Surf journalist Nick Carroll hopes this rumor is true! Look at the longing in his eyes! | Photo: Steve Sherman/@tsherms

Rumor: Firewire to buy Channel Islands!

Chas Smith

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Could it be? Hope beyond hope? That Kelly Slater will ride for his heart's true home again?

A fresh rumor in the morning is even better than a piping hot cup of coffee. It is a glorious sunrise. Yesterday, for cocktail hour, we had Quiksilver opening a wave park in Las Vegas feat. both Kelly’s and Wavegarden’s technologies.

And today, alongside pancakes and bacon, we have Firewire, the world’s favorite hollow surfboard, purchasing the grand daddy of them all. Channel Islands!

This is a very happy whisper from a source who generally knows about these sorts of things because do you recall who is the majority stakeholder in Firewire? Who owns 70% of the company alongside a new board venture?

Kelly Slater!

Robert Kelly Slater XI!

Does that not make you all misty eyed? It does me! Kelly had his best years riding the tri-hex. He became an icon, a celebrity, a champion XI times over with Channel Islands under his feet. It was weird when he left. Weird like when he left Quiksilver. Some things just go together, you know?

But now he’s maybe back and as majority owner! With the legendary Travis Lee, who left with Kelly to begin the new board company.

I have some questions about the alleged.

Like, did Burton, who purchased Channel Islands one decade ago for many millions of dollars give Kelly a discount because surfboards are a rough biz and not part of Burton’s core?

Because Burton’s creative director, Greg Dacyshyn, is such a complete and utter disaster and has driven the brand so far, so fast and so deep into the ground that they are also having to sell office chairs and paperclips just to make rent?

Seriously, though, I wish surfing had a character like Dacyshyn. Someone so extravagantly out of touch, so epically retarded, so stupendously vain as to be completely comical. He is a towering monument to the sugar rotted ego. The nexus where bad taste meets bad style.

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And if Kelly Slater has indeed ripped CI from those sausage fingers? Oh how his legend will continue to grow!

Now I have a headache because I had a fresh rumor alongside my pancakes and bacon instead of a cup of piping hot coffee.

Can you imagine? Swing your blade over at the Slater and, later, move to the Wavegarden. | Photo: KSWaveCo

Wavegarden & Slater Pools for Vegas?

Chas Smith

By

A wonderful rumour suggests Quik is going to build the ultimate wave park… 

Well I just heard the greatest rumor from a mostly reliable source. A rumor that softens my hard heart. A rumor that fires my imagination.

Quiksilver, the world’s most beloved surf brand, may be might be could be opening a club in Las Vegas feat. two wave pools, a Kelly Slater Wave Co Pool and a Wavegarden.
My source gets it right more than he gets it wrong!

 

And oh hell yes.
It is too perfect, too wonderful, too glorious.
First, I hope the club is actually also a boutique hotel designed by Julia Morgan. I can picture the rooms now! Some baroque, some gothic, all featuring ceilings ripped from French and Italian homes…
Quiksilver, the world’s most beloved surf brand, may be might be could be opening a club in Las Vegas feat. two wave pools, a Kelly Slater Wave Co Pool and a Wavegarden.
Second, I can’t wait for the Las Vegas Invitational presented by TMT (Floyd Mayweather’s the money team) and BeachGrit.
Third, gambling. Real gambling. None of this goofy fantasy bullroar. Just picture sitting around a darkened bar getting progressively more wasted, making progressively riskier bets. “Gimme Canoe Igarasshi n round 4 an hiss secon score forr 10!”
Fourth, sin. Have you ever been with a pack of surfers in Las Vegas? So messy! Their antics would fuel BeachGrit for years!
Fifth, sin.
Sixth…
Seventh, drinnking.
Ninth. I’m drinking sake and eating sushi at a  great little place I think you would really like.
Fifth. Gambling.
Thirteenth. How are you not here? At the sushi place? We should be celebrating Quiksilver’s new venture!
Or wait. Let’s just go to Vegas instead.

Movie: Mason Ho Acid Drops Iceberg!

Rory Parker

By

The Search is Hot Tits. Always has been. Always will be… 

Yesterday I wrote about how I dream of taking Mason Ho on a cold-water trip. About how I’d make sure he was protected from the elements, feed hit hot cocoa. Snuggle fight to get through the night.

In the meadow we could build a snowman…

Today I found out that Rip Curl stole my idea. I don’t know how they did it. Probably have access to a time machine or something. Rest assured, I’m pissed about it. One frivolous lawsuit coming right up!

It’s exactly as magical as I thought it would be. Straight out of the car and Mason is rolling in the snow. Scampering around like a baby ewok on its birthday. All smiles, so amped. Nothing jaded or broken in his heart.

