Times are changing~



If only G.A.M.E. were more like energy…
Energy can neither be created nor destroyed.
G.A.M.E. can undoubtedly be created, and has most certainly been destroyed.

Do you know why?

They don’t make men like they used to.
Simple and plain.

Times are changing~

30 is the new 29. And ladies are the new man. Men in general have turned into an impressionable and insecure species with no identity. Poor parenting or lack thereof, media outlets, entertainment, pop culture, etc. has attributed to our failing as a whole. I’m not here to make excuses, so I won’t. It has become socially acceptable for men to take on the traits of a damsel. There’s always exceptions to every rule, of course. Where did we drop the ball?

I’m on my soapbox:
I’m in Macy’s. On this particular day, I decided to treat myself to a new fragrance. I ended up going with ‘Legend, by Mont Blanc’. But prior to that, my shopping experience was real shaky. It’s been eons since I’ve been cologne shopping and I have everything so I really didn’t need another. But you can never have enough a young damsel once taught me… So I’m back now for the first time in years and I noticed that all of the bottle designs for men have become increasingly feminine. I thought to myself, that’s because damsels buy and men only sit at home at play sports, right?

Shut up!

But I guess it’s like dog treats…..they put bacon on the packaging to market to the humans. Dogs don’t give a lovemaking what bacon looks like. Any respectable pup should have never even tasted bacon. But it’s the owner making the final decision. So back to the cologne~ not only were the bottles feminine, a lot of the fragrances were distinctly soft and unacceptably sweet. On more than 3 occasions I had to look at the bottle and ask “is this still the men’s section?”

The rep would kindly reply,
Yes sir, but this item is unisex.
A clear copout.
Case in point.

Everything has become “unisex.”

As a whole, the way men dress, walk, speak, and carry themselves has demonstrated a terrible compromise in swagger and bravado.

The things that are destroying manhood:
~Pastel scarfs in the spring or summer time
~Boots with a tall heal on them
~Pants so skinny that men have to peel them off at night. (If they’re inside out when they come off, they’re way to skinny.)

I see “couples” walking down the street all the time in Los Angeles. From behind, you can’t tell the man and damsel apart anymore. I swear to Bob.

I will be responsible for reinstalling G.A.M.E. in men. Creating that good energy.

Be confident.
Be masculine, if applicable.
Be yourself.

Don’t think outside the box, DO outside the box.
Please destroy everything you’re doing.
Don’t walk up to a beautiful damsel and say, you are so beautiful.
Calling a beautiful woman “beautiful” does not impress her.


Would you walk up to a baseball player on the field and say, hey, you play baseball.

It’s boring. It’s trite. It’s lazy. It’s supercilious.

The beautiful damsel hears that she’s “beautiful” too often. Your words are not compliments. If nothing else, they sicken her.

I’m done writing for now.


How much did you miss me?


Comrade, pardon my brief absence from The Book of G.A.M.E.

I myself was jumping the emotional hurdles of life, and my G.A.M.E. was temporarily distorted……if you can believe it.  I’m a human being first and one thing that has shaped me as a man and an artist is adversity. Pure gold is to be tried by fire first. With that being said, the flames are behind me.

I’ve got a lot of positive information to share for the blog and upcoming book release. New post in the next 24 hours entitled “Times are changing.”  Stay tuned. Be fed.

~The Philly Cat!

The Necessary Evil~


All too often I stumble across the proverbial question…

…by a comrade of mine, confiding in me about his complicated love life.
…In the grocery store: eavesdropping on a group of damsels confessing in the 15 items or less lane -clearly with 16 items or more in their carts-
…or with myself.

All too often I experience that never ending, insatiable question(s).

“Why do we play games?”

“Why is s/he playing games with me?”

“When are the games ever going to end?”

There’s a thousand ways to ask the question. But no matter how you dice it, a game is being played.

(Game is not to be confused with G.A.M.E. ~stay with me)

A women’s makeup is so complex that it becomes simple. The way she thinks, talks, lives, breathes, and operates is what makes her unique. Her needs, how she likes to chase but not too hard, how she likes to be chased sometimes but not stalked, what makes her smile, excite, levitate differs from the needs of the gentlemen. Thus, we walk right into the game head on without a warning sometimes. We don’t have any pieces, no cards, dice or nothing.

