The Stories The Surf Media Won’t Print

How many stories are hidden away, uncomfortable truths buried deep?

I was recently messaging back and forth with a fellow member of the “surf media” regarding a story he’s been kicking around. The subject isn’t important, he was weighing the merits of really going after the story, versus doing something a little mellower so as not to burn any bridges.

It could be a damn solid piece, enough so that I was a little peeved he mentioned it to me. Now I can’t do it.

He was right to be concerned about the reaction to contacting people for info. The wagons would circle, team managers would get pissy. Not because the topic is super inflammatory, but because it might cut into their bread and butter.

Make no mistake, everything you see is groomed, little candid, almost nothing honest. Words without an agenda are few and far between.

Which brings us to Anastasia Ashley. I mentioned, in passing, that I’d seen some photos the other day.  Word is that she accidentally snapchat’ed them to her public account, when they were meant as a private message to some very lucky man.

I didn’t see much of a story in it. Amusing enough to make a punchline, but they weren’t anything great. Closeup of a landing strip, a perfectly normal piece of female anatomy. By internet standards pretty tame, barely worth the effort of a tug.

An undoubtedly embarrassing error for Ashley, but considering she’s made a successful career out of selling images of her genetic blessings they were hardly the end of the world.

What happened next was fairly interesting. Stab put up an article on it, then immediately pulled it down. Surfer removed a thread from their bulletin board, then the pictures just disappeared.

The absence of the photo is easily explained away. Her people got working, take down notices went out, everyone complied.

And I’m okay with that.

She didn’t do anything wrong, no reason she should face consequences. And consequences there would be, no-one wants their private parts dissected by the brutality of internet anonymity. Not unless you’re getting paid, or you’ve got some sort of kink that makes it work.

But the removal of words is something else. Neither the forum nor Stab linked to her nethers, and discussion of a public person’s foibles is fair game. It’s the cost of putting yourself out there.

Unkind, often unfair, but an unavoidable effect of life in the public eye.

It makes you wonder how much else is missing.

How many stories are hidden away, uncomfortable truths buried deep, concealed from a public which very much wants to know?

Pleasing people doesn’t make them open up to you, it only makes you their running dog. A disingenuous voice serving masters who’d rather you didn’t exist. There’s no real upside in going along to get along, there’s no future in writing about wave sliding.

The mags are destined to die, falling in step just earns you a cubicle and terrible salary until the inevitable pink slip appears on your desk one cold winter morning.

If we’re not being honest, why the fuck are we doing this at all?

There are no bridges to burn, no awesome lifestyle to be had if you only play the game.