In a few hours, The Del Mar Race Track begins and marks the start of the best six weeks of the year in Southern California. Well, at least it is for International Playboys.
It is no secret that I have had a long and passionate love affair with The Del Mar Race Track for years culminating in the Top Spot.
(Side note: Don’t shed a tear for me. I might be having the best summer of my life.)
Being that I am probably the most prolific writer on The Race Track Lifestyle since Damon Runyon, I have put together a definitive guide for The Del Mar Race Track for any up and comers that want to take the title.
Who knows though? Maybe I will pull one last “job”. So no slacking, or I may just come and peel your girls like Alpha-Hydroxy.
“The secret of success is making your vocation your vacation.” – Mark Twain
One thing I have learned in life is that success is The Ultimate Revenge on your rivals. That also includes anyone that has ever doubted you, held you back, or tried to slow you down.
I would like to say I don’t feel pleasure when my rivals feel pain, but I do. And it is pure torture for them when I travel the world, swoop fly girls and do it while smoking cigarettes and wearing Custom Suits when they have to sit in their cars in hellish commutes or trap themselves in excruciating relationships with weesh girls.
“Success” however must be defined differently for everyone.
Personally, I don’t play the Game of “who ever has the most money wins”. That is a losing Game to play.
Money only gets you so far. I would rather have time and freedom at the cost of a little money.
In fact, I don’t know too many out there that make as much scratch as I do and works as little as I do. It’s a good niche that International Playboys have, and they mostly fall into two camps:
1) Cats who travel tons but stay in hostels and have no cake or
The cat has taken some heat on the Internet for his work and has plenty of doubters and haters (not unlike your humble author).
This guy has mad talent and is meeting a monstrous need in today’s media landscape . And when I say “meeting a monstrous need”, I mean like a coke dealer meets a monstrous need of a Hollywood Hills Mansion after party with 20 fly girls and 4 guys in attendance at 2:30 am.
His work is basically a flame that burns within the soul of The Modern Day International Playboy: its a complex overture that delves into the psyche of the male mind; part dazzling fantasy, part demonic nightmare, part vibrant dream, part jagged reality and he mixes it and puts it in a pot like Gumbo.
Hell, he is bringing to fruition an idea I have had for many years in grand royal style that I lacked the aptitude for. My version would be a little more Drug ridden, Crime Ridden, Cigarette smoked out, Boozed out, more Street and with the machine gun sound of the speed bag and clicking of the money counter as the soundscape, but that is neither E-tab dreams nor triple beams.
(Sometimes I really do wish I was born with talent for the camera or video camera instead of talent for Smoking, Drinking, Swooping fly girls, and separating people from their money. But then again, you can’t have it all.)
He has a new video called New York Episode 1.5 – Fails, extras & pick-up tips, peep it below.
First off, anything that can hold my attention for 10 minutes is in and of itself, astonishing. But more than that, it is really entertaining. And I think young cats getting into “The Life” can learn a lot from it. Furthermore, he plays up the “player on a budget” angle, which we all know has mass appeal like Guru of Gangstarr (RIP) said.
This video is all about Pick Up Failures. Watching this reminds me of myself as a young prototype G on the rise on the beaches of Southern California.
I have said it before and I will say it again, no one, and I mean no one has gotten rejected by girls more than me.
In this video Andrew Lindy breaks down rejection. He has fun with it. Bottom line, you have to love rejection.
To the young cats reading this, it really does make you stronger. Hell, I get rejected still all the time, and guess what? It is the funniest thing to me. Especially since I know that any girl that rejects me is making the biggest mistake of her life.
Straight up, if you take yourself too seriously, and you can’t have fun when you are swooping fly girls, then The International Playboy Lifestyle is not for you.
Gentleman of Leisure: The Sharply Dressed Mysterious International Playboy
Here is the thing that escapes most about the whole International Playboy Lifestyle:
Every fly girl on Earth and I mean every fly girl on Earth will swoop on the Sharply Dressed, Mysterious, Dashing, Gentleman of Leisure at least once in her life.
It doesn’t matter if she only dates rockstars. She will swoop at least one International Playboy in her life.
It doesn’t matter if she only dates actors. She will swoop at least one International Playboy in her life.
It doesn’t matter if she only dates pro athletes. She will swoop at least one International Playboy in her life.
It doesn’t matter if she only dates suspect male models. She will swoop at least one International Playboy in her life.
