All secrets revealed!
Once, when I was a little boy, I came to southern California to visit my cousins and it was my birthday. My uncle took me to a surf shop, mystical in my young Oregonian eyes, and said, “Pick whatever you want.” I picked a Surfer magazine (because it must have been assumed that surfboards, wetsuits, etc. were not included in his generous offer). And now I sometimes write for Surfer magazine under The Weekly Grit! moniker.
The latest?
Would you permit me to be honest with you for just one moment? A little real talk? I am neither a scientist nor mathematically inclined. If doctors were allowed to study my brain they would discover synapses coated with bourbon firing vague memories borrowed from Sex and the City episodes (Chas Smith playing the role of Carrie Bradshaw, of course). If they peered deeper, they would stumble upon an above average Mark-Occhilupo-singing-karaoke impression. Nowhere would they find “science” or “math.”
And then guess what? I totally reveal the entire patent to Kelly Slater’s Surf Ranch!
After that I basically describe the mechanics of Kelly Slater’s Surf Ranch because a magical being sent me the ENTIRE patent for the thing. And also come over to my house and help me dig the Wave Corral. The commenters at Surfer think I’ve helped lead to the demise of that proud title and tell me my brain is full of used condoms so I don’t think they’re coming.
My uncle would be most upset.
does cross-marketing make any money?
Pappy Van Winkle is overrated.
With the help of several local surfers, we attempted to build an artificial reef with pvc pipe, sand bags, canvas tarps and concrete filled witches hats. First one foot swell ripped apart 10 hours of Aquaman effort. A one foot wave is a fucking powerful thing.
That, if true, is fucking awesome, like a wood-fired DIY hippy hot tub version of a wave pool, some real ANTIFA type fuck the man’s wave pool shit right here.
Nik Karol is to ANTIFA what fat is to fat-free anything.
I am largely apolitical, as anyone who seeks power doesn’t deserve to wield it
Word
That’s totally what ANTIFA would say, sneaky fuckers. And ISIS. Nik Karol is ANTIFAISIS.
At war with myself?
Ten years ago. Those tiny waves completely fucked that structure up.
William Froude and his dimensionless number sure escaped the nerdly near anonymity of scientific notoriety finding freedom to shine brightly on the WSL stage. This may just make science “cool” again with America’s youth.
Fuck. We’ve become our parents. This whole rebelling against society jive is just one big merry-go-round.
Probably have mine up and running by easter with just this: “The foils are adapted to propagate the wave away from a leading portion of the foil as the water and foil move relative against each other, and to achieve the most direct transfer of mechanical energy to the wave from that movement.”
I’m good with foil.
I’ve used all mine up, wrapping my head in case THEY are trying to read my brainz.
Human recreates mother natures wave formations and claim a patent. Maybe Kelly’s ultimate claim.
Kinda like that one guy who developed the first implantable pacemaker. How dare he lay claim to such technology, did mother nature not give us beating hearts?
Mother Nature: “Don’t even start bringing that shit! ADS got Kelly’d way worse than me!”
dude the first thing you learn upon encountering that thing is that it’s not a natural wave.
Are those faux smiles on surfers whom had the opportunity to ride that thing? You were spot on regarding the jet ski’s running through the line up, noise, exhaust.. in Laird’s movie.. Very little desire to ride his wave! On second thought I fell this year fracturing my T7 transverse process with a decent amount of rib damage. Been having a problem getting my feet in right riding a short board. So maybe little surf therapy like that would be good.. So what kind of noise does that thing make?
Well I am sorry to hear about your injury Abcessed Llama. Like Chas and Derek, I am under an embargo re describing the experience of riding the Ranch pool. I’m writing a piece about it for the Surfers Journal, what I hope is a totally independent assessment of the whole gig really. There was a bunch of journalists there on the day and I was astounded that nobody else took any notes — I obsessively filled a notebook with the details of the pool, the context, and what it’s actually like. I will risk the embargo so far as to say it makes a noise like a quiet ski lift, but that is not even remotely the strangest thing about it all.
My eyes glazed over at first sight of equations, but I was snapped violently back into consciousness at the mention of Pappy Van Winkle.