The Inertia
"I…I…I'm filled with loathing and self reproach. I feel bloated and empty at the same time."

Blood Feud: The Inertia vs The Sisterhood!

Brave sister gets legal on your favourite website!

Swinging the all-men-are-bastards angle ain’t always an easy home run as The Inertia discovered recently when it ran a polemic by  “writer, surfer, teacher, yogini, consultant and PhD candidate in development studies”, Tara Ruttenberg. 

(Ruttenberg also enjoys “decolonizing sustainable surf tourism and exploring development alternatives for post-capitalist realities.”)

In her story As the Only Woman in the Lineup, Here’s Why I Don’t Apologize for Taking the Waves I Want, Ruttenberg let the patriarchy have it, serving a dish of male flesh nestled on a bed of sodium-rich men-can-go-fuck-themselves white rice.

“Short of putting anyone in danger or acting like a complete asshole out there, I’m dropping into the waves I want, every wave I can make,” she wrote. “And I’m giving absolutely no apologies for being there. For being here. For being anywhere.”

Yeah, yeah. You read it yesterday. Website Reveals Misogynistic Core” and “Recovered: what the Inertia Tried to Hide.”

What wasn’t revealed in those stories was the reason for the disappearing of As the Only Woman in the Lineup, Here’s Why I Don’t Apologize for Taking the Waves I Want.

And? 

As Ruttenberg explains on the Instagram hornpipe. 

“I have submitted a legal Cease and Desist Notice to The Inertia editors and the author of the defamatory rebuttal article that was published in follow-up to my story on women’s empowerment in surfing. The author of the article misrepresented my message and implicated my name in comments I never wrote nor promote, mis-quoting me in ways that are defamatory to my reputation as a scholar of critical surf studies. This was in concert with a smear campaign orchestrated by The Inertia itself, tagging me in incendiary posts using the same misrepresented language mis-quoted by the author of the article, as a result of which I received serious insults, bullying, sexist slurs and threats to my person, all of which I have reported as harrassment/bullying.
Following receipt of my Cease and Desist Notice, I saw that The Inertia removed all Instagram posts as I requested and removed *some* but not all of the misrepresented statements associated with my name in the rebuttal article. I am still awaiting a formal apology and removal of the remaining language as reparation for the defamatory personal injury to my reputation, as demanded in my legal notice.
I am sharing this so that all women and men know the ways in which women’s voices continue to be silenced/marginalized/misconstrued and otherwise shamed, when we get brave and speak up to share our stories with the world. And also, the legal recourse you have if something similar happens to you in the future. Please message me if this happens to you. I will no longer be publishing any more of my work with The Inertia.” 

Now.

Getting the story pulled didn’t end the game. If you’ve got time and strong fingers to scroll down the page gobble up post after post until the very last mouthful. 

“Today, The Inertia responded to my request for the removal of defamatory, misconstrued language from the rebuttal article written in response to my story on women’s empowerment in surfing by saying that they have removed both my story and the rebuttal article ‘as per my request.’ i want you to know that i did not request that they remove either article from their website, but rather that they remove the misrepresented language attached to my name in the rebuttal article that was defamatory to my reputation and consequentially injurious to my person.
i receive this decision by the Inertia in response to my Cease and Desist notice not as any sort of reparation to the defamatory harm they both allowed and orchestrated against me (which they denied), but rather as yet another means of silencing my voice as a woman whose perspective does not align with the mainstream.
the good news is you can still find my story in its original unedited version on my website (link in bio), AND this means it’s available for publication in another journal whose ethics align with a diversity of perspectives, unthreatened by the voices of surfing women willing to share the power of their stories with the world.
i am filled with gratitude for the outpouring of uplifiting support, solidarity, connection and lively debate stimulated by this experience of sharing my story, and i look forward to reading, writing and sharing more stories of our experiences as women among the waves. so much love for surfing sisters and supportive brothers near and far. you are my inspiration. 

And, 

“1/2 Things I’ve learned (and re-learned) this week (:
1) If you write a story about women’s empowerment in surfing, in which you describe certain middle-aged men with male pattern baldness as middle-aged men with male pattern baldness, many other middle-aged men with male pattern baldness may take personal offense to that, instead of engaging with the ideas you offered about women’s empowerment in surfing. *Are there more PC terms to describe middle-aged men and male pattern baldness that I’m not aware of? Hairless males between the ages of 40 and 60? This is an actual question.
2) For-profit magazines, with dubious ethics beholden to industry advertisement, may re-word your story to create undue drama as a sales strategy, capitalizing on both your strength and your vulnerability, championing your story one day, and then hanging you out to dry over the weekend as best suits their capitalist interests, twisting the truths in your story into a soap opera battle of the sexes, and ultimately silencing your voice when you stand up for yourself and take legal action against instances of libel. My attitude here (similar to my attitude in my story) is less hate the player (read: for-profit media and middle-aged, privileged bald men) and more hate the game (read: capitalism and patriarchy). Unfortunately, somewhere between the message and the messenger, that attitude seemed to be lost on many, but fortunately not on all.

