Live: The 2014 Surfer Poll! Tune in!

Oh holy night! The most wonderful night of the surfing calendar… 

It is the most wonderful eve of the year! An oh-holy night when little boys pair their finest, crisp-from-the-cellophane button-ups with creased denim and little girls slip into platform flip-flops. Looking as fresh as the leis around their necks, they walk in to Turtle Bay’s ballroom, filled to the rotting rafters with stink and paranoia, and vie for “awards” voted on by you and me (minus “me”).

Mai Tais flow like water. Sometimes fights break out. Always no one has any real fun. And you would be forgiven for thinking I write of The Oscars or the first night of Hanukkah but you would also be wrong. Darlings, it is time for Surfer Poll.

Surfer Poll, our red carpeted celebration of surfing and surfers. Surfer Poll, our Sal Masekela and Freddy Patacchia seven-hour comedy show. Surfer Poll, our Surfer Poll. It has been happening for too long, I think, and there have been so many memorable moments. All of them involve Dane Reynolds speaking at the lectern. And there have been many memorable winners. Kelly Slater.

The show used to take place in the friendly confines of Anaheim, California, if you recall. And sure, sure Anaheim has absolutely zero style, culture or charm but, back then, it was safe. Anyone could go. Anyone could drink and say anything at all. There would be no slaps, no shifty-eyes, no rotting rafters or paranoia. But what sort of awards show is that? A boring one is what and so the powers decided to move the event to Oahu’s North Shore and hold it during the Triple Crown. Genius is not too hefty a compliment to hoist upon those powers (not Roy, fyi).

What is more, the show is live-streamed. You can watch Dane Reynolds and Kelly Slater in the ballroom right here. If you sniff deeply enough, you can even smell the weird. Or it might just be Spam Musubi but anyhow, shall we watch it together? Yes? The red-carpet show begins at 9 pm Pacific Standard Time.

Mix yourself a mai tai and we’ll play a drinking game. One large gulp every time there is a long and awkward pause. Just kidding! We’d all die of alcohol poisoning!

Click here to watch! 

Candid: “North Shore Girls are Savages!” says JOB

Six hundred lovers, by our calculations! But, still, no love!

It was lunchtime on a Sunday when the simpering of Jamie O’Brien’s Katie Perry ringtone (Firework) indicated BeachGrit was calling. Jamie, we soon found, was in the town of Kahuku, not so many miles from his Pipeline house, the new Pipeline house behind the old Lopez joint and not the rental he occupied most of his life and that fronted the Pipe reef, getting his grinds, the very Hawaiian dish called Poke, deboned and sliced yellow fin tuna deposited amid shards of seaweed and candlenut and spritzed with soy sauce.

Jamie was sharing his company with Damien Robertson, a man employed to film his myriad exploits, both water and in the jungles, as hunter.

It was a roundabout conversation about Pipe, the wave, that reminded us that we hadn’t lit up Jamie for…what… six, seven years? And, suddenly, amid a thunderstorm of mental calculations, we figured, ain’t Jamie O was now over 30? The kid that was never going to get old? And, now he nearly is?

Talk to us Jamie boy!

BeachGrit: Oh my god, how does it feel to be over 30?
Jamie: Oh fuck, I know, right? I’m fucken halfway to 60. But it’s all good. I’m only getting better.

Life goes so fast don’t it!
I know, right! Fuck! You know what freaks me out? That it ain’t a joke and that I’m actually halfway to 60. Fuck!

How about your Dad? He’s 60 plus…
Sixty something…

…and he’s doing okay…
Yeah, he’s good. But, you don’t feel like you’re getting old until you start to bald. Then y’think, I’m old now, I better start combing this shit over.

Are you balding?
Fuck no!

I remember you with the greatest mane of reddened hair.
A big fucken mane of hair.

A big fucking mane of red hair. Like y’pal from Maui, Cheyne Magnusson.
Fuck you. I ain’t red.

How about we compromise and call it strawbs blond?
Brah, easy, easy. Cheyne’s all red.

You never used to drink, now you do, what’s life like, pre and post drinking?

