Surfer at the Cayucos Pier is what Wikipedia says...
Surfer at the Cayucos Pier is what Wikipedia says...

Mystery: Who is this man?

An international puzzle!

I have been a crack surf journalist for over a decade now. In the trenches. Smoking out those hard-hitting stories you have come to depend on. Who could forget Blood Feud: Two Pretty Instagram Boys? Or A Response to Mr. Smith: Thank You and Welcome?

But there is a mystery I cannot get to the bottom of and need your help. If you Google “surfing” or “surf” and then click images the above picture will appear as either the first or second one. It is also the image that graces Wikipedia’s surf entry and litters the rest of the Internet too. By virtue of its popularity it is basically becoming the image that defines what surfing is to most people in the world.

But who is it? And is he really sponsored by …Lost and Azhiazam and Sector 9 or is his board just stickered up? What has he gone on to become? Is he proud of being the international face of surfing?

Help!

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Heroin chic!
Heroin chic! | Photo: Tate MacDowell

Help: “We’re surfing in heroin!”

Come ride with the brave men and women cleaning our playground!

Have you ever wondered why SUPs exist? Like, on a deep, cosmic level? Have you ever thought, “SUPs are super lame and profoundly dumb. Where did they come from and why are they here?” I’ll admit I have. I usually think it when the surf is good-ish and I see one stroking into the lineup all awkward and wobbly. I also think, “Go to hell, motherfucker.”

Well today I am eating those very words. Look at these saints from H2O Trash Patrol. Look at them actually sweeping the sea and making our lives better. All of our lives too from boogies to the mighty me and you. The upcoming film, from the stylish Tate MacDowell, illustrates what you may already know (the water is yuck) but also that some passionate men and women actually care and put time, effort, energy, money into being part of the solution instead of part of the problem. If karma was real (it ain’t!) don’t you think these folks are erasing their debt for riding SUPs? I do and I am going to try and think nice things about the ones I see from now on.

What is the most disgusting thing you have ever found in the lineup? A dead body? A piece of Aids? Do you care about clean water or do you bury your cigarette grits in the sand?

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Justin Cameron and Lex Pedersen, founders of SurfStitch, the online retailer that scooped up FCS, Stab, among other enterprises. Now this gorgeous coupling has split. Is good? Is bad?

Blood Feud: Surf Stitch vs Surf Stitch!

Gorgeous blond CEO, co-founder quits. Frumpy brunette co-founder left to rock in cubicle… 

Do the machinations of business confuse and fascinate you as they do me? My favourite, at least in recent memory, was Quiksilver emerging from the cocoon of chapter 11 bankruptcy $US600 million lighter in debt.

It’s like a magic pudding! Pour your cash away on any ill-advised venture and it… don’t matter a thing!

A wise business gal once advised me to identify companies throwing cash around and to attach myself to its teat and suck the bejeezus out of it until it dried up. Oowee! Did I ever tell you about the time me and a pal got a company to pay $350,000 (in 2003 dollars!) for a book that fed us a quarter-mill in profit? And that Stab was born with the proceeds? And that we made so many bad decisions we ate up the money in a year?

In the early 2000s, it was Billabong with the blank checks. Lately, it’s been online retailer SurfStitch.

Do you remember last May when SurfStitch spent $13.8 million in cash and 4.8 million in shares buying Magic Seaweed and Stab? Or four months ago when they threw $23 million at FCS?

So much floral extravagance!

And the adventure continues.

Just a few hours ago, the CEO and co-founder, Justin Cameron, quit his gig “to join forces with a private equity group, in preparation for a possible bid for the company.”

Meanwhile, the other co-founder of SurfStitch, the brunette Lex Pedersen, has been left to rock to and fro in his cubicle! Blood feud?