Footage of Mason triggers the same serotonin dump as a box of puppies. It’s only a matter of time until they start prescribing him as a cure for depression.

The surfing is okay. Both guys are obviously restricted by the foot thick rubber suits. They rip it up, and all that, but I’ve seen better from both. No big deal, the high perf footage is a secondary concern.

Watching Mason acid drop off a hunk of ice into a wave caused by a calving iceberg is one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen. Looks painful. Between that and his shallow reef madness the kid has gotta be covered in the bruise patterns of a committed alcoholic.

It’s not all perfect. Too much Mick. He holds down the lead role, but doesn’t do much with it. While Mason is laughing it up Mick keeps his demeanor pretty cold. Like he’s been here before. He probably has.

But, like, what kind of monster goes on a trip with Mason and doesn’t have a single tickle fight?

Comfortably Numb is another solid effort from Rip Curl. The company has done amazing things over the years. The Search is hot tits. Always has been. Always will be.

But I can’t let the slave labor thing go. Too horrible. Not something that should be swept under the rug. Even if accidental, there are amends to be made. An apology is not enough.

Which sucks for me, because it ruins something I’ve always enjoyed. Not that I wear Rip Curl products, but I have always liked their videos. They’re one of the reasons Mason gets to do his deal instead of work some shitty job to make ends meet.

But none of that makes up for the heinous act they committed. Using slaves is not akin to releasing a sub par product. It is pure evil. You cannot lay claim to decency while “accidentally” contracting production to someone who keeps humans as chattel.

Celebrate: We’re rich beyond our dreams!

Chas Smith

By

Pass the sherry, ol' chum!

Do you ever feel like the man has got his boot on your neck? That you are slaving away at a job you loathe in order to pay bills that you just can’t get ahead of? That it is more and more difficult to keep mouths fed? That there is just no hope? No way to move forward?

Of course not! You, ol’ chum, are a surfer!

And a new study by two Oxford economists, published in Forbes, details the value of waves and how much we pay for them. Shall we read a section ol’ chum?

Waves, it turns out, are no drop in the ocean. High-quality waves, the authors estimate, generate economic activity worth $50 billion per year globally. That’s around $20m every year for each place with good surf. And when surfers discover a great new spot, economic growth in the area can rise by up to three percentage points for the next five years. Good waves also help turn the tide of rural poverty by encouraging the poor to stream into towns to join the surfing economy.

Ol’ chum? Are you still reading or have you retired to the bridge room? Cribbage? Are you drinking the Domaine de la Romanee-Conti or the Domaine Leflaive Montrachet? The Chateau Lafite?

Good choice, ol’ chum!

Gimme: An enemy to love!

Chas Smith

By

Can someone help me bring the fun back? The fire? Please?

I’ve got nothing, bro. Nothing, dude. Nothing. At. All. I’ve wandered this desert, this jujube we call “surf” for the better part of my life looking for a proper enemy. A soul with whom I can regularly cross swords like Mercutio and Tybalt, like Hirohito and General MacArthur and and nothing. NOTHING!

I’ve tried to draw WSL CEO Paul Speaker out but he refuses to be engaged. He is a computer wearing an asshat. An inhuman turd. A square-jawed, corn fed, non-surfing kook who doesn’t know the first thing about Mercutio. I mean barrels. CEO Paul Speaker? Are you reading? My offer still stands, I’ve decided. One interview and the abuse stops. But now it has to be on camera and an episode of our wonderful Like Bitchin! series (subscribe today!)

Mick Fanning was funny for a second and almost became perfect when he went and cried to the real press about being offended because he called me names. Let’s remember!

Prior to the exchange with the reporter, I had refused to speak with him because I understood he worked for Stab magazine and that it had previously published articles which I believed were racist and anti-Semitic. I strongly object to views, statements and comments of that nature. I acknowledge that my decision to use words that were inappropriate – albeit in an attempt to be ironic, knowing they were of the type favoured by the magazine – was misjudged and wrong.

And ha! The worst press release in history (pre-Trump)! And the start of a real, beautiful rivalry. And then he went off and got brushed by a shark and became a global hero and adored icon even winning my undying admiration.

The Inertia continues to double down on milquetoast. Is there anything more mouth-spewingly bland than Zach Weisberg’s blend of chia seed, yoga, ill-begotten humor and listicle? Bland and not up for any sort of fight, obvs.

Stab is a shell, Vissla succeeded and wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought, Brazil excites in its over-excitement and Matt Warshaw is a dear friend.

NOTHING!

Where? Tell me, where can I find somebody to love? I mean hate?

Anywhere?