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
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.
Swooping fly girls at the 7-11, is just like mountain climbing: you have to put your time in.
What my old school crew and I would do is park the drop top Cadillac at our local 7-11 and just post up. Thankfully, there was a bar next door to our local 7-11 so girls would always come out of the bar to buy smokes or some crap.
We were just like crocodiles in wait for zebras, girls would come up and we would bite like the crocs do in The Gremeti River, Serengeti, Tanzania. “Crocodile Game” if you will.
Chronic Smokes and 40oz Dreams
In between girls rolling up, my crew and I would just chill, take monster hits of Chronic and take huge pulls of well concealed 40 oz bottles.
You would be surprised how many fly rich beach girls would open us with, “Do you have any more weed?”
Game on. Then we would just transform into the Original Game Spitta.
It amazes me how you hardly ever see young G’s chilling out in the open smoking Chronic and Drinking Malt Liquor any more. I really don’t know what is wrong with kids these days. Maybe it’s the video games. Maybe it’s Facebook. Who really knows?
Either way, if I saw kids posting, smoking and drinking at a 7-11 today, I would probably throw them on the pay roll and mold them for the future.
We can always use more International Playboys of The Apocalypse.
Anyways, I am starting to confuse myself.
Before I get too off track, here is a little story from back in the day when fly girls hit me on the Pager like my name was Stojaković to explain how it’s done:
I was chilling with my clicka at our local 7-11 smoking Chronic and drinking St. Ides when we saw a super fly girl get into an argument with her boyfriend outside the bar next door. It got pretty heated and the guy walked away in a huff.
The girl was older (about 27-28 I am guessing) and a mad fly blonde girl. Dressed to the nines.
The super fly girl rolled up to the 7-11 and she walked right past us and ignored my advances.
My homeboys were heckling me because I blew it. Or so they thought.
I just leaned back against the Cadillac and re-sparked up another Chronic Roach.
I could tell she was pretty heated from the argument with the guy earlier, but she had a very seductive and enchanting look in her eyes.
As I killed my Chronic Jay, she asked me with dilated pupils, “Do you have any more weed, I could really use some right now”.
Although we were all holding Chron (as always), I replied half jokingly since she dissed me earlier, “I do, but it is at my crib close by.”.
I thought she was going to laugh and diss me again, (keep in mind this girl was hotter than Venice Beach asphalt in summertime in a long form fitting dress and high heels) but she said, “Let’s go. Your driving.” and threw me her keys.
I looked at the keys: Porsche
Smooth. (And not one of those lame ones. A legit one. Payed for by her boyfriend no doubt).
I grabbed her hand and I replied, “Let’s roll” and started walking away while giving a wink to my crew who all were flabbergasted.
We rolled to the G-Spot, for a smoke session and swoop session. Illmatic.
Still maybe the best blower of my life. (And not to sound cocky or anything, but she has long competition to be measured up against, so to speak).
She needed me to drop her and her ride off, so we split.
As we pulled out of my block, I passed my friends rolling back from the 7-11 and gave them a loud honk as they gave me the “jealousy finger”.
We rolled a few miles into the sickest houses in the hood by the beach. I am talking don’t even step unless you have $3 mill min. (And that was in those days, nowadays, some go for $25 mill an up, of course).
We pulled up to a super sick crib and she said, “This is it…”
2. On that note, always tell girls when they come to meet you to wear high heels and a skirt. If a girl meets me with Ugg Boots and skinny jeans, I don’t care how fly she is, I am ditching her. I have an image to uphold after all. And I have to draw the line somewhere.
3. Find a good spot. The beach. A park. An alley. A Mediterranean courtyard or Veranda. Use “views” to your advantage. Read A View To A Swoop, for a full breakdown.
4. Swoop. Just bust it out. Keep an eye out for Cops though. Especially in The California Police State.
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.)
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
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)
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
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
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
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
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
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
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.
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.
“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.
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.
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.
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
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.