Sometimes the games are subtle and undetectable, and sometimes they’re very obvious and aggresive~ like walking into a friends house and they yell at you, “take all the money out of your pocket, sit down, and play” meanwhile giving you a handful of poker chips in exchange for your bills. Either way, you have to be ready.

G.A.M.E. (Getting A Major Edge) will get you there.

I can count on more than 5 fingers how many times I hear this in a week; “I don’t wanna play games. I just wanna love”

or, my personal favorite

“I’m too old to be playing these d*mn games!”

The fact of the matter is:
The harder we try NOT to play games
The harder it is that we are actually playing.

Game is inevitable.

Some people call it “cat and mouse” and some people just call it like it is. Games are being played. But that doesn’t make it a bad thing. In fact, it’s a very positive thing once you identify either the game you started, or the game you walked into.

Just don’t get caught up in winning nor losing. Usually winning has to do with one party trying to gain power in some way. For ex. A damsel trying to make her mate jealous in some way, in order to guage her man’s commitment and care level.

There’s a copious amount of games out there. So I won’t pretend like I have the free time to share them all nor you will pretend to have the time to read them.

In the game of chess, the object is to not only capture the King, but to protect the Queen from being taken. This is easily why it is my favorite.

Game is the necessary evil. This is why you need G.A.M.E.

If you don’t take anything from this, take that!

Shoe G.A.M.E. (Part 1)



The First 10 Seconds

Comrade, it is a fact

That within the first -you hear me?- the first 10 seconds of meeting you, a damsel can tell whether or
not she can see herself:

(1.) dating you

(2.) sleeping with you, and/or

(3.) marrying you…

Usually she can judge these things by the quality and condition of the shoes you’re wearing.

I’m on my Soap Box:

I did a comedy show at a fashion expo last Saturday. After the festivities, I met a group of friendly damsels posted up on the wall outside the club. They puffed their cigarettes, and asked me if I could recommend any worthwhile clubs to go and dance. Cover charges are so ridiculous in California (even for women,) that you have to get it right the first time. I understood that. As I pointed out two or three spots that might be worth the $65 dollars apiece, I noticed one of the ladies in my peripheral, peering down at my shoes. The other started staring so hard, that it made me look down too, like I forgot which shoes I put on that day.

They weren’t listening to a word that was coming out of my mouth. My lips were moving aimlessly.

I said

I can take them off if you want to try them on.

Damsel #1 laughed, and said

I would if they were my size…I’m just impressed. They’re nice. Shoes are everything, you know.

I said “thank you” and immediately walked away as the cigarette smoke started to bother me.


This proves my theory: A woman will judge you in the first 10 seconds according to the shoes you have on your feet.

Teeth run a very close second
and Breath gets honorable mention

But trust me, shoes are at the top of the list. They are just THAT important.  If your Shoe G.A.M.E. is faulty, in most cases a damsel won’t even get close enough to participate in your oral hygience, or lack thereof.



I follow a little code when it comes to footwear:

It’s not how much you spend on the shoes
It’s how less you bend the shoes~

You should place quality and design in high priority, but condition is everything at the first glance.


Comrade, I don’t care if you’re sporting a handsome 3~piece tailor made suit that was cut specifically for your body. If your shoes look like Forrest Gump’s when he ran cross country, you might as well be wearing overalls. You’ve just negated your whole outfit. Complete the package.

Shoes make the outfit
An outfit never makes the shoes!

This may seem superficial, but that’s just how a damsel sees it.

The mentality is, that if your physical state is polished from the bottom up

then you probably


your life together.

Good shoes intrigue women. They suddenly become interested in hearing what you have to say, if there’s more where that came from. Even if they can’t afford the time, they’ll find a little bit of time and/or open up the door to a future date when they can spare it.

Also, you have to remember, comrade. Women are looking for the same things in you that you seek in them. (See: “Man in the Mirror” at a later date).
It’s getting good, right? I know.

