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?
(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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
But,
“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!)
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!
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Jon Pyzel and Matt Biolos by
@theneedforshutterspeed/Step Bros