In The Australian newspaper, Eli Greenblat reports: “Left stranded is Mr Cameron’s surfing buddy and fellow SurfStitch co-founder Lex Pedersen, who remains at the company as managing director in charge of its North American online business Swell. The pair grew up together on Sydney’s northern beaches, dreaming of starting a surf retailing business. By December 2014 they joined hands to yank the piece of rope that hangs from the Australian stock exchange’s golden bell for their company’s $83 million initial public offering.

“They were obviously mates, dressed casually, beaming for the cameras with a surfboard leaning against the wall. They had lost none of the enthusiasm or camaraderie born from years toiling away in Mr Cameron’s garage, where the two surfing buddies began building their dream company nearly a decade ago.

“Now Mr Cameron, a finance executive who worked for top investment banks such as Credit Suisse and ABN AMRO before he dumped his classy suits for scruffy jeans and T-shirts, is out and in the hunt for his old company without Mr Pedersen.

“Surfers have been known to get into violent punch-ups over accusations of being burnt, or having another surfer drop in and steal their wave, now at SurfStitch it will be private equity raiders, lawyers and merchant bankers puffing out their chests and bracing for a rumble.

“Shares in SurfStitch rallied 22 per cent on expectations of a possible takeover bid led by Mr Cameron and his new private ­equity buddies, and later closed 13c better, or 11 per cent, at $1.31.

“According to sources close to the negotiations, Mr Cameron and his backers, are preparing to pitch any privatisation bid between $1.80 and $2 a share.

“The move to buy out the company comes amid growing frustration from some institutional investors who have questioned the valuations paid for recent acquisitions.

“Clearly there is blood in the water. Mr McDonald, the SurfStitch chairman and former chairman of department store Myer, told of his personal ­disappointment over the way Mr Cameron handed in his resignation. For Mr McDonald, who will oversee the day-to-day activities of the company until a new CEO is found, there are traditions and standards that matter in the business world.

“SurfStitch said Mr Cameron had resigned within a fixed two-year period and before his contract allowed, possibly opening up a fresh battle over his entitlements that could turn into a legal brawl.

“‘Half the expertise of the company just walked out the door,’ said one fund manager.

As reported by The Sydney Morning Herald, “The founder and chief executive of SurfStitch, Justin Cameron, appears to have gone rogue. In a bombshell statement on Thursday morning, the company that was floated less than 18 months ago said Cameron had resigned and as a result of a conflict of interest – one which the SurfStitch board soon ascertained was a plan to lead a private equity-backed buyout…

“Until last month, SurfStitch was one of the market darlings – having listed its stock at $1, and then more than doubled that price within a year. But the euphoria bubble burst in February when the company backed away from its bullish full-year earnings target, and told investors instead that it wanted to invest in growth.

“The shares plunged 40 per cent to a low of $1.07. Cameron and his co-founder Lex Pedersen, however, were somewhat insulated from the fall, having sold 10 million shares in August at $1.77 a share – almost half their stakes.”

And,

“The less buoyant share price of recent weeks presented an opportune time for predators to take a look at the company, which had previously been trading at extreme price earnings multiples approaching 50 per cent.  Last April, Cameron said he was aiming to lift revenues fivefold in five years to $1 billion by growing the company’s business in Australia, North America and Europe, expanding into new markets in Asia, and grabbing a larger share of the global action sports market. He even described the company as a kind of niche Amazon.”

And, again, from The Australian:

“It comes as SurfStitch is radically changing its business model, shifting from a pure-play online retailer that sells a large range of boardshorts, surf gear and action sports equipment to a business more focused on content after recently shelling out more than $20m on online portals such as Swell TV and Magicseaweed.

“SurfStitch’s powering share price, which late last year hit a record high of $2.09 against its IPO issue price of $1, crashed more than 40 per cent last month when the former market darling walked away from its earnings guidance and investors dumped the stock.”

 

What do you think?

Is SurfStitch an Amazon-like juggernaut, merely at the beginning of its upward arc?