To be continued, or, pepetuated…

Honor Thy Mother


“Your mother’s the closest thing you’ll ever have next to God…”  ~Nas, God’s Son

…so treat her as such, comrade. There is no human being better qualified to lay down the foundation of your G.A.M.E. than the beautiful woman who birthed you.  Not myself. Not even James Earl Jones.  I shouldn’t even have to say this.

A mother develops a boy to adolescence, and then from adolescence to manhood. She teaches him how to treat a woman, and how to expect to be treated by a woman in return.

IF you’re a man, and you don’t respect your mother

THEN you will never fully love and appreciate another damsel. The same rules apply if you’re a lady. Just flip it: A man will never fully value and respect you if he does not value his own mother.  Stop lying to yourself if he doesn’t…please…for the community.

Ladies: notice the early warning signs and don’t ignore them.

Let’s say you’re on a first date with a young chap.  Go out of your way to ask him how his relationship with his mother is.  If he says something along the lines of…

“It’s alright ~ but we’re not gonna worry about her today”


“I can’t stand her, she owes me money”   … put your red flags up!  Until proven otherwise, they stay up.

Let’s say your date coincidentally gets a phone call while you two are courting.  He looks at his phone, sucks his teeth, and says “it’s my mother.”  He excuses himself from the table, but does not walk far.  He’s standing at the perfect eavesdrop disance.  You notice his side of the conversation gets louder and louder.  Yelling, even.  Obscenities exchanged. Long story short, he ends up cursing his mother out and hanging up in her face.  He comes back to the table and smiles at you like everything is copacetic.

This is what you do, ladies:

Tell your date that your foot hurts

(The foot is a renowned diversion mechanism that somehow works every time you’re trying to get out of an unwanted situation with a guy. ie. When being asked to dance by the marsupial stalker in the club. But we’ll get to that later.)

Excuse yourself for a restroom break. Exit the venue and hail a cab ride home. Head for the hills and delete his number.  It does not get any better from here.

I’m not joking.

True love starts at home so there is no wrongdoing done by a mother that cannot be forgiven. Even if you have never met her, there should still be at least a modicum of respect for the estranged lady who put you here, comrade. The bottom line is, if you don’t Honor Thy Mother, then this blog will be…just that, a blog.  A tool to help you get rid of corny pick-up lines and teach you how to dress. So if you still have some stitching that needs to be done with the Mother, sit the can of root beer down and go make amends.  Return to these pages when you two work it out.

Without the foundation of a Mother’s love, your G.A.M.E. will NEVER pass the proper inspection, comrade.  Whatever your situation may be~ this goes for Stepmother, Foster Mother, or even Grandmother. (After all, she is your mother’s mother.)  Trust my words.

The Gorgeous Mother of Mine, I used to call by her first name “Angie” because we were always close.

She is my best friend. My bone marrow. The unfathomable or the unmentionable, I’d do it for my Mother without it being a thought.  There’s nothing in this world that I despise more than broccoli.  Steamed, raw, in a can, or doused with cheese, broccoli is pure evil.  But guess what: I’d devour a plate full for my Mother. You get it? There is nothing I would not do, if you hadn’t already gathered that. My Mother is where my G.A.M.E. all started and I am forever grateful.

Angie and I were always very close.

Probably because we’re only a few years apart.

She had me at a very young age.

Which turned out to be pretty okay because we had all the same teachers.  My Mom had all the back tests from a few semesters prior so it worked out.  I never had a problem in school!

My Mother nurtured me. She taught me right from wrong without being too strict or harsh—although the occasional face-slapping was quite effective in the ‘calm down’ process, and now that I look back, much deserved. – I never felt the urge to go out and rebel, because Angie allowed me freedom. She trusted me to know positive from negative. She did everything that she needed to do for me and she did it so seamlessly.  My Gorgeous Mother was and still is my ideal damsel, my teacher, my sister, my confidante, the closest thing I’ll ever have in this world next to God.  For that, I honor her.

Comrade, establish a strong relationship with your Mother if you haven’t already. Just know that she is where the G.A.M.E. begins. From her, You’ll Get A Major Edge with the damsels without even trying.

