Questions surrounding Venice-adjacent website's
existence finally answered!
It all finally makes sense. Every bit of it.
For the last three or so years, you see, I have been absolutely
dumbfounded by Venice-adjacent’s downhill skateboarding website
The Inertia. How on earth does it exist? Who on earth
visits? It didn’t seem there were enough never-before-sexed
45-year-old egg-riders to justify its URL. And so I was left
scratching my head in sheer confusion.
Well, today it was revealed that the website does indeed hate
sex. Shall we read from its posting Why Surfing is Better than
Sex: A Philosophical Examination? I know we
shouldn’t but let’s anyhow.
As teenage surfers, I recall that it seemed important to us,
in our philosophical moments, to comparesurfing and sex,
wondering which is better, as though one has to choose between
them. Three decades of surfing later, now a professional
philosopher, I have returned to consider the question in my recent
book, Surfing with Sartre. I’m still comfortable with my teenage
answer.
You don’t have to choose between surfing and sex, if you
play your cards right. Yet, if you have to focus more of your
energies on one rather than the other (because life gets
complicated), surfing is worthier. If I really had to give up one,
but only one, forever, I’d give up sex.
Yes, surfing is that good. It’s totally wonderful, at least
when you’re good enough at it and the waves are pumping.
How so? How are sex and surfing even comparable? We
teenagers noted certain structural isomorphisms, especially when it
comes to the “tube ride,” the act of riding inside the tube of a
wave. You insert yourself inside of the tube when the wave offers
the opportunity. You’re sliding along, perhaps “pumping” for speed,
and then exiting, in some cases while the wave “spits.” I suppose
the surfboard even has something of a phallic shape.
What really motivates the comparison, though, is that
surfing and sex are both joyous and climactic and enthralling when
they happen. They’re something wonderful enough to wait for or
chase as a peak of human experience.
Yet if surfing is better than sex, it surely can’t be just
that it is more intensely pleasurable than an orgasm, as though
anything could be more intensely pleasurable than an orgasm.
(Doesn’t a heroin high mainly prolong something like the same
mental state?) Yes, surfing is really, really fun, but it is
wonderful precisely because it is about much more than having a
pleasurable state of mind. It draws you out of yourself.
This is totally for reals and goes on and on and on and on and
on talking up surfing and talking down sex.
Yeah. I guess at the end there are enough never-before-sexed
45-year-old egg-riders to justify its URL and I’m sort of sorry for
making so much fun of The Inertia’s founder-in-chief Zach
Weisberg now. His life is clearly hell. Like, really and truly
hell.
Zach Weisberg (right) flashing the smile of a man
who has never had sex.
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And here comes John with his bag of love potions and
magic oils. Ooowee, he can cure all diseases, including cancer,
enslave sweethearts and ward off evil spells! | Photo:
WSL
France Day 2: “Jordy’s world title
choke!”
By Longtom
Jordy loses in round three; John John Florence
soars into quarter finals.
Round two is the surf writer’s horror show. I
could have kicked Trav ‘The Angry Inch’ Logie in the nuts last
night when he ran the contest into round two but that feeling
turned to deep gratitude when the contest kicked off again today
8.30am CEST, which is a terrible timezone for viewers either side
of the Pacific.
Hence, Chas rings Derek. Skypes? Does anyone still Skype?
Snapchat?
Hey Derek, France timezone sucks, get Shearer to cover
it.
I’m the contract toilet cleaner of contest coverage. I get
called in to clean up the messes no-one wants to deal with. Chas
and Derek can sleep soundly at night knowing that in the morning,
there might be a little mess to mop up but at least the dunny won’t
be overflowing with unflushable turds.
Which is not to say France today was an unflushable turd. More a
series of bloodless coups as the swell couldn’t quite find
accommodation on the La Graviere sandbars and surfers schlepped
around under delicate sunshine in curvaceous but soul destroying
closeouts. Kind of the opposite to what French stud Andre Breton
aimed for in his second Surrealist Manifesto: an attempt to
liberate the imagination by the “long, immense, reasoned
derangement of the senses”.
This was more a long, immense period of semi-sedation waiting
for something to happen, knowing it would eventually but not
knowing when and in the meantime having to settle for long
stretches of mediocrity.
Italo got marooned in the lineup, going down to J-Flo with a
super weird ending.
Owen pipped Stu K on the strength of one wave and Kolohe downed
Bede.
It took the inscrutable talent of Miguel Pupo to finally crack
the day open after lighting up two nugs in two minutes
comboing Adriano. Inscrutable to me that he is not Top 10 surfer
every year.
I carry the burden of a secret dread of a Jordy world Title. I
don’t know why. Examining my heart of hearts I think it’s because
he surfs worse now than when he came on tour with promises of an
unfulfilled rivalry with Dane Reynolds.
And he’s never mastered heavy water, or even appeared to care.
But I’d got my head around it based on performances in the
post-heat pressers. The parables of Jordy Smith. The loaves of
bread etc etc. No need to now. Marc Lacomare sent him packing with
two solid tube-rides and Jordy’s world title goose is cooked.
