Jared Mell Ozelm Esen Mell
"A marriage doesn't begin with a proposal. It begins far earlier, when the idea of love is born, and more specifically, the dream of a soul mate." Here we study Jared Mell, from that school of hip that makes longboarding look very cool, and his fabulous-beyond-measure DJ wife Ozlem Esen Mell.

Jared Mell is a F#*king romantic!

Who is not a piece of shit? Your favorite soul man Jared Mell!

Oh marriage can be such a many splendored thing! A good husband or good wife is worth her weight and so much more fun than a good boyfriend or girlfriend. I have, frankly, never understood the reticence to walk down an aisle. Why? For what? If you love the one you’re with, really love, then why not? Being an ex-husband or an ex-wife is far superior, literarily, to being an ex-boyfriend or ex-girlfriend should things go sour.

But you are worried about money? About the money you’ll lose if you divorce?

Pshaw. You are not a romantic. You are a clanging gong. But a piece of shit.

But do you know who is a romantic? Who is not a piece of shit? Your favorite soul man Jared Mell!

I met with Jared so many months ago in a Newport Beach dive bar. We were supposed to be shooting the very first episode of Like Bitchin! except a cameraman never showed. I tried to shoot on my iPhone (sorry WSL x Samsung…your marketing falls upon deaf ears!) but it was impossibly dumb.

We talked, anyhow, of many things. Of surfing, shaping, booze, clothing and women.

Of women! 

Jared was with one he loved very much and his eyes sparkled as he told me her story. She had an exotic name, a beautiful smile, a fantastic Instagram feed. She was someone, it was clear. And his eyes sparkled as he told her story!

Jared Mell Ozlem Esen Mell
From a meet on a photo shoot to a majestic and substantial conclusion as man and wife!

It involved subterfuge, sexy rendezvous, possible fisticuffs. The stuff of Shakespeare! As I listened I also hoped that it would end cinematically. Not in a whimper. Not in a breathless gasp.

And now they are married! Jared Mell took the plunge with his paramour almost two years ago in Las Vegas, Nevada where all true love stories begin. You think I joke but that’s where mine began. They booked a small chapel and were married by Elvis Presley himself in front of five friends. Elvis’s favorite number was eight but I imagine there is a way to add the extra three somewhere.

Jared, anyhow, tells me, “We had one friend each and then happened to run into three more friends out there so that was it. And then we went to the Beatles Love show that is playing out there…”

I went to the same with my wife before we got married. If you are in Las Vegas it is worth catching.

“…and then I had a full on asthma attack in the casino. I was so happy I couldn’t breathe anymore!”

I laugh and ask him if he thinks marriage is good. He laughs because his new wife is sitting right next to him and says, “Oh totally! Marriage is amazing as long as you find that perfect person and as long as they find you…”

I know his eyes were sparking when he said that. I could feel it through the iPhone and nothing but nothing could make me happier. A good husband or good wife is worth more than its weight. If you don’t believe me go and try it. And if it involves musical theater divorce and try again!

 

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Another modest proposal!

For preventing the lineups from becoming overcrowded. Let's eat the children of kooks!

It is a melancholy object to those who surf at their local breaks or travel so surf far off exotic waves, when they see the lineups crowded with the bikini clad female sex, followed by three, four, or six children, all in shitty wetsuits and dropping in willy nilly. These mothers, instead of being able to scold their charges, are forced to employ all their time trying to look hot for their helpless infants: who as they grow up either turn into massive snakes or leave their dear native country and become massive snakes abroad.

I think it is agreed by all parties that this prodigious number of kooks in the lineup, or on the backs, or at the heels of their mothers, and frequently of their fathers, is in the present deplorable state of surfdom a very great additional grievance; and, therefore, whoever could find out a fair, cheap, and easy method of making these children sound, useful members of the surf brotherhood, would deserve so well of the public as to have his statue set up for a preserver of the nation.

My intention is very far from being confined to provide only for the children clogging lineups; it is of a much greater extent, and shall take in the whole number of infants at a certain age who are born of parents in effect as little able to teach them proper surf etiquette.

I am assured by our Australian surfing family, that a boy or a girl before twelve years old is no salable commodity; and even when they come to this age they will not yield above three pounds, or three pounds and half-a-crown at most on the exchange; which cannot turn to account either to the parents or kingdom, the charge of nutriment and rags having been at least four times that value.

I shall now therefore humbly propose my own thoughts, which I hope will not be liable to the least objection.

I have been assured by a very knowing American of my acquaintance in Tahiti, that a young healthy child of surfers well nursed is at a year old a most delicious, nourishing, and wholesome food, whether stewed, roasted, baked, or boiled; and I make no doubt that it will equally serve in a fricassee or a ragout.