It doesn’t matter if she only dates wimpsters. She will swoop at least one International Playboy in her life.
It doesn’t matter if she only dates douchebags. She will swoop at least one International Playboy in her life.
It doesn’t matter if she only dates biz cats. She will swoop at least one International Playboy in her life.
This is one of the huge advantages of The International Playboy lifestyle: its universal and timeless.
It constantly amazes me how more people aren’t on to this thing. It really is the best gig going.
That all being said, every fly girl on Earth is there for the taking.
“If your trap is attractive enough, the turbulence of your enemies’ emotions and desires will blind them to reality.” – Robert Greene, The 48 Laws of Power
“Fortune pays you sometimes for the intensity of her favors by the shortness of their duration. She soon tires of carrying any one long on her shoulders.” – Baltasar Gracián (Spanish Jesuit and baroque prose writer), 1601-1658
I feel lethal, manic, on the verge of frenzy. I am foaming at the mouth. My nose is starting to bleed. I think my mask of sanity is about to slip.
I throw down my luggage in my apartment, hang my Custom Suits and I get the call:
This Super Fly Argentinian girl, who I met at Mint and haven’t swooped yet, wants me to meet her at her clothing store. She is getting off work soon. And she and her Brazilian girlfriend want to roll out with me. There are innuendos of a Ménage à trois. The evening has promise.
I step out and roll into the CVS on Lincoln Road to grab some chicle. I roll in the line to pay, and a Fly Blonde Russian girl on her cell phone looks at me and mouths “Hi” to me. How often does that happen when a girl is talking on the phone?
I pay for my gum and step outside and light up a grit. I am feeling invincible. I have been sparring a lot. It tends to do that to me.
The Fly Blonde Russian walks out and continues up Lincoln. I quicken the pace, and open: “Do you know which way Sushi Samba is?”, I ask her. (Of course, I know where it is, but it was the first thing that came into my mind.)
“Hi. I do. It is just up there.”, the Russian girl says pointing up Lincoln.
“Wait, my name is Michael Mason.” I say and give her a “two-kisses” greeting. I spit some Street Game and Number Crunch, as I am supposed to meet the Argentinian and Brazilian girls.
Game is on though.
I keep heading up Lincoln and get a text from the Argentinian:
Most people ignore me, but some tourists look at me strange. I have a fleeting thought and quickly dismiss them as from Red States.
I need to settle down though and light another smoke. I am checking my phone and smoking, when a Fly Cubana Girl rolls up on a bicicletta. (She is 21 years old.)
She asks me for a cigarette.
Looking down at my phone, I ignore her for a few beats (real artistic), and say, “Sure.” Hand her one. Then say, “You need a light?”
“Yeah”, she says. I bust out a sick reverse Zippo trick for style points.
We start talking. She is fly. Mad fly. No make up on. But then again, I have a thing for Fly Cubanas.
I start walking with her as she rides her bike. She is kind of hipstered out. But still, stunningly fly. You know the type. Since it is kind of awkward talking to her while she is riding her bike, I say, “Let’s have a seat over here”.
I start rapping out in Spanish and English mixed with her and she tells me she is breaking up with her boyfriend.
Perfect.
I am still supposed to meet the Argentinian and the Brazilian (and I get another text), but I want to hedge my bets like only a true International Playboy does. I tell her to go home and change clothes and meet me at Sushi Samba as I have to go to a “business meeting” right now. She is down. When we part (two kisses salutation) I tell her, “Remember, high-heels and a skirt.” She replies, “I know, you don’t have to tell me.” with a pretty girl’s smile. And I haven’t seen a smile that pretty in a while. My nervous system goes haywire for a split second. A drag of nicotine sparks my synapses and mellows me.
My mind is the enigma filled with broken pictures. The spiritual International Playboy can see clearer now.
I move up Lincoln and get another text from the Argentinian. I respond back, “Almost there”.
I finally get to the Argentinian and Brazilian. They are looking dope. But everything is off. I can’t get the young Cubana out of my mind.
I split as they are both being too difficult.
I roll into Sushi Samba and lock the place down as per usual. I met a cool Argentinian kid from Cordoba at the bar and we both start spitting mad Game at all the fly girls rolling by.
I shoot a text to the Cubana:
“Buisness meeting went perfect. Come meet me at Sushi Samba to celebrate”. (Smooth text).