You seen the YouTube clip of the German CoastGuard intern on his
first day on the job? Check it here. Left alone with all the radar
in the emergency room he gets the mayday call from a sinking
ship.
“Mayday, mayday, can you hear us. We are sinking!”
“Hello, this is the German CoastGuard.”
“We are sinking!”
“What… are you sinking about?”
Somehow this cockamamie communication mix-up reminds of pro
surfing, no?
With the top six let loose in Indonesian surf we might finally
see the performances and the progression we only see as exception
becoming the rule. Top six at time of writing is Jordy, JJF,
Julian, Wilko, Owen, Adriano. Make it top eight and we get Filipe
and Medina. Tell me that prospect doesn’t tantalise as a
spectator.
What is pro surfing – Sophie, Joe, Dirk Z- thinking about? We
know of one prong of the strategy, the wavepool, and that has
commanded the attention of the surf world and rightly so.
The other prong of the strategy, the yang to that yin, being the
Superbowl title showdown in the Mentawais has flown under the
radar. That is red meat to the base.That prospect does excite the
jaded freelancer. A turd I would gladly polish. With the top six
let loose in Indonesian surf with an appropriate format we might
finally see the performances and the progression we only see as
exception becoming the rule. Top six at time of writing (Pre
France-adjusted) is Jordy, JJF, Julian, Wilko, Owen, Adriano. Make
it top eight and we get Filipe and Medina. Tell me that prospect
doesn’t tantalise as a spectator. That it wouldn’t finally and
irrevocably flush away the memory of a thousand unflushable round
two turds and closeout contests.
Kelly gets the wildcard. That is only fair.
I am a warrior for pro surfing justice. I want a return on my
spectating investment. I want the high, the refined and the
metaphysical to triumph over the coarse and the corporeal. If that
makes me an enemy of the people, then so be it.
John Florence and Ethan Ewing got a fresh clock after sitting
motionless in a glassy ocean for 20 minutes. Counter-revolutionary
forces in the judging panel refused a 10-point ride after John
greased a buttery landing following a yuuuuggge backside rotation.
Not, as Ronnie claimed, as good as Italo’s Gold Coast effort but
easily the best controlled high air in 2017. A sign that John will
not dish up conservative surfing in the home straight to the title.
The second air was a flat spin Hail Mary and over-scored. But no
harm no foul. It mattered not.
Nothing against snowflakes but I am a warrior for pro surfing
justice. I want a return on my spectating investment. I want the
high, the refined and the metaphysical to triumph over the coarse
and the corporeal. If that makes me an enemy of the people, then so
be it.
Fanning and Parkinson turned up the dial on classic QLD power
surfing. More delight than derangement of the senses.
We’re into round four on a slowly dropping swell and gorgeous
afternoon light. I meant to go up, up and away but I drank a big
bowl of Kava and went…sideways… and fell into a K hole. Second
day in a row France puts me on the canvas. We’ll have to hammer
this out below the line. Where the real work gets done.
No, I’m back after a thirty minute nap. Fanning, Parko and
Florence in silky soft focus french beachbreaks. Styles,
techniques, generations.
Whatever WSL is sinking, France must stay.
Quiksilver Pro France Round 3 Results:
Heat 1: Owen Wright (AUS) 13.50 def. Stuart Kennedy (AUS) 8.60
Heat 2: Kolohe Andino (USA) 11.80 def. Bede Durbidge (AUS)
11.23
Heat 3: Miguel Pupo (BRA) 16.30 def. Adriano de Souza (BRA)
10.17
Heat 4: Caio Ibelli (BRA) 14.33 def. Frederico Morais (PRT)
9.60
Heat 5: Sebastian Zietz (HAW) 14.33 def. Michel Bourez (PYF)
5.73
Heat 6: Marc Lacomare (FRA) 14.10 def. Jordy Smith (ZAF) 13.00
Heat 7: John John Florence (HAW) 19.16 def. Ethan Ewing (AUS)
14.50
Heat 8: Mick Fanning (AUS) 16.24 def. Jeremy Flores (FRA) 16.00
Heat 9: Joel Parkinson (AUS) 15.77 def. Ian Gouveia (BRA) 14.77
Heat 10: Gabriel Medina (BRA) 15.90 def. Leonardo Fioravanti (ITA)
8.53
Heat 11: Joan Duru (FRA) 12.63 def. Adrian Buchan (AUS) 12.27
Heat 12: Nat Young (USA) 14.73 def. Matt Wilkinson (AUS) 14.43
Quiksilver Pro France Round 4 Results:
Heat 1: Miguel Pupo (BRA) 14.80, Owen Wright (AUS) 12.33, Kolohe
Andino (USA) 11.60
Heat 2: Marc Lacomare (FRA) 15.43, Caio Ibelli (BRA) 9.87,
Sebastian Zietz (HAW) 9.07
Heat 3: John John Florence (HAW) 18.56, Mick Fanning (AUS) 17.03,
Joel Parkinson (AUS) 11.37
Heat 4: Gabriel Medina (BRA) 14.43, Nat Young (USA) 11.33, Joan
Duru (FRA) 8.67
Quiksilver Pro France Round 5 Match-Ups:
Heat 1: Owen Wright (AUS) vs. Sebastian Zietz (HAW)
Heat 2: Caio Ibelli (BRA) vs. Kolohe Andino (USA)
Heat 3: Mick Fanning (AUS) vs. Joan Duru (FRA)
Heat 4: Nat Young (USA) vs. Joel Parkinson (AUS)
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Subterfuge: Slater throws smoke!
