Young Hawaiian falls victim to rare genetic
disorder!
Kalani David almost died — again. His first
dance with the devil happened this August, when he suffered a
heart-stopping seizure at an Oceanside, CA skatepark. You can read
about that here, but the gist is that Kalani
suffers from a rare genetic disorder called Wolff Parkinson-White
Syndrome, which messes with the heart’s electrical functions and
can be fatal if left untreated. He is nineteen.
Three weeks ago Kalani suffered a similar seizure on Oahu, only
this time it happened in the middle of the night. After seizing for
up to six hours, Kalani was found by a friend and brought to a
local hospital. He was then put into a medically-induced coma
that lasted two days.
Since waking up, Kalani has spent the majority of his
time in the hospital undergoing tests and procedures. Today he
was put under the knife for an open-heart surgery. Moments
before anesthetization, he posted this message to Instagram:
Getting my surgery done today, but I have one thing to say
before his happens. There’s a lot going on right now personally
with family and I have this to say. Keoni, Just know that the
things that have been said about me are false. I love you till the
death of me. You’re my baby brother and always have been my baby
brother since you were born, I’d do anything for you. I held you
right when you came out the womb. I’ve been born with this heart
disease and now with all the stress and emotions it’s been
triggered. The doctor said I’m lucky to even be alive after seizing
for more than 6 hours. Which I was dead for 2 days. I’m going into
heart surgery right now to get this extra piece of muscle burned. I
gotta move on with my life and focus on my career. I love you Keoni
just know that, I’m always here for you, love you boo boo your big
brother Kalani.
This post is strange and ambiguous in and of itself, but when
paired with his recent string of Instagram installments (read through the last ~20
photo captions), well the story just gets even more murky.
I’m not sure what’s going on, but it doesn’t seem… good.
We wish Kalani the best in his surgery (he went under at 10 AM
Hawaii time) and hope to hear from him soon.
**UPDATE: Kalani is out of surgery and appears to be doing
well!
This isn’t news, but it’s still worth talking
about. Noa Deane’s move from Rusty to Volcom is the
biggest of his career. It’s also quite fitting. The young man seems
genuinely passionate about not giving a fuck, and isn’t that what
Volcom’s all about?
At least they used to be. When I was maybe 10, my friend Tommy
Salvesen had the coolest rashguard. Black, long sleeve,
with the digital representaion of a human skeleton across the
entire front. I wanted it more than anything.
Somewhere along the sleeve were embroidered these three words:
Youth Against Establishment.
In all its glory.
“What does that mean?” I asked Tommy, a knowledgable
14-year-old.
“It’s kinda like us kids saying F-U to The Man, and doing what
we want.”
The coolest! But then in 2014 Volcom changed it’s slogan to
True to This and it’s like… True to WHAT?
Watching this clip of Noa, I’m reminded of a man who was once
very young and very against establishment. His name was Bruce and
he was just as belligerently raucous as Wayne’s towheaded progeny.
While Noa’s stylish approach, creepy fingers, and general disregard
for life or limb are fair points of comparison to our beloved BI,
those giant lien grabs are downright uncanny.
It will be interesting to what comes of Noa, who is dripping
with talent but has an apparent proclivity for substance abuse.
We’ve seen what happened to Andy, to Bruce, and to tens of other
world-class surfers who were all but destroyed by their taste for
the hooch or the crack or the smack
Stab reportedly offered Noa a profile concept
in which he would get sober and fit for a month to see how a change
of lifestyle would affect his surfing. Noa declined because he felt
that it “wasn’t him”, and that it would hurt his personal brand in
the eyes of his fans, most of whom are probably sixteen. That seems
troubling on multiple levels.
Or when it was revealed that he demands two roses
waiting for him when he travels.
Have you heard of celebrity riders? They are
the lists of requirements the rich and famous demand from the
service class. Some are normal, like water bottles and Butterfinger
candy bars.
Others are honorable. Jack Johnston, surfing minstrel, insists
that his music venues change all their lightbulbs to the energy
saving sort and staff bike valets.
Still others are grandly bizarre. Iggy Pop stipulates that there
must be seven dwarves at each of his shows dressed up like the
famous Disney Snow White troupe. Katy Perry, a person to wash and
cut her vegetables. Eminem, a koi pond. Dustin Diamond, that no
person in his presence call him “Screech.”
What about World Surf League CEO Paul Speaker? Rumor has it that
he requires two roses to be sitting on his limo/Towncar seat and
two more in his hotel rooms.
What?
The hell?
Totally amazing!
It it wonderful that Mr. Speaker has a rider at all, don’t you
think? In his mind he must be a powerful lord overseeing a robust
and thriving business. Or maybe in his mind he is a precious pop
star whose every emotional whim must be catered to immediately?
Or maybe in his mind he is a renaissance painter and needs
reminders that life is both beautiful but fragile always by his
side?
Or maybe he is a li’l freak?
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Ozzie Wright, as WSL surfer, with Joel Fitzgerald
twin-fin, in Israel. What an enigma he is! | Photo: Derek
Rielly
The world qualifying series returns, with more cash
and even more laughs!
There ain’t much else in this world I hate than
saying no to a good time. And, saying no to a
trans-continental surf trip to the ground zero of outrageous fun
kills me.
Have I mentioned the joint before? It’s a bewitching sliver of
desert and singing blue sea just to the right of Cyprus, atop
Egypt, just left of Syria, and a day’s drive away from the bustling
markets of Baghdad.
