Can you imagine? Swing your blade over at the Slater
and, later, move to the Wavegarden. | Photo: KSWaveCo
Wavegarden & Slater Pools for Vegas?
By Chas Smith
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.
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Movie: Mason Ho Acid Drops Iceberg!
By Rory Parker
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?
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.
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Celebrate: We’re rich beyond our
dreams!
By Chas Smith
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!
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Gimme: An enemy to love!
By Chas Smith
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?
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Mason's appeal is how well he conveys pure stoke. Chips
through my jaded heart. Reminds me of younger years when this was
all I wanted. Be a pro surfer, hang out with rippers. Spend my days
shredding with the best. Not really how things work, but it's the
dream. The one they sell, the one people buy. The one I don't
really want anymore but still kinda do, somewhere deep down inside
of cynical piece of shit I've become.
Movie: Midnight Boners & Mason Ho!
By Rory Parker
Sparkle Eyes really vibes like he'd be a killer
snuggle monster.
The Padang Cup event was very good, but it
did drag a little. Building swell, tide complications. The
brilliant moments were just that, but with some rounds featuring a
half-hour wait between waves it got a tad boring.
Perfect for a highlight video. Boil the day down to its
concentrated best, add a dash of Mason Ho, and you’ve got yourself
a tasty dish. Yum yum yum. Eat it right up.
Mason’s appeal is how well he conveys pure stoke. Chips through
my jaded heart. Reminds me of younger years when this was all I
wanted. Be a pro surfer, hang out with rippers. Spend my days
shredding with the best. Not really how things work, but it’s the
dream. The one they sell, the one people buy. The one I don’t
really want anymore but still kinda do, somewhere deep down inside
of cynical piece of shit I’ve become.
If BeachGrit ever starts making real
money I’d love to see about getting Mason on a trip with us. Go to
Alaska, or somewhere else really cold. Do a full soul-bro cold
weather camping trip. Look at us, we’re the Malloys!
I’d make sure he was bundled up against the cold. Bring him hot
cocoa to warm his tummy.
I’d “forget” to bring enough sleeping bags. We’d be forced to
share body heat to survive the night. Cuddle up so good. Not in a
sexual way or anything. But Sparkle Eyes really vibes like he’d be
a killer snuggle monster.
As far as the footage… a chopped and distilled run of footage
from the official stream would have been good enough for government
work. I’d’ve watched it. Enjoyed it. Praised it a bit but not
really because it didn’t bring anything new.
This is another story. Adds so much spice. We’ve got the channel
cam angle, sadly missing from the stream. Gives you a glimpse of
that bucking bronco foam ball insanity. So so so so so so good!
Cliff-top view almost makes it looks easy. Staring down the throat
of heaving barrels makes it very clear how much skill it takes to
do this shit.
Drone angle makes an appearance. I hate those fucking things.
Trying to surf while one hovers over the lineup is like trying to
read a book with a leaf blower firing upside your head.
But it looks so cool. I enjoy watching stuff filmed from drones.
Just don’t like it when they intrude on my scene. Some kind of
NIMBY shit, for sure.
Music choice is appropriate. Fun guitar jamming away. Doesn’t
hurt your ears. Doesn’t distract from the images. Good good
good.
In the end this video is the same as every other one featuring
Mason Ho. It’s totally fucking awesome and I absolutely love it and
it makes me gush like the fan boy I am.