By Chas Smith
The 11x world champ writes "hahahaha." about
purportedly surfing in Portugal!
And wow. Did you read that rumor yesterday on
Surfer(read here)?
Kelly Slater purportedly dusting off the ol’ potato chip and
returning to competition in Portugal? A hot one no doubt and from a
knowledgeable source who spends time Lemoore-adjacent.
Oh Kelly hopped on Instagram to quickly deflate, writing
something like, “hahahaha. I can guarantee this one is not true.”
Except anyone who has been in this game longer than a few years
know that the 11 x world champ is an absolute master of
manipulating a narrative.
And here is why it is very plausible that Kelly Slater will
maybe could might return triumphant to Portugal.
1) Portugal is not his favorite event and little would be
expected of him. He could, theoretically, paddle out, give his foot
a few squirts, see how it feels then paddle in. Like spring
training baseball. Or pre-season football. A perfect place to test,
smile, laugh and pretend not to be serious.
2) Returning for the Pipeline Masters would, no doubt, be more
triumphant and there is no way Kelly will not surf that event. With
that being true wouldn’t he want to theoretically paddle out, give
his foot a little jams, see how it feels then paddle in the
penultimate event?
3) The penultimate event is Portugal.
Ummm. I guess that’s it. But mark my words, Kelly Slater will
either surf in Portugal or think about surfing in Portugal.
Probably.
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SurfStitch, surf's own sugar daddy!
SurfStitch: How to lose other people’s
money!
By Derek Rielly
Failed online retailer's innovative approach to
biz!
You know the old joke. How do you make a
million dollars in the stock market? Start with two!
SurfStitch, one of the Australian stock exchanges’
worst-performing IPO’s in recent memory, who is currently facing
class actions for hundreds of millions of dollars and is in
administration and a trading halt after its share price collapsed
from two bucks to six cents, today continued to double-down on its
innovative buy-high-sell-low strategy.
You’ll remember that Stab and Magic Seaweed,
bought for millions, were sold for
pennies.
“We see Surfdome as being very complementary to SurfStitch,”
said the company’s founder Justin Cameron at the time. “We are now
the No 1 player in all the areas we operate.”
The other founder of SurfStitch, the
slightly-less-photogenic Lex Pedersen, celebrated his recent
release from the company he created by helping to launch Periscope,
a “strategic, digital business delivering world class strategy,
consulting, infrastructure and services to ecommerce. Through
vision, expertise, experience & people we help our partners
e-commerce better. Our goal is to make every partnership
priceless.”
Priceless!
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Married: Surfer and BeachGrit!
By Chas Smith
A union they never saw coming!
It is the end of the work day in Southern
California, the sun golden and dappled. The Mexican gardeners
blowing leaves from driveway to driveway then back to driveway. I
am sitting with a cold Stolichnaya and coconut water. Refreshing my
weary soul.
Would you like to pull up a chair and refresh your weary soul
too? Great. There is more than enough for the both of us and I have
something to tell you. A revelation. A love story.
And it features Todd Prodanovich. Surfer magazine’s
editor-in-chief Todd Prodanovich. Do you remember when I wrote lots
of mean things about him here? Do you remember when I wrote that he
had red hair and called him Todd Marinovich and… ummm… etc?
Well I was wrong (about everything except his red hair). I was
so very wrong.
I considered my one-sided war with Mr. Prodanovich whilst on the
cobbled stone at Trestles. I thought, “I have never met Todd
Prodanovich for myself and have thrown many invectives his way.
Many rude invectives about his hair color and possibly once being
the quarterback for the Oakland Raiders etc. This is not the way
that the people behave. The people are generous of spirit. The
people only judge after a full accounting.” And so I invited
Surfer’s dear leader to a drink.
He accepted.
Can you even believe?
I couldn’t to be quite honest. It is rare for for a man who has
been ruthlessly and uninvitedly dragged through digital mud to
respond. Zach Weisberg wouldn’t even take a picture next to me.
But Todd showed up at a very dark bar and drank gin and tonics.
I drank unfortunate beer. We talked. We talked and talked and
talked about surf, about love, about relationships, about his
iconic family, about the future.
We had so much fun that we drank again one week later downtown
San Diego, this time both of us on choice mescals and we talked
some more and do you know what happened?
