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💼 CareercowNathen Mazri / Ayman El-Masri / Garfield Eats Guy / Nathfield - “Entergaging” 29 year old Schizophrenic Arab using daddy's money to buy fame. Recently created his own Garfield version of Sonichu
Updating because we now have a full PDF of arabiolosis.
Read it if you truly want to, but we have enough info for the content that it shouldn't matter much
If your local library is signed up with Hoopla you can read it on there, or even check out the audiobook (not read by Nathen, unfortunately).
Who the hell is Mark Greenberg? He sounds like a robot. Did Nathen use some text-to-speech program and give it a Jewish pseudonym to try to break into the mainstream? It was released in 2020, so before modern AI stuff, but voice programs had gotten pretty good by then.
Brother I haven't gone to the library in years, I don't even know what a hoopla is. Can someone just put it on a Google drive? I think it's because of the ddos attacks
Brother I haven't gone to the library in years, I don't even know what a hoopla is. Can someone just put it on a Google drive? I think it's because of the ddos attacks
Garfield Didn’t Die. The Licensing System Lost Sight of Fans.
There is a particular kind of silence that follows the end of something beloved.
“IP doesn’t die. It goes invisible when the system can’t measure demand.”
Not the silence of forgetting. The silence of abandonment.
For nearly a decade, one of the most recognisable cartoon characters in human history — a lazy, lasagna-obsessed orange cat born from the pen of a quiet cartoonist in Indiana — had virtually disappeared from the cultural conversation. No new television series. No major merchandise push. No fresh licensing deals reaching fans in new markets. The 2004 film voiced by Bill Murray had grossed $208 million worldwide and then, quietly, the studio’s licensing relationship with Paws Inc. expired in 2009. The IP did not die. It simply went dark.
Fans noticed. They always do.
The Youngest Garfield Licensee in the World
Somewhere in that silence, a young entrepreneur in his mid-twenties had an idea so audacious that most people in the licensing industry laughed when they heard it.
He wanted to build the world’s first Garfield-themed restaurant.
Not a pop-up. Not a themed event. A fully operational, tech-infused, franchise-ready food concept built around the most famous cat who ever refused to get out of bed on a Monday morning. He would call it GarfieldEATS. There would be a Garfield-shaped pizza. An app. A mobile restaurant concept. A franchise pipeline designed to scale globally.
To make it real, he needed one thing: a phone call to Muncie, Indiana.
Jim Davis — the creator of Garfield, the man who had drawn the strip every day since 1978 — was famously protective of his IP. Licensing approvals went through rigorous creative review. Partners were vetted carefully. The character had survived for decades precisely because Davis refused to let it be diluted.
The call was made. The concept was pitched. And Jim Davis, a man who had seen every kind of licensing proposal imaginable across four decades, said something that stopped the room:
“In 40 years, no rebel has ever come to me with a crazy idea like this.”
He said yes.
At 27 years old, Nathen Mazri became the youngest official Garfield licensee in the world. He booked a flight to Muncie, Indiana — a pilgrimage of sorts — and shook the hand of the man whose creation had shaped his childhood.
It was, by any measure, a dream realised.
What happened next would shape the rest of his life in ways he could not have predicted.
The Fans Who Waited a Decade
GarfieldEATS did something unexpected almost immediately.
It did not just sell food. It reactivated something dormant in people who had spent years wondering what happened to a character they loved. Fans came from across cities. They travelled to experience something they had not felt since childhood. And they said something to Mazri, over and over, in person and in messages and in social media comments that accumulated into the tens of thousands:
“You brought Garfield back. He was hidden for ten years. I thought nobody cared anymore.”
Twenty million impressions. Five hundred media stories. Global coverage for a restaurant concept built around an orange cat and a Garfield-shaped pizza. www.nathenmazri.com
The fans had never stopped caring. The infrastructure had simply stopped connecting them to the IP they loved.
Then something remarkable happened. Word of GarfieldEATS reached 20th Century Fox — the studio that had distributed the 2004 film and held a deep institutional relationship with the Garfield IP. Rather than purge their remaining promotional merchandise — the kind of surplus that typically gets quietly destroyed in a studio lot in Burbank, California — Fox shipped it directly to GarfieldEATS. Official film merchandise. Genuine licensed product from a $208 million theatrical release. Sent not to a landfill but to a licensee who had demonstrated something rare: the ability to activate a fan base that had gone quiet.
Mazri stored that inventory for two years at his own cost. He sold much of it. Every item that moved was proof of something the industry had failed to measure: dormant IP is not dead IP. It is simply disconnected IP.
