“My old man wrote me a letter from prison once. It said, ‘if you don’t want to end up like me, stay away from Crime, Women and Drugs‘. Problem is, it don’t leave you much else to do, does it?” – The Business – a Nick Love movie
“It’s better to be someone for a day, than no one for a lifetime”.
Writer and former graffiti tagger Roger Gastman has turned his love of the spray arts into a lifelong career. At 19, he sold graffiti supplies, later founded a boutique media agency that specializes in street culture, and as a 33-year-old, co-authored “The History of American Graffiti” with graffiti artist Caleb Neelon. The book chronicles the history of graffiti in more than 25 cities. Most recently, Gastman co-curated an exhibition at the Los Angeles Museum of Contemporary Art (MoCA) entitled “Art in the Streets.” It’s the first major U.S. museum survey of graffiti and street art. Speakeasy spoke with Gastman about graffiti as art and his book.
The Wall Street Journal: I understand you have first-hand experience with graffiti. Where did you paint?
Roger Gastman: I ran around Washington D.C. area in the early 90s to the mid-2000s, which is how I met many of the people featured in the book. I did traditional letter-based graffiti, painting freight trains, subways and various spots around the city. Then I would travel a lot to meet other writers and paint in their spots. Go to see a concert in Milwaukee for a long weekend and paint some graffiti while I was there.
When you say “writers,” that’s what you call other graffiti artists, right?
Yeah, local graffiti artists.
How did you get your start as a “writer?”
I grew up listening to hardcore punk rock music. Everybody I met had a tag, and I thought, well, I guess I need to also. So I started writing graffiti. It was all related to the music and straight edge [subculture of hardcore punk that advocates abstinence from drugs and alcohol]. Little did I know it’s part of a much larger world. Lot of my friends got into trouble and got into something else. For whatever reason, I stuck with it.
Your co-author mentions loving the adrenaline rush. How much of graffiti is done for the thrill of it?
There’s all kinds of different adrenaline rushes attached to it. From doing a really sketchy spot and getting away from it to seeing the underpass where you did a piece of graffiti or getting a photo three months after you painted something on the side of a freight train from across the country, in the mail from a friend.
Have you ever worked in the “heavens?” I know taggers in Los Angeles will lower themselves from freeway overpasses so they can scrawl their names on freeway signs.
No, but the bigger the city, the more daredevil tactics and crazier people have to do to get noticed. Everybody is doing it for a different reason and they all have different skill sets. Some people are just taggers and not artists. Just scrawling their names across something is maybe their way to feel validated.
What’s the difference between taggers and street artists?
The name taggers is a derogatory word for graffiti writer. A tagger is typically a much younger and inexperienced person who doesn’t fully understand the entire culture and just wants to scribble their name.
So, tagging is basically how new street artists cut their teeth?
Absolutely, like A ball in baseball.
Your book is divided by city. Can you see the regional differences in the work?
The work is definitely different city by city. Especially up to the late 90s. Then, city styles become much more diluted due to magazines, digital photography and definitely due to the Internet.
Since I have been back in The States, I have been putting a bunch of international biz deals together. The downside of this is I have to hang out with a bunch of corporate heads as I am trying to tap into some of that corporate long money with distance.
So, earlier, I am rolling with this corporate cat and this track comes on the radio:
Corporate cat then say to me, “You know, I have always loved that song, but I have no idea what the rappers are saying. Especially that last guy rapping”. (The Notorious B.I.G.)
I respond, “You are kidding right.”
“No, am I being serious. What are they talking about?” says Corporate cat.
This completely blew my mind. I never knew people like this existed but I guess they do.
I started to explain a little of it to him, but I couldn’t stop laughing as I explained each part.
So for the others out there in this same predicament as that corporate cat, here is the translation below (my translation for corporate heads in bold).
Uhh, uhhh
B.I.G., P-O, P-P-A
No info, for the, D-E-A
Federal agents mad cause I’m flagrant
Tap my cell, and the phone in the basement
Translation:
Here he is introducing himself to the listener by name and what he is all about.
