It’s no secret that I enjoy reading Matt Taibbi’s Rolling Stone articles so I copped his new book Griftopia and just finished reading it, which is subtitled: Bubble Machines, Vampire Squids, and the Long Con That Is Breaking America.
Taibbi’s basic view is that regular American’s are “fighting over the same 5-10 percent swatch of undecided voters, blues versus reds. Instead, the parties should be broken down into haves and have-nots – a couple of obnoxious bankers on the Upper East Side running for office against 280 million pissed-off credit card and mortgage customers.” And: “When the Republicans win elections, their voters think they’ve struck a blow against big government. And when a Democratic hero like Barack Obama wins, his supporters think they’ve won a great victory for tolerance and diversity. Even I thought that.” (Even I thought that also) And this has created a paradise for high-class thieves.
He continues: “There are really two Americas, one for the grifter class and one for everyboy else. In everybody-else land, the world of small businesses and wage-earning employees, the government is something to be avoided…In the grifter world, however, government is a lavish lapdog that the financial companies that will be the major players…use as a tool for making money.”
In the first chapter, he ginsu’s Rick Santelli, Sarah Palin, Michele Bachman and Larry Kudlow among others. He saves the greatest disses for The Tea Party (which he actually gives a balanced critique of) and explains how they are simply a pawn for the elites (“A loose definition of the Tea Party might be fifteen million pissed-ff white people sent chasing after Mexicans on Medicaid by the small handful of banks and investment companies who advertise on Fox and CNBC.”). The elites have confused the Tea Party members and Taibbi drops this gem: “The insurmountable hurdle for so-called populist movements is having the nerve to attack the rich instead of the poor. Even after the rich almost destroyed the entire golobal economy through their sheer unrestrained greed and stupidity, we can’t shake the peasant mentality that says we should go easy on them…” which is an underlying theme in The G Manifesto.
In the second chapter “The Biggest Asshole in the Universe”, Taibbi rips apart Alan Greenspan and Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged (which I have never read). He then proceeds to break down the Mortgage Scam, The Commodities Bubble, an amazing chapter on Sovereign Wealth funds and the selling off of America, the Health Care reform bait-and-switch and the American Bubble Machine.
Taibbi is a little shaky on his explanation of the commodities markets, but his conclusions are always dead on.
This is a pretty amazing and humorous book that explains what has been happening in America written by one of the best writers of our generation.
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.
Recently, I was at a Charity Gig during the Summer Blitz and separated a fly Mexican Girl dip with pretty lips and hips from her amigas as we were walking to the next venue. I popped my head into this dope lounge bar that I have on lockdown and saw one of my friends spinning that ill old-school soul and hip-hop sh*t on vinyl and suggested we stop by for a drink.
This move was two-fold: 1) We could hear some dope beats and enjoy some pro-bono cocktails and 2) I knew that the lounge had no cell phone service so when the friends of the fly Mexican girls were calling, they were going straight to voicemail.
This in turn, bought me a lot of time to spit Game and Swoop. Smooth.
Another benefit of knowing “no cell phone service” places is when you take a young American “text bonkers girl” to a restaurant, you can actually enjoy your Vino and apps (and I don’t mean Iphone apps either) in peace without the girls constantly Facebooking, Tweeting, BBMing or Texting.
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.
Now, look, I have had dope rides in my day; a mint 1963 Lincoln Continental with Suicide Doors (and I don’t mean Suits VS SuicideGirls, either), a 72 Cadillac Coupe DeVille and a 2005 Cadillac DeVille (in 2005) so I am up on what I am putting down. And I can tell you that the lion’s share of the attention you get from dope rides is from guys not girls. Usually it is some skippy “congratulating” on how “sick” you ride is followed by tales of how they “used to own” a dope ride similar. Sh*t gets tired real quick.
If you think having a dope ride will get girls stepping to you, you are in for a surprise. Even in Southern California.
Doubt me?
Next time you see a Ferrari roll by, 99 times out of 100 you are going to see it with some solo dude or some cat and his weesh buddy. Rarely if ever will you see it with a fly girl attached.
Ferrari’s and other rides at that price point simply aren’t with it in regards to swooping girls. Hell, you would need to swoop like 30,000 girls to even make it pencil out. A highly unlikely occurrence, even for the most G of International Playboys.
Another word on Ferrari’s: max you can only fit one or two girls inside. Personally, I like rides that you can fit three or four girls in, hence the need for a Lac.
Hell, when I was a young up and coming Playboy on the rise, I drove a Ford truck (mostly for low-profile purposes). Granted, I was in my heavy “transport” days and uncrowded point breaks in Norte Baja days but I still peeled fly girls like a fresh Papaya in Panama.
