I’m walking back to my hood after a heavy happy hour (das right, I didn’t drive this time!). As I’m approaching Harlem, this brotha is holding down a block rappin into a mic which is projecting from an old school boombox. He gives me a nod, so I politely return the gesture. The rest follows likewise:
Rapper - aye mang, w’sup?
Me - Nothin, just walking home.
Rapper - aye mang, I know you diggin my rhymes, let me hookchu up wit a cd.
Me - Nah mang, I’m on my way home.
Rapper - Whatcho name bro?
Me - CFAvsMBA, what’s yours?
At that moment he busts out a black magic sharpie marker and signs the cd case implying now I’d have to buy it. I shake my head in disgust and keep walking. From behind I hear all sorts of begging like, “C’mon man, I signed dis for you, just kick a coupla bucks my way. Help a brotha out. I’m cold and my keedz is hungry. Etc.” I kept walking and arrived to my pad in Harlem a few minutes later.
I could see a stunt like dis working well in a touristy part of town, not in the local ghetto where homies know better.
Peace.
(Jcole, I’ll hit you up, I need a new email address to get at you from. I can’t remember the password for my junkmail based address).
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Nearly Hustled Part 2.
So I had to pay a parking ticket yesterday. I took off from lunch and paid straight cash direct at the Queens Borough Courthouse.
For lunch, I decided to go to Hot & Tasty, aka Hot Tasty Bakery Coffee, for a bagel with cream cheese. I decided it was a good idea to eat outside of Queens Borough Hall as the sun was out and I was trying to avoid the stuffy waiting room as much as I could. As I’m unwrapping my lunch, a future convict out on bail, and/or possibly a gang member supporting a homey facing a bid, struts up to me aggressively from across Queens Boulevard. The ensuing conversation (if you include slang as I had to break it down ghetto!) occurs:
homeboy: A YO~! u gotz a few dollars?
me: nah man. sorry yo~
homeboy: C’mon my brotha, I’m hungy, kick a few bucks my way.
me: sorry son, just eating a quick lunch.
homeboy: how bout I get a bite of dat sandwich?
me: for real?
homeboy: yeah~ yeah~
me: it’s almost gone, next time yo~
homeboy: aight~~ aight~~ shit.
Initially I thought he was stepping up to me, but all my man wanted was something to eat. The point of the story is that despite the heavy police presence in the area, there’s a lot of unsavory characters lurking around who will harass you. Moral of the story, don’t park too close to a fire hydrant.
I would have felt threatened…….you should carry a gun…..
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Nah, I’m a tall dude, I can hold my own. Though in Philly, there wre times I did feel threatened. So far in NYC, I’m good.
Like any city, know your surroundings. Don’t venture into shady parts at certain times and trust your instinct.
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On that related note, is packing allowed in NYC city limits? I wouldn’t mind having the right to carry. I used to shoot back in my old hood for fun. Everything from handguns to shotgun clay pigon shoot outs.
Pretty sure you can’t carry in NYC. My little brother carries a pair of brass knuckles in one pocket of his peacoats and a switchblade in the other though.
-Live every week like it’s shark week.
glad i don’t live in the US…….
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^ glad I don’t live in Arabia or Canada.
All right listen up homies. Yesterday, I pull into my hood, Bombay in my G6, well actually it was an economy class ticket on a budget airline. But whatevs, homie.
This taxi stand hustler sees me exiting the airport and thinks, “Just anotha dumb gora tourist ready to get ripped off. Time to get paid.” FYI “Gora”=Hindi for Cracker
He comes up to me and says, “Let me axe you somfin homie. You need Taxi?”
I say, “Yep, sure do.” I keep walking down the walkway.
He says, “Where you going, my nigga?”
I say, “To the Taj Palace hotel.” The Taj is a big fancy 5 star hotel in Mumbai that sends cars to pick up its guests at the airport. This should have gone through his mind, but his mind was already occupied by trying to rip me off.
He says, “Ok, I get you AC car - 1500 rupees,” This is about 30 dollars, about three time what it should cost.
I say, “What kind of car, homie? Chicken Tikka needs a Benz in order to represent.” I keep walking. He is so excited.
He says, hmm, let me think. Calls his homie on the phone, speaks some wack language that tikka doesnt speak and then says.
“Ok, I get you a mercedes benz, 15,000 rupees and will take 20 minutes,” (this about 300 dollars and just highway robbery) I could have someone drive me to Delhi for about that much money.
I say, “Ok, deal.” He nearly creams his pants.
He calls his friend back and sets it up. He can’t believe his good luck.