Of course, you already know that it’s the only country in the
Middle East where democracy flourishes, where men and women are
equal, where the booze flows and everyone dances and where you
might meet a cute girl with a pistol strapped to her narrow
waist.
A caveat: the famed machine-gut toting IDF girls are
generally chubby, and only passably friendly.
Last year, I took Ozzie Wright and Otis Carey there for Israel’s
first-ever WSL event. Oz was so thrilled he wrote a song called
Jesus is the King of the
Jews.
This year, I’ve got an interview with a former Australian prime
minister for a book project right in the middle of the waiting
period.
Do I want to go to Israel? Yes!
Can I? No!
Anyway, the WSL event in 2016 was a 1500-point WQS. It was
won by Pedro Henrique, studs, and Maude Le Car, gals.
This year there is more cash, the gals side of things has
doubled in points, Reef has taken over from Billabong as the
co-sponsor with Seat motor cars, and the event organiser, Mr Yossi
Zamir, who rolls out the red carpet like no other, is asking all
pro surfers to come, come, come!
The contest runs from January 19 to 28, and, as the WSL
says,
The urban jungle of Tel Aviv, deserted South and the
mountains in the North are just a fraction of all the beauty this
country has to offer. And if you still need persuading, the locals
incredible welcome will definitely win your affection.
I'm not reproducing, what do I care about the future
health of our environment? Fuck it, let's burn shit to the ground.
Of course, the white bread faux-Christian mouth breathers who
farted out a vote for Trump yesterday breed like a rats. Pumping
out child after child, fruitlessly multiplying. They need a planet
to host the poisonous detritus that springs forth from their
wombs.
Should’ve, probably. Just didn’t want to believe a campaign
built on hate could win. But it did. Wasn’t even close.
Bigotry and fear took the day, get to run with the ball for the
next four years. Probably eight, if we’re being honest.
But the world isn’t ending.
Nothing has really changed.
We’re the same group of assholes today that we were
yesterday.
Is it absurd that we elected a reality TV star to run our
country? Yep.
Is he going to use the Senate and House majority to roll back
every positive environmental and public health program we’ve got?
Probably.
Am I allowed to call people niggers and faggots and beaners
again? Looks like it.
To be fair, I’ll only be applying that license to the racial or
ethnic or sexual minorities who supported him. They signed up for
it.
But it’s not all doom and gloom. Well, maybe mostly, but if you
want to read that type of stuff you can find it anywhere at the
moment. I’d prefer to focus on the bright side.
Comedy golden era
A buffoon-in-chief will be hilarious, there’s no
way around it. Whether he’s committing social gaffes among his
fellow heads of state, or engaging in late night Twitter wars with
detractors, the presence of a President without a filter will make
for endless opportunities for solid humor.
Sure, a lot of the laughing will be the kind you do in order to
avoid tears. But that’s fine. Comedy comes from pain. Saturday
Night Live will catch fire for a few years, South
Park has Mr Garrison in the White House.
He gave a voice to the voiceless
But not really. He exposed a lot of people for the close-minded
xenophobe bigots they truly are, and tricked them into thinking
they were represented. But, the truth of the matter is, that fairly
large subsection of our population has been largely ignored because
they are stupid. Easily led, receptive to demagoguery, willing to
believe anyone who spews venom that overlaps with their own. But
first and foremost, stupid.
They may think they’ll get what they want, but they don’t know
what they want. And no one cares anyway. The frustration as that
fact dawns on them will be delicious.
The Red State Blues
The jobs are gone, they ain’t coming back. All the Rust Belt
retards who think Heir Trump will somehow bring back all the
off-shored manufacturing jobs are gonna learn real quick that those
were just empty promises. The Trump presidency will be about
putting as much money as possible in the hands of the ruling class.
You don’t do that by paying a living wage. You definitely don’t do
that by supporting unions.
“BUT YOU PROMISED!” they’ll cry, while fighting for crusts of
bread in the gutter. “You said you’d make us great again. This
isn’t great at all.”
Goodbye Obamacare
Thank jeebus I can afford private insurance. Great coverage, the
best!
But guess what? Repealing the Affordable Care Act will mean
insurance companies can once again charge more, or deny coverage
outright, due to pre-existing conditions. Which is a serious
problem if you’re an obese redneck motherfucker with adult-onset
diabetes. Ditto if you’re an aging baby boomer about to experience
the litany of ailments that comes with senior status.
Global Warming isn’t real
I’m not reproducing, what do I care about the future health of
our environment? Fuck it, let’s burn shit to the ground.
Of course, the white bread faux-Christian mouth-breathers who
farted out a vote for Trump yesterday breed like a rats. Pumping
out child after child, fruitlessly multiplying. They need a planet
to host the poisonous detritus that springs forth from their
wombs.
Luckily for them, the type of half wit imbecile their tainted
bodies produce will be well suited to surviving the aftermath of
our planet’s destruction. Retreat to caves, return to their
troglodyte roots.
They set a precedent
Fuck unity. Fuck brotherhood. Fuck national identity.
It’s us versus them, ain’t no two ways about it. Hopefully the
more liberal-minded souls will finally realize that, if you want to
fight a pig, you’ve gotta get down in the mud. No more attempts at
discussion or ideological parity. Stop pretending there are rules,
start doing what it takes to win.
It’s time to throw our idealism in the garbage, where it
belongs. Face the cold hard truth that you’ve gotta employ violence
to get what you want. That’s it’s okay to trample another person in
your quest for a brighter tomorrow. That truth has no place in
reality, and that the ends always justify the means.