For instance, he is letting you know that if the Drug Enforcement Agency contacts him, he is not going to give them any information about his potential involvement in illegal drug sales.
Which is a distinct possibility since he regularly breaks the law, and does it with style, so the Feds have already have made him a target and knows who he is.
The Feds have even gone as far as putting him under surveillance.
My team supreme, stay clean
Triple beam lyrical dream, I be that
Cat you see at all events bent
Gats in holsters girls on shoulders
Translation:
However, thus far, his co-workers have not been apprehended. The reason they have not been apprehended is they are the best in their chosen line of work.
Regardless, he is the epitome of a poet that is also a top notch character in the drug game
You might have even seen him before, if you are invited to big social events and he was probably the guy at the party who was inebriated on Marijuana and/or alcohol
He is ready for action at all times, and has no problem with the opposite sex.
Playboy, I told ya, bein mice to me
Bruise too much, I lose, too much
Step on stage the girls boo too much
I guess it’s cause you run with lame dudes too much
Translation:
Now he is talking about someone else who is not as cool as him and who’s co-workers and friends are not as smooth as him and his associates.
Me lose my touch, never that
If I did, ain’t no problem to get the gat
Where the true players at?
Throw your rollys in the sky
Wave em side to side and keep their hands high
While I give your girl the eye, player please
Translation:
Here he is saying he could never be like that other guy who is not as cool as him.
But if he ever fell off his lofty perch, he would have no problem fighting his way back on top. Even using violence if necessary.
He is asking other successful people to celebrate the fact that they are sinister and successful by displaying material wealth, in this case, waving their Rolex watches in the air and from left to right.
He is also saying that he could take your girlfriend from you if he so desired.
Lyrically, niggaz see, B.I.G.
be flossin jig on the cover of Fortune
Five double oh, get the phone number
your name, I got to know, I got to go
Got the flow down pizat, platinum plus
Like thizat, dangerous
on trizack, leave your ass blizzack
Translation:
Here he is saying that he is living a life of luxury and it’s easy for other people to notice.
His lifestyle and wealth are akin to a corporate CEO that is on the annual list compiled and published by Fortune magazine that ranks the top 500 U.S. closely held and public corporations
Now he is saying again that he gets girls phone numbers but he is busy (presumably with other girls) so he can’t stick around and chit-chat
He finishes up by saying that he is an expert in poetry, selling multiple millions of copies of his records, displays his skill on every song he puts out and he will also shoot you if he has to.
DJ Greyboy breaks down his thoughts on Music, Samples and Vinyl. Fast forward to 1:59 if you don’t want to hear about BMX. The young DJ’s out there need to listen to this:
If you are anything like me, you have a tough time watching crap American movies. I can’t even remember the last one I sat down and watched.
Recently, I saw Johnny Mad Dog. Its pretty dope and it’s filmed in that manner that makes it look like a documentary although it isn’t. Without ruining it, it is about Child Soldiers in Liberia. These kids are heavy and make the droogs in A Clockwork Orange look like a bunch of accountants on a work retreat.
Johnny Mad Dog is the leader of a crew that terrorizes, plunders and pillages towns all the while doing drugs, drinking booze and dressing in crazy gear (which I am guessing is the height of fashion for the Child Soldier set).
Peep it. It is the best movie I have seen all year.
May 1st is a big day and the official start to the summer on The G Manifesto Calendar with The Kentucky Derby and Floyd Mayweather VS Sugar Shane Mosley.
Here is how you always can win at the Racetrack:
Your Running Partner must be short, like jockey short.
Find your mark in the crowd. The good thing is, The Racetrack has never had a shortage of suckers looking for “inside tips” and “sure things” as long as you have a little Street Sense (And I don’t mean 2007 Derby winner Street Sense, either).