She responds back right away, “Yaa! Getting out of the shower. See you there soon.”
It’s on. Got to like a girl that loves your success. And Glad I hedged my bets like Kyle Bass.
When she arrives, she is a vision of youthful beauty. She looks like a Cubana Pin-Up Model (which actually happens to be her job). We enter through the side door, as I have the doorman on lock. Her her vibe goes from romantic expectation to dreamy absorption to erotic playfulness quicker than a Salsa dance in Havana.
She has shed the hipster clothes and looks stunning in high heels like all Miami girls do.
We hit it off in dope style. She digs the young-dashing-handsome-mysterious-false grinning-soft spoken-with a wild side-well dressed-millionaire-smuggler type vibe that I give off. Like all Miami girls do.
She knows the DJ and tells him to play this track, which just came out at the time:
She dances by herself for me as every guy in Sushi Samba is checking her out. I stand at the bar, smoking a grit, Custom Suited Down; the envy of every guy in Sushi Samba.
She can really dance.
We get a few more drinks and split. She gives a little resistance, but I come with the “Above is the black poison clouds, You only got one life so enjoy it now” type illmatic Futuristic Game that even top players will finally catch on to in 5-10 years. So I’m not really sweating it.
On my exit, I shake a bunch of hands; guys giving me props, and people I know.
Am I Apostle or Beast? Either way, I am Colossal on Streets.
We get to my apartment. The key goes in the door and
Possibly the greatest of all, was Carlos Monzón. For the young up-and-coming G’s on the rise out there who don’t know their International Playboy history, Carlos Monzón was arguably the greatest middleweight Champion of all time, along with other G Manifesto Hall of Fame Members, Marvin Hagler and Sugar Ray Robinson.
Not suprisingly, Carlos Monzón was also a top notch International Playboy and traveled the world with Argentine and Italian models and actresses.
Let’s break down this G a little as there is a lot to learn from Carlos Monzón:
On Carlos Monzón’s Stamina and Training Habits:
Monzon’s stamina was probably his most impressive and illogical asset, since he was ever bit as proficient as Stanley Ketchel and Harry Greb at taking the rule book and throwing it out of the window. Ketchel invariably whiled away his leisure time by drinking and whoring out on the old Barbary Coast. Greb was a walking encyclopaedia on the best nightclubs and pool halls in any given town.
Monzon kept his body beautiful in trim by resting it horizontally against any passably attractive woman and by blow-torching his lungs with up to a hundred cigarettes a day. His nicotine intake would decrease by an impressive fifty a day when he got down to serious training, including a few smokes on the run to relieve the tedium of roadwork.
Author George Diaz Smith wrote of Carlos, “A guy like Ricardo Mayorga (another G Manifesto Hall of Fame Member) would be a novice compared to the likes of the iron lunged Monzon. Nobody could figure this out. For all of the years that I’d seen him, Monzon never gasped for air, tired or opened his mouth gagging for oxygen in any round.”
“There was an arrogance, even an insolence about Monzon. He carried himself like a winner. I was in the office of the promoter, Rodolfo Sabbatini in Rome with my wife of the time when Monzon strolled in, impeccable in a white suit, bronzed skin, smoking a cigarette, looking as if he had walked in off the set of a Federico Fellini film.
“He was a very cool looking guy and obviously a man absolutely full of confidence. He was one of those boxers who entered the ring as if he KNEW he was going to win, just a matter of how he did it.
“Although very good at long range, Monzon could bring up shorter punches. My memory tells me that he really hurt Jose Napoles with a right to the body in Paris. Although that fight was officially stopped because Napoles was cut, believe me, Angelo Dundee was glad to get his guy out of there because Jose was starting to get destroyed.”
When Monzon shocked the boxing world by winning the World Middleweight Title by knocking out Nino Benvenuti, people rubbed their heads and said, “Carlos Who?!” Fame and fortune were now his. His ego and temper grew. Even though he was married, he had countless romances on the side. Actress Suzanna Gimenez was seen with him. Monzon acted in eight Italian and French films, including starring in the movie, EL MACHO. He jet-setted with movie star Alain Delon. He kept winning and winning. He survived a gun shot to the shoulder from his wife; an accident they said.
He was accused of breaking a reporter’s jaw. He was friendly only with the elite of the elite. He had a soft spot for Bennie Briscoe and always greeted his arch-rival with a big smile and firm handshake. He retired undefeated over the last thirteen years of his career. In retirement boredom set in and so did his demons. Caught up in the party lifestyle, it came crashing down when he was convicted of killing his common-law-wife.
