Gimme two!
Gimme two!

New Point Break Film Dazzles!

If you have cognitive disabilities or don't understand a word of English!

I went to the Hollywood black carpet premier of Point Break last night on the arm of snowboarding half pipe Olympic gold medalist Iouri Podladtchikov. I wore Dior and Iouri wore Costume National. I saw old friends like Raimana van Bastolear and Mark Healey and met new ones like Albee Layer and Jaws champ Billy Kemper. We took pictures etc.

Eventually we were all herded off the black carpet and into the grand Chinese Theater, given 3-D glasses and sent to our seats. It was, obviously, a full house.

The lights dimmed, the movie flickered, and from the very first word spoken it was clear that it was going to be a grotesque bastardization of an already, let’s be honest, silly film. The Utah character sits on a motorcycle and talks to his friend about doing some impossible line and they gotta do it because that’s what the sponsors want, bro, and also YouTube hits, like, millions. Utah’s tattoos are even uglier than his campy action sports dialogue.

Tragedy strikes and we next see Utah in an FBI classroom and you know the story! Except you don’t because Utah uses words like “polyathlete.” He’s a polyathlete because he does many different action sports. Etc.

And it is gag me with a spoon bad. Ham-fisted, bizarre drivel. Hollywood’s wet dream of what action sports kids are, what they do and how they speak is so completely and shockingly off, still, after all these years that it has become a wonder. The director/producers/writers of this film either think they’re shreds so, therefore, don’t need any help writing dialogue/crafting story or…I don’t know. I just don’t know. The director was wearing a bandana around his head and had two loop earrings on the carpet so maybe that explains everything.

Right when I was ready to shove my 3-D glasses deep into my ears the action really hit and it was at Teahupo’o, even though it is supposed to be off the coast of France, and wow. Just wow. Aside from the necessary Laird Hamilton on a ski cameo and everyone cheering loudest for kick-outs it is wonderful. This is where the film shines. This is where the director accepted maybe more creative input from the people who actually do the things he is trying to make a movie about.

And Teahupo’o is the low water mark. The snowboarding, wingsuit flying, rock climbing, motorcycling bits completely titillate. All the way until there are step-offs at 100+ Cortes Bank. They are shot spectacularly and the athletes soar.

But when the narrative is re-entered the film is a dead fish. The Utah character is fine and the Bodhi character is fine but they ain’t no Keanu Reeves + Pat Swayze. Keanu played dumb jock well and Swayze played Dirty Dancing well. The new Utah is an empty Australian vessel with unfortunate hair. The new Bodhi character is something of a revelation, I must admit. The best acting in the film aside from Iouri Podladtchikov’s line in the Austrian mansion. The Angelo Pappas character is completely gutted. Not even a shadow of Gary Busey. The Lori Petty character is cute but smeared in hideous tattoos. Anthony Kiedis is nowhere.

The biggest problem, though, in a constellation of problems, is that there is no reason to cheer for Utah or cheer against Bodhi. In the first film, Bodhi was selfish, at the end, and probably narcissistic. This Bodhi is a perfect eco-warrior. A selfless saint. And when Utah picks the FBI over him it is nonsensically jarring, frustrating even.

So there you go. This film will probably put “action sports” back about 20 years. It is that bad. But as I sat in my seat, I reveled in the fact that the great Hollywood surf film is yet to be made. That makes me very very happy because it is still out there, hiding in the bushes, maybe getting aloe rubbed into its reef cuts.

Movie: Dino Andino on Kolohe Andino

Daddy gets candid on his dazzling boy… 

Two days ago, I threw up a little interview I made with the shaper Matt Biolos in San Clemente. There’s something about stealing a man’s thoughts over the breakfast counter that brings immediacy and a candour you don’t get when you sit ‘em under a bank of tungsten lights.

On that very same day, I went to see Dino Andino, the one-time successful pro surfer and pops of Kolohe Andino, who lives a short drive away.

I had enough memory of the card of my little Canon G10 to record a few minutes of his thoughts. Would Dino, therefore, allow me to make an interview with him about his son?

There were things I wondered: what doesn’t Dino like about Brother’s surfing? How is their father-son relationship?

I imagined the house to be something extravagant, on the gaudy side of decorative and loaded with labour-saving devices that would virtually eliminate the housemaid, but with a garden that required half of Latin America to maintain.

What I discovered was a pretty, and welcoming, Californian-style bungalow. Dino, as ever, was a generous host, pointing out the various features of the house and the section where the noted Ho family, Mason, Coco and Michael, stay every summer.

This interview is a tight edit of a somewhat rambling, but illuminating, conversation.

Candid: In Defence of Chris Ward

Wait, is this a classic bait and switch?

