Broke and cry-baby pals, choking turtles to
death…
Rory Parker’s new series What Would You Do
coiled BeachGrit reader Travis Bible into action. In a
recent email, he wrote: “It brings me back to my days at college
talking about ethics, but with surfing. While we used to ask big
questions, like, is it acceptable to allow the Warren Jeffs and his
FLDS crew to run entire cities or is it ethical to keep large
marine mammals in zoos, the topics were too abstract to really
matter.
“The questions posed by BeachGrit are accessible
to me. They are the kind of bar-room philosophizing my sunburned
cohorts could comprehend. But I found that despite the realistic
premises, I had never actually been in any of the circumstances.
Maybe it’s my boring life, but I figured we could use more benign
What Would You Do? scenarios.”
And which point, Bible surrended his own What Would You
Do’s…
Scenario #1
You’re driving to the next major surf spot over from yours
(about an hour away) and want some company. The aspiring artist
musician type tags along, but conveniently forgets his wallet.
While a few bucks for gas would be good, it’s not too big of a
deal. However, you find that after a marathon five-hour session
you’re starving. With the long drive ahead, and knowing you’ll have
to feed the penniless friend as well, what do you do?
Scenario #2
It’s a top five day of the year at your local spot. The sun is
out, the crowds aren’t bad, and the water is perfect. One of your
buddies is going through a rough patch and is telling you all about
the wife that is leaving him, his shaky job, his sick mom,
when the set of the day pops up on the horizon. Do you listen
contently and let perfection pass you by or paddle towards the
set?
Scenario #3
It’s a cold winter day and you have an hour to get your surf
fix. You make it out into an empty line-up and find a clear plastic
bag floating right next to you. You know turtles frequent your
beach. Your wetsuit has no pockets and the bag is falling apart so
you can’t tie it around yourself. There is a bit of a current so
you have to choose: do you summon the eco warrior within or say
fuck it let evolution sort out the wheat from the chaff?
Parody is such a fine form of comedy don’t
you think? The most wonderful author of Lolita, Vlad Nabokov, sure
did and once said, “Satire is a lesson, parody a game.” And who
don’t want to play a game? The chuckles, the back slaps, the
soaring spirits!
It is particularly great because we can laugh laugh laugh
while winking at general truths. Donald Trump’s candidacy is a
grand parody of American politics, for example, and ADS’s
championship run a pitch perfect parody of the World Surf League’s
judging criteria. Do you remember the Lunada Bay parody posted by
Rory Parker just days ago? Of course you do! You loved the way it
lampooned the aggressive/weird/silly brand of localism festering
just outside of Los Angeles.
Apparently readers of all-inclusive mountain/beach website The
Inertia did not love it though, nor did they understand it at all.
They took it completely seriously and raged against the terrible
form portrayed.
“Real tough standing on a cliff so this loser can run away to
his mommy before these two guys busy him up. What a punk. I’m 6’4″
230. Try me assholes.”
“This is rediculous hes lucky a real man doesnt come by and
shut his mouth !”
“It’s KOOKS not COOKS …you kook.” (Because the title of the
piece was COOKS GO HOME)
“Without cooks we’d all starve.”
“Inertia I am glad you have the anti localism attitude as
well. We are all locals to the Earth!!!!”
Etc. You must do yourself a great favor and read the rest of
the comments here!
Oh how funny! But also begs the question…does reading The
Inertia regularly cause dementia or other major neurological
malfunctions?
I like to read. If you’re here, then you must
as well. Pretty text heavy, BeachGrit. Someone once called us
“cerebral,”by which they meant they thought we had too many words.
Keep it short and sweet, more photos, more videos. But I’m not a
photographer, I have no interest in filming people. I’ve just got a
laptop and a love for blathering on.
The Relic Master by Christopher Buckley
It was recommended by Matt Warshaw, and I adored Thank You
For Smoking and Boomsday, how could I resist?
The Relic Master is a heist caper set at the dawn of
Lutheranism, focusing on the sale of indulgences, the venality of
the Roman Catholic Church, and an absurd reliquary based arms race.
You wouldn’t necessarily expect concepts like simony and
translation to lend themselves to a comedic romp, but in Buckley’s
hands they do so, and well.
The Reformation reshaped the western world, led to widespread
literacy, delivered a crushing strong blow to the might of the
corrupt superstition that was the Holy Roman Empire.
An unexpected result of the novel is my new found appreciation
of the importance the Reformation. I attended a Jesuit college, and
whichever dimly remembered professor was tasked with beating the
information into my mind did a piss poor job. The Reformation
reshaped the western world, led to widespread literacy, delivered a
crushing strong blow to the might of the corrupt superstition that
was the Holy Roman Empire. I’ve always felt total contempt for
theological scholars, seeing as how they waste their lives arguing
the minutiae of bogus belief systems meant to control. But there’s
something there, a relevance not based on some all seeing man in
the sky, but in our modern reality and how we react to it.
So, yeah, buy it, read it. It is very good.
Carter & Lovecraft byJonathan L Howard
I was disappointed to learn that Howard didn’t plan to write any
more novels about Johannes Cabal, his lovably evil anti-hero
necromancer protagonist. Great books, the Cabal series,
made better by their self contained nature. Howard’s decision to
write stand alone novels that didn’t end in a cliff hanger and lead
to years long waits between installments was a good one. It’s a
terrible trend in the fantasy genre, no one wants to write stories
that end between a single set of covers. It’s all grand world
building and largely futile efforts to build a franchise.
I blame George Martin.
