Is it a sin to say that someone surfs like Andy
Irons? Is Alex Smith a sinner?
I’ve thought for many years that Alex Smith
surfs Andy Irons-esque. That he possesses the same sort of
unnecessary ferocity. That’s what always struck me about Andy’s
surfing. He wouldn’t just hit the lip he would aim to blow
the entire business up. Like he wanted to tear a hole in the
ocean.
And watch Alex do the same in this very short clip. It runs just
under 60 seconds and is this the future of the surf
programming I wonder? Have our collective attention spans
become Instagram length?
If so, brilliant!
Or like my great grandpappy used to say, “Long shit is boring n
shit.”
Opiates, self-loathing and sit-ups. Wait, screw the
sit-ups…
It’s been a rough year. I destroyed
my shoulder bodysurfing Pipe last December, got it rebuilt using a
dead man’s ligaments and assorted screws. Fought through physical
therapy long enough to break my collar bone spearfishing. Sat out
two months of life waiting for it to heal and then copped a bone
infection that put me put for two more. I’ve got this recovery
thing down.
Drugs
Opiates, weed, and booze are your friends. Pop a few Percocet,
hit the bong and drown your sorrows. You won’t heal any faster, but
life will pass in a blissful stupor. One day you’ll wake up hung
over and dope sick because your asshole doctor cut you off from the
gravy train and you don’t know any teenagers to score dope from,
but that’s a worry for tomorrow. Today you’re riding high in the
sky rambling on to your wife about the ASP judging criteria and how
they’re obviously inflating scores to create more tension during
heats.
Self loathing
This one dovetails nicely with the preceding. Spend hours in
front of a mirror, watch your waistline expand and your upper body
shrivel. Gaze in awe as your cock shrinks in increments, as
your shorts cut deeper and deeper into that sagging pile of shit
your call a stomach. You disgusting pile of shit, you should be
ashamed of yourself.
Contemplate suicide
Don’t do it. Offing yourself is for fucking losers and
pussies. But think about how you’d do it, should you ever turn into
such a sad sack piece of shit that you can’t think of any better
option than flipping the off switch and joining the void. Would you
don black face and drive around running stop signs in LA? Swallow
the balance of that bottle of benzos and chase it with half a
bottle of gin? Go old school and kick out a chair while wearing an
extension cord necktie? So many choices, but how to choose?
Alienate your loved ones
Fuck ’em anyway. What do they know about what you’re going
through. You’re the only person who’s ever suffered this much in
the history of humanity. Your wife’s a selfish bitch. Who cares
what she cooks for dinner? Why can’t she just leave you the fuck
alone. Throw a chair at her, call her fat, tell her she’s the
biggest mistake you ever made. If you’ve gotta feel this bad, make
everyone around you share the pain.
Do sit-ups
Nah, fuck that. Play video games. Go online and write racist
messages on youtube. Wallow in your own despair until it fills your
gut and spills out every orifice you have. Call an old lady a
faggot. Fuck this world and everyone in it.
Rumors of Surfing magazine's demise swirl but are
they taking everyone down as they go? Brilliant!
I will always have the softest spot in my
crusty heart for Surfing magazine. The powers allowed my
to ply my trade there for a few years. Expectations for my output
were kept low. I stumbled trying to clear them. Nobody got angry.
Just smiles (I think). And so it saddens me to hear the swirling
rumors of its imminent demise.
But look at them go out! Today they brought back the smartest
man they ever employed to stick an intelligent nail in the
sponsored surfer’s coffin.
Ooooooeeeeeeeeeee!
I read the title SHOULD SURF BRANDS RENT PROFESSIONAL
SURFERS and must admit that I thought it might be an
Inertia piece or some satirical bit of nonsense. Then
I read the first few paragraphs:
Why do surfers get sponsored, anyway? In theory it’s because
they project a cool lifestyle punctuated by ripping in places you’d
rather be. Brands pay to rent the cool. We buy a T-shirt and the
cycle starts over.