Is it a shooting star riotous with brilliant colours but, ultimately, doomed to crash in an ocean of debt?

Or do we see the classic story of the popular blond triumphing over his less attractive mousy-haired pal? Oh I know the feeling!

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Mikey Wright
You may not know this but one Rosy Hodge is dating Electric sunglasses marketing don, and very handsome, Ian Foulke! They are very serious, by all accounts, and do you think Ian is sitting at his desk in San Clemente right now, staring at pictures of young Mikey Wright, steam coming out of ears? Does he have Mikey’s pictured taped to the wall of his cubicle and is he doing push-ups a la Robert De Niro in Cape Fear? Is he driving, furiously, to Orange County’s John Wayne airport, trying to book the very next flight to Coolangatta International? | Photo: Wade Carroll/Vimeo

Blood Feud: Mikey Wright v Electric?

Did your Quiksilver Pro wildcard pick the wrong girl?

It don’t pay to be first, you know. To be a groundbreaker. Look at John Brown. He tried to start an armed insurrection getting slavery banned in the United States in the 1850s only to be hung. Or Susan B. Anthony. She wanted American women to be able to vote but died before ever seeing one cast. Or BeachGrit.

Remember a month ago when we broke Mikey Wright as the Quiksilver Pro Gold Coast wildcard? You probably don’t, because the story went unloved. A few shares, a few comments and that is all.

Well such is life, I suppose.

But at least we got a potential Blood Feud out of it! Stab (2004-2016) conducted a posthumous interview with young Mikey on the eve of his first Championship Tour heat, asking the standard questions including the grammatically confusing:

What are you most looking forward to with at the Quiksilver Pro?

Mikey’s answer? A very clear:

Easy… Getting to do a post-heat interview with Rosy Hodge!

And whoa doggy! Hold on right there!

You may not know this but one Rosy Hodge is dating Electric sunglasses marketing don, and very handsome, Ian Foulke! He wears a full beard and has expressive hands. They are very serious, by all accounts, and do you think Ian is sitting at his desk in San Clemente right now, staring at pictures of young Mikey Wright, steam coming out of ears? Does he have Mikey’s pictured taped to the wall of his cubicle and is he doing push-ups a la Robert De Niro in Cape Fear?

Is he driving, furiously, to Orange County’s John Wayne airport, trying to book the very next flight to Coolangatta International?

Will it be a blood feud?

Only time will tell. And hopefully BeachGrit will be around to bring it to you, neither hung nor dead.

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John John and Kolohe
A pristine white sand beach, deserted but for Kolohe and John John. Slim supple bodies glistening with cocoa butter, sweat beading on their chests and trickling down towards the waist of their low-slung board shorts. The surf is flat, but they don’t care. Their hearts are filled to bursting with unbridled joie de vivre. They exist in a pure moment, filled with a hedonistic disregard for the mundane, unbridled by life’s distractions. Kolohe leans over and playfully pokes John John in the ribs. With a giggle born of innocence John John returns the gesture, his hand lingering just a little longer than necessary. They lock eyes and come together. | Photo: Hurley

Parker: My (Gay) Power Rankings!

Or…how to talk Kanoa Igarashi into a "terrible mistake"… 

International Women’s Day has come and gone, and thank heaven for that. Nothing worse than empowered women. They’re like highly praised precocious children. At first it’s kind of cute, then they start interjecting their thoughts and opinions and feelings into adult conversations.  Hush, baby, better seen and not heard.

Yesterday some obese shut-in commenter who masquerades as a woman online asked if I’d be doing a follow-up for International Men’s Day, come November. I will not, because I don’t observe International Men’s Day. As far as I’m concerned we enjoy that occasion on each of the other 364 days of the year (365 this time around the sun!)

Nothing worse than empowered women. They’re like highly praised precocious children. At first it’s kind of cute, then they start interjecting their thoughts and opinions and feelings into adult conversations.

