5 (More) Surf Media Lies!

The second in an endless series!

Parents, politicians, coaches and teachers lie to protect their disciples from the harshness of reality and keep them interested.

Surf mags/surf industry are our surrogates.

Did you miss part one? Jordy v Dane, alaias, still shots of perfect waves, Van Life and Indo boards?

Click here. 

Today, we present,

(1) Wavepool perfection. The GOAT likens his wave pool to Wonka Land. He’s right. It is. But indulging in too many sweets has its effects. The lack of paddling, reduction of positioning for a peak and absence of whim from the ocean can dull the senses till you’re left with a puddle of empty candy wrappers and a waistline north of 40. Every time I see a pro cruise through one of those barrels I think two things: the first is jealousy, the second is that part from Willie Wonka where Augustus Gloop gets shot from the tube (no pun intended) after making love to the chocolate river. Billabong got this one semi-right: Only a surfer knows the feeling of being out on a shitty day when the front suddenly goes off, the sun comes out, the wind shifts and crumbly peaks become majestic pyramids.

It’s the closest you’ll get to God splitting the Red Sea for you. Something very unlikely to happen in Lemoore, California.

(Note: the editors disagree vociferously with Giancarlo’s posit about wavepools. A better analogy than Dahl’s Chocolate Factory would be the new generation of sex dolls. Even for girls!)

(2.) The Hot 100 (forced introduction of 12 year old surf studs): How many of these projected stars sparkle and fade? Some go the Justin Bieber route, maintain their fluidity, and discover their sexuality through pop songs and sleeve tattoos. Others transition into Lindsay Lohan facsimiles and become self-aware through faux lesbian encounters and Colombian imports.

This one is not the surf media’s fault. When sponsors come knocking with the promise of two-page ads paid upfront it’s harder to resist than a Golden Ticket. Every time a judging tower is stormed on behalf of someone’s kid, Little League dads are laughing as they fill ranks and branch out into differentiated franchises. Remember the evil shaman from Indiana Jones and The Temple of Doom who enslaved those kids and kept them sweating in mines, searching for scared stones?… He called those serfs his Hot 100.

(3.) Nose Guards: Back when surfboards were the real weapons of mass destruction, they had noses sharper than an Orange County housewife post-surgery. There’s no doubt these rubber diamonds saved countless said moms from taking their kids to the ER. However, couple the nose guard with a pair of webbed gloves and a beaver tail wetsuit and you prove Charles Darwin’s (surf) evolution theory with a living, breathing, human, duck-billed platypus.

(4.) The NY Quick Pro: This was a QUIET lie. The surf media had to secretly support the Quik Pro. The real truthsayers of our industry (unhinged by any loyalty to the surf landscape), the message board and forum commenters, lit up their screens with justified venom (we all fear what we don’t know). New York has a way of bitch-slapping you if you fuck with it. This time it was aided by a curvy princess born in the Caribbean called hurricane Katia.

The end result? Four consecutive days of unprecedented four-to-six-foot waves peelers reeling down the sand. Every tourist leaves The City with some form of  I (heart) NY. Be it Times Square T-shirts, SoHo scandals or Long Beach lettering on enlarged checks with $300,000 spelled out on the amount  line.

(Editor’s note: Watch and laugh at Adriano’s nine-something in the following highlight reel.)

(5.) Teva Sandals: Sometimes, there is a crime within a crime. In this case, it’s wearing sandals, which leads to wearing sandals with multiple clashing colors on the strap in addition to a ‘support strap’ running across the side of your foot like a flatline on your EKG sexual barometer.

Redemption? Never underestimate the power and versatility of sockless Vans, no matter how bad the smell. They are the …Lost Quiver Killer’s of #shoe life.