Houdini estate cost12/31/2023 ![]() The cost-benefit analysis of hosting a gaggle of ne’er-do-anythings for a half-hour Future set almost certainly skews that calculus toward “cost.” Provided for guests were free parking, shuttles to an undoubtedly expensive hillside venue, unlimited drinks with Bacardi’s own product (Paul claimed to have imbibed six of Future’s “signature drink” the “DS2,” making Paul something like “DS12” if my math serves me.), a besuited security staff, warm-up DJs, a group of abstract dancers, and, most importantly, the appearance fees for DJ Esco and Future. The soft power coercion used on capital-i Influencers to have them Instagram, Snapchat, and Tweet about Bacardi surely can’t be worth the untold thousands of dollar spent on the event, though. ![]() Haley and I were discussing the questionable economic value of events like the lyrically titled “BACARDÍ’s Untameable Artist Series, produced by Noisey.” Bacardi’s goal is to create social caché by associating the brand with a hip, attractive, and young(-ish) crowd.Drake makes music for heterosexual males with stubble on their torsos.The chapeau appeared to have been influenced by 1960’s Topanga Canyon, Indiana Jones, and Ian McKellen as Gandalf the Grey. ![]() Future’s hat line debuted at the party.Treasury bonds are much safer investments than “my hustle.” “Invest in your hustle.” My investment advisor claims U.S. Greeting guests at the bottom of the estate’s winding series of stairs were donation boxes for the Freebandz Coat Drive-to my knowledge unmentioned in any of the promotional materials-and signs which gave partygoers advice from Future.The original house, owned by friend Ralf M. The property being labeled “The Harry Houdini Estate” is of very dubious historicity Houdini would occasionally stay at the property when in Los Angeles, but never made his permanent home there.The actress’ long-legged friend put DS2 on the shuttle’s stereo. We were headed to a rambling hillside estate in Laurel Canyon for an event hosted by Bacardi and Noisey, enticed by promises of Future and free drinks. I, and my exhausted, stoned friend, both dressed in faded blacks, did not. “He goes too far in his lyrics.” The actress, her ear-shattering English accent, her two more taciturn, equally attractive friends, and the record industry-approximate dude with befuddling taste in Atlanta rap belonged on the shuttle. To my left, a self-proclaimed friend of Azizi Gibson’s tried explaining why he doesn’t like Young Thug. To my right, my friend held a sloppily-rolled joint in his hand and tried not to doze off. “She has every Future song on her iPhone,” shouted the aspiring actress seated across from me.
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