You started drinking in 2004 after winning Pipe, yes!
I had to do it. I told ’em, if I won, I was gonna drink. I won and I remember doing an interview lying down. Everything was spinning and I couldn’t go to sleep because of the sugar-beer buzz.

Is life better with alcohol?
I don’t know. I gotta stop drinking. It’s fun. It’s social. I don’t know. It’s always your friends, they tear you down. It’s always, “Let’s have a beer!” There’s always someone coming and going. There’s always an excuse to drink. Good times. Good people.

Booze stops boredom.
Yeah, it does.

Does that Pipe win feel like a lifetime ago?
Yeah, too long ago. It’s a long time ago. Fuck it pisses me off.

Because it was so long ago?
No, just cause I surf there everywhere day, but those contests, you win, you lose, you win, you lose. Unless you’re Kelly Slater.

Surfing contests can be extremely frustrating.

Yeah, but then, at the end of the day, everyone eventually eaves the North Shore. It’s so crowded, so many people. It’s too hectic and then it goes away. So, the actual contest? I don’t care that much.

It gets a little hot out there on the North Shore?

For me and John John, everyone’s got their head over our fences, yelling, no one calls you up, everyone just pours into the yard. But, like I said, I don’t want to be anywhere else but here.

Before this Pipe house, the one behind the Lopez joint, you had a crib at V-Land. You ever live there?
I never lived there. I couldn’t do it. I’m addicted to Pipeline. It’s where I grew up, that’s where I’m born and raised. That’s where everybody wants to be… and it’s my home. If a kid grows up at Pipeline, there’s a connection and he’s going to be a really good surfer. It’s the ultimate place to grow up. That’s why I want to live there, to keep the generation going of weasel Pipe surfers. I moved into my new house last year. At our beach house at Pipe I was so sick and tired of these rats and cockroaches. That was the dream pad on the beach, now I’m 20 feet from the beach. But, this place is clean and nice and not a rundown beach house. That thing was savage.

Who is the best surfer in the world?
John John, Dane and Kelly. John John. He’s gnarly, brah. His surfing is so good. John is 20 and charging Jaws with his brothers and shit. John is always going to be that one step ahead. And, he surfs more than anyone alive. He surfs all day long. He wakes up in the dark and surfs until dark.

How’s your relationship with John John?
Me and John? He’s like my little brother. We’re tight. I dunno. Fuck. He’s still a little shithead grommet.

You got him into his first contest, pushed him onto his first wave. Is the story true that you’d toss turds at the kid?
Aw, you gotta give him shit, beat him up, tie him to a tree and throw shit at him. It was all in good measure.

How’d his ma Alex react?
Alex? Oh, she snapped! But they were dog shits. It wasn’t that bad.

How many Bulls y’taking down every day?
Two or three. Sometimes I take six or seven.

You must feel like an eagle after half-a-doz Red Bulls.
Oh, I do. Very energised. I just do it. My fridge is pretty much empty. There are so many scavengers coming and going around my house. And, all that’s in the fridge is Red Bull, so when they’re hungry, I tell ’em to grab a Red Bull. I grab one, go surf, then have a food attack and eat poke, drink some more… fuck.

Most Red Bulls in a day?
Very difficiult to quantify. It has been a beautiful 15 years together. I love it. It’s a good relationshp. I can’t keep a girl around for two weeks.

I was wondering, how many gals y’think you’ve pounded in the last 10 years?
Fuck, I don’t know. Fuck you!

I ain’t asking for proof. Just a ballpark number.
You’re tripping…

Let me calculate for you. Say, 30 every winter, 20 during those long summers, over a dozen years. Does 600 fucks sound about right to you?
This is a very strange interview.

How about this. Out of the 600 ladies, or maybe they weren’t so much ladies, how many were real-life squirters?
Haaaa! You’re fucking out of control.

My colleague wondered this: do gals suck y’dick harder cause you’re the man at Pipe?
I’m not the man at Pipe. I reckon we get less chicks cause all these guys all around the world come here and bone all our chicks, it wigs ’em out and they don’t want to hang out anymore. They’ve been trampled by the whole CT and QS. We’ll say, something like, “What’s up, you should come on down to my house at Pipe.” And, they’ll be, “Oh my god, I don’t want to go to the North Shore, it’s so gross!” Thanks to the surf world for making us look bad.