G.A.M.E. = Getting A Major Edge


First of all

I’m here to destroy all the old, out-dated dating rules and establish more handsome ones.  Better ones.  That work.

(First and a half of all…)

I’m sure by now you’re probably wondering:

Who is this guy?

And before we get to that, I would like to thank you for subscribing to the official blog for The Book of G.A.M.E.

You ever notice that people speak different languages all over the world?  The way they dance.  The way they dress.  The things they do for fun… are so much different.  But you ever notice that the crackle of laughter sounds the same no matter what part of the world you’re in? That’s because laughter is a universal language. It’s something that cannot be taught. It’s just the natural response that our bodies make to something positive.

I believe that G.A.M.E. is a similar phenomenon. It’s like a smile felt all throughout the globe.  Albeit our differences range all over the place, we all share a common ground of attraction…or need for affection. The only difference is, G.A.M.E. can be taught. That’s where I come in.

So when I say “world handbook”, I mean just that. My travels, which I will tell you about at a later date, have afforded me the opportunity to meet thousands of people. Some very interesting people. Some very funny-looking people. (That’s a compliment.) But people from all over, nonetheless. I’ve been a writer ever since I was able to embrace the #2 pencil with my left hand.

As an artist, my job is to watch.  I observe, and watch some more. I listen to the things people say verbally and non-verbally. Especially women. Their wants. Their needs. Their desires. I understand that what a lot of women would consider a “shortage” in men can only be attributed to the shortage in confidence and savoir-faire that many men have in obtaining these women across the globe. With that being said, I strongly believe in my heart that I have the antidote for you.

And when I say you, I mean YOU! Whether you’re a woman, man, or identify with something else in between. Whether you’re a middle-aged bachelor who used to be the life of the party and is trying to muster up the charisma to be social again, a quasi happily married housewife who is anxious (desperate) for your husband to do something out of the ordinary to add spice, a high school virgin who wants to show the ladies that you can still be fun and maintain your dignity, a young distressed damsel coming from a string of boring “cookie cutter” relationships, a has-been Casanova whose game has long dried up and expired due to modern times, or a beautiful lady in a happy committed relationship looking for nothing more than entertainment, …Whether you’re from Philadelphia, Trinidad & Tobago, Germany, Japan, Los Angeles, Brazil, Guadalajara Mexico, Russia, New York, Mozambique, or somewhere else in between…

The Book of G.A.M.E. is for you!!…!…

This manuscript was founded on the fact that all people of all assortments have two common goals:

1. To love

2. To be loved.

Just remember: Laugh responsibly, and cry reluctantly. There’s something in this blog for everyone.  And trust me, there will be more when you see me live.

So back to your question on who I am, (if you cared at all)

I am a polymath.  A writer: all rights reserved. So usually, I’m alright and reserved. I’m just a messenger, with stage presence.

I’m not saying I’m an expert…

But I am! I have a sound understanding about relationships and everything in between. Moreover, God gave me the uncanny ability to write. If you don’t feel that this blog makes your G.A.M.E. stronger, read it again and turn “The Kardashians” or “The Braxtons” off this time. I guarantee you’ll laugh and learn simultaneously.

I don’t profess infinite wisdom

Believe me, the things I don’t know can fill the sky. But my father once taught me that “a word to the wise is sufficient, and the wise man will take council.” That didn’t make much sense to me when I was 8, but I live by it today. My father is wise, so I continue to listen.

I don’t claim to be a “ladies man”…

But I am a man of the ladies. At a young age, I was spawned solely by women.  A gorgeous mother, an aunt, and a grandmother. Three wonderful women. Three certified psychotic personalities.  On several occasions, there were times when I’d get smacked by one for doing something out of my jurisdiction, go upstairs, and receive cookies and a capri sun from another just for being cute. That’s just how it was growing up in Southwest Philly. It was fantastic. I would have it no other way. Let’s just say, that my upbringing enabled me to ‘Get a Major Edge’ early. Having a 20-year old mother when I was 6 made her my best friend.  That relationship has readied me for things I could not even imagine. I am indebted to the lovely ladies on Beaumont Street for the love and wisdom they gave me.

So without further ado, The Book of G.A.M.E……..