Edit to the mods: please let me know if the Building Power flair is not appropriate.


Back in 2012 when I was about 19, I was in a pretty shitty life place. I'll spare you the details but I only really used people to temporarily boost my self esteem up. That's part of the reason I started hanging out with an old buddy of mine named Chris.

Chris was doing decently well for himself as far as I was concerned. He was putting serious effort into making music, got laid a decent amount and was pretty charismatic and social. So when I started hanging out with him again, he invited me to this party that one of his friends was having. He said there would be naked chicks and drugs. So of course I had no choice. More opportunity to use people. That’s where I met Brandon.


 

Brandon was a 6ft tall, lanky, skinny-jean wearing tattooed guy who just absolutely slayed pussy. He did absurd amounts of drugs, fucked some of the hottest chicks I had ever seen, and was known to pretty much anybody in the neighboring 5 counties if you asked around the right social circles. Women literally threw themselves at him and had no problem sucking another girls juices off his dick within minutes of the last one. He managed to do all of this because of his loosely organized group(cult) of hedonists he called Coastal Entertainment.

 

Coastal Ent. Was his own perfect paradise. Women, drugs, parties; he controlled it all as easily (at least in appearance) as we breathe. If you wanted to go to one of his parties, you needed a way in. For me that was my boy Chris who was one of Brandons closest friends. If you were a dude, you offered up your house. If you were a girl, you brought your friends and fucked him. Bonus points if you brought him drugs. Almost every night of the week there was some party going on somewhere. He even threw a couple boat parties that looked straight out of a fucking movie. It was absurd. People would get Coastal Ent. Logo tattooed on themselves just to prove their loyalty to him and the heathen shenanigans we all engaged in.

 

I was enamored. I was totally awestruck. I wanted nothing more than to be close to this guy and learn everything I could. How the fuck did he do it? My answer came one night when he shouted that he needed a hand bringing up some keg supplies from the car. I volunteered in a split second.

On the way outside I tried making small talk. He wasn’t a dismissive asshole to other men, surprisingly enough. He was quite approachable and friendly. It was a pleasant surprise. When we finally reached the car, we had been speaking long enough for me to realize that he wasn’t really interested in sharing his secrets of success. That is until he dropped this line on me. “Have you ever read the 48 Laws of Power by Robert Greene?”

My jaw dropped. Around that time I was engrossed in learning about body language, NLP, and persuasion. So of course I told him yes. He said to me “that shit made all of this possible.” As I said, what he meant wouldn’t really be clear to me until years later. So looking back on the whole experience, I can see which laws he utilized in order to be able to instill such rabid loyalty in all these seemingly random strangers.

(I wouldn’t understand the dynamics of what he told me until I discovered TRP years later, as well as really delving into the 48 Laws, and having actually forgotten about him until recently.)

 


 

Law #5.) So much depends on reputation – guard it with your life. This guy had a reputation for throwing the craziest, sex filled parties you’d ever heard of. And if you were lucky enough to get into one, there was 0% chance you would be disappointed. It truly was awe inspiring at how unrealistically wild these parties were.

Law #6.) Court attention at all cost. Whenever Brandons popularity faded even slightly in his own mind, he would have a friend post a video or picture of him doing something crazy. Usually something involving two girls and a line or two, or a new party location in some warehouse in some hipster city. Without fail, it always brought the attention back onto himself.

Law #7.) Get others to do the work for you, but always take the credit. As I mentioned earlier, if you didn’t have value to provide for him, you weren’t getting in. I was always my buddies +1 so I got lucky I didn’t need to. But for everyone else, you were either offering him girls, your house, drugs or a combination of some or all. Some people even managed to get him warehouse space. (Those were crazy parties.) But no matter what people offered up in exchange for attendance, the fact is is that it always came down to “Yo. Brandon threw the craziest party last Wednesday.” He didn’t have to do shit. Why?

Law #8.) Make other people come to you. Use bait if necessary.

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Law #11.) Learn to keep people dependent on you. He didn’t have to do anything because, once he had established himself as the king of partying, it was a self-fulfilling prophecy. He had the best parties with drugs and girls, so naturally everyone wanted to be a part of it. It didn’t matter if you were preppy, emo or a straight up homebody. If you heard about it, you wanted to go. The parties and all their accessories were his bait. And he never had to provide anything himself. (I have a sneaking suspicion this guy watched Alpha Dog too many times.) This guy had what people wanted. And if you got a taste, there was no way you were letting go. People did absolutely awful things to make sure they were able to attend his parties. Girls let him post them naked online in orgies. Guys sold their cars for drug money funding for him. One guy got evicted after hosting a party at his house. Madness.