I do therefore humbly offer it to public consideration that of the hundred and twenty thousand children already out in the lineup, twenty thousand may be reserved for breed, whereof only one-fourth part to be males; which is more than we allow to sheep, black cattle or swine; and my reason is, that these children are seldom the fruits of marriage, a circumstance not much regarded by our savages, therefore one male will be sufficient to serve four females. That the remaining hundred thousand may, at a year old, be offered in the sale to the persons of quality and fortune through the kingdom; always advising the mother to let them suck plentifully in the last month, so as to render them plump and fat for a good table. A child will make two dishes at an entertainment for friends; and when the family dines alone, the fore or hind quarter will make a reasonable dish, and seasoned with a little pepper or salt will be very good boiled on the fourth day, especially in winter.

I have reckoned upon a medium that a child just born will weigh 12 pounds, and in a solar year, if tolerably nursed, increaseth to 28 pounds.

I grant this food will be somewhat dear, and therefore very proper for the most seasoned, crusty locals, who, as they have already devoured most of the parents by barking them off waves or threatening well-being, seem to have the best title to the children.

Infant’s flesh will be in season throughout the year, but more plentiful in winter, when the waves are generally best and a little before and after; for we are told by a grave author, an eminent French physician, that fish being a prolific diet, there are more children born in Roman Catholic countries about nine months after Lent than at any other season; therefore, reckoning a year after Lent, the markets will be more glutted than usual, because the number of popish infants is at least three to one in this kingdom: and therefore it will have one other collateral advantage, by lessening the number of papists among us.

A very worthy person, a true lover of his lineup, and whose virtues I highly esteem, was lately pleased in discoursing on this matter to offer a refinement upon my scheme. He said that many gentlemen of this kingdom, having of late destroyed their deer, he conceived that the want of venison might be well supplied by the bodies of young lads and maidens, not exceeding fourteen years of age nor under twelve; so great a number of both sexes in every country being now ready to starve for want of work and service; and these to be disposed of by their parents, if alive, or otherwise by their nearest relations. But with due deference to so excellent a friend and so deserving a patriot, I cannot be altogether in his sentiments; for as to the males, my American acquaintance assured me, from frequent experience, that their flesh was generally tough and lean, like that of our schoolboys by continual exercise, and their taste disagreeable; and to fatten them would not answer the charge. Then as to the females, it would, I think, with humble submission be a loss to the public, because they soon would become breeders themselves; and besides, it is not improbable that some scrupulous people might be apt to censure such a practice (although indeed very unjustly), as a little bordering upon cruelty; which, I confess, hath always been with me the strongest objection against any project, however so well intended.

Some persons of a desponding spirit are in great concern about that vast number of kooks who are aged, diseased, or maimed, and I have been desired to employ my thoughts what course may be taken to ease the nation of so grievous an encumbrance. But I am not in the least pain upon that matter, because it is very well known that they are every day dying and rotting by cold and famine, and filth and vermin, as fast as can be reasonably expected. And as to the young Hurley-clad shredders, they are now in as hopeful a condition; they cannot get work, and consequently pine away for want of nourishment, to a degree that if at any time they are accidentally hired to common labor, they have not strength to perform it; and thus the country and themselves are happily delivered from the evils to come.

I have too long digressed, and therefore shall return to my subject. I think the advantages by the proposal which I have made are obvious and many, as well as of the highest importance.

For first, as I have already observed, it would greatly lessen the number of kooks, with whom we are yearly overrun with especially during the summer months when the water is warm.

Secondly, the kook parents will have something valuable of their own, which by surf law may be made liable to distress and help to keep their place in the lineup. If they sacrifice one or two of their kook children then they can stay.

Thirdly, The constant kook breeders, beside the gain of eight dollars sterling per annum by the sale of their children, will be rid of the charge of maintaining them after the first year.

Fourthly, This food would likewise bring great custom to surf clubs and bars; where the vintners will certainly be so prudent as to procure the best receipts for dressing it to perfection, and consequently have their houses frequented by all the fine WSL stars, who justly value themselves upon their knowledge in good eating: and a skilfull cook, who understands how to oblige his guests, will contrive to make it as expensive as they please.

I can think of no one objection, that will possibly be raised against this proposal, unless it should be urged, that the number of people will be thereby much lessened in the lineup and surfers will completely disappear in the future but that is the perfect outcome, no? And who cares if there are no surfers in the future. We are a barbarous people. As evil as we are worthless.

I profess, in the sincerity of my heart, that I have not the least personal interest in endeavoring to promote this necessary work, having no other motive than the public good of my surf brothers, by advancing our trade, providing for infants, relieving the poor, and giving some pleasure to the crusty local. I have no children by which I can propose to get a single penny; the youngest being too skinny and my wife past child-bearing.

The End

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DC Shoes surf team
Is this the most exotic team in surf? It's a melting pot! | Photo: DC Shoes

Parker: “Surf Can’t Let Nothin’ Die!”

Do you like big shoes from the nineties?

A few weeks ago our own Chasbert “Hot Tip” Smith clued us in to DC’s renewed attempt to earn some money off surfing.

DC Comes Back to Surf. Read here! 

Today everyone’s confirming it. Ashton Goggans, looking slick in a pair of cuffed jeans, interviewed Bruce Irons on Facebook this morning. Bruce says he’s back on DC, earning a buck by being himself. Leo Firovanti, Kanoa Igarashi, and Zeke Lau are joining him, presumably because they already ride for Quiksilver.