“[2/2] More things I’ve learned and re-learned this week:

3) With the social institutionalization of white male privilege comes great fear and insecurity, as the sociohistorical grip on power begins to unravel with dissenting voices and non-conforming actions withdrawing consent to patriarchy, the response to which often employs the heavy-handed tools of denial, selective ignorance, aggression, bullying, and harassment in defense of imploding identities disrupted by empowered feminist awakenings. To that I will say: the ways you wield your waning privilege to either support toward equitable change or stick to your guns in the face of these very real threats to the status quo, will determine less the future of that change and more your capacity to weather that change. For those suffering this fate, my compassion for you does not implicate my silence as a woman whose words and actions are not beholden to unjust social realities that might otherwise accommodate your unjust sense of comfort that you may or may not recognize as privilege.
4) while experience has shown me that women have few spaces for expressions of empowerment, freedom, rage, dissent and diversity in the world of surfing (and life), I am excited by the spaces being created beyond the mainstream in conversations, gatherings, art, publications, films, storytelling and events, where we can celebrate our unique perspectives and collective possibilities through ethics of support, solidarity, freedom, love, and diverse femininities, toward greater empowerment for women in surfing and beyond.
In other words, damn it’s hot in this kitchen, but I ain’t goin’ nowhere.
Or more appropriately, fuck your sweaty ass kitchen, we’re building our own castles in the sea.”

Do you feel like you’ve just had a bucket of wet concrete poured on your face?

Or are you, like me, enchanted by the hissing fury?


Listen: All the ills of the world solved!

Or all of them and mostly correct usage of the word "mongo."

What a week it has been so far. Just yesterday morning I woke up, called it a rollercoaster, detailed the various stories on BeachGrit, got in my car, drove to San Clemente, sat down across the now famous coffee table from David Lee Scales and spoke into the microphone.

I felt upbeat. Happy. For this coming week, on Tuesday, Cocaine + Surfing (Cocaine & Surfing in Australia) is officially released and on Thursday Trouble: The Lisa Andersen Story debuts in Florida. Last time around, when Welcome to Paradise, Now Go to Hell dropped I didn’t stop to smell the roses. I was so busy crafting the next book in my head, moving on to bigger and better things.

This time I am enjoying the moment. It feels good. It was a silly thing to write a book and direct a movie in the same short window but anything James Franco can do I can do better (except throw orgies).

And across the coffee table from David Lee Scales I jitterly jabbered like I was on cocaine. We chatted about sexism, racism and retardation. All very important topics of our day and I am certain it is our best podcast yet. Would you like to listen? It won’t hurt my feelings if you say no. I know that I have a voice for writing but I think it is fun.

Like I said, our best one yet.


Willian Cardoso
The Panda, Brazilians at Uluwatu and everyone who understood the power of a man “tryna feed and water my seed”, when “success is my only motherfuckin option, failures not” celebrated wildly. | Photo: WSL/Cestari

Cardoso: “Success is my only motherf$ckin option!”

The Panda wins Uluwatu CT, moves to fifth in the world!

Huge day for pro surfing. Ginormous.

Can we start with a little rhapsody on the utility of Uluwatu as a locale for Pro Surfing? Good. It’s a poor mans G-Land, which is good. Leave G-Land alone. Gland is wasted on Pro surfers. Leave it for the gimlet-eyed tube freaks of the World. 

You can ride it, Ulus that is, at any size, at any tide. Racetrack is fun at three foot. Outside Corner is majestic at ten-foot. There are short punchy rides, medium rides and long, complex multi-chaptered rides. The tradewind is welcomed as a friend – the way one monkey on the cliff welcomes another to groom and pick out lice – not an unruly intruder. 

There are other sections of the wave for rec surfers to ride. You can get up to Temples or maybe sneak a few at Racetracks if they are up at the peak. 

Ulus is good enough to be a canvas for all kinds of performance surfing and imperfect and variable enough to be challenging in any given 30 minute heat.

In short, with Cloudbreak off the schedule it’s the best venue on Tour. 