Law #15.) Crush your enemy totally.

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Law #19.) Know who you’re dealing with – do not offend the wrong person. There was one night I vividly remember where a girl burst out of a bedroom in some house half naked screaming back into the room where Brandon was, saying shit like “It’s not my fault your dick is fucking broken” etc. etc.. Out walks Brandon smoking a cigarette, casual as fuck and responds with something like “Bitch your pussy smells so bad and your tits are disgusting.” The whole room erupted in laughter. Even this girls friends laughed at her. She barely managed to put her shirt on before she started crying and stormed out. Never saw her again. Social status = Obliterated.

Law #16.) Use absence to increase respect and honor. Occasionally, Brandon would go away to some beach with one of his favorite plates for a week or two and go radio silent on all social media. People always knew what was going on, but there was always this tense air of “What if he decides he’s done for good this time?” Of course, when he inevitably returned, everyone collectively cried out in joy and the parties were more intense the following week.

Law #25.) Re-create yourself. Apparently, Brandon had been a nobody in high school and then disappeared for a year two. When he came back, he was tatted up, had connections across the country, and was involved in multiple clothing brands on the opposite coast. Nobody saw it coming and this only served to raise his SMV.

Law #26.) Keep your hands clean. Throughout this whole debacle, Brandon was investigated multiple times by the FBI. One of his closest friends had been arrested for hosting a revenge porn website and they inevitably caught on to his ridiculousness. Of course, he was never caught because he was never the one doing anything illegal. Everybody did it for him. Smuggling drugs, posting nudes of women without their consent: he always keep his hands out of the mud. It was brilliant.

Law #27.) Play on peoples need to create a cultlike following. Truly this was a cult built on a “Live Fast, Die Young” mentality. Nothing else mattered but getting fucked up, banging some sloot and having a good time. And people ate that shit up. Because it was fun. And people hate going back to the real world. Too much pain and not enough pleasure. Much better to live in this temporary paradise.

Law #32.) Play to peoples fantasies. This mostly applied to the guys who would shell out their livers in order to get access to the parties. With the implied promise of getting laid by one of numerous half naked sluts, guys would do wild shit to get in. Sometimes they got lucky. Othertimes not. Nevertheless, the promise of snorting coke off a girls butthole was enticing and people ate that fantasy up.

Law #34.) Be royal in your own fashion. Act like a king to be treated like one. Again. Same shit. This guy was the Jack Skellington of parties. The King of Sluts. And he knew it. Women threw themselves at him, begging to be one of his concubines. I know at least 17 let him piss on them.

Law #37.) Create compelling spectacles. Ever seen the Wolf of Wall Street? I need not say more.

Law #21.) Play a sucker to catch a sucker – seem dumber than your mark

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Law #39.) Stir up the waters to catch fish. Towards the end of my involvement in the scene, there was a point where one of Brandons close friends was pinched by the feds for some shit and started ratting. Brandon eventually found out someone was ratting but didn’t know who. So he started letting out select pieces of false information to each of his closest friends to see which one the Feds would investigate. He would tell them shit like, “I trust you the most out of all these rat-fucks.” etc.. I’m sure you can figure out the rest.

 


Looking back I can confidently say that I have yet to meet anybody who so perfectly embodied so many of the Laws of Power as Brandon did. It was calculated yet effortless and completely astounding. This man was smart as shit and he never let anybody in on that fact. I’m convinced I might be one of the only people he’s ever told about reading the 48 Laws. I talked to a lot of people throughout those years and nobody had ever heard about the damn book. I doubt it’s because he thought me special, but more so because he could tell I wasn’t as brainless as most of the people there. A nice feel good thought, but truly I’ll never know. But the fact remains. You can create your own paradise if you wield these laws properly. It’s the same advice you might see about starting your own photography studio, modeling business or a porn studio. Whatever you choose to do, be the king of your little paradise. Build it and they will come.

 

Fun little addendum. The last I had heard of Brandon, he had married his favorite plate, stopped the parties and is now miserable. Guess he should have read TRP.