So now we’re told the cycle is rusting — why? When in the
history of mankind has it been easier to “project a cool lifestyle”
than today? The answer is: not ever. Food bloggers do it. Tweens do
it. Your phone does it for you out of the box. A pile of
billion-dollar apps exists just to make all our self-promotion
turnkey.
For surfers, whose lifestyle actually is cool, even without
cropping and a filter, this stuff should be child’s play. Now
should be their golden age of super-distributed flaunting. So
what’s the problem?
Maybe it is the economy. Maybe it’s weak sales. But maybe
it’s a lack of ingenuity too. Maybe we just need some new models
for sponsorship — new ways to play the game. It’s 2016. Cats on
YouTube have talent agents. There must be ways to get Parker Coffin
paid.
How? Let’s just think a minute.
What? So smart! So well written! I had to sprint to the end of
the article to see it was written by the elusive Stuart Cornuelle.
Rumor has it that he executive edited Surfing during the
magazine’s salad years before retreating to a Zen monastery in
rural Japan.
Anyhow, the piece goes on to discuss various models of
sponsorship that make more business sense and if brand
managers/executives read it they will certainly scratch their
stubbly chins and say, “Hmmmmmmmm….” right before drying Joel
Parkinson’s money completely up.
Do I think Joel Parkinson deserves his money? No!
Am I thrilled that he gets it? Yes!
Unwarranted riches are what make surfing fun! Wheelbarrowing
money into a talented child’s house with no expectation of
return makes surfing fun! And if the surf industry ever got
practical, got smart, then nothing would ever be fun again!
But I completely tip my cap to Stu and Surfing‘s
proposals which include forcing pros to achieve benchmarks in order
to get paid, a pay-as-you-go model amongst others that would
definitely gut every pro surfer’s paycheck save…. John John
Florence. And… Gab Medina (as long as Brazilian men continue to
shave their armpits) (click here to read all the
proposals!)
I tip my cap because son of a bitch it is well-written in a sea
of blah! Also, the scorched earth policy is the most entertaining
brand of warfare. Watch them take each surfer then each brand down
as they circle the drain! Entertainment par excellence!
And at the end isn’t that the only thing that really matters?
Matt Warshaw is an artist producing in his absolute
prime. Come marvel!
I get v v v v v v v v vvvv bored with myself
sometimes. With my own addled mind. Look at me. Just poking at this
or poking at that. Poking at the dear Cori Shcumacher or Sharkbanz
or The Inertia or WSL CEO Paul Speaker….. Don’t I have
anything better to do? Better to write? Something real to
contribute to this world?
Duuuuuuuust in the wind. All I am is dust in the wind.
So thank God for Matt Warshaw! He graduated with honors from
Berkley with a degree in history. Did you know that? Did you know
that he doesn’t just pretend to be smart but actually is? And his
writing style… I tell you what, when I read Matt Warshaw it is like
drinking a delicious cold-pressed green juice. Like eating an
organic free range duck l’orange.
His work nourishes the soul and will be around forever and he
just added a whole new series. The History
of Surfing!
Just read from Chapter 1 as Matt takes us through surfing’s
earliest Peruvian roots…
The caballito reed boat was probably invented around 3000
bc, as tiny coastal enclaves of northern Peru coalesced into
larger, more complex villages and communities. Traders used the
caballito to move goods short distances along the coast, while
fisherman used it as a roving nearshore platform. Peru’s coastline
is essentially barren, but the chilly eastern edge of the Humbolt
Current—a massive nutrient-rich gyre moving counterclockwise
through the South Pacific—is more or less a solid wriggling mass of
anchovy and sardines. Fishing was, and remains, a Peruvian
necessity.
The caballito is organic and decomposes quickly, so there
are no examples from even fifty years ago, much less any from
antiquity. Used daily, a caballito remains seaworthy for about six
weeks, at which point the reeds turn mushy. The outer layers are
then replaced, or the entire craft is thrown away. The modern
caballito is thought to be built along much the same lines, using
the same techniques, as those made thousands of years ago.
