Things are looking up for amputee jumbo surfer facing elony terroristic threatening charges!
Yesterday saw another Kauai court appearance for Jimbo Pellegrine, jumbo surfer, and things are looking good for him. Or, as good as things can look for a man who lost an arm in an auto collision and is staring down the barrel of felony terroristic threatening charges.
Good news for Mr Pellegrine, but he’s not exactly out of the woods yet.
The docs’ opinions serve as evidence, not grounds for dismissal. Essentially, Jimbo’s attorney will call the two shrinks who say he was nuts to testify, the state will call the odd man out. Whoever sways the jury wins.
The state is also appealing the suppression of Pellegrine’s blood test results, basing their arguments on the legal doctrine of “fuck the fourth amendment, cops should be able to forcibly take blood from people whenever they want for whatever reason they want. Also, warrants are for fags.”
An absolutely disgusting maneuver, considering how well the system is stacked in its own favor, as well as the fact that they, ostensibly, represent the interests of the public. Sure, vampire cops stealing blood is fucking great. Pigs breaking the rules because they’re incapable of properly performing their duties is even better.
But it’s not all good news for Mr Pellegrine. With his attorney, Mike Soong, currently vying for a soon-to-be-open judicial seat there’s a chance that Jimbo will need to find himself a new top-notch legal mind.
Which would be a real pain in the ass halfway through an ongoing case.
A dazzling short film that will have you on a plane this weekend…
I’m already counting the days until Chas’s return. Gotta pick up the slack while he’s gone, kind of overwhelming. The internet is voracious, “Feed me feed feed me!” But I’ve only got so much energy, dragging multiple posts a day out of my head is gonna kill me quick.
So… aggregate type nonsense, here we come!
Have you seen 100% ALOHAMADE? Probably. It’s two days old, ancient in online time. But I just got clued in this AM, maybe it slipped under your radar as well?
Sheer ridiculousness, the little grom Eli Hanneman who opens the show. Not fair for a little kid to surf that well. Makes me jealous, kind of hope puberty tears him to shreds. Most likely won’t, just hand him some muscles to compliment his steez.
Is it my imagination, or has Clay Marzo been producing a mind-blowing amount of clips recently? He disappeared there, for a bit. Good to see him back, that type of talent is too good to keep hidden at scary secret Maui reef wedges. The push to get him a wildcard at Fiji is surprising, I thought he didn’t handle that scene too well.
Dusty Payne surfs so good, it’s a shame to see him struggle on tour. Our weird obsession with heat scores results in the squelching of so much talent. Why, oh, why can’t we embrace the skate model and just look for clips?
You’ve probably already seen other angles of most of Slater’s waves months ago, but they’re worth a rewatch. Dear Robert puts on a barrel riding clinic, reminds us he’s still the best surfer in the world, Tour results be damned.
We even catch a quick glimpse of… is that Mitch Coleborn? Looks to be. The man once blew my mind on a windy shit day at Ehukai.
It’s fifteen minutes well spent, will make you wish you lived in Hawaii.
Well, keep dreaming, sucker. We’re full up on haole transplants. I got the last spot.
The best surfer is not the one having the most fun, it's the one surfing the best…
I’ve been surfing half my life. I started off on shortboards, but after an epic trip the Nicaragua a few years back I don’t even want to look at a board below nine feet. Our gutless waves here make for ugly speed pumps and flailing arms. I catch so many more waves than I otherwise would, the rides are longer, and I go out on the smallest ripple with my tanks. While I love loggin’, I fear the learning curve for my next trip with real waves will get pretty steep. Should I dust off the fish and grovelers and force myself to work with what we’ve got, or continue on with the log?
Self Loathing Log Lover
Dear Rory says: I adore longboards in barreling surf. Get in early, set a line from behind the section, jam that trailing arm in to pump the brakes and use the extra volume to float over turbulence. Easy as pie.
But expensive as hell. Pulling in on a big board is a costly habit. Fuckers snap like twigs, every blown section the recipe for a split down the middle. Flapping sheets of fiberglass, an expensive repair bill (I both hate, and absolutely suck at, doing my own repairs).
I struggle with my love of logs. Left long flat spell shores far behind nearly a decade ago, never really need one. Usually a short drive to quality surf when you live on an island in the middle of the Pacific. Actually look forward to those sheet glass doldrums days. Makes for great visibility, an easy swim, fish on the spear for din-din.
