del Mar. Plus, in Southern California you have Santa Anita and Hollywood Park.
Racetrack Edge: Southern California
International Reputation
I have said it before, and I will say it again, California is the greatest marketing scheme ever created. Saying you are from California holds more weight than a coke scale when traveling Internationally. Florida, not so much.
International Reputation Edge: California
Geographic Location for Travel
South Florida with two International Airports (FLL and MIA) and multiple countries within a three hour direct flight gets a huge edge over Southern California’s terribly set up airports. Orange County and San Diego are black holes as far as international travel.
Geographic Location for Travel Edge: South Florida
Sometimes I wonder why I base myself out of Southern California, especially considering that it is way more expensive than South Florida.
It might be time to switch up speeds like Bruce Lee riding the Fuji in the movie.
After detonating Shore Club, I roll up to Mint in Miami Beach, slap five with the doorman (you know who I am talking about), who says with an accent, “Nice suit, Michael”, and I respond “thanks, merci“ as I enter the arena.
Mint is popping like corn as usual; tons of fly girls, and the energy is sick.
I roll around, give a “two kisses” greeting to a Chilanga I sort of know and settle in for a Goose and Soda. Sixteen bucks. Not bad.
I am feeling great, and I am Custom Suited Down, so I start ripping the spot off the cord.
Number Crunch a fly Ecuadorian girl, and Number Crunch and kiss a fly Cubana. It’s on.
I take a little break, spark up a smoke, and then I see her: the flyest girl I have seen in Miami Beach. Or at least the flyest girl I have seen in a few hours.
She is tall, thin, and dancing like pop rocks mixed with Classic Coke. I catch my breath and make a move.
It is loud as f*ck, but I get her attention and whisper in her ear. She smiles. Pauses. Then unfortunately, continues dancing.
I pull out some big guns as I whisper in her ear again. She smiles. Kisses me on the cheek. Then unfortunately, continues dancing by herself.
I pull out and grab another cocktail to regroup; I look back over, this girl is fire like hillsides in Southern California during Santa Anas.
It then hits me; this girl is one of my favorite p0rnstars.
I have pretty much lost, but I kind of fancy myself as “Arturo Gatti of nightlife“, of sorts (as in, I often pull out spectacular knockouts from the brink of defeat), so I go back in.
I throw a hailmary left hook, and…miss.
She goes on dancing by herself. Unreal.
I think of pulling out the huge Bankroll I have in my pocket and “pitching” her, but I wisely decide against.
Oh well, even Arturo Gatti took losses.
Come to think of it, I think she only does lesbian p0rn these days.
Postscript:
After the p0rnstar debacle, I saw the flyest Mexicana girl smoking at the closest booth to the door with her friends. I have two Zippos in my pocket but I use The Greatest Opener of All Time.