Curious thing, big floundering surf giant owning a skate company. Surf can’t let nothin’ die. Keep trying and trying. Losing and losing. Not like DC’s a relevant brand in the tail end of the second decade of the twenty first century. Late 90’s, early oughts, that shit was hot. Now not.

TWS Business has an, at times, curiously worded article on the subject.

Six years later in 2004, with Bob McKnight at the helm, Quiksilver acquired DC Shoes in an attempt to collectively bolster the synergies between the two brands… Fast forward three bumpy years, and DC Surf is back—admiring the mere hiatus the program and some of its founding members took to—let’s just say—wait out the storm. “It’s something that’s been in our DNA since the category launched in ’98,” said Jeff Taylor, senior vice president of global brand and marketing at DC Shoes. “We never lost sight of it.” 

Not that DC was ever really a surf co. A spin off of long defunct Droors Clothing, Quik lost big trying to cash in on the tail end of the last big skate boom.

Curious thing, big floundering surf giant owning a skate company. Surf can’t let nothin’ die. Keep trying and trying. Losing and losing. Not like DC’s a relevant brand in the tail end of the second decade of the twenty first century. Late 90’s, early oughts, that shit was hot. Now not.

Pretty sure it’s the same in skating. Could be wrong. Don’t follow the planks with wheels too closely anymore.

I highly doubt their newly rediscovered interest in salt water types will last long. Dip their toes in, pull out when the cash don’t flow. Maybe try again later.

Like Nike.

On the subject of companies that sponsor surfers but aren’t really surf co’s, time to include Quik on the list. Snowboards, skateboards, shoes. Owned by an investment management firm. Even Wikipedia calls it an “American retail sporting company.”

Yeah, the dudes who work their may like surf, but the majority shareholder sure don’t give a fuck.

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Today: Ask Bruce Irons Anything!

What questions do you have? Will you be brave enough to step to the mic?

Bruce Irons is a bigger than life personality. He has seen much and done much and will answer any of your questions today at 12:30 on Surfer magazine’s Facebook page!

What do you want to know? Will you be brave enough to ask?

It is a wonderful idea and the Surfer editorial staff should be lauded for taking the popular AMA format to the surfing masses because can’t they sometimes totally derail? Didn’t Woody Harrelson totally go crazy or something?

From what I hear all you need to do is log onto Facebook, go to their page and ask anything. I am no tech expert, though, so there might be a few more hoops.

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A modest proposal: Get rid of priority!

For preventing surf contests from becoming dull affairs and burdens to those watching at home.

The last two days worth of professional surfing have been very dreamy, no? The waves they pumped. The surfers they barreled. Joe Turpel, Pottz Potter, Raspberry, Ross n Ron “Dog” Blakey they treated us to smooth vocal stylings and we swallowed it whole chased, depending on where in the world you happen to live, with either booze or coffee.

But even swimming in that drunken/caffeinated wonder didn’t it seem that, somehow, it could have been more entertaining? Oh the surfing was spectacular and we got the champion we deserve at the end of it all, I don’t challenge the results at all. Gab Medina straight up outsurfed Kelly and JJF lost fair and square to Jeep Yellow Jersey Team Leader Matt Wilkinson.

But still. A slightly sour taste. And I think it has something to do with the priority rules. Let us first read from the official World Surf League rule book:

The surfer with priority has the unconditional right of way to catch any wave they choose. Other surfers in the heat can paddle for, and catch, the same wave, but only if they do not hinder the scoring potential of a surfer with priority. A surfer loses priority once they catch a wave and/or a surfer paddles for but misses a wave. If two or more surfers catch a wave, the first surfer to make it to the take-off zone will get priority.

It seems simple enough, and fair, except it somehow sucks the life out of heats. I suppose the WSL would hope it adds a layer of tactical fun but it doesn’t. It increases the chasm between “good surfing” and “contest surfing.” The distance Rory Parker refers to as “Deadball.”

And, therefore, I propose that it should be disappeared. Surfers in the wild take care of “priority” simply by positioning and a modicum of polite understanding. A gentleman’s agreement, more or less, that recognizes which surfer is in the best/right place.

When a surfer in the wild snakes, burns or otherwise mangles this native priority there are either screams or fights.

How amazing would it be for professional surfing to have a dash of professional hockey? Dream with me for a moment! Kelly Slater and Gabriel Medina sit out the back. Sets loom. They paddle around each other like jungle cats. Kelly gets slightly inside Gabe and puts his head down. Gabe, not wanting to roll over, puts his head down too and sends Kelly over the falls while getting a solid tube and score in the excellent range. Kelly paddles over to him and breaks his board and chases him around the lineup trying to punch his nose.

It would be pure entertainment! And there would be no complaints! If someone was a dick in the water, regularly snaking, the rest of the tour would eat him alive. Just like lineups around the world do with their bad actors.

I think the World Surf League should get rid of priority today. Connor Coffin agrees. Maybe Joel Parkinson does too.

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