Fresh-cut totora bunches are spread out to dry for three or four
weeks, during which time the reeds stiffen and change color from
green to brown-speckled beige. Hundreds of reed pieces are lashed
together into component parts, which form the long front-tapered
“mother” pieces, two of which are then placed side-by-side and
bound together. As the final set of girdling ropes are installed,
the prow is given its familiar dagger-like lift, which allows the
caballito to navigate through the surf without nosing under. A
rectangular storage area for nets, floats, and the catch itself is
hollowed out near the back. The paddle is made from a single thick
piece of horizontally-cut bamboo. An average caballito is 12 feet
long by 2 feet wide and weighs 90 pounds, and it has the same
awkward portability of a full-sized canoe. The ancient Egyptian
papyrus raft, which predates the caballito by a thousand years, was
a surprisingly similar craft, with its multi-bundle reed
construction and raised prow.
If today’s caballito closely resembles those of antiquity,
the mechanics of its use are likely the same, too. In Huanchaco, a
Conquistador-founded town north of Trujillo and Chan Chan, the
caballito remains the fisherman’s craft of choice. Along with the
rest of Peru’s west-facing coast, the beach at Huanchaco is almost
always blanketed in a light salt-tinged haze, the result of the
cool Humbolt Current surface water evaporating and condensing as it
glides past a warm shoreline. A concrete boardwalk fronts the
beach, and local fishermen now paddle out wearing polyester soccer
jerseys and surf trunks, but the scene is often shrouded in a kind
of grayish prehistoric gloom.
A caballito will flex slightly as its owner heaves it into
the crook between head and shoulder and then grunts his way down
the beach to water’s edge. Huanchaco has no harbor or breakwater,
but the waves at the base of a long point in the middle of town are
always smaller and gentler than the beaches to either side. This is
where the fishermen put in. Kneeling or straddling the caballito,
he grips the bamboo paddle and uses a kayak-style stroke to push
through the incoming surf and out to the fishing groups just
offshore. On the return trip, some paddle to the beach during
lulls. Those who ride waves do so carefully and directly, dipping
the paddle into the water to maintain balance as necessary. The
flipped-up bow prevents the caballito’s nose from pearling under
while being pushed to shore, and the motion is simple, smooth, and
unvaried. Wipeouts are rare. Only in recent decades, as the
caballito became a beachside attraction, have the Huanchaqueros put
a bit of showmanship into the routine, raising the paddle overhead,
or trimming at an angle across the wave, and occasionally even
standing up.
I mean…. I mean…… “grayish prehistoric gloom?” “…a massive
nutrient-rich gyre moving counterclockwise through the South
Pacific?” “A caballito will flex slightly as its owner heaves it
into the crook between head and shoulder and then grunts his way
down the beach to water’s edge?”
But wait? You feel like some more Chas Smith? Oh gladly! Just
close your eyes. Only for a moment and the moment will be gone real
quick. All my dreams will pass before your eyes of curiosity!
(Hint: My dreams usually involve poking at the beloved Cori
Shroomactor, poking at Sharkbanz, poking at The Inertia
and poking at WSL CEO Paul Speaker. Duuuuuuuuust in the wind!)
The Lone Wolfs do it so damned good. Come watch
Eden Saul of The Dead Kooks!
Derek and I give it the college try with
BeachGrit TV. We really do. And someday it’ll be good. Our
DIY thing will shine etc. And we promise no Cori Shumcacher ever again
etc. Ever. Again. And. But. Ummm.
We both know how difficult “television” is to make. Neither of
us are comfortable in front of a camera. Each of us run to the
corners (off screen in “television” speak) as quickly as we can.
Etc. But we promise no Cori Schoolmaker ever again
etc. Ever. Never.
But the fact that we did once have Cori Spinnaker on a
podcast and we do accidentally not make it to the
corners quick enough shows how easy it is to go wrong.
And enter The Lone Wolfs. They do it all right from guest to
timing to filming to host to…. everything. Come watch what surf TV
should look like. This episode features Eden Saul of The Dead
Kooks.
Oh you’ll enjoy every minute because it is actually good. I
legitimately laughed at the end.