Howard’s decision to write stand alone novels that didn’t end in
a cliff hanger and lead to years long waits between installments
was a good one. It’s a terrible trend in the fantasy genre, no one
wants to write stories that end between a single set of covers.
It’s all grand world building and largely futile efforts to build a
franchise.
Carter & Lovecraft is a treat. A self-aware noir horror
in the world of Cthulhu, Howard spins gold from H.P. Lovecraft’s
mythos, filled to the brim with the uncanny eldritch. Dealing,
lightly, with the nature of reality, C&L follows a
retired cop, now private dick, as he unwittingly unravels the sheer
terror of an existence that lurks just beneath our own, voraciously
waiting outside of time for an opportune moment to devour us
all.
The Red Son Rising Trilogy byPierce
Brown
A gross offender in the cliffhanger club, especially in book
two, the trilogy is finished and it’s time to read. Yeah, the
protagonist is a bit of a Mary Sue, and it deals in long standing
tropes without much new to offer, but god damn is it fun. Violence
and spaceships galore.
Humanity has moved beyond the shackles of Earth, picking up a
dystopic caste system along the way. The planets are ruled by
Golds, genetically engineered super human sociopaths created in the
wake of an all out war that occurred centuries earlier. And now,
finally, the masses have had enough.
For all the travails the protagonist suffers, the ending is
never really in doubt. But Brown excels at engaging. Sure, you know
it’ll work out somehow, especially when there’s a book or two left
to go, but the fun’s in the voyage, not the destination.
Yeah, the protagonist is a bit of a Mary Sue, and it deals in
long standing tropes without much new to offer, but god damn is it
fun. Violence and spaceships galore.
If you prefer scifi of the hard variety, in the vein of Clarke,
Asimov, Anderson, or Niven, it might not be for you. But if you’re
looking for a fun read that never slows down, the kind that keeps
you up well past your bedtime, you’ll love Red Son
Rising.
Ironic racism is a comedy grenade. It’s maybe
easiest to contain when coming from a racial/ethnic minority
and delivered to a mixed crowd. Take Chris Rock’s turn hosting the
Academy Awards, for example. He, a very famous very funny comedian,
was able to poke and prod at the nasty racist tension embroiling
Hollywood but even he got burned when joking about Asians. The
Academy was forced to deliver an apology for the “pain it
caused.”
It’s maybe most difficult when coming from a monochromatically
white place and directed toward monochromatically white people
because, generally, the already questionable “ironic” gets erased
and “racism” is all that’s left.
Still, brave Caucasian humorists sally forth, undaunted!
Take Stab‘s RIP (2004-2016) last remaining
offspring, Stabstitch. Yesterday the appropriately named
wordsmith, Morgan Williamson, wrote a piece for the site on the WSL
jersey sales (remember how they are going to make $10,000,000.00?). Let’s
read!
As the WSL continues to mainline the mainstream, the fanbase
is growing serious. The World Surf League is currently sitting
at 1.7 million followers on IG. And this is no AI Forever t-shirt,
or Ke11y jazz. The adults and groms alike are dedicated to their
fave surfers in a way where they’re willing to drop $65 for a
polycotton soccer-jersey style shirt, with their number on it. Just
as liquor during the Rodney King riots, they were torn from the
shelves at Snapper.
I don’t understand the first sentence at all. Or the third one’s
context. The fourth is grammatically dense but the sixth is the
boom! “Just as liquor during the Rodney King riots, (Mick Fanning
jerseys) were torn from the shelves at Snapper.”
Do you consider yourself a true turf fan? Guess
what you love!
How good is it when Bloomberg gets its hands on
the surfs? I think very good. The straight business reportage
always reads amazingly surreal when rubbing up against our favorite
lifestyle. One can guarantee metaphors like, “Riding a wave of…”
“…salty…” and “…fiduciary wipeout.” But there is also great truth
hidden in the financial folds.
Recently, the publication turned its eye toward SurfStitch. Of
course you remember reading about it right here as a blood feud and what
was not to love? A gorgeous blonde locked in vicious battle with a
frumpy brunette!
If the surfwear business were a streaming soap opera, it
would go like this.
Shares of Billabong and Quiksilver, the industry’s biggest
labels, surge to records in 2007, then crash. Gone are the days
when high schools were flooded with bright graphic tees and baggy
pants, and Matthew McConaughey could be seen catching a wave
at Malibu Beach in knee-length board shorts. In 2011, Cali-cool
surf seller PacSun begins closing down 200 stores. In 2015,
Quiksilver slides into bankruptcy court.
Enter a young, ambitious player with hopes of reviving
the salty dream. Australian retailer SurfStitch goes public in 2014
and quietly sets out on a rad acquisition spree, snapping
up online retailers Swell and Surfdome, gear manufacturer Surf
Hardware International, surf magazine Stab, forecasting
service Magicseaweed, and sports video studio Garage Entertainment
and Production. Suddenly, SurfStitch has global reach, revenue
of A$145 million (US$109 million) in its latest fiscal
half, and a grand vision — a $1 billion surf empire
united next year as Swell.
Etc. You’ve read the “grand visions” before. The best part,
though, is when Bloomberg goes on to describe the pieces of
SurfStitch’s surf empire. There is magicseaweed.com
which, “…is for surfers who need to check the webcams to see
if their local beach is pumping.” And Stab which,
“… is geared to true fans interested in
reading about an Australian who caught 152 waves in one
seven-hour session.”
Does it get better than the true fans interested in reading
about an Australian who caught 152 waves in one seven-hour
session?