What keeps Austria awake at night? (Hint: It's not
caffeine!)
Your favorite energy drink company lives life
on the very edge. Wingsuiting, race car driving, jet whooshing,
wow! But I was just told there is one thing that is a little too
hot for Red Bull to handle. One thing that causes sleepless nights.
Much hand-wringing. Nervous sweat dripping down mock turtle
necks.
What could this one thing be?
What could it possibly be?
Wingsuiting?
No.
Race car driving?
No.
Jet whooshing?
No.
Cold brew coffee?
No.
Taurine getting reclassified as a DEA Schedule 1 drug?
No (maybe).
BeachGrit?
YES!
Your third favorite surf-based website, allegedly, is too hot
for Red Bull to handle! Too scandalous for it it touch! Too
dangerous for it to even look at! Oh how this rumor, which was
whispered from deep inside Austrian unterteilung no. 3, makes
me proud!
Die hässliche und schlecht geformte Website BeachGrit
verspottet die konservativen Werte, die Österreich und die ganze
Welt lieb haben. Es verspottet guten Geschmack. Sie verspottet
Turtlenecks und sollte so schnell wie möglich nach Polen geschickt
werden.
We are a fierce and roaring lion! A garden where the most
stringent frowns turn upside down! A movement born deep in the
hearts of surfers yearning to be free.
“Make Surfing Fun Again!” They shout and by “fun” I assume they
mean heaping portions of lascivious gossip, unfounded rumor, cheap
journalistic stunts, tabloid headlines, poorly produced videos and
a couple of gals who just want to put smiles on faces.
BeachGrit! It’s got what surfers crave! It’s got
electrolytes!
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Cheyne Magnusson, handful of ass. | Photo:
MTV
How to: Love a Red-Haired Surfer!
By Derek Rielly
It ain't easy, I know!
You believe in god?Oh really.
Can you explain: cancer in children, archaeological evidence of
dinosaurs millions of years prior to the fabled garden of eden and
the Orient not being privy to the revelations of the
monotheistic religions until the nineteenth century therefore
condemning millions of Asians to a fiery hell?
And… red-heads. Tell me a benevolent god would
deliberately curse but one of his children with a ginger crown?
That said, gal reds are gorgeous.
“Red-headed women buck like goats,” said James Joyce, and this I
can vouch for.
But, men?
It’s interesting to note that there has only ever been two
professional surfers with red hair and even more interesting is the
fact both come from Maui. There is Dusty Payne (who, again,
interestingly, claims to have “auburn” hair) and Cheyne Magnusson,
the one-time star of the 2007 MTV reality show Maui
Fever.
I loved Maui
Fever (even if I got it confused with Living Lahaina). Cheyne, who is now thirty
three years old and married and living in Oceanside, was the star
of the short-lived series. It may be hard to believe, but, often,
Cheyne had to contend with myriad women fighting to have their
wombs scraped by his crooked sword.
Cursed by god, but succeeding beyond all measure, how could
anyone not admire Mr Magnusson. Plus, he ripped. Anyway, yesterday,
totally out of the wild, Cheyne sent me a very kind email. It
read:
Just wanna say first and foremost I’m a big fan of your
blog. Its my favorite one to look at because you guys tell it like
it is. Big fan. Anyways, thanks for pushing that Clay baja edit a
couple weeks ago I was super stoked you guys picked it up. I have
been trying to help him out and get another large scale film
project going with him and the brand JSLV. They are rad, trying to
make a push in surf but keep it core and take care of their
athletes. Anyways I got some residual clips while chaperoning Clay
around and they were cool enough to produce an edit for me. Just
passing it your way to see if you guys have any interest in putting
it out there. Keep fighting the good fight for the industry. Loving
all the articles. Also, you are spot on about the
inertia.
I replied that I loved Living Lahaina and said I would
run his little short.
Cheyne wrote back:
Oh my god. It was maui fever goddamit!!! HAHAHAHA. Now i
like you guys even more. ❤️❤️❤️❤️
I wrote: I sat by my television for years waiting for a new
season!
Cheyne wrote: I layed in the fetal position for years hoping
people would forget about it! 😜😜😜
I asked: Whatever happened to that super cute gal you used to
nail on Living Lahaina?
Cheyne wrote: Well for one it was called maui fever.
The other one that was called living lahaina was a bunch of surf
instructors that weren’t from maui. I’d actually like to publicly
apologize to anyone who had the unpleasant experience of watching
it. The blondes name was Anna. She moved to Hollywood after the
show and there was a rumor flying around that she dated marilyn
manson. Not sure if thats true. She still lives in LA. Randomly, I
am actually engaged and having a kid with a girl that she met when
she moved here. Completely coincidental. Small fuckin world. I
actually hate that chapter of my life but hey, it made me a
stronger, smarter ginger on the back end.
Finally I asked Cheyne two things:
Has being red been an impediment in
your life and how can a red find love and sex?
Cheyne wrote:
Yes, it has impeded my ability to blend in anywhere in the
world except for the country of Ireland. Also, since being red
makes me a ginger, I have no soul, which means I shouldn’t be
trusted so that sucks. That being said, I quote the great eric
cartman who stated “better red than dead.”