I like the fellow
who in the heat of battle
was able to plant our flag
in the toughest terrain.
Champion in his game,
confident in his ability, he saw the vultures grouping,
chased them with his hat
and seared them with his poncho.
If you go forward tenaciously
you’ll struggle through with your message,
even though your wagon gets stuck
and the cattle crush you. There’s nothing wrong with the man
who wears out his knife
defending his honor.
The coward hands it over to the police
without ever taking it out of its sheath.
Here’s to you, Carlos Monzon.
one hundred percent Santafesino.
the new world champion.
Strength, fists and heart.
From this old tree, for you a prize of honey
and a laurel wreath. From your tent a cry of victory,
a woman’s hand in yours,
and a carnation pinned to your lapel.
Finally a G (International Playboy) in a Modern Movie
One of the things that hurts the modern International Playboy is that International Playboys are not represented in Modern day cinema. Men in movies today are always weesh (no wonder I don’t hardly ever sit through modern day movie garbage).
This hurts us, since we don’t have “The Hollywood Effect” in our favor, that is, girls today have no frame of reference for us modern day International Playboys.
Well, here is a movie with a G:
The movie is called The Buisness, it it is well worth buying.
The part played by Charlie was so realistically done, that I had to do some research on the cat, because no actor ponce could play an International Playboy so convincingly.
Turns, out, the actor, Tamer Hassan, was a boxer, owns a boxing gym (or did) and owned nightclubs before he was acting.
I knew it, the guy has a background similar to my own; no wonder he could play the role of being an International Playboy. Because he was one in real life.
It is also interesting to note, that the cat looks kind of like me. Or at least what I will probably look like in 10-15 years.
A few months ago, I was rolling with my Corporate friend and he had to go to South Coast Plaza to pick up a suit and some shoes. I told him he should just go Custom with my tailor, but him being a Corporate guy, he is kind of a cheapskate. But that is neither here nor there, and I decided to roll with.
While he grabbed an Armani suit (which was actually not bad, nothing compared to the handmade craftsmenship of my my tailor though), I decided to dip into Gucci and picked up a pair of Gucci Slides (pictured above, although the ones I grabbed were dark brown), even though I prefer handmade shoes from London these days.
So far I have been happy with the purchase.
I have swooped a fly girl everytime I have worn them so far: I went 1-0 in Los Angeles, 2-0 in Palm Beach, FL, 2-0 in Buenos Aires and 2-0 in Miami Beach. Decent.
(Side Note: I am only counting nights where I swooped a fresh girl. I am not counting nights I wore them and swooped a girl I already swooped. I don’t want to “pad” the record, so to speak).
The price tag? 5 bills. But knowing what I know now, I would have easily paid double.
I would strongly recommend picking up a pair or three, although I think they are discontinued. I anticipate they should work great for summer in coastal Spain at the topless beaches and for The Del Mar Racetrack.
Keep in mind though, I am not sure if these Gucci Loafers were 100% of the reason I went undefeated. It is really kind of hard to track. Furthermore, I have been feeling great lately (minus a health scare), traveling, making mad CASH, sparring heavy, and I have been doing it all in Custom Suits. So you could say I am on a roll, and I don’t mean E-tabs either.
These days, I can pretty much tell any top flight actor, musician or athelete to f*ck off with lifestyle.
I am a pretty big advocate of the International Playboy lifestyle choice.
I am mildly surprised more people out there aren’t embracing it.
Luckily, I got a guy in New York that I know, so everything worked out great.
However, I cannot stress enough how important it is to have a Cobbler on Lock.
Just yesterday, I dropped off four pairs of shoes to my guy for his old world craftsmanship and hung out with him for a while to hear stories of the old country. I even spoke a little Italian to him. (For style points, of course.)
The result:
Tax free purchases (paid in CASH of course) Pro-Bono Shoe Shines Multiple Pro-Bono hole punches in my belt (I have been really getting into tip top shape spending time at the newly re-opened Legendary 5th Street Gym in Miami Beach and Sparring in Bogotá)
Plus I got to hear some stories of back when America was great (pre-skinny jeans, pre-glittery shirts, pre-Bottle Service, pre-smoking bans, you know, back when there was freedom) and support a dying art in a country that forgot what quality is.