So what do I do these days?
Truth be told, I don’t drive much anymore. I am usually waxing too much of a headbuzz and driving is the easiest way to get yourself caught up in the “Shitstem”. Nowadays, I mostly spend my time traveling, primarily in cities where having a car is more hassle than it’s worth.
Now I never get parking tickets, get towed, get DUI’s, get busted with 100 lbs of grass in the trunk or have to pay for car washes, oil changes, new alternators, or gasoline.
If I do need a ride, I have drivers on call. My cell is literally full of town car drivers and cab drivers. In fact, the only thing I have more of in my cell, is numbers of fly girls.
I just came across this poem by Robert W. Service called “The Men That Don’t Fit In”. My Grandfather, like many Irishmen, used to recite this poem to me, among others, when I was a young cub. Check it:
There’s a race of men that don’t fit in,
A race that can’t stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
And they roam the world at will.
They range the field and they rove the flood,
And they climb the mountain’s crest;
Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,
And they don’t know how to rest.
If they just went straight they might go far;
They are strong and brave and true;
But they’re always tired of the things that are,
And they want the strange and new.
They say: “Could I find my proper groove,
What a deep mark I would make!”
So they chop and change, and each fresh move
Is only a fresh mistake.
And each forgets, as he strips and runs
With a brilliant, fitful pace,
It’s the steady, quiet, plodding ones
Who win in the lifelong race.
And each forgets that his youth has fled,
Forgets that his prime is past,
Till he stands one day, with a hope that’s dead,
In the glare of the truth at last.
He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance;
He has just done things by half.
Life’s been a jolly good joke on him,
And now is the time to laugh.
Ha, ha! He is one of the Legion Lost;
He was never meant to win;
He’s a rolling stone, and it’s bred in the bone;
He’s a man who won’t fit in.
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.
Sol Price, a retail magnate who three decades ago altered both the American landscape and the American way of shopping by founding Price Club, the first nationwide members-only discount warehouse, died on Monday at his home in La Jolla, Calif. He was 93.
With Robert, Mr. Price started the first Price Club in 1976 in a cavernous former airplane parts factory in an unfashionable part of San Diego. The business, which offered consumer goods as varied as tires, books and household appliances at extremely low prices, proved to be the leading edge in the multibillion-dollar influx of discount big-box stores, among them Costco, BJ’s Wholesale Club and Sam’s Club.
I am a couple of days late on this story, as I was busy swooping fly girls in the Caribe, getting mad shoulder rubs, while puffing on Marlboro Gold’s.
I was deeply saddened by the news of Mr. Price’s passing, as I have some ties to the family. My heart goes out to them.
A True G, top tier biz cat, Democratic powerhouse and always gave back. And did it with Style. People’s Champ if the ever was one.
The main lesson from him: Keep overhead to an absolute minimum.
You know your G when Sam Walton bites your steez:
One of the chief beneficiaries of Mr. Price’s legacy, Sam Walton, acknowledged the debt in his 1992 memoir, “Made in America” (Doubleday, 1992; with John Huey). Mr. Walton, the founder of Wal-Mart and Sam’s Club, wrote, “I guess I’ve stolen — I actually prefer the word ‘borrowed’ — as many ideas from Sol Price as from anybody else in the business.”
Thieves in Brazil have stolen more than £5m ($6m) from a cash delivery firm, taking advantage of the nation’s passion for football, police say.
Police believe the robbers
in Sao Paulo – who had dug a tunnel into the firm’s building – struck when season-ending football matches were played on Sunday.
A security guard later told local media he had heard a loud noise but thought it was fireworks lit by fans.
The theft was only discovered on Sunday evening – after the matches had ended.
Sao Paulo police allege the thieves rented a house in the area about four months ago and then painstakingly dug a 100m-long (110 yards) tunnel to the office of the company.
Officers believe the robbers struck late on Sunday afternoon – as millions of people across Brazil were watching the football season’s finale.
Firefighters later inspected the tunnel and found abandoned maps and tools, the police said.
During their stay in the house, the thieves disguised themselves as residents, even putting a Christmas tree in the window, the Globo website reported.
Like Irish G Manifesto Hall of Fame Member, Willie Sutton supposedly said, “because that’s where the money is.”
4 months, $6 million in cold CASH. Who says you can’t make money in a Down Economy?
These guys kind of took a page out of The G Manifesto Playbook. I often “heist” guy’s girlfriends while guys are watching American Football with their friends.
