Yesterday Marc Faber first made a guest appearance at the Ira Sohn conference, warning his audience to prepare for war, then promptly shifted to Bloomberg’s offices where he discussed his outlook primarily on China, but also on the US, with Carol Massar, once again warning about war. As usual, he did not mince his words, warning of a “recession”, and predicting that China is simply not growing fast enough in real terms. Nothing new. He did however branch out into the topic of class divergence in both emerging and developed economies: “in front of far too many luxury hotels there are far too many Ferraris, Maseratis, Bentleys… I see a boom everywhere, except for the working class, except for the lower, middle class. But among the well to do people the wealth that is floating around and the prices you pay for high end properties is incredible, and I think that will come to an end, and a lot of people will lose a lot of money… I was in La Jolla, Laguna Beach, Newport Beach, I was in front of a restaurant smoking and I’ve never seen so many Ferraris, Maseratis, Bentleys and fancy cars anywhere in the world, and this is in America. I am not saying this is wrong, but there is an opulence among a small group of people that is huge when there are lots of people that are struggling. This gives me a bad feeling because I’ve seen so many emerging economies when they were booming, that was the time to get out.” As for the US economy, Faber agrees that the only thing that can help is a massive crisis (or “conflagration” as David Stockman calls it) that jars America out of its hypnotic state. And, sure enough, it will come.
There is a lot of talk out there today about Fame VS Game. Although, I exist in the shadows, shun the spotlight and value my privacy (especially in my line of work), and a huge proponent of Game, I have had some run-ins with Fame.
Let me drop a little freestyle:
MC in Newport Beach
Back when I was a puerile pro-type G, I was partying at a nightclub in Newport Beach. Most likely in those days, I was there all vato’d out, moving some beans like an accountant. It was a typical Newport Beach night; fly girls, wack guys, weesh nightspot. You know the pill.
Anyways, I think there was some wack band (a real tragedy, and I don’t mean Juice Crew, I mean what the word defines) performing or some crap, I can’t really remember, and thankfully, there was a lull in the action. During this “lull”, the DJ surprisingly enough, started spinning a pretty dope beat. My running partner at the time and I both had a light bulb go off at the exact same time.
We both jumped on stage, grabbed the Mic’s and started moving the crowd with lyrical flows, flavor loops like Toucan Sam, iller, and started catching wreck like Godliza:
“Now to the peeps in the back, if you’re not the wack, say
[don’t stop with the body rock]
Now all the people in the front, if you’re ready to bump, say
[don’t stop with the body rock] “
My running partner and I were busting freestyle raps, precious like artifacts.
We were putting “the hip” in “hop” and the “don’t” in “stop” and the clips in glocks
and rock boxing your block.
The mad matador of metaphor ripped the hard core for him and his, them and theirs, and you and yours.
We even dropped some lyrics about Taco Shops and Quesadillas with extra Guac.
Whenever I would run out of lyrics, I would just bust some old Big Daddy Kane:
“Rappers stepping to me,
they want to get some,
But I’m the G, so yo, you know the outcome, Another victory, They can’t get with me,
So pick a BC date cause you’re history”
And so on.
Keep in mind, this was Newport Beach; it was probably one of the first times people even heard Hip-Hop. There was minimal risk of anyone noticing I was biting lyrics.
At first there was stunned looks on the faces of the crowd, but as my running partner and I were flowing back and forth with style unseen since the days of a young Ad-Rock and Mike D, and interspersing shout outs to our crew, we started to move the crowd.
That is, until the club owner pulled the plug. (I guess the wack band coming on next was getting bitter that we cold served them.)
My running partner and I then jumped off the stage into the crowd and a curious thing happened: We were literally mobbed and I mean mobbed by girls. Introductions, hugs and kisses all around. It was kind of ill. We were Eminem before Em was Marshall Mathers.
Thinking back, I am surprised I didn’t forgo my budding Standover career for a career in Hip-Hop. Financially, with all the problems the music industry is having these days; I think I made the correct decision.