Approach the mark, Custom Suited Down (very important) and introduce yourself all Charismatic-like (And I don’t mean 1999 Derby winner Charismatic, either) . “My name is Michael Mason”, shake the mark’s hand. “What horses are you betting on?”
(Actually, use an alias or an AKA, and just so its straight, my AK was my AKA since before I learned my ABC’s and the courts sent me to AA and NA, and now it’s all A-OK, Ok?)
The mark usually says something like, “Not sure yet, have you got any picks?”
Say, “No, I wish.” Then look around and say, “Wait, do you see that guy over there?”, while pointing to your running partner/“Jockey” who is busy writing down figures on a of paper.
The mark will usually say something like, “Yeah, I see him. Who is he?”
Reply, “That is XXXX XXXXXX, the famous jockey. He works with Bob Baffert.” (Always insert the name of a famous trainer.)
Then get the mark thinking: “I wonder what he is working on?”
The mark will say, “Me too”.
“If only there was a way we could meet him…Screw it, let’s go talk with him.”
“Good idea”.
To the jockey, “Hi, Michael Mason, we were wondering what you were working on.”
“Um, I was just figuring out how much money I could make today”, the jockey says.
The mark will usually take it from there, “How do you know you will win?”
Then the jockey will lower his voice Real Quiet and say, “I know I am going to win because I am racing. You two gentleman look like you can be trusted, but it must be strictly confidential. Ok? My boss is going to make a killing, and he let me have a piece of the action”. (And I don’t mean 1998 Derby winner Real Quiet, either).
Then say, “You wouldn’t mind sharing a little info would you?”
Jockey says, “I can’t do that. No way. I always keep my word to the boss. If I leak the info, it will affect the odds. And my boss always puts his bets in at the last minute.”
The mark is usually hooked with Greed at this time and will usually spew something like, “Damn. I thought you might have a tip for us.”
Then say, “How about this, if you won’t tell us the horses, can you make bets for us when you do?”
The jockey will consider this for a little bit, and say, “Sure, but I still can’t tell you the name of the horses.”
Say, “That’s ok, I just want to hit a big bet, and here is $8,000.”
The mark will inevitably say, “Here is my $7,500.”
Jockey says, “Ok, I will meet you in The Turf Club after the sixth.”
Leave with the mark, and enthusiastically get a “celebratory” cocktail. Hell, even buy it. And go for gin. (And I don’t mean 1994 Kentucky Derby winner Go for Gin, either).
Give the mark the slip.
There you go, that’s how you always win at The Kentucky Derby. Old-school hustler style.
Sans armes, Ni haine, Ni violence
See you there.
If you like to go a more conventional route and bet on The Kentucky Derby, listen to NW DC’s Andy Beyer:
“In the Kentucky Derby, more than any other race, pace is often a crucial determinant. When the pace is moderate — if, say, the first half-mile is run in 47 seconds or thereabouts — the early leaders often seize a tactical advantage. But every time the first half-mile of the Derby has been run in 45.4 seconds or faster, the pace has taken a destructive toll on all of the early pacesetters. After a 45.38 half-mile in 2005, the leaders collapsed, and the horses running 18-6-11-19 at the four-furlong mark wound up finishing 1-2-3-4, with Giacomo winning at 50 to 1. In 2001, when the pace was 44.86, the three early leaders wound up finishing 13th, 14th and 16th in the field of 17 as Monarchos and other stretch-runners dominated the race.
In a field in which it is hard to muster an ironclad conviction, Ice Box offers the best betting value. Based on the assumption that all the speed horses in the Derby will collapse, my play will be an exacta box of Ice Box and Lookin At Lucky.”
I was there to see Ice Box win at The Florida Derby. Impressive horse.
If you want to go by the “name system” and want a long shot, go with Paddy O’Prado and Jockey Kent Desormeaux.
I haven’t really been keeping up with these as I have been busy swooping fly girls in Cartagena, and despite the description of the Heistman in the Hollywood heist, “The man, described as well dressed and with slicked-back hair”, and “smooth manner and debonair appearance” my ski mask has remained in my dresser drawer as of late.