Fans will always find what they love — if someone builds the bridge.
Inside the Machine That Was Supposed to Work
But building that bridge as an official licensee meant living inside a system that most fans never see and most entrepreneurs are not prepared for.
Royalty reports submitted quarterly on spreadsheets. Territory restrictions that made no logical sense to the fans they affected. Audit cycles that could stretch for months. Contract clauses that gave licensors sweeping termination rights with minimal notice requirements. No live visibility into sales. No real-time royalty reconciliation. No platform connecting the licensor’s legal team to the licensee’s operations in anything approaching a modern workflow.
When a fan in Brazil messaged GarfieldEATS asking where they could buy an official Garfield product — a real fan, spending real money, motivated by genuine love for a character — the answer was a version of the same message millions of fans receive every year on every major marketplace platform:
“Sorry. We can’t ship to your area. Licensing restrictions.”
That fan did not stop wanting the product. They went to a marketplace and bought a counterfeit instead. An unverified seller. A product that paid no royalties to Paws Inc. No commission to the licensee. No data point in any report anywhere. A transaction that happened in plain sight and was invisible to everyone who should have seen it.
This is not an isolated incident. This is Tuesday in the entertainment licensing industry.
The Receipts Are in Federal Court
In March 2026, a lawsuit filed in federal court illuminated just how broken the system truly is.
Sesame Workshop — the nonprofit organisation behind Sesame Street, one of the most beloved educational brands in history — sued SeaWorld Entertainment over more than $11 million in unpaid royalties. An arbitration panel had already found SeaWorld in breach. A federal court had already ordered payment. SeaWorld still had not paid.
A 45-year partnership. Ended in litigation.
The entertainment licensing industry generates an estimated $141 billion annually — a figure derived almost entirely from surveys, institutional estimates, and the kind of guesswork that passes for market intelligence when nobody has built the infrastructure to measure what is actually happening in real time.
Disney spends millions each year on royalty audits — teams of accountants dispatched to licensees to manually verify sales reports against actual transactions. Industry data consistently shows that these audits uncover significant underpayments. The gap between what licensees report and what they actually sell is not a rounding error. It is a structural feature of a system that was never designed to be transparent.
WIPO — the World Intellectual Property Organization — champions IP protection globally. The United States Patent and Trademark Office has built the legal foundation of IP rights in the world’s largest economy. Both organisations have done extraordinary work at the policy and legal layer.
Neither has solved the commercial layer. The layer where a licensee submits a PDF report and a licensor has to trust it. The layer where a fan in Brazil gets a sorry-we-can’t-ship message and buys a counterfeit. The layer where a 45-year partnership ends in federal court over $11 million that should have been tracked automatically.
That layer has been broken since the 1980s. And nobody has fixed it.
The Kidult Economy Nobody Is Counting
While the licensing industry ran on spreadsheets and quarterly guesswork, something extraordinary was happening in the consumer market that the industry could barely measure.
Adults — grown men and women with jobs and mortgages and children of their own — never stopped loving the characters of their childhood. They just got older and started spending their own money.
The toy industry now has a word for them. Kidults.
In the first half of 2025, toy sales to consumers 18 and older jumped 18% year over year — the fastest growing demographic in the entire industry, outpacing every age group including children. Licensed toys account for 37% of all toys sold in the United States. Adults now represent 28% of global toy sales. The US adult toy market has surpassed $7 billion. In Europe, Kidults generated over $4.8 billion in toy purchases in a single year. The collectible toy market alone is projected to reach $35.3 billion by 2032.
Every top growth property in the industry right now is connected to licensing, content, or a film release.
And yet the fans driving billions in purchasing power still cannot reliably find official licensed products. They still hit territory restriction messages at checkout. They still buy counterfeits on major marketplaces because the real thing is buried under ten thousand unverified listings. They still participate in a market that has no real census — no live data on what is selling, where, to which type of fan, and why.
The global entertainment characters licensing consumer products industry is flying blind over a $141 billion market. And the fans are paying the price.
What Happens When a Licensee Builds the Solution
Nathen Mazri’s licensing journey did not end smoothly.
A studio terminated his license without warning — not because he was a poor licensee, not because royalties went unpaid, but because the system had no layer to prevent it. No live contract visibility. No real-time communication channel between licensor and licensee. No platform that could have flagged the issue, opened a conversation, and preserved a relationship that both sides had invested in.
He received a letter. Everything built — gone.