Longboards are fun because they’re easy. Especially if you’re oafish enough (as I am) to duckdive the damn things. Really takes away the challenge factor. Fly out through the lineup, push under an oncoming, use that foam to rocket your way to the surface. Sit deep, outside, take your pick of sets. Remember to take a break once in a while. We’ve all be on the receiving end of a rapacious dick using extra planing surface to cheat his way into every wave. Super frustrating, totally rude.
I’ve been surfing my entire life. As long as I can remember. And I’m a pretty good surfer. Should be, after roughly three decades of trying hard. But, as I get older, I realize I really should be better. I can ride a hi-perf sled well enough, if I’m on. Slightly hungover? Rhythm a bit off? Then it’s hell. Flail and struggle. Mistime turns, bog rails, generally fucking suck.
There’s no point in making things more difficult. The waves allow what they allow, you surf how you want to surf. You could go shorter, ride a little mini Simmons or retro twinny. But I wonder if there’s really a difference, between them and a log. No matter how you slice it, it’s just about making things easier. And regardless of your cheater varietal, you’re always gonna feel like you’re surfing better than you actually are.
Which isn’t any fun at all. The best surfer is not the one having the most fun, it’s the one surfing the best. But I’m beginning to wonder if I really care whether I’m the best surfer anymore.
It’s hard to separate fact from delusion, especially if you spend as much time as I do inside your own head. I’m huge these days. Cultivated mass all the way up to 260, harvested my way down to a current 230. Which is fucking monstrous.
At 6’2″ I carry it decently enough, and I’ve converted a large amount of that blubber to muscle. But if I’m being totally honest with myself I know I could easily ditch another 20 pounds by eating healthier and doing some, ugh, cardio. And if I kicked my ass into tip-top shape I could probably hop back on my low volume rides and start blasting fins out again.
Am I gonna? I don’t know. It doesn’t sound very fun.
Recent visitors were on some crazy health kick. No sugar, no carbs. They look great, but their diet looks like hell. Constantly eating, always hungry. Don’t know if there’s a middle ground, but if there is I’d sure love some directions to it.
Anyway… I guess I’m starting to believe that there’s no honor in making things difficult. If you’re not looking to do airs, or win contests, riding an unforgiving board in lackluster conditions is dumb. Sure, when some guy who’s a foot shorter and a hundred pounds lighter than me surfs circles through the lineup on a small day I feel like a total kook. But it’s all give and take. Yeah, he can blow up a waist-high section, but I can reach shit on the top shelf.
There’s no point in making things more difficult. The waves allow what they allow, you surf how you want to surf. You could go shorter, ride a little mini Simmons or retro twinny. But I wonder if there’s really a difference, between them and a log.
No matter how you slice it, it’s just about making things easier. And regardless of your cheater varietal, you’re always gonna feel like you’re surfing better than you actually are.
Maybe that’s the secret? Just embracing the lies we tell ourselves?
Ride what you want at home, change equipment as conditions dictate. And when you find yourself with butterflies in the belly on your way into a offshore, top to bottom, foreign barrel, do what I do. Heave yourself over the ledge a few times, use the beatings to chase away the nerves.
Don't you love the juvenile egotism of these strutting baby surfers?
Babies are sensational little fucks. Cost nothing to make, light up your Facebook page with likes, you can dress ’em in little Stones t-shirts, they’re always eyeballing tits and when you get old and demented they’re obliged, ethically, to to clean your shit and find you a decent sorta old-age joint. Why wouldn’t you love ’em?
In this new spot by the Swiss bottled water company Evian, we see the wonders of computer graphics turning babies into surfers. Wait, the whole beach is full of babies, pounding bongos, strumming guitars, manning the bar, maybe even a couple playing with carrots in the dunes. Who knows!
What’s the metaphor for it all?
The embodiment of youth! The childlike nature of the surfer!
“We really like the surf universe,” the creative agency told AdWeek. “Not just for the spectacular physical thrills, but also for the healthy lifestyle, the philosophy and the cool spirit. Very ‘Live Young!’ ”
(Editor’s note: Yeah, it’s a slow news day, as they tend to be post contest. But don’t you love the juvenile egotism of the strutting baby surfers? The sheer fantasy of the conceit?)