Daring Heist at Poker Tournament in Germany
A heavily armed group stormed a poker tournament in a German luxury hotel Saturday afternoon and made off with a jackpot, a police spokesman said.
Several participants at the tournament in Berlin’s Grand Hyatt hotel were slightly injured when they panicked and fled following the daring afternoon heist, Carsten Mueller said.
German Poker Tournament Robbers Still on the Run
Mueller said four robbers in disguises forced employees to hand over money, and then managed to escape. Mueller declined to give details, including how much money the men got away with.
The jackpot for the tournament stood at euro1 million ($1.36 million), according to a European Poker Tour Web site. The EPT confirmed the heist on the event’s blog in an official statement, saying there had been ”an armed robbery executed by six men.” It was unclear why the number differed from the police count.
Four Seasons Robbery: Billionaire In Town For Oscars Robbed In Hotel
A well-dressed man who talked his way into a Florida sugar baron’s hotel room and stole tens of thousands of dollars worth of jewelry is believed to be the same person who pulled similar scams on a Mexican soccer team, a salsa band and an Israeli basketball team when they visited Los Angeles, police said Tuesday.
The man, described as well dressed and with slicked-back hair, posed as a Four Seasons hotel employee when he struck up a conversation in an elevator on Friday with Jose Pepe Fanjul and his wife, Emilia, according to police. Later that night, he showed up at the couple’s room and told them he needed to fix a problem with an air vent. After he left, they discovered more than $45,000 in jewels missing.
“I haven’t seen any pictures yet but I’ve had many calls and I’ve had a description, and his appearance and M.O. sounds very much like a man we’re calling Ricco Suave,” said police Lt. Paul Vernon.
Authorities gave him that nickname because of his smooth manner and debonair appearance, he said.
In a Hollywood-style heist, thieves cut a hole in the roof of a warehouse, rappelled inside and scored one of the biggest hauls of its kind — not diamonds, gold bullion or Old World art, but about $75 million in antidepressants and other prescription drugs.
The pills — stolen from the pharmaceutical giant Eli Lilly & Co. in quantities big enough to fill a tractor-trailer — are believed to be destined for the black market, perhaps overseas.
“This is like the Brink’s pill heist,” said Erik Gordon, a University of Michigan business professor who studies the health care industry. “This one will enter the folklore.”
The thieves apparently scaled the brick exterior of the warehouse in an industrial park in Enfield, a town about midway between Hartford and Springfield, Mass., during a blustery rainstorm before daybreak Sunday. After lowering themselves to the floor, they disabled the alarms and spent at least an hour loading pallets of drugs into a vehicle at the loading dock, authorities said.
“Just by the way it occurred, it appears that there were several individuals involved and that it was a very well planned-out and orchestrated operation,” Enfield Police Chief Carl Sferrazza said. “It’s not your run-of-the-mill home burglary, that’s for sure.”
Experts described it as one of the biggest pharmaceutical heists in history.
For 20 years, investigators have been chasing down hundreds of leads. They’ve interviewed countless witnesses all over the world, and still the central questions remain: where is the art and who did it?
What happened on March 18th, 1990 at Boston’s Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum? A a new portrait is now emerging about the famous heist, with some tantalizing details.
Investigators say at precisely 1:24 a.m., two men disguised as policemen knocked on the side door of the museum, saying they were called to look into a disturbance. The night watchman let them in.
Once inside, the thieves handcuffed both of the guards on duty, tied them up with duct tape and then, with free reign of the museum, they went to work.
But the question remains, who is behind the biggest art heist in history? Over the years there have been wild theories. Was it a fugitive mob boss? An eccentric art collector? Or just the work of local criminals?
“There are so many good suspects, it’s like an Agatha Christie novel where everybody’s sitting in the living room and everyone has a particular motive as to why they committed the crime,” says Kelly.
On the case for eight years, Kelly says DNA testing is now in play, but he won’t reveal details.
