Morgan? Morgan Williamson? Are you there? It's me. And how you asked.
Morgan? Morgan Williamson? Are you there? It's me. And how you asked.

Austin: “Don’t forget that ten-gallon hat!”

The long-awaited N-Land Wavepark is finally ready to open!

Does it thrill you as much as it does me that Austin, Texas’s N-Land Wavegarden has cleared its legal hurdles and is set to come online this Friday? Read about it right here!

Stab magazine’s Morgan Williamson is very excited, writing:

Dear Texas, leave the boots and spurs at home, but for the love of god, don’t forget that ten-gallon hat!

What does he mean?

Does he mean like above?

Or maybe like this?


I have no idea! I have never really been in to cowboy kink.

Maybe this?


Morgan are you there? Help us help you!

Hossegor surfing

Recap: “The Humbling at Hossegor!”

No one's gonna say, "That Kieren Perrow's a real fucking kook."

Poor Kieren Perrow.

I often wonder how much control he has over the call to run.

Is he really the boss? Pouring over charts and agonizing. Or is he just the face of a decision someone else made?

Kieren’s an excellent choice for the latter. He’s a world class surfer, everyone likes him. Respects him. No one’s gonna say, “That Kieren Perrow’s a real fucking kook.”

But, man… did you see the pair of waves Double J-Eff and Conner Coffin snagged during the Dawn Patrol show? Whoooooo- ee! Pair of gems. Conner’s especially. No doubt ten during a heat. I immediately clicked over to fantasy surfer and popped him on my team. Sorry, Julian, you’ve gotta go. I know I’ve said I’ll suck your dick for magical powers, but that’s business. Fantasy Surfer is personal.

We saw the aforementioned two on back-to-back smokers, then the Commish came on and said he was waiting for later.

Only two heats ran yesterday, and they weren’t exactly great.

I hear it frequently, “(X-spot) is just like Hawaii.” French beach break is like Backdoor? I find that hard to believe. Backdoor is outright fucking terrifying. I can’t wrap my head around the notion that sand bottom can come anywhere close.

But I could be wrong. Never been to France. Too expensive. I don’t speak French beyond, “Je suis Rory!

Heat one was large and lumpy and whomping, for sure. Banting, Young and Parko had their work cut out for them. Shifting peaks, soupy faces, none of the offshore groomed throaters we’re all hoping for.

John John would’ve definitely got pitted though.

Nat Young first wave was the best of the heat. Fairly deep backside pit to backhand whack off the top, to nothing cutty on the end. 7.17, fairly certain that’d be enough to hand him the heat in difficult conditions. I mean, you never really know, Parko could’ve snagged a gem for a tenner. Unlikely though.

And, in fact, the aged Aussie stroked into a likely looking beaut that shifted into a hideous closeout brute. If it’d hit a deep spot and backed off a tad he’d’ve taken the heat. Instead he entertained with a heroic closeout pull-in.

On days like this I’m in awe of the ski guys. Paddling out looks like a lot of work. The thought of threading a thousand pound hunk of machinery through big heaving closeouts puckers my asshole. Terrifying.

Parko and Banting were at a loss. Struggling to find waves. Failing to put together scores. Young’s quick in and out on a left was enough to hammer nails in their coffins, send ’em both to the loser round. But he’d have won without it. His first wave score eclipsed each of the other pair’s combined total.

The second, and last, heat of the day was Igarashi, Asing, and the world’s favorite ducky eyed Syrian legend. On a day like this you’d expect Mr Slater to easily hand the skinny grom and tiny Hawaiian their asses.

But ’twas not to be.

Igarashi had nothing to offer. The boy picked poorly. Worthless closeouts, no points for him. Final heat total of 1.5. Pretty much the lowest you can get while still catching two waves. Which means Igarashi is on his way to another early round loss.

But Slater didn’t do much better. 7.0 heat total. Came kinda close on a left barrel, but close don’t count. Earned a 5.27 for a tippy-toe late drop to scary section backside bash. Fell on the follow up floater. Score seemed kind of high for a single turn. But I’m fairly certain it was one of those things where the camera didn’t do justice to the gnar factor.

Asing came out on top! Not by killing it, but by being smart. Playing for points. Couple of ‘meh’ turns for a 3.17 for his first scoring wave. A slightly mellower version of Slater’s backside bash for a 4.83. Combined total of 8.0 put him through to round three.

And that’s all she wrote for Day One. Hopefully it’ll drop a tad, clean up a bit, and tomorrow will be magic.

Do you think Kelly Slater is raging inside?
Do you think Kelly Slater is raging inside? | Photo: Morgan Maasssan

Quik Pro: Parko, Slater “get pounded!”

The WSL writes beautiful homoerotic poetry! Let's read!

Rape on the Atlantic! Bloodshed in the Basque! Liberte, egalite, le sexe anal! Of all the monikers I can come up to describe day one of the Quiksilver Pro, the World Surf League’s wins. They called it:

Hossegor Humbling: Parko and Slater Take Poundings at Quik Pro.

The Humbling at Hossegor?

Brilliant! Muhammed Ali approved!

And did you catch the hour of surfing that happened today? It featured two, and only two, heats but also the decapitation of two, the only two, stars. Joel Parkinson fell to Nat Young in heat one with a 6.47 total. Kelly Slater fell to Keanu Asing in heat two with a not much better 7.00. And then the day was called.