That’s easy, first, impress them
with your shredding skills on the board. Next, dazzle them with
some tequila shots and a freaky dance move like the worm. Third,
bust out the burning bush, chicks dig red pubes. You heard it here
first, and probably last. But remember, I shouldn’t be trusted so
thats actually a load of crap and I just got extremely lucky and I
think my chick has terrible eyesight! Good luck out there fellow
rangas.
Don’t you love a story of a man triumphing against the odds?
Watch his nice movie here.
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Maybe ice that French for a lil
while…
Advice: Sell GoPro Stock, like, now!
By Rory Parker
Rumours say the future outlook is grim. Massive
layoffs coming this week!
A little birdie visited me yesterday. Landed
right on my outstretched finger, sang me a beautiful song.
“Dump your GoPro stock,” it chirped. “Future outlook is grim.
Massive layoffs coming this week. Marketing, events, and sales
teams are getting cut to the bone.”
“How can you know this?” I asked the bird. “I can’t believe
they’d invite you to meetings.”
“I’m a magic talking bird,” it replied. “I’ve got connections,
bitch.”
Since October, GoPro’s share price has almost halved, down from
seventeen dollars to under ten.
The company attempted to revitalize flagging numbers with the
introduction of its Karma drone, only to find themselves forced to
issue a massive recall due to their
tendency to lose power mid-flight.
At $800, without camera or accessories, that’s a bit of a
problem. In addition to issuing full refunds to the 2500 people who
have purchased a Karma, the company is offering a brand new GoPro
Hero5.
And, says the birdie, a new camera due to land before Christmas
was pulled by the CEO because he didn’t like the font.
Yanking your newest product from the shelves, and icing another,
during the holiday season ain’t good for the bottom line. I think.
I mean, I’m not a businessman or anything, but it’s probably safe
to assume.
I actually wish I had a way to shoot them out of the sky
whenever I find one hovering over the lineup and fucking with my
good vibe. But I’ve often thought it would be very fun to lurk at
one of Kauai’s many gorgeous scenic points and use my cheap drone
to knock the expensive ones piloted by inconsiderate tourists from
the sky. Fifty bucks is the price point I’m willing to pay for
that.
Flying weed whacker aficionados will no doubt hasten to attach
their new Hero5 to a competitor’s models. You can grab a cheap one
at Costco for only $99. Which means it’s probably a piece of shit,
but it’s a relatively inexpensive piece of shit.
Almost inexpensive enough to get me to buy one. I’ve got no real
interest in filming aerial footage, actually wish I had a way to
shoot them out of the sky whenever I find one hovering over the
lineup and fucking with my good vibe. But I’ve often thought it
would be very fun to lurk at one of Kauai’s many gorgeous scenic
points and use my cheap drone to knock the expensive ones piloted
by inconsiderate tourists from the sky. Fifty bucks is the price
point I’m willing to pay for that.
“Is there anything else you can tell me?” I asked the little
bird.
“No. I just like it when people pay attention to me. Sorry.”
“Well, you know, that kind of calls into question everything
else you’ve told me.”
“I know. I’m sorry. The layoffs stuff is true, I swear.”
“Okay, bird. I believe you. Got any other hot stock tips for
me?”
“Nope. I’ve pulled all my money from the market and put it into
bitcoin mining. It’s the currency of the future!”
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In Defense: Of the wonderful fat
years!
By Chas Smith
Do obesity and creativity flow through the same
channel? Maybe yes!
Picasso had a blue period, Alexander McQueen
had a celtic period, Steve Jobs had a NeXT period.
Mark “Occy” Occhilupo had/has a fat period.
In a wide (j/k) ranging interview on Surfline yesterday
the surf legend discussed turning 50, his podcast and turning 50.
He mentions having been hurt, getting depressed and being fat but
then dusting himself off and achieving fitness once again. The
title of the piece was even:
…and was supposed to include a slideshow of “Occy through the
years.” Except the only pictures were of lean Occy. Lean Occy
carving, lean Occy slashing, lean Occy shredding.
It was as if Surfline was embarrassed by chubby Occy
except to call him such in the title. But why? For what reason?
Oh I must admit to being jealous of men who can dance into the
obese. There is something compelling about an artist blowing out
his seams quite literally. Let us take Elvis Aaron Presley, for
example. Sure skinny Elvis was one of the dreamiest men to ever
walk the earth but fat Elvis was a vision. He’s got me caught in a
trap and I can’t walk out!
Let us take Val Kilmer. Sure Iceman made the heart flutter but
doesn’t portly Val waiting for his pizza just make you want to take
him home and pinch his cheeks?
Let us take fat Bill Clinton. Wink, wink! Hubba hubba!
And let us take fat Occy. It is ok Surfline to show
pictures of Occy doin’ it right. Don’t be ashamed! Don’t be
embarrassed! Let your freak flag fly!
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Watch: The Story of Ricardo dos
Santos!
By Chas Smith
A story that actually means something. That
matters.
Ricardo dos Santos challenged our status quo
from the moment he first busted onto the scene. His death, shot
down by an off-duty police officer in his home country of Brazil,
shook us it to our very core. Gun violence was not something
typical in surf. Is not something typical.
I remember first hearing about the shooting. It all felt very
surreal and even more so that a young up-and-comer could die.
Actually die. And when he did die it felt awful. Unnecessary.
I so applaud director Beren Hall and Stab for telling
this story, for trying to pull it back into the light. It actually
feels like it matters. Like it means something.