The Boston Globe reports that investigators may be analyzing the duct tape used to silence the guards. If there’s sweat on the tape, there’s a possibility of a DNA match, and the break investigators have been hoping for all these years.
The FBI has taken out ads, placing billboards on the highway, offering a $5 million reward for any information that leads to the safe return of the artwork.
There are two crimes in the matter: the actual theft of the artwork, for which the statute of limitations ran out in 1995.
And then, there’s the second crime: possession of stolen art. There is no statute of limitations on that, which is why the U.S. Attorney’s Office is now offering immunity. Prosecutors say if someone comes forward with the art, all will be forgiven.
I have said it before, and I will say it again: I have never been one to play a “big shot”, it’s just the styles I got, that keep my Game hot.
And I am a pretty humble cat. I readily admit where my Game has flaws. I have said before that my Tech Game is slack. And I have mentioned previously that my IPhone, Twitter and Facebook Game are sub-par. And I have admitted that my Text Message Game is a glaringly faulty.
Here is another area where I haven’t done as well as I thought I could have: Swooping Fly West Coast Hipster Girls.
Now, don’t get it twisted, I have swooped tons of these girls. Probably more than whomever the hell the top hipster guy is. Still, my resume is a little spotty, unlike say my track record VS Exotic Dancers or wealthy daughters of Eastern European Oligarchs or wealthy hijas of Latin Society. In those areas, my win-loss record is the stuff of legends. Kind of similar, to Rocky Marciano.
Anyways, being a patron of the arts, I went to this Hipster/Wimpster Art gig a few weeks back.
Instead of going with my usual Custom Suit wearing, Zippo Clacking, Thick Bankrolling self (which I diagnosed as one of my issues with swooping these girls) I decided to switch up speeds like Bruce Lee driving the Fuji in the movie.
As I got dressed for the gig, I threw on some plaid pants that I had Custom Made (think Drugstore Cowboy, not Fuzzy Zoeller), an argyle type sweater I picked up in Milan, and an Italian Leather Jacket I grabbed in London.
Keep in mind, I have no idea if this is how a hipster “male” dresses, but they were the only things in my wardrobe that were pseudo “hipster like”.
Fast forward to the Art gig.
I viddy a couple of young fly hipster girls smoking some grits and I use it as an opportunity to ask for a light even though I have two Dunhill lighters in my pocket.
They ask me what I do for a living.
I respond, “I am a solopreneur.”
They ask me where I live.
I say, “In those new condos in XXXXXXX, by that ‘Starchitect‘ named XXXXX XXXXXX.”
They ask where I got my plaid pants.
I don’t tell them I got them Custom made and simply respond, “Vintage”.
The two girls are digging my steez. Although, when one hipster girl pointed to a Wimpster guy and said, “I hate that guy, I ‘de-Friended’ him” and I responded, “You should twitter that”, they kind of looked at me funny.
Regardless, I invite the flyer of the two West Coast Hipster Girls over to the makeshift bar sponsored by some weird Vodka company at the art gig as the other West Coast Hipster girl starting talking to some Wimpster guy.
Things were going smooth.
I almost blew the whole heist though, when I pulled out a huge 4 G Bankroll out of my pocket to pay for the weird Acai Vodka and sodas.
The fly hipster girl looked at me strange, but in a heads up play, I quickly asked her, “Is this Vodka Artisanal?” “Or is it an organic farm to table free-range Vodka?” and got her off the subject of my cashroll.
After some more small talk, kissing her, more drinks, meeting a bunch of Wimpsters, a venue change and at one point, I even made myself cringe when I said, “I really have become a Locavore, of sorts…lately”. I finally maneuvered myself back to the fly hipster girls crib.
Cartagena data sheets coming soon. Till then, I will be getting mad shoulder rubs, drinking Aguila, shooting Aguardiente, putting together export deals, banging out salsa, grinding arepas con queso, all the while dressed in the lightest of fabrics.
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