Oh the surf was a roiling mess! A glorious disaster! Big! Bubbly! Wild! Voluptuous! Full throated! Deep throated! Etc.!

But why run at all?

The World Surf League reports thusly:

Kelly Slater and Joel Parkinson each suffered Round One setbacks at the Quiksilver Pro Tuesday, where conditions got heavy in a hurry. Officials spent the early morning pondering the decision to run or not at the plage des Culs Nus in Hossegor. With the surf thumping in the six-to-eight foot range, they put the event on hold to determine whether or not there were enough opportunities to run heats.

During the delay John John Florence, Conner Coffin, and Italo Ferreira stroked into some oversized barrels, and came out standing tall, luring Commissioner Kieren Perrow to get the action started.

But a combination of a building swell and an outgoing tide quickly changed the lineup during the opening two heats. The boys did their best braving the thumping closeouts, but it was more death than glory. Even Kelly Slater, the 11-time-world champion, got stuck just trying to make it out. He needed a ski to come retrieve him after being caught inside before his heat even started. And sadly, it went downhill from there for Kelly.

And let’s parse the brief press release, shall we? Does it quite basically say Kelly and Joel surfed very poorly because they were unable to handle bigger conditions. John John, Conner and Italo surfed very well in those same bigger conditions. Kelly embarrassed himself.

Is that a fair summation?

A little rude don’t you think?

The forecast, moving forward, is tough to gauge. Do you think Kieren Perrow will come out the winner when all is said and done or do you think he’ll be sharing plates of steaming hate with the judges?

Click here to watch recap!

Also, does anyone do homoerotic poetry like the WSL? Between Slater and Parko getting pounded and John John, Conner and Italo stroking some nice ones I think we can safely give them this year’s coveted Chubbie (named after the famed English poet Ralph Chubb).


Podcast: “Everything is Always Terrible!”

Let's talk about the hyper-sexuality of men's surfing (and more) with Anastasia Ashley… 

Episode Five of Everything is Always Terrible features none other than the superb Ms Anastasia Ashley. 

Semi-professional surfer, successful model, social media superstar; Ms Ashley is a fascinating woman.  Despite a public persona that tends toward the happy-go-lucky-beach-babe, it is immediately apparent that she is anything but.

I would never trade lives with Anastasia Ashley. Success is honorable, and nothing good comes easy. But at a certain point I feel the price becomes too high.

Anastasia is a driven woman. Totally focused on her success and career, to the exclusion of almost everything else. I would never trade lives with Anastasia Ashley. Success is honorable, and nothing good comes easy. But at a certain point I feel the price becomes too high.

I went in to this expecting to speak with an intelligent woman. I was not expecting to speak with a woman in possession of a single minded drive toward her goals. Anastasia sells her persona well.

Over the course of an hour we touched on surfing big waves, her near total lack of a private life, stalkers, sexy sexy John John Florence, butt callouses, sexuality in women’s surfing, and the high high high price of fame.

I think this is my best podcast so far.  I hope you all agree.

Glorious: A heckler carries the day!

If David Johnston can do it so can we!

We’re all hecklers you and me. We sit on the sidelines and snipe. We laugh. We criticize and poke and advise and opine. We dig and dig and dig and dig. We know it all and better than anyone else.

But do we really?

Do we really?

If Mick Fanning, say, pulled me out of the crowd while I was there giggling and said, “You think I surf robotic? Like a microchip bogan? Well surf this wave better.” And blocked for me a perfect Snapper right do you think I would smash it an embarrass him or would I limp along and embarrass myself?

Wrong! Unless you said I would limp along and embarrass myself. We, you and me, are but clanging gongs. Noble assholes.


There was a heckler this weekend that did us all proud. That gave us hope. Let’s read about him!

Tired of being heckled by a Ryder Cup spectator, golf pro Henrik Stenson went into the crowd and pulled out the offender, a man from North Dakota named David Johnson.

The Ryder Cup pits a team of U.S. golfers against their European counterparts, and the fans can get rowdy in their support.

Johnson had been razzing Stenson and his teammates after they had trouble Thursday with a 12-foot putt. Johnson hollered at Stenson, an Olympic silver medalist and British Open champion, “Silver medal is what we call first loser!”

The comment that sent the European squad over the edge was when Johnson yelled, “You can’t make this putt” at Justin Rose, Stenson’s teammate.

The pros challenged the loudmouthed American to make the putt himself, with Rose even throwing a $100 bill on the ground to sweeten the pot.

Dressed in jeans, a baggy red fleece, loafers and a baseball cap, Johnson kept yapping, joking about how small the putter was. Amid chants of “USA! USA!” Johnson calmly stroked the putt in, and the crowd went nuts.

All in good fun, Johnson hugged and high-fived Stenson, Rose, Martin Kaymer and Rory McIlroy.

Johnson later told the St. Paul Pioneer Press, “I closed my eyes, swallowed my puke and hit the putt and it happened to go in, so that was cool.”

Stenson joked with the paper that, “Now he can tell the whole world that the European team are the ones that have the most fun.”

Have you ever read a more beautiful story in all of sports? I haven’t and take it all back. If Mick blocked for me a perfect Snapper right I would get barreled and then aired and then barreled and then swallowed puke and then end on an eye-popping gouge.

And why?

Because hecklers are the life blood of sport!