I believe women flock to your top-floor studio bedroom. You are a very popular 30 year old.
It’s not all it seems to be.

Have you discovered love?
Oh brah! The chicks are all savages here! There’s no love around here.

Who was the last person to say they loved you?
My dad.

Surfline is hiring!

Your dream job is but a click away.

A job in surf is a thrilling adventure. Close your eyes and picture with me, if you will, warm salt water gently dousing your tanned face. Trips to far-flung and exotic islands where the waves break only for you and also a handful of professional surfers. Funny drinking games with like-minded gentleman deep into the night. And getting paid for all of it! Because it is your job! Because you work in surf!

I have lived this dream for many years and now you can too because our economy is finally coming back into the light and Surfline is hiring. Yesterday the surf-centric wave forecasting company sent out a tweet seeking customer relationship specialists, front-end web developers and, maybe the crème de la crème, a human resources manager.

The human resources manager “contributes to the accomplishment of Human Resources practices and objectives that will provide an employee-oriented, high performance culture that emphasizes empowerment, quality, productivity and standards, goal attainment, and the recruitment and ongoing development of a superior workforce. The Human Resources Manager will be responsible for all functions in the HR department including hiring and recruiting, benefits management, maintaining employee records, ensuring employee morale, coordinating company events, etc.”

Can you feel the warm salt water gently dousing your tanned face? Can you? Apply here and the best of luck. I hope to see you in the water. And by “water” I mean “cubicle.” And by “see you” I mean not.

Zach at theinertia!
…meanwhile, over at, they seek an editor and studs for accounts and sales. Email Zach (here) at [email protected]

(Semi) Essential Equipment: Dane Reynolds’ Sperm Whale

Wide as a river, thin as a reed? What fun you'll have!

Carpinteria ain’t but two hours north of the City of Angels, up there in Santa Babs county. A real good righthand point there called Rincon, too, in case y’didn’t know. But what should really get your SUV rental pointed to Carps is the Channel Islands factory. For there, in the corner of the reception area, is the Dane Reynolds-shaped Sperm Whale (among a bunch of other iconic CI boards).

Pick the Sperm up! What do your hands tell you? It’s wide, yeah, the wax is dirty, sure, but feel the rails. Have you ever felt anything quite so slender? And ain’t it ugly!

But there is something incomprehensible, something a little mystical about this surfboard, something that makes it paradoxically easy to ride, but difficult to master. How did it appear? Let’s ask Reynolds, the shaper.

“Thomas (Campbell) was doing a book and wanted to take pictures of me shaping a board that I would bring and ride in Morocco ’cause he thought that was a cool thread for the book. He did the same with Alex (Knost), too. I ended up hurting my knee and didn’t go to Morocco, but anyways, I had shaped three boards free-form and thought I was the free-form guru. My point being this: look at the thing you stand on the board with, your foot. It’s such a bizarre shape and there’s no way you apply pressure to the heelside rail the same as you do the toeside rail, so what’s the point of symmetry?”

Listen, closer, readers, as Reynolds continues with the theorem. “So we just fucked around in the shaping room all afternoon. Thomas was more interested in taking weird photos, cutting up blanks to look like Christmas trees and shit. But the Sperm Whale basically came from that. Just hacking away until it was too thin and we had to stop and glass it. He was telling me what to do, kept telling me it needed more vee, more vee, more vee. ’til it was crazy thin and the whole board had vee. I didn’t know he hadn’t even shaped a board before. He was telling me what to do like he was Skip Frye or something. But the end result was a misshapen Sperm Whale looking thing, hence the name, and somehow it actually worked. Well, I thought it worked. Thomas wasn’t convinced. He didn’t like the way I surfed on it. I brought it to Chile and he kept telling me to get off of it. But it was pretty fun anyway. For me.”

