I know this is a week old but sometimes it
takes me a while to get around to things. You know? I get busy
yelling at the neighborhood yard men for going on 45 minute leaf
blower binges. Just sitting there with leaf blowers whining away.
Just blowing stuff this way then that way then this way then that
way.
You know?
So I miss things but late last night I finally got around to
Osmo Thrombo, Volcom’s latest offering, and it is fun. It is fun in
a classic Volcom kind of way. A kind of way that’s been missing for
a while. It made me remember how much I like their team.
Do you like their team? Mitch, Ozzy, etc.? I think Noa Deane
fits in real nice, say what you will cruel bastard.
Bruce should still be there.
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Sabre Norris: “I just went snow
surfing!”
By Sabre Norris
Tiny tot TV superstar takes surf game to the
mountains…
I’ve always wanted to go snowboarding but I
thought it would never happen because, uh, well, money.
There are six people in my family and we only ever go on surf
holidays because you don’t have to pay to ride waves.
Never did I expect, not even in my wildest dreams and I do have
some wild dreams, that the Olympic gold medallist Torah Bright
would invite me and my family to the snow for free.
So for the first time in a long time, I want to say ‘ever’ but
maybe that’s being too dramatic our black Volkswagen van
left our house without the usual smell of wee wafting thick in
the air.
The wee smell is what evaporates off from the wetsuits that live
in the boot of our car. But we were going on a holiday to
Thredbo, in the Australian snowy mountains, to see snow for the
first time and we had swapped our rubber wetsuits for warm snow
gear.
The car trip down was filled with excitement, anticipation and
sprays of vomit from my sister Naz who always gets car sick
when she plays the iPad.
We had just counted our fifth dead kangaroo on the side of
the road when I caught my first glimpse of snow. We
screamed, clapped and bouncing.
A couple of minutes later we arrived at our accommodation. The
car park outside our hotel was stuffed
full with Porsches, BMWs and Audis. Rich people
country.
Just as I started counting the Porsches I had this
feeling that started at my toes and ended at my heart. I couldn’t
believe people I’d never met before would pay for not only to come
to the snow but to stay in the fanciest accommodation with all the
rich people.
What did I know about Torah?
She had an Olympic gold medal and that was two shades better
than the Olympic medal my Dad had won. Also, Torah’s medal was from
a much cooler sport than the swimming medal we have at home.
The next day my brother woke me up at three am and we both
couldn’t get back to sleep. I had the same type of excitement
inside me that I get on Christmas morning, except instead
of a lounge room full of presents we would get a mountain full of
snow and a special gift of meeting Torah Bright.
Finally, the sun rose and sprinted to the free buffet breakfast
with the mission of trying to stuff ourselves with that much
food we wouldn’t have to buy lunch on the mountain.
Snowboarding vs surf? Hmmm. It’s super fun but it isn’t as easy
as it looks. At the beach, I watch the people learning to surf and
wonder how they could possibly be that bad.
But in the snow I was a beginner. And a bad beginner. My legs
shook with worry. The reason Torah had asked me to the
snow was because I can surf. I felt that once she saw me
on a snowboard she’d lose all her respect for me.
Torah, of course, has the soul of a mother (and didn’t care if I
was a kook) which is weird for two reasons.
Reason 1) She doesn’t have any kids.
Reason 2) Her cuddles feel firm instead of the usual
soft fluffy fat feel that mums always have.
Torah’s one of those people that you instantly feel
comfortable with and you can just
be yourself around. She’s
not a judgy person who would tell me that I’m not as
funny as what I looked like on Ellen or anything like
that.
Torah says she’s going to be more proud of becoming a mum than
of her golden Olympic medal. That surprised me because it seems
like it’s easy to become a mum. You see them
everywhere and most people do it but it seems a fair bit
harder to win an Olympic medal.
It wasn’t long till I had cleverly positioned myself right next
to Torah on the chair lift. The chair lift was the perfect place to
get to know someone as the person you are interrogating is stuck
and unable to escape.
I told Torah I loved the picture on her
snowboard. It was her own custom design that featured a deer and a
bear. The bear’s head was on top of the deer and in
the background there was snow glistening in the night
time. The story behind it is that it represents her love for
her husband Angus, she is the bear and her husband Angus is
the deer. The animals represent their personalities. When you
see Torah and Angus together it looks like their hearts are tied
together with rope.
Torah spent the next couple of hours hanging out with us kooks
on the beginner slope called Friday Flats. Her happiness
made me feel like hanging out with us on was not painful
and that maybe it was even fun.
The day with Torah ended in a blink and so did
our special holiday. Soon, enough we were in our black
van heading back to Newcastle. In between counting the
third and fourth dead kangaroo on the way
home I was thinking about something Torah had told
me.
Torah says she’s going to be more proud of becoming a mum than
of her golden Olympic medal. That surprised me because it seems
like it’s easy to become a mum. You see them
everywhere and most people do it but it seems a fair bit
harder to win an Olympic medal.
But Torah reckons medals don’t give you a kinder heart or make
you a better person so they don’t matter that much.
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Yemen: The Great Fraud of Danger!
By Chas Smith
Interlude: A meandering diatribe on the truth of
thrill.