He spent two years asking a question that nobody in a $369.9 billion industry had adequately answered: why does none of this have to happen this way?
The royalty fraud. The underpayments discovered years too late. The fans blocked at checkout. The counterfeits winning on every marketplace. The quarterly reports on spreadsheets that no serious industry should still be running on. The terminations without warning. The partnerships destroyed in federal court over money that should have been tracked in real time.
None of it has to happen this way.
The answer he built is called eGeez.
The Platform the Industry Did Not Know It Was Waiting For
eGeez is the world’s first AI-powered Licensing OS — a platform built by someone who lived inside the broken system long enough to understand exactly where every seam was failing.
Every licensee on eGeez operates under an ePIN — a controlled smart gateway that combines human verification, AI validation, and domain verification before a single SKU goes live. No ePIN, no selling. Licensors can mandate eGeez across their entire licensee network, making compliance and royalty accuracy a platform standard rather than a quarterly negotiation.
The AI does not just manage the platform. It indexes licensed SKUs globally — finding official products buried in marketplace clutter, detecting counterfeits, and surfacing verified licensed goods to fans geolocated to their licensed territory at the lowest available prices. No more sorry-we-can’t-ship messages. No more counterfeits winning at checkout because the real thing was invisible.
eLicensor — eGeez’s AI-powered royalty reconciliation suite — traces every sale, across every channel, in every licensed territory, in real time. Not tracking. Tracing. The difference between knowing a transaction happened and knowing every detail of how, where, to whom, and for how much. Royalties are calculated automatically, verified by AI, and settled through eGeezPay at the lowest available bank fees. The quarterly PDF report on a spreadsheet becomes a live dashboard. The audit that uncovers underpayments after two years of damage becomes an alert that fires the moment a discrepancy appears.
eInsights takes this further still. Instead of the surveys and institutional estimates that currently pass for market intelligence in a $141 billion industry, eInsights delivers real census-level data — which licensee sold the most units, which licensed product moved fastest, in which territory, to which fan profile, and why. Fan Intelligence that finally makes sense of a market that has been navigating blind for decades.
For fans — the Kidults and the collectors and the parents and the children who just want to find what they love at a fair price from a verified source — eGeez is the bridge that should have been built forty years ago.
New York Angels — one of the most established angel investment groups in the world, with over $112 million deployed across 441 investments and 72 exits — reviewed eGeez and saw the MOAT. They invited Nathen Mazri to present after passing their verified diligence screening. Before he steps into that room, an NYA-affiliated angel has already committed to the round. Angels from across the world are closing their positions now.
WIPO and USPTO have built the legal infrastructure. eGeez is building the commercial layer. A partnership between them is not just logical. It is inevitable.
The Fan in Brazil Never Got Their Garfield.
Somewhere out there, that fan is still looking.
For the official product. The verified listing. The one that ships to their country, at a fair price, from a licensee who is actually authorised to sell it.
They have been looking for a long time.
eGeez is almost ready.
eGeez is currently closing its angel round. Invited to present to New York Angels after passing verified diligence screening. A small number of Fangel positions remain — accredited investors who believe in what fans deserve.
The TL;DR is Nathen once again tries to sound like an expert at licensing because at one point he used his dad’s money to slap a Garfield sticker on a failed restaurant, all while failing to understand the actual industry, much like he failed to understand the Garfield fandom
Jim Davis — the creator of Garfield, the man who had drawn the strip every day since 1978 — was famously protective of his IP. Licensing approvals went through rigorous creative review. Partners were vetted carefully. The character had survived for decades precisely because Davis refused to let it be diluted.
After all this time it’s still so hard to tell if he’s genuine or not. Is he just a rich brown faggot, cynically attempting to exploit what he believes is a beloved American ip? Or is he a legit fucking autist who’s angry that Viacom isn’t utilizing the Garfield ip properly? Or is it perhaps some strange combination of the two? It is.
He wants to be famous, first and foremost, and he’s such a autist that he believes his way in is by attaching himself to beloved IP, but he only likes the stuff that’s old and sanitized enough to air in the UAE, hence Garfield. Sure Garfield has Christmas specials and the like, but the average strip is non-Christian, non-sexual, non-violent, and sterile. It’s not funny in the slightest but that makes it ideal for a culturally bankrupt Arab society.
I hadn’t thought about what media was and wasn’t allowed to disseminate to the UAE, but that actually makes a lot of sense. His story about Garfield comics being his favorite thing as a kid always seemed fake to me, but their laws were probably more strict then so Garfield might’ve been the “funniest” media they had. God that’s depressing, no wonder he acts like a fucking alien.
