As if it wasn't a rough enough week for Kris Humphries. First, he is forcibly divorced by Karcashian, finding out about it around the same time as the rest of the world. But to make matters worse, then we hear about him getting straight up Corzined by a financial industry insider who was definitely more Street than Wall.
So for a quick little minute I am going to take you little monkeys back stage and shine the light on how things really happen at the big boy's table. This tale is going to sound like something very much from the 'hood but that's probably because when it comes to the big dollars everyone involved is a gangster.
All it really comes down to is whether you smoke…or whether you get smoked.
Picture the scene. You are a goofy jackass who's been skating along on good genes his whole life. In this case it's having an athletic NBA body which nowadays is all you need to make a few mil as a benchwarmer. If it will make the story more relatable to you, we can change the physique to being a H/Y/P legacy, whatever floats your boat.
Point being, you think you're hot shit. Nice cars, cute chicks, money in the bank you have it all and it is only getting better. The reason is that next step on your road to greatness. You just married the girl of your dreams. Keeping in mind that you're a dumbass whose dreams involve fuck puppet amateur porno hoes, because you know…you're Captain Save-A-Hoe and she gone love you long time.
Stepping along with that shit eating grin you run into him. The Cheshire Motherfucking Cat himself. In this case, Andrey C. Hicks…the overnight repo to your Dick Fuld. He's going to really show you what a good fuck is all about.
Posing with a fake Harvard diploma and an investment banking career that never happened, he sells you on dropping cash into his trust worthy money machine named Locust Offshore.
You are so in love and happy to be with the woman of your dreams you forget about all the hours you spent shitting on Jeff Chang and Aleks Vayner. You pump your fist and hum "Impossible is Nothing" as you go to get some fresh newlywed ass cheeks, not realizing all the while yours are being spread for the pillage.
Yeah, sure…it could never happen to you. But guess what? It's happened to a lot better and sharper than you, me or the 8th man of the New Jersey Nets bench. The moral of the story is that once the dollars get big you start dealing with the sort of people most of you guys have never met in real life and believe only to be existent on celluloid.
Well, boys the Andrey Hicks's of this world do exist and they are around every fucking corner. Here's to you never getting bilked by one and for a few select special simians:
Here's to you learning how to put the con in consulting when hunting aminals with wallets the size of whales and brains the size of rat droppings.
Smoke your local hipster today!