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December 20, 2003
The Taste of Billions
Last night I put on my Hollywood suit and went out for a night of.. well, for a night. Destination: Beverly Hills.
My boy K, with whom I share similar tastes, appetites and aggressive tactics in the flirt department invited me. He had me hookup with Brooks, someone I know on the periphery of many internet conversations at a joint in Beverly Hills called the Friars Club.
As you may know, in Los Angeles there is a creeping tradition of ever more upscale beautiful blackfolks throwing parties at joints of exclusive traditions. The Friars Club is such a joint. The portraits on the wall need only one name. Jolson, Sinatra, Reagan, Martin, Hope and at the top of the stairs, Sammy. Anyway, some cat named Joe was running the joint with an over-loud Jazz quartet. Brooks and I had a ball running the old one-two on various sets of babeage. It's nice to know that the charm still works.
But just before this shindig, I found myself a bit short on actual dead presidents and went hunting up Little Santa Monica for an ATM. I should have known better than to expect one at the ultra-smooth Peninsula Hotel, but what the hey. I had on the Hollywood suit, may as well give it a workout.
Over at the bar, I fell into conversation with a gent who used to be in film financing. According to R, Beverly Hills ain't what it used to be. Fifteen years ago, quoth he, people used to spend money. But now nothing's happening. Where is the place to be? China. There is no real money left to be made in America. We are everything mediocre in the world of opportunistic capitalism - the kind engaged in by people not born rich.
He gives me an anecdote. Over here the pinnacle of recording is the platinum record. What's that, 2 million albums sold? Something like that. He says one day Patti Labelle and her manager flew over to Beijing, recorded a record and proceded to sell 88 million copies. How does that happen? Things like that happen all the time in Beijing, which is why I need to be there.
As you may know, I'm heading into the area of trade slowly but surely. If I can work the Hollywood suit and make such contacts purposefully, rather than serendipitously like last night, I may have a future after all.
I'm not the first one and certainly won't be the last to get China fever. Beijing is looking like NYC in the 30s, and there are more millionaires made every day in China than anywhere in the world. I'll take my time and do what I can. But I do have some new interesting horizons.
Posted by mbowen at December 20, 2003 10:07 PM
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