The unfortunate Stabification of surf.
Yesterday’s lamest surf assault has got me feeling very guilty and partially responsible for trending behavior that is very unbecoming. It appears that going to the police after being shoved is perceived as the proper thing to do and I must apologize for this aberration. For it was one bright morning, over a month and a half ago, that I leapt a reclaimed wood and brushed nickel coffee table toward Stab magazine’s Ashton Goggans in order to silence him.
The leap ended with the desired result though very embarrassingly. A jostly non-fight that would have made a very overweight four-year-old redhead cringe while looking away.
Two weeks later Mr. Goggans contacted the Orange County Sheriff’s Dept. in order to file assault charges.
Now, I just assumed that going to the police for anything at all was a matter of last resort and was deeply confused by Mr. Goggans’ action though also shrugged and thought, “I suppose that’s how they do things over at Stab magazine.”
But this new lamest surf assault forces me to stop and take a personal accounting. My behavior must have been so embarrassing that, to some, Mr. Goggans’ police response was appropriate.
And for this I am truly sorry.
Truly truly sorry.
I hope I didn’t break surfing forever. I hope the kids can right this ship and that, generations from now, some crusty local is screaming at an interloper in a parking lot with no fear of legal reprisal.
For I have a dream that one day down in Florida — with its vicious racists, with its Governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification — one day right there in Florida, little surf boys and surf girls will be able to call each other “barney” and “kook” and tell each other to “beat it.”
I have a dream that one day every seedy left and unloved right will be allowed shoves and slaps and knocks on the head.
I HAVE A DREAM that one day ANYBODY can be that crusty local no matter the color of his skin or religious creed, amen?