Then out of nowhere, this random guy takes my luggage from my luggage chariot and puts in in the back of a black mercedes benz.
The taxi guy looks puzzled because he doesn’t know the guy who took my luggage. This isn’t the mercedes he ordered. It won’t be here for 20 minutes. I say thanks for the car, open the door and get in.
He looks very confused. Then he realizes that the guy who took my bags is my personal driver, who had actually been waiting for me all this time, and that the car is my own and that he’s just been been had. All the other taxi hustlers start laughing at him.
“You very bad, gora,” he says.
“That’s right, I’m one badass gora. Never try to hustle a hustler player. Tikka represent!”
We’re just like Canadians. Well armed Canadians without heath insurance, that is.
You want a quote? Haven’t I written enough already???
who has the classier babes? ……
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US has more diversity in HCB’s (whole ethnicities/social strata/industries that barely exist in Canada), and Canada has a better average level due to higher income, education, quality of life on average. Way more toothless hood rats per capita in the states; way more toothless, pelt-trading hicks per capita in Canada
“Some people make shoes. Some people make houses. We make money and people are willing pay us a lot to make money for them.”
I was in Montreal and Tremblant at various times over the past week. Several notes: I love Montreal (and Tremblant), I also loved the French influence and the overall style and quality of the girls for sure. I’m also envious of their healthcare system. I’m not envious of their 17% sales tax in Tremblant, but would possibly be willing to eat the cost when weighing all the benefits. Overall, great place. Pros and cons, pros and cons.
-Live every week like it’s shark week.
http://www.texastakeover.com/world-news/7154-police-kill-rapper-who-selling-cd-s-times-square.html
Sadly, the first time I read this list, I recognized one that someone had gotten me with (melon drop, Harlem, 2008). Should be required reading before moving to a city.
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So we went out to eat last night as a team. I saw my pal the cab agent hustler holding down his block (I had seen this negro operate in the past). He spies us and offers us a cab. I warn my coworkers that he’s an operator on this corner and we should get our own cab. Nonsense they say, and he snaps at his homie in a black car. They fist pound before we head out (both are black, not that it matters, but the following dialogue is in ghettospeak).
My Boss - How much to village?
Driver - $35.
My Boss - Ok, let’s go.
Driver is a fuggin maniac and throwing that car around with high acceleration while turning on a dime. He gets lost so My Boss sternly reminds him of the address. We get to the spot and the receipt says $50 cash only. My Boss is not having it.
My Boss - You said $35.
Driver - Yeah, but you were confused as to the location an shit.
Coworker throws a C note at the guy. The driver throws it back saying the bill is bunk. Coworker’s like, “We’ll that’s the only cash I have, so whatever and walks away.” I pull out $60, My Boss takes $40 and says, “You’re getting $40 since you lied to me about the fare, you told me $35 and you got us lost.”
Driver interrupts with, “wtf, fine, you want a fucking 5 back, here you are arguing with me about 10 fking dollars while wasting my mafucking time, da fuck’s the matter with you bitch.”
My Boss slams (and i mean slams) the passenger door and the tires chirp as he peels off.
If I see that cab agent again, I’m going to kick him square in the nuts! (no homo)
can’t you post something about how a classy babe at the club spiked your drink with viagra and took advantage of you instead?
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Respect.
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This has happened, kinda. I’ll chum up the story over lunch.
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Long before I was a CFA Candidate or beholden to the CFA Ethics Pledge agent in a deal fed me Cialis (Bar none the best dick pill money can buy) when I was in Indonesia looking to buy an island.
When I got back to my hotel room two very classy Indonesian girls were waiting for me in my room in their underwear.
Still I am unsure that this would violate the CFA Ethics. It might be considered a “token gift” because hookers in Indonesia cost less than 50 dollars and therefore can’t be expected to force me to materially change my investment decision.
In fact, I recommended to my client that they not buy the island.
not a fan of third world girls….just doesn’t seem right….
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Cougar Hustle
I was out in Georgia hanging out with some boys following a ball game. One of my boys suggested we kick the night off at a bar that specializes in country and western music. Whatevs I thought.
I get two mason jars (yes mason jars) of cheap draft beer and begin watching the band play. All of a sudden I lock eyes with a blonde who appears to at least a decade older than me. She approaches the group (total textbook southern belle) and begins speaking with me. I set one of my beers down on the bar as she brings me over to her two friends (also very attractive). The first belle disappears while I’m talking to her two girlfriends. I finish one mason jar, and return to the bar to get the other one I purchased.