CI’s Trav Lee says: “Dane had a knee injury at the time so he shelved it for a bit, but as he was recovering he pulled it out and rode it a bunch and was surprised how incredibly fast and fun it was. Sometimes boards, no matter what they look like, have a magic element and work incredibly well. When scanning and reproducing this board for the model we really wanted to maintain the integrity of his original shape.”

Says Reynolds: “Travis said he kept getting orders for a Sperm Whale and so they scanned it and I’m surprised at how many people I see riding ’em and saying they love it. The scanned version, where they took out all the major mess-ups, goes pretty insane. It’s less of a curve ball. The basic fundamentals aren’t that weird, just flat with a ton of planing surface and that eggy wide-point back thing with the big hip to pivot off of.”

“This board has a big cult following and sells extremely well in Australia and Japan,” says Trav.

Adds Reynolds. “I think I see way more homemade Sperm Whale incarnations in the lineup than real ones, which is pretty cool.

Dimensions: 5’5″ x 21¼” x 2 1/8″ and 28.1L volume. Interesting side note: “It’s crazy how close to Dane’s normal volume he got on this board when shaping this from a raw and using no measuring tools,” says Channel Islands’ Travis Lee.

Kolohe Andino with satirical penis
"I’m making a statement about the absurdity of taking surfing so seriously," writes Rory Parker. "It’s nothing more than playing in the ocean but it’s been turned into this super serious industry that generates millions of dollars. By putting dicks in their hands I’m illuminating the ridiculous nature of pro surfing as a whole.”

Humour: The Penis as Satirical Sledgehammer

Who knew cartoon dicks could give such wonderful laughs?

As a stay at home husband who suckles from the teat of a successful wife I have certain duties regarding the maintenance of our household. The responsibilities are hardly overwhelming, but I’m not very adept at cleaning, or caring, and our home degenerates, relatively frequently, into a state approaching squalor.

My wife’s approach regarding enforcement of my husbandly duties usually takes the form of a series of passive-aggressive hints over the course of a few days, a tact that is as ineffective as it is emasculating, finally switching into outright demands that I mop the damn floor and do some fucking laundry.

Fair enough, she’s the bread winner, I have ample free time. But I just don’t like cleaning, and no amount of persuasion, in whatever form, is going to change that.

I get a pass when I have writing work. Apparently not so much when I’m creating visual art.

It was a few days ago when the missus strolled into our cozy little two bedroom and surveyed the filth in which we live.

“What the fuck, Rory? I thought you were going to clean?”

“I know, sorry, I was busy working all day.”

“Oh, what did you write?”

“Nothing, I was making art.”

“What do you mean, art?”

“Here you go.”

“This is just a bunch of dicks. You spent eight hours drawing fucking dicks?”

“Well, twelve.  I started last night.”

“This isn’t fucking work.”

“Yes it is, it’s art.”

“How the fuck is this art?”


“See, you know it’s…”

“No, no, give me a second… It’s satire.”

“No it isn’t. It’s just a bunch of dicks and it’s copyright infringement anyway. You can’t use it for anything.”

“No, satire is protected. I’m making a statement.”

“No you fucking aren’t. You’re just drawing dicks. You’re going to get sued.”

“That’d actually be pretty cool, if I got sued for drawing dicks on pro surfers.”

“No, it wouldn’t be fucking cool.”

“No, don’t you see, I’m making a statement about the absurdity of taking surfing so seriously. It’s nothing more than playing in the ocean but it’s been turned into this super serious industry that generates millions of dollars. By putting dicks in their hands I’m illuminating the ridiculous nature of pro surfing as a whole.”

“You’re just making this up as you go along. They’re going to send you a cease and desist.”

“Yeah, but then I get to write about how the ASP is going after me for drawing dicks. Oh!  I could title it, ‘Why is the industry so scared of my cocks?’ That’d be awesome!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re going to get sued.”

“No, look, I’ll just come up with some clever little intro showing how it’s satire and I’ll be fine.”

“Fuck…  I’ve had a long day. Just do what you’re gonna do and let’s talk about something else. And do some fucking laundry tomorrow, okay?”

“I promise I will.”


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