After all this time it’s still so hard to tell if he’s genuine or not. Is he just a rich brown faggot, cynically attempting to exploit what he believes is a beloved American ip? Or is he a legit fucking autist who’s angry that Viacom isn’t utilizing the Garfield ip properly? Or is it perhaps some strange combination of the two? It is.
It’s 100% both. But I don’t think he believes that Garfield isn’t being used properly, I think it’s more that he has this CWCVille mall idea where all products should be available for him to consume at all times, which to be fair is basically what Dubai is, a giant consumer shopping mall dystopia where gaudy licensing that wouldn’t be considered socially acceptable in any other country can flourish because the people who go there have more money than principles.
He wants to be famous, first and foremost, and he’s such a autist that he believes his way in is by attaching himself to beloved IP, but he only likes the stuff that’s old and sanitized enough to air in the UAE, hence Garfield. Sure Garfield has Christmas specials and the like, but the average strip is non-Christian, non-sexual, non-violent, and sterile. It’s not funny in the slightest but that makes it ideal for a culturally bankrupt Arab society.
He believes paramount, who actually IS treating the IP seriously despite his claims, isn’t doing enough because they’re not whoring out garfield to anyone who is willing to pay like Jim Davis did
Just be aware that there is some sort of licensing thing that may result in Nathen receiving a few pennies if you borrow a digital audio book copy of Fagagarfieldosis from a library.
Patrick S. Tomlinson enthusiasts avoid borrowing his books in audio form for this very reason.
Another absolute banger from Nathen that should be added to random.txt. It's quotes like these that keep me coming back to this thread. Thanks for keeping it alive @LiquidKid
Just be aware that there is some sort of licensing thing that may result in Nathen receiving a few pennies if you borrow a digital audio book copy of Fagagarfieldosis from a library.
I hadn’t thought about what media was and wasn’t allowed to disseminate to the UAE, but that actually makes a lot of sense. His story about Garfield comics being his favorite thing as a kid always seemed fake to me, but their laws were probably more strict then so Garfield might’ve been the “funniest” media they had. God that’s depressing, no wonder he acts like a fucking alien.
Just be aware that there is some sort of licensing thing that may result in Nathen receiving a few pennies if you borrow a digital audio book copy of Fagagarfieldosis from a library.
Patrick S. Tomlinson enthusiasts avoid borrowing his books in audio form for this very reason.
Another absolute banger from Nathen that should be added to random.txt. It's quotes like these that keep me coming back to this thread. Thanks for keeping it alive @LiquidKid
Agreed on adding to random text, amazing it's schizo af. Also so egotistical to quote yourself like that. But I fucking love the idea of Garfield explaining trademark and IP law I can still picture that in Lorenzo Music's voice.
Much like that dog told me if I shoot Ronald Regan Jodie Foster will want dick, my dick.
That’s inconclusive imo. The memoir is cargo-cult Nathan, he wrote his autobiography as though he’d already attained success. Garfield Eats hadn’t totally failed yet, so he was already the “Licensing Wizard” in his own mind at that point.
I’m sure once he believes he’s successful, he’d eagerly discard Garfield in favor of promoting himself. But that doesn’t mean he feels zero emotional attachment to the ip. It just means he’s more obsessed with himself, which seems on brand for a shallow autistic Arab fag.
Idk tho, he’s probably just a literal npc desperately trying not to disappoint his slightly less retarded npc dad.
In the middle of the 1st century, the Apostle Paul was wandering around the ancient world claiming that he got his gospel directly from the risen Jesus himself and not from the original Apostles.
That was the source of some funny shitty, like Paul dismissing the actual Apostles with shit like 'My message comes from the Lord, not from men'
That’s inconclusive imo. The memoir is cargo-cult Nathan, he wrote his autobiography as though he’d already attained success. Garfield Eats hadn’t totally failed yet, so he was already the “Licensing Wizard” in his own mind at that point.
I’m sure once he believes he’s successful, he’d eagerly discard Garfield in favor of promoting himself. But that doesn’t mean he feels zero emotional attachment to the ip. It just means he’s more obsessed with himself, which seems on brand for a shallow autistic Arab fag.
Idk tho, he’s probably just a literal npc desperately trying not to disappoint his slightly less retarded npc dad.
He wrote the book before ever doing Garfield eats then reissued it on a different label to try and cash in on the small viral notoriety he got for Garfield Eats, mistaking people captivated by the absurdity of the concept for genuine interest in him
