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Ecko Limited

When I first heard the rumblings of Marc Ecko owing Chinese investors hundreds of millions of dollars, I thought we were going to later hear about dude disappearing in a mysterious boat accident. That’s not the kind of money I’d think niggas take lightly, even in the legit business world.

Granted, I may never know what it’s like to even be in the position to be down $200 million dollars. I’ll give Ecko that much. You’ve got to be doing something right when your clothing label becomes the official uniform of hip-hop flavored posers the world over. That’s not to say no real niggas wear Ecko. I’m sure plenty such niggas are coming home from prison right now to a closet full of rhinocerology.

[Blogger’s Note: Keep your bird chest popped up. All them cats you knocked up ain’t always gon’ be locked up.]

Ecko clothing began to represent all the worst parts of the culture with which it has been so closely associated. Marc Ecko himself spent frivolously inside and outside of the office, falling victim to the same vice that turns rappers’ stories of triumph and financial success into cringe-worthy episodes of Behind The Music. A microcosm of this downfall due to compulsive spending is Ecko’s purchase of Barry Bonds’ record-breaking home run baseball. Ecko could have turned the $750,000 purchase into a nearly invaluable investment, but chose to stunt hard with the shit. He eventually reminded the world he had it, asking anyone who would pay attention to offer suggestions on what to do with it.

Instead of flipping it to Bonds or some private sports memorabilia collector, he branded the ball with an asterisk. This great display of “Fuck your ball, nigga” could have been performed in effigy with a souvenir ball from a sporting goods store. That’s almost one of the $200 million owed right there.

Doing shit like that is akin to being short on rent, but coming home with Best Buy bags full of DVDs, video games, that Slaughterhouse record and an iPhone. I’m sure Barry Bonds is somewhere having the last laugh at that one. He may have tricked off on that shit that’s got him wearing a size 9 and a half New Era fitted, but he at least hasn’t blown half the U.S. national deficit on trinkets.

Such are the perils of stunting being a habit. Living outside of one’s means knows no bounds. Bill Gates could do it one day were he niggerish enough. Marc Ecko, as Charlie Murphy would say, is mad niggerish. In Ecko’s case, niggerishness has cost him the lion’s share of his own dream and life’s work. I’m a bum-ass writer, living on a fixed income like somebody grandma-nana. Yet I couldn’t fathom ever losing or giving away my life’s work, let alone as a result of my own financial buffoonery.

I’m sure Ecko’s house doesn’t have enough $200,000 doorknobs to pay back Li & Fung. Well, I’m not sure. It wouldn’t surprise me to find 100 of them in one of his sneaker closets for no damn reason.

Questions? Comments? Requests? Antoine Walker is somewhere shaking his head.

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