Perfunctory round three heats were completed to start the morning. Yago Dora surfed a good heat but Filipe stuck a half Hail Mary air to get a win. Duru looked silky to easily account for an ageing and off-the-pace Joel Parkinson. Mikey, of course, got a walk through. 

Have you noticed a fact about round four, three-man elimination heats that is becoming more glaring with each contest? They have more drama. Every round four heat saw multiple lead changes.

In fact, if my notes are not mistaken, each saw complete reversals in fortune. Last place into first and first place into last. Owen’s spice-laden frontside whips looked money in heat one but he ended up in last place. Kolohe waited until the far back end of the heat to get started and took first place. 

M’Rod was sizzling in heat two, “hot and loose” according to Joe. He changed up his board and somehow went from first to last in a heat with Julian and Connor Coffin. 

The strange symmetry continued in both heats three and four. Medina did the best surfing on the worst waves. He found a long time tunnel for a big score and went from last to first.

Cardoso went from first to last and then fought back to eliminate a desperately unlucky O’Leary. 

For the first time this year I was starting to dig on the Panda’s attack. Instead of slow ponderous faux-power hacks he was generating big-time momentum between turns and crushing lips. 

Toledo’s opening wave of heat four was a heinous underscore, the first of a few shocking misreads from the panel. A 5.67 that should have been in the sevens.

Toledo’s opening wave of heat four was a heinous underscore, the first of a few shocking misreads from the panel. A 5.67 that should have been in the sevens.

Mikey Wright looked scratchy and boggy to my eye but scraped his way through.

People always ask me why I’m so horny for Brazilian goofyfoots. Gabes presser during the aforementioned heat reminded me why. 

Kaipo reminded him if he went to the finals he’d be surfing four times today and what he thought about that. Gabe visibly shrugged and responded, “Thats what I train for.” I could have hugged him. 

I detest this namby-pamby false stoicism of the over-paid pro. Australian, American, South African.

The second quarter between Julian and Jordy was the heat of the event. Jordy was magnificent, the best six-feet-and-under surfer in the world, on any given day. The form surfer of the day. Judges kept overcooking Julian’s scores for what were sometimes blatant score manufactures.

When I lay me down to sleep at night I lay awake dreaming and scheming about how I can grind my competitors into the dust.

Posit a hypothetical scenario where Surf Writing is a late inclusion into the 2020 Olympics at Tokyo. I face off with the great Louie Samuels in the semis after he narrowly defeats D Rielly in the quarters. What’s he got: Better writing, nicer sentences, sharper wit. What do I got: Stronger backstory, bigger themes, bolder ideas. I take him in a cliff-hanger and Nick Carroll who controversially missed out on inclusion into the Australian team* is doing the pressers. 

“How’d ya do it Shearer, how’d ya take him?”

“I knew all that gravy suckling on the Silicon Valley teat would make him a little complacent, so I hit him in that soft little belly”.

Know what I mean? I identify with the hunger. 

Thats why I train. 

Exactly. 

Unfortunately, that hunger could not mask a lack of form for Medina and a sleepy lineup. If I had to describe Medina’s surfing this year in a word it would be brittle. Brittle and fractious and constituted of lots of disconnected moments of brilliance that he can’t seem to link together into a chain through space and time. He fell on an opening wave against Mikey Wright which could have been a winning wave. Then scrapped together scores in a sleepy heat. Mikey pegged a six then waite and waited and with 20 seconds to go cobbled together another scrappy wave.

The second quarter between Julian and Jordy was the heat of the event. Jordy was magnificent, the best six-feet-and-under surfer in the world, on any given day. The form surfer of the day. Judges kept overcooking Julian’s scores for what were sometimes blatant score manufactures.

Did he get the score? I said no. Judges said yes. What do you put that down to? A mixture of composure, luck and and out-of-form opponent. 

The second quarter between Julian and Jordy was the heat of the event. Jordy was magnificent, the best six-feet-and-under surfer in the world, on any given day. The form surfer of the day. Judges kept overcooking Julian’s scores for what were sometimes blatant score manufactures. 

Kolohe got absolutely cooked by this phenomenon. He was clearly the better surfer, on the better waves doing the better surfing against Julian in semi one. It seemed that at some sub-conscious level they were going to pay whatever Julian did with big scores. Kolohe’s presser was meek. He had nothing to say, no fire to let out, as Joe would put it. Even Strider was shocked at both the call and Brother’s obsequiousness to it.