Besides, International Men’s Day was founded by a Men’s Rights advocate, and I’ll be damned before I get in bed with those soft cock rape apologists. They epitomize everything that’s wrong with the pussification of the modern male, totally unable to take advantage of their innate superiority.

“Oh, it’s sooooo hard to be a man,” they cry.

It isn’t.

It’s best to occasionally give women, even pretend ones, what they want. Makes your life easier, in the long term.

Like how I throw the odd game of chess, let my wife grab a victory, so she’ll keep playing in the future. No big deal, doesn’t cost me nothin’, and it isn’t her fault she’s terrible at the game despite playing hundreds of matches. Females struggle with many facets of life, like opening jars or changing a flat tire or employing logic.

Here’s the follow-up to yesterday, the top ten men of the WCT top 34, as ranked by sex appeal.

10. Jadson Andre: Four words, jug handle head job.

9. Jack Freestone: Seems like the guy most likely to wax his asshole. And while I enjoy a hirsute fellow a clean playing field facilitates hitting it hilt deep.

8. Taj Burrow: A warm brown bear to snuggle on a cold winter night, Taj’d make a top notch sugar daddy.

7. Kanoa Igarashi: Young, impressionable, the type of kid you can talk into making a terrible mistake.

6. Kelly Slater: Sultry Valentino eyes, and the off chance he could pump you full of a bit of his own skill.

5. Matt Banting: His head shot looks like a clean cut Ex-Mormon who got kicked out his his home and learned to earn his keep on the streets of SF’s Castro District.

4. Gabe Medina: I’m not really into guys who shave their pelts, but I’ll make an exception for Gabby. Smother the boy in butter, toss him on the tarp you keep in your basement sex dungeon, and trot him out on special occasions.

3. Owen Wright: On a tour overflowing with short muscled acrobat babies Owen’s the only one built like a real man. He’d play big spoon, I’d nod off towards sweet dreamland while he runs his hands through my own virile crop of man hair.

2. Jeremy Flores: That accent, that fiery temper, that French disposition to the libertine! There’d be shouting and fighting and recrimination, but so much sweet love to temper it all.

1. Julian Wilson: The human equivalent of a kinder egg. But instead of a toy in the center there’s a moist pink virgin’s proxy.

Because I’m never one to miss a chance for synergy, because our audience has swelled recently, and because it’s tangentially related to my previous words, I’d like to re-offer my pitch for Hurley’s newest ad campaign. No one responded to my calls, but maybe this time it’ll find its way into some hands that matter.

Picture this:

A pristine white sand beach, deserted but for Kolohe and John John. Slim supple bodies glistening with cocoa butter, sweat beading on their chests and trickling down towards the waist of their low-slung board shorts. The surf is flat, but they don’t care. Their hearts are filled to bursting with unbridled joie de vivre. They exist in a pure moment, filled with a hedonistic disregard for the mundane, unbridled by life’s distractions.

Kolohe leans over and playfully pokes John John in the ribs. With a giggle born of innocence John John returns the gesture, his hand lingering just a little longer than necessary. They lock eyes and come together.

Laughing, gasping and grunting they begin to roll across the beach, arms and legs tangled. They wrestle with abandon, two young men in their prime delighting in their strength and flexibility.  Kolohe pins JJ for a moment. John John is on his back, Kolohe straddling his hips, shoulders down, back arched. John John reverses, grabbing Kolohe’s wrists and pinning them to the ground. He presses down with all his strength, we see his back muscles ripple, proud firm buttocks pointed skyward, only a thin layer of nylon denying the viewer a glimpse of his pink, blond-fringed, asshole.

They lock eyes again, chests heaving, moist lips slightly parted. There’s a meaning behind the gaze, but is it merely the joy of two competitors testing their strength against each other, or does it spring from something deeper, something more sexual?

Smash cut:

Hurley Boardshorts: Guaranteed to stay on, but so fun to take off.

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