Let me tell you something right now.
Most of you are living in a fantasy.
You think you’ve experienced luxury. You’ve had a “nice” meal. You’ve “treated yourself.” You post a picture of some overcooked salmon on a bed of greens and call it a win.
You are lost in the matrix of mediocrity.
I just stepped out of Crab House Times Square, and my entire perception of what a restaurant can be has been violently reset. My expectations weren’t just exceeded; they were publicly executed in the town square.
Forget everything you think you know about all-you-can-eat. Erase it. The sad buffets, the lukewarm trays, the scavenging plebs fighting for the last soggy spring roll. That is the food equivalent of a 9-to-5 prison. It’s for slaves.
Crab House isn’t a restaurant. It’s a declaration of war on mid-tier living.
Walk in, and your eyes need a second to adjust. You’re not in New York anymore. You’ve been teleported into a golden palace. This is the level of opulence that bankrupts empires. Chandeliers, grand staircases, private rooms that look like war rooms for billionaires. This is the set for a movie where the hero has already won. It’s the physical manifestation of the color “Top Slaylebrity.”
And then the food arrives.
Let’s talk about the price. $168.
The matrix demon on your shoulder is screaming. “$168?! For a meal?!”
Shut up, bot. This is the highest level of financial intelligence you can exhibit. You are not paying for food. You are investing in a state of mind. You are funding a memory. You are purchasing a three-hour block where you are a Slaylebrity in your own kingdom.
For that, you get unlimited lobster. Not some puny, steamed tail. We’re talking whole lobsters, grilled to order, dripping with garlic butter. You get unlimited crab legs, cracked open for you, revealing pillars of pure, sweet meat that you don’t have to fight for.
There are no buffet lines. There is no waiting. You are not a beggar. You are a commander. You point at the menu. It arrives. Freshly made. For you.
This is the critical difference. This is the separation between the elite and the masses. The masses wait in line. The elite are the reason the line exists.
You bring a date here? You don’t get a second date. You get a wife. You bring business associates here? You don’t get a client. You get a partner for life. This isn’t a meal; it’s a power move. It’s a non-verbal demonstration of your value. The ambiance, the service, the sheer audacity of the place screams one thing: I operate at a level you aspire to.
This is what you work for. This is the pot of gold at the end of the grind. The sleepless nights, the cold showers, the disciplined focus—it’s for the privilege of sitting in a golden throne room in the heart of Times Square and having the world’s most premium seafood brought to you until you say stop.
So, would I call it the royal seafood feast of NYC?
That’s an insult. It’s too small of a concept.
The royalty in Europe are relics. They live in museums. This is New York. This is now. This is where the new kings and queens —the Slaylebrity kings of crypto, of finance, of enterprise—come to feast.
Crab House Times Square isn’t just the best seafood spot in the city.
It’s a training ground for the mindset of a winner.
Your matrix-approved life can’t afford it. The real you can.
What color is your lobster?
LOCATION
@crabhousets
📍218 W 40th St, New York
This isn't a restaurant. It's a power move. Bring your date here. Seal the deal. Bring your rivals here. Show them the difference. This is psychological warfare on a plate.
The masses wait in line for a taste of mediocrity. The elite command the world's finest seafood from a golden throne. What category do you fit into?
They told you luxury was a palace in Europe. They lied. Real luxury is a golden palace in Times Square with unlimited crab. Break free from the fairy tales they sold you.
Your fancy dinner is a joke. You're eating decoration on a plate. I'm eating pure, unapologetic power. Unlimited lobster. No compromises. This is the way.
Cold showers. Sleepless nights. Relentless grinding. This is what it's for. To sit in a room made of gold and have the world bow to you, one lobster tail at a time.
Most people's idea of a treat is what keeps them poor. My idea of a treat is a reminder of why I work so hard. Crab House is that reminder.
You don't eat here. You perform a demonstration. You demonstrate your value, your power, and your refusal to accept the mediocre world they've built for you.
There are two types of people in this world. Those who see the price. And those who see the value. One group is broke. The other eats like a Slaylebrity. Choose your side.
This is the antidote to the weak, soft life they are trying to sell you. It's aggressive. It's opulent. It's unlimited. Just like your ambition should be.
They call it a seafood feast. I call it a standard. This is the new minimum. If your life doesn't have moments that look and feel like this, you are losing.
Date night? Don't be simple. This isn't a date. This is an audition. You are the prize. Let the environment communicate your value before you even speak.
You can live a quiet life of desperation and boiled chicken breasts. Or you can understand that power, success, and lobster are meant to be consumed in abundance. The choice is yours.