Semi two was Panda Mullet two. The rematch. By this stage I was a full fledged Panda fan. The big fans and perfect flow were undeniable. But it was meat and potatoes. Mikey had every opportunity to bring the hi-fi noise and blow him off the Racetrack. Again Wright caught few waves and laid anchor. Again, chasing down a score he rode a wave on the buzzer for a high-drama finish. This time I thought he had the score. Judges thought otherwise. The momentum for a fairytale finish for the Panda was undeniable. 

Cardoso shed tears before the Final. And it looked like the emotional weight of his story was finally starting to drag him down. His first wave looked boggy. The tide came in. The surf slowed down. He nailed two waves and the judges over-scored both of them. Julian needed close to a ten with minutes remaining. He tore into a wave with a little toy air on the end, a completely conservative attempt at score manufacturing via “progression”. Judges fell for it and awarded an eight.

The clock ticked down and nothing else came in. The Panda, Brazilians at Uluwatu and everyone who understood the power of a man “tryna feed and water my seed”, when “success is my only motherfuckin option, failures not” celebrated wildly.

*Just missed out but encouraged to try out for 2024 Paris.

Uluwatu CT Men’s Final Results:
1 – Willian Cardoso (BRA) 15.57
2 – Julian Wilson (AUS) 14.43

Uluwatu CT Men’s Semifinal Results:
SF1: Julian Wilson (AUS) 15.83 def. Kolohe Andino (USA) 14.53
SF2: Willian Cardoso (BRA) 13.77 def. Mikey Wright (AUS) 13.16

Uluwatu CT Men’s Quarterfinal Results:
QF 1: Kolohe Andino (USA) 14.33 def. Conner Coffin (USA) 11.83
QF 2: Julian Wilson (AUS) 16.20 def. Jordy Smith (ZAF) 15.50
QF 3: Mikey Wright (AUS) 11.13 def. Gabriel Medina (BRA) 10.90
QF 4: Willian Cardoso (BRA) 14.24 def. Filipe Toledo (BRA) 11.67

Uluwatu CT Men’s Round 4 Results:
Heat 1: Kolohe Andino (USA) 9.34 def. Jordy Smith (ZAF) 9.10, Owen Wright (AUS) 8.47
Heat 2: Julian Wilson (AUS) 14.13 def. Conner Coffin (USA) 13.04, Michael Rodrigues (BRA) 11.50
Heat 3: Gabriel Medina (BRA) 17.07 def. Willian Cardoso (BRA) 14.66, Connor O’Leary (AUS) 14.63
Heat 4: Filipe Toledo (BRA) 10.50 def. Mikey Wright (AUS) 8.83, Joan Duru (FRA) 7.44

Uluwatu CT Men’s Remaining Round 3 Results:
Heat 10: Filipe Toledo (BRA) 12.54 def. Yago Dora (BRA) 11.83
Heat 11: Joan Duru (FRA) 12.67 def. Joel Parkinson (AUS) 11.70
Heat 12: John John Florence (HAW) vs. Mikey Wright (AUS)* (Wright progresses as Florence out injured)

Men’s Jeep Leaderboard (after Uluwatu CT)
1 – Julian Wilson (AUS) 27,215 pts
2 – Filipe Toledo (BRA) 25,900 pts
3 – Italo Ferreira (BRA) 24,995 pts
4 – Gabriel Medina (BRA) 20,990 pts
5 – Willian Cardoso (BRA) 19,740 pts


Watch: A New Jersey Wetsuit Fairytale!

Advertorial? Fuck yeah it is!

When I very first heard of New Jersey as a younger surfer I, like you, thought, “What?” and “Where?” but after spending a week two blocks away from The Stone Pony in Asbury Park I think, “New Jersey is my favorite little surf nugget of all.”

The Stone Pony, you certainly know, was where Bruce Springsteen was unleashed upon the world. He, all blue collar and man o the people, continues to be an inspiration much like Tommy Ihnken, the fantastic Asbury Park local who agreed to take six wetsuits on a test run for us.

Now, Tommy may not be a household name but the kid sure should be. He is talented, handsome, unafraid of a good time and, maybe most importantly, a hard hard hard working son of a bitch. He was up those New Jersey days before dawn, running things into the City, running things up the Hudson, running back to meet me and filmmaker Jack Boston as we dined upon local delicacies in local holes for breakfast.

We were told, early on, to be sure and get a pork roll. I had never had one so when the waitress approached I said, “How are these fucking things supposed to be ordered?” This was clearly a strange question and she looked bewildered while answering, “With egg and cheese?”

The days were mostly grey in Asbury Park and bitterly cold. So bitter that it hurt these Oregonian bones. That grey sky unrelenting, that bitterly cold wind blowing. It is no wonder that