By now my boys want to venture out to another spot where we are meeting the rest of the crew. I kill the second brew and leave with them. Once I sat down in the car, my head is spinning and my ability to focus is gone. I’m having trouble seeing things clearly and overall just feel a vice grip on my guts.
I tell my boy to pull over since I’m struggling and I immediately upchuck. I mean, I’m upchucking worse than a bulimic bitch. I didn’t eat much for dinner and only had the 2 brews at the country spot. I wash my mouth out with water feeling good to go. I’m not, next thing I know, I sit back in the car and I’m out. My cell phone rang at 5:00 AM waking me up on the hotel bathroom floor. I had no recollection of anything inbetween.
I have a feeling something was slipped in my drink. Why, I have no clue. But it was not a pleasant experience at all. Of course I was the butt of jokes for my inability to hold 2 beers down. However, something had to have been put in my drink to get me puking and blacking out my memory. Maybe the belles wanted to run a train on me? Maybe a jealous KKK racist fugg wanted to lynch me? Maybe the bar didn’t like colored folks? Who knows. Lesson learned, no matter who you are, never leave a drink unattended.
you got molested….
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My rectum was intact when I awoke. My shoes, socks, pants, and belt were still in place. I highly doub I was violated down there. Though my white hommies may have tea bagged me. They’re all about that g@y shit, no homo.
nothing wrong with one or two teabags…..
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Frankie, am I right to assume you don’t know what teabagging means?
Go to urbandictionary and look it up. Totally not safe for work.
i know what it is…….if you want to be a BSD, you gotta have some teabags along the way….
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Someone admit to being hustled or almost hustled. Knowledge is power.
Yeah, I fell for the rap CD thing once. But only once. They’ve tried over and over again, and now I will occasionally tell them my name just to have them waste a piece of plastic.
You want a quote? Haven’t I written enough already???
Actually, even more annoying are the charity people on the street who have their thing with two or three people on the sidewalk:
“Excuse me, sir, do you have a minute… / willing to stand up for… / blah blah blah for…”
“…children’s rights”
“…animal rights”
“…gay rights”
“…ending racism.”
“…helping teachers.”
“…firefighters.”
“…the environment.”
“…the disabled.”
“…Haiti.”
“…Tsunami Surivivors.”
“…whirled peas.”
“…ending hunger.”
“…ex-wives and mistresses of hedge fund managers.”
They all look the same, like some franchise store that just decided to use pink for gay stuff, and blue for environmental stuff, and purple for children stuff, and barf green for anti-war stuff. It’s just a machine that keeps cranking people for stuff and you really don’t know what it’s going for or what they are actually going to use your signature for.
I’m sympathetic, to most of their causes, but it just gets old being hammered for it time after time.
And then they act like you’re a horrible person because all you really want to do is walk from the subway to your office without being made to feel like you’re Mr. Scrooge. And they seem to act like the last time you did something for them didn’t really count. Personally, I would rather pay higher taxes and have a responsive democracy and an effective government than deal with that crap every…bloody…f-ing…day.
You want a quote? Haven’t I written enough already???
Chicago: 2001. 19 year old JCole was in the windy for the first time on for a hockey tournament in one of the burbs with my boys. Run up on a brother on the corner, selling the day’s paper for like 1/4 of the price (presumably, he paid for one, took the stack, and was now making it up on volume). I tell him JCole wants a gold chain. He says ‘hold up’.
Next thing you know this cat is schooling me on the durability and beauty of 24 kt gold - you can’t scratch this ish, you can’t burn it, you can’t bite it. Fifty bones later I’m thugging out to the St Lunatics in my bonneville with home theater speakers and a computer subwoofer in the trunk and I’ve got this gold chain just stuntin on ‘em. Couple weeks later it turned green - apparently gold’s achilles heel is ‘soap’…
_____________________________________________________ Get well soon Nic
I give to charity but never in small doses - meaning never to individuals, and almost never to panhandlers on the subway/street. My go to response for any would-be-sob-story (someone who is clearly not homeless, but equally clearly is about to tell me a story that concludes with ‘do you have a couple bucks to help me blah blah blah…’) is now:
Random person: Hey man, excuse me, but do you think you could…
Me: Are you lost? Do you need directions? (10 yrs in NYC, I know most of the island very well)
Random person [almost always taken aback]: Wha- no, man, what I need is…
Me: Sorry, no.
I don’t know why, but the act of offering directions - even followed up with a curt refusal to continue talking to the person - seems to make it easier to not enter into conversations with people who want to hustle you. Been doing it for about 2 yrs now, I recommend people try it.
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