Phyllis seen here smoking down the line...
Phyllis seen here smoking down the line...

Spark one: Best ever prize for surf champ!

A gift that kept giving!

It says on the World Surf League’s website that John John Florence has won $389,500.00 so far on his championship run. And what do you think has he has purchased? Maybe a single family home in Tulare, California just a short drive away from Kelly Slater’s Surf Ranch? Maybe a bottle of Chateau Margaux from Thomas Jefferson’s personal stash?

Do you think he wishes he won packs of cigarettes instead of money? That is what Australia’s Daily Telegraph reveals that the country’s first women’s champ won! Packs of Craven A’s! The champ, Phyllis O’Donnell is 79 now but not bitter about her unhealthy gift.

“I used to smoke so I didn’t mind so much. But I gave that up 30 years ago now…” she tells the paper.

Do you think the World Surf League will draw inspiration from the past and award future champs cartons of Camel Blues once Samsung officially implodes and the Ziffs get bored?

Or do you think they will award Camel Crushes instead?

We are the best! Aren't we?
We are the best! Aren't we?

Holy shit: Surfers are the worst!

A wonderful snowboarder tells us how we look!

(This story first appeared on LodgeGrit. Are you like Matt Biolos? Do you like snowboarding better than surfing? Then LodgeGrit is the place for you too! It’s also anti-depressive!)

People talk shit on snowboarding. It’s an unfortunate truth, but it is the truth. But why? Sure we wear silly outfits when we snowboard but, like, it’s to keep us warm and dry (for the most part, some though are just bad and deserved to get made fun of…) and sure we are attached to the board, but you know what, who cares? It’s the best.

One thing though is that if you work in snowboarding, you probably live in SoCal. And if you live in SoCal, you probably have to deal with surfers. Now snowboarding might get made fun of, but holy shit are surfers the worst.

And here’s why:

Surfers are a bunch of Christopher Columbuses!

The bastards think they’re the shit because they’re the “original” board sport*… Well you know what bleach blond bro from San Clemente?

You didn’t invent shit! You’re just a cultural appropriator!

We as snowboarders know that we didn’t invent shit. We’re just doing our thing and love it. And if you’re down you’re down.

*If you’re Hawaiian you get a pass on this one…

Surfers just wear neoprene or shorts. Running around the beach with your bros in a skin-tight suit!

Sick lol. Sure we may not wear the coolest outfits when we are snowboarding but at least we can wear it to the store to buy some beers when we are done.

Surfers are fucking assholes!

Have you ever met a group of surfers? Well, prepared to get vibed out harder than you have ever been vibed in your life. Since we, as snowboarders, have been getting ragged on for years we are a pretty nice bunch. Granted, if you’re a kook you will get vibed out. But, like, it’s easy, just don’t be a kook.

They think they can do whatever they want cause they’re surfers!

“Oooooooo I surf and know a lot about surfing so let me start a snowboard site cause if I know about surfing I must know about snowboarding oooooooooooooo…”

They’re all so tan and buff and get chicks!

Ok I guess that part is pretty cool, but seriously fuck them.

Fuck them all.

Some fuckers are crazy. Anthony Booth Armor has been blowing up instagram recently with his guerilla assaults on OC cliff jumps. Roofs, rocks, whatever. Dude's a lunatic, full-on death wish shit. But I'm not judging him. We all make strange decisions. Are driven by complicated needs. And his videos are entertaining as hell. You get to watch him ninja into spots before ceding his carcass to gravity.

Crazy: Stud Jumps into Newport Harbor!

Dude's a lunatic, full-on death-wish shit.

I had a vicious fear of heights for a good portion of my life. It sucked. Any sort of lofty view would start my heart pounding, palms sweating. Sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Reoccurring dreams wherein I’d be hanging off the edge of something high, wake up ravaged from a night of tensed muscles and terror.

Really wish I could write it off to something cool. L’appel du vide. But it was just cowardice. A fear of falling, not fear that I might jump.

Breaking point came during a trip to the CN Tower in Toronto. Glass floor on the observation deck, I stepped out onto it to prove I could.

My mother-in-law thought it would be funny to jump in the air, stomp on said glass floor.

Flipped my panic switch, went into meltdown mode. Shameful behavior on my part.

So I made an effort to beat the fear. Face it where I could. Lean out over cliff edges, jump off shit into water. Took a few years, but it eventually took.

Try and try and try, eventually fear goes away. Always does. Corny as hell to say, but when you face it fear goes running.

I still get butterflies at times, but I’ve learned to love the thrill. Hop off something high up, fun second of falling. Splash. Repeat.

But there’s a line. Beyond a certain height, maybe fifty or sixty feet, shit gets too real. You can land awkwardly, really fuck yourself up. I’m not looking to get crippled, just raise my heartrate.

But some fuckers are crazy. Anthony Booth Armor has been blowing up instagram recently with his guerilla assaults on OC cliff jumps.

Roofs, rocks, whatever. Dude’s a lunatic, full-on death wish shit.

But I’m not judging him. We all make strange decisions. Are driven by complicated needs. And his videos are entertaining as hell. You get to watch him ninja into spots before ceding his carcass to gravity.

All as illegal as hell. Only a matter of time until he got popped. Wore a mask, went for anonymity, but couldn’t resist an insta name, @8Booth, that was close enough to his real one to destroy plausible deniability.

He was arrested yesterday for trespassing.

Hardly a serious offense. But his shit was hip and got a lot of attention and, if I were him, I’d be worried about being made an example of. Property owners don’t want kids going splat. A slap on the wrist ain’t hardly a deterrent.

Slater president
A Slater presidency would be super passive aggressive, but very healthy, paranoid but winning and…ageless! | Photo: @thesurfinghobo

Vote: Trump, Clinton or… Kelly Slater?

Let's imagine a Slater presidency!

How much do love politics? It is the best dance! A most wonderful tableau! And who would you like to see as President of the United States?

Donald J?

Hillary Rodham?

What about Robert Kelly Slater? Yesterday, the very good Instagram account @thesurfinghobo posited the question: Right, so who would vote for this dude in less than two weeks time if they could? 


“He was born in Syria!” you shout.

“Birther!” I shout back. “Our Robert was born in Cocoa Beach!”

And what would a President Slater administration look like?

Let’s imagine!

Super passive aggressive! World leaders would get smiled in the face then stabbed in the back. “Just met with #angelamerkel she was almost as pretty as #queenanne but #notquite.”

Very healthy! Massive chia subsidies would allow for that magical seed to be served in inner-city lunches. Minorities would soar on vitamin rich wings!

Paranoid! There are massive conspiracies out there too vast to talk about here. Know what I mean? But yeah. President Kelly would get to the bottom-ish.

Winning! America would become Amer1ca again.

Ageless! Because of the chia subsidies!

It sure would be grand. Vote Robert K Slater as a write-in and never go hungry again! (Chia!)

#TourNotes: JJF’s Fantasy to Reality!

A return to form for #TourNotes as we follow JJF towards his date with destiny!

Three weeks ago, I wrote that fatigue might be seeping into Peter King’s usually fabulous #TourNotes. Read the analysis of that episode here. 

But how could King not return in a convulsion of confidence when his charge John John Florence (#TourNotes was a Hurley initiative afterall) won the world title with a contest to spare?

In this episode, we are gifted an astonishing degree of candour as we follow the world’s best surfer on his date with destiny.

It’s a wonderful spectacle!