The wife and I have an arrangement where, when we’re at that point all couples eventually reach, when you’re both totally sick of arguing but still super angry at each other and neither is willing to concede defeat, that we’re allowed to hit each other.

It adds up to a nice little smack, but can’t cause any real damage (a worry for me since I’m, literally, twice my wife’s size and love her very, very much). It always works for calming us both down. You get the catharsis of delivering a blow, and receive one of your own to remind you that it hurts.

It’s a rarely invoked situation, and comes with a few rules.

  1. You must stand feet together, facing each other.
  2. No twisting at the waist or reaching past your shoulder to wind up.
  3. Fingertips only. No striking with palms allowed.
  4. Aim for cheek only.

It adds up to a nice little smack, but can’t cause any real damage (a worry for me since I’m, literally, twice my wife’s size and love her very, very much). It always works for calming us both down. You get the catharsis of delivering a blow, and receive one of your own to remind you that it hurts.

I’m not recommending this for other couples. Far from it.

We’ve got a very unique take on how to build a successful relationship and while what we do has worked for a decade and a half I suspect it’d be a bit much for normal people.

Anyway, this is all a very strange and round-a-bout way of asking a simple question- have you seen the Dane clip Surfer’s Journal posted today? 

Shot by Kai Neville, edited by Dane, himself, it’s three-and-a-half minutes of pure splendor.

I suspect that Dane and Courtney have a weird relationship, something along the lines of the wife and me. I think you need to, if you’re going to meet young and stick together for the duration.

People change a lot over the years, to assume the person you fell in love with will remain in stasis for the rest of their life is naive. And when you’re both creative people, you’ve gotta make allowances for the neuroses that generate that type of personality.

Did you know that we both have French Bulldogs?

Ours is named Mr. Eugene Victor Debs. He’s pure fucking awesome, though no where near calm enough to pose for adorable pictures.

And he won’t take a shit if someone is watching him.

Which I understand. I’ve had to explain to my wife, on multiple occasions, that I feel the same way.

Like, at the very least don’t make eye contact, honey.

Chris Ward Michele Ward
Michele Ward writes: Nobody ever said love was easy. It's hard. It's amazing. You fall, you cry, you laugh. You take time to realize your part and you invite God in. You fight for your family and love unconditionally, accept flaws, embrace beautiful days...and never forget the Lord can restore all. @psycho_ward137 Photo:|| @rraudiovisual #love#family

Redemption: Social Media Saves Wardo?

…oh, the power of Facebook!

Ain’t 2015 the most wonderful time to be alive? We have it all! World leaders who unite to stop global warming, proud men and women gather together to decry religious intolerance and social medias to keep in touch with our thousands and thousands of friends!

Yesterday we reported on the very public apparent disintegration of Chris Ward’s marriage. There were pictures of his wife with a bruised face, maybe hacked Instagram accounts and Facebook harangues.

Oh the pain of living in glass houses. This might have been kept a private matter but in 2015 everything gets pushed to the public sphere.

An impossible tidal wave! So bad for relationships maybe.

But today we see the flipside, we see the loving caresses of a public rushing in and trying to help, providing advice, even shoulders to cry on! So good for relationships maybe! Social medias can act as therapists couches without the exorbitant financial cost. They can be personal Oprah Winfreys. So totally American!

Chris Ward took to his Facebook, you see, as a result of a public outpouring and wrote:

“Im really sorry for the post I did last night I may have said something that caused a big blowout. I wasn’t intentionally trying to bash anyone I was just letting out my emotions I haven’t got anyone to really talk to that will listen. Yep you can say it was foolish to post my first thoughts and I let my emotions get the better of me but Im as real as it gets I may have over reacted and sorry to my my friends and Michele Marie Ward for making such accusations Maybe i got the wrong empression but this guy should have never been that close to your face. But if i had not gone there i would have saw nothing. Ill stay home next time its healthy. Then we can trade off. ONLY GOOD VIBES TO EVERYONE THANKS FOR BEING CONCERNED everyone goes thought stuff like this in life thats just LIFE gotta grow up and handle STAY Strong especially the ones you love the most PEACE!!!!!”

A marriage perhaps saved because a wound was made public? What if it was allowed to fester in the dark night of privacy? Might it have blown out in some other way?

Michele Ward might be a little tougher to convince, however.

Screen Shot 2015-12-16 at 6.23.57 am

But look, just eight weeks ago.

Chris and Michele M Ward
Go grab your favorite person and watch the sunset. Breathe in what God has given us. Although life’s not always perfect, when you keep the ones that matter most to you close, everyday is a good day at the end … @psycho_ward137 #sanclemente #love #photooftheday #blessed #sunset

There is still the matter of a hacked Wikipedia page….oh hacking!

Screen Shot 2015-12-16 at 1.31.21 AM

What a bother you are! And the bruised face. What was that about? And the little gay hipster? Why so close?

But in this day and age it was the good vibes of the concerned that shone brightest of all.

Bad Santa
Santa: You got some lip on you midget. Rory: Yeah? Well these lips were on your wife's pussy last night. Why don't you dust that thing off once in a while? Asshole!

Inspired: BeachGrit’s Xmas Gift Guide!

What do you buy the godless heathen? A Kendo practice sword and The History of Surfing!

We don’t celebrate Christmas in my house. The wife and I are godless heathens, so dedicating a day to some Jewish kid’s birth doesn’t make much sense. And we’ve got no children, so we don’t have to submit to pageantry just so our little one fits in with his peers.

Plus, Christmas trees are insane fucking fire hazards. Seriously, I can’t believe people merrily co-exist with a sap filled firebomb for weeks each year.

We do celebrate Chronica which, despite appearances, is not a portmanteau of Christmas and Hanukkah. It’s a non-denominational way to obliquely threaten your nearest and dearest.

I’ll write more about it in the near future. Most likely on a day, like today, that I don’t have any good ideas.

Yesterday I saw that The Inertia ran a “gifts for surfers” article and realized, “Hey, that’s not a bad idea.” Tons of people are probably searching that term, why not steal the idea, and a few clicks along with it? And maybe Mr Rielly can set up an Amazon affiliate account so we can monetize the thing.

A knife: Knives are both useful and dangerous, which makes them the ultimate gift for pretty much everyone. Whether you need to slice some cheese, open a beer, or stab a pesky hobo, if you’ve got a trusty blade on you you’re a-okay.


I’m a big fan of both Kershaw and Spyderco brand knives. Their mid range offerings are sturdy, affordable, and set up for neat-o one handed opening.

I’ve got, literally, a drawer jam packed with knives, though my favorite, and the one I carry most often, is the Kershaw Blur. It’s heavy duty, and the sweet SpeedSafe tech means it’s basically a switchblade, while skirting laws that make switchblades illegal.

Don’t expect the cops to know that, though. It’ll still get you ticketed, and if you’re black in America, it’ll get you shot.

Mfused Vapor Oil: I’ve got a bunch of these things rattling around my house right now, and I really dig ’em. As far as drug use goes, it makes me feel like I’m in the future. My vape pen thing plugs into my computer to charge, then these viscous black tubes screw into the top.


It’s like I’m doing some weird future drug out of Robocop or something. All the new terms for smoking weed really feed into that too.

I’m not “taking a bong hit” anymore, I’m “vaping oil.”

There’s a bunch of different types, variously for pain, or providing different highs, though I can’t really tell the difference. Marijuana culture has long been resembling wine dorks with its evaluation of the drug’s effects, unless you’re really into it I think it’s pretty much all the same.

Make no mistake, though. Even if you’re a daily smoker, like me, these guys will leave you on the floor retarded.

Kendo practice swords: Nothing says “Merry Christmas” as much as getting shit-can wasted on high octane eggnog and bashing the hell out of your friends with a set of martial arts practice swords. They won’t break bones, but they definitely leave bruises, and will raise a welt faster than your drunken stepfather the day after grades come home.


Cressi Freedive fins: Dealing with flat spells ain’t so bad once you realize that there’s a whole ‘nother world lurking below the surface. Tons of cool shit to see, to kill, to eat.

The only problem, freediving ranks up there with golf and snowboarding as a sport mostly enjoyed by privileged white people with money to burn. So the gear is all ridiculously overpriced, and separating the useful from the merely cool-looking takes a ton of time and money.

Even though I’m a total gear whore when it comes to diving, my plastic Cressis are the fins I use most often. They’re durable, cheap-ish, and work really well. People will tell you that you can’t dive deep with them, but I’ve never had a problem.


A subscription to Surfline: The perfect way to say “I felt obligated to buy you a gift but I didn’t want to put any effort into thinking about it so I wasted my money on a product that is just as accurate as a million totally free online options.”

The History of Surfing by Matt Warshaw: I went totally digital with my reading material a few years back, and over the course of various moves, threw away almost every book and magazine I owned.


Why lug around a library when you can pirate pretty much everything ever written?

The few physical print copies I held onto are ones that actually mean something to me. In a box in my closet I’ve got a first print Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (the Rolling Stone issues), my collection of Big Brother magazines, a Farside collection, and Warshaw’s tome on surfing. Because it’s gorgeous, I love it, and I just can’t bring myself to toss it in a dumpster.