(I am writing a series about Yemen because what is currently
happening there is terrible beyond. My inaction disgusts me and so
I am going to introduce you to to the country because… the place,
people, culture all deserve to be saved. Catch up, if you wish, on
the links right here… (Prologue,
Chapter 1,
Chapter 2,
Chapter 3,
Chapter 4,
Chapter 5, Chapter
6, Chapter 7)
Stories that include bits and pieces of danger
always feel fraudulent to me if the storyteller is still alive and
relatively whole. Or at least this storyteller. Real trouble ends
in death or dismemberment. Right? Real trouble leaves jagged scars.
I have been in situations where I thought, “This is the end. This
is it. I am dead.” Where things were going very sideways and very
quickly.
But I have never died and the fact that I am sitting, typing,
fully limbed (except for my one limb bending a nice glass of vodka)
throws the exact nature of the danger into question. Was I really
so close to a shallow grave or did my heart soar to hyperbolic
conclusions? The only jagged scars I have are on my nose (from when
I yelled a mama joke at a group of toughs) and on my chin (from
when I did clapping push-ups in Cairo and my hands slipped on the
dust). There are no bullet holes. No post-traumatic stress. Just my
memory.
That evening we arrived at a hotel in Ataq, Yemen late and
dragged our worn out bones to a room. It was standard Yemeni fare
with an assortment of twin beds, one hanging bulb and a television
with at least two music video channels. We watched for a while then
fell asleep.
In the morning, we got up, maybe watched a few more music videos
then pushed downstairs for breakfast. The modest lobby was packed
with Yemeni soldiers. Dusty, bloody, tired. Some lay asleep on
couches. Others lounged against the wall. They looked exhausted and
they looked at us. Not menacingly or angry. Just studying. Some
seemed vaguely amused. Others disinterested.
We asked a man who looked to be a commander what had happened.
He told us in Arabic that a nest of Al-Qaeda operatives had been in
the hill, had heard of our presence in the area and were coming to
get us. The military had been alerted and met them some
seven-kilometers out of town. They had killed them all and had not
suffered a casualty.
I had no way of knowing if that was true. The soldiers were
clearly spent. No one was in a joking mood. No one was asking us
for anything at all. I felt guilty and elated. Guilty because what
to us was a grand adventure put other people at risk. Elated
because being in Yemen and having a pile of Al-Qaeda trying to ride
us down felt like being in a movie. And because we had cheated the
reaper.
But were we really close to death? I will never know because all
I have is my memory. My damned rusted memory. If only we had been
shooting video then we would all know for sure. Then we would all
have definitive proof as to the precise levels of danger.
Right?
Ah but here is the rub. Video is as great a liar as memory.
Three years later found J., N. and I in Lebanon “covering” the 2006
Hezbollah-Israeli War. It is a long and convoluted tale that
doesn’t need fleshing out and especially since we are smack in the
middle of another long and convoluted tale but since this is an
interlude and since we are talking about the Great Fraud of Danger
allow me continue?
We were in Lebanon eating delicious baba ganoush, driving
motorscooters because they were lighter than motorcycles and could
be carried over bomb craters. J. and I had just driven them to
Damascus in order to DHL video tapes back to America and returned
to a real Israeli pounding. We decided it was a good time to head
into a Hezbollah controlled neighborhoods, almost got hit by a
bomb, almost got shot on the way out, crashed, got snagged by the
Palestinian Liberation Organization, eventually got handed over to
Hezbollah for a long, long interrogation and had the full first
part recorded.
It looks like stupid shit.
So what is the point? Danger ain’t danger unless you die and I
always feel like a fraud telling these stories.
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Watch: Bethany rides Kelly’s wave!
By Chas Smith
A thing of beauty!
Is Bethany Hamilton the most inspirational
surfer to ever live? You’d be hard pressed to find another more
inspirational + skilled. She is a revelation and took her wonderful
story of redemption, recently, to inland California to ride Kelly
Slater’s Wave Ranch.
Let’s watch then discuss!
Are you impressed? Well of course you are. Either impressed or
heartless.
But let’s discuss. Who has put on the best show at Kelly’s Wave
Ranch so far?
A) Bethany
B) Mick
C) Gerry
D) Kelly
E) One of the technicians
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One company to rule them all?
By Chas Smith
This is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius!
Derek Rielly’s reporting yesterday on the
possible, even probable, sale of Rip
Curl was first-rate journalism and what you have come
to expect from our Bondi bureau. What you have come to expect out
of our America Cardiff-by-the-Sea bureau is cut-rate journalism and
I had a cut-rate rumor just days ago that I failed to deliver.
And wonderful, but unconnected, friend told me, “Guess what…
Quiksilver is going to buy its two biggest competitors.”
I thought, “No. No they are not….” and continued Google image
searching Griffin Guess.
But then Derek’s story sparked my memory and maybe my wonderful,
but unconnected, friend was on to something. Oaktree Capital owns
Quiksilver. Oaktree Capital owns Billabong’s debt which Billabong
is having trouble servicing which could mean a takeover.
If Oaktree Capital were to purchase Rip Curl, and it is rumored
that they are in fact a suitor, then “Quiksilver” would indeed be
buying its two biggest competitors.
Who would have ever seen this maybe day coming (except for The
Brothers Marshall)?
And who stands to gain the most?
I would think they would all maintain their distinct consumer
facing identities but probably share distribution/blah
blah/whatever/business stuff. Will you be excited to buy? Excited
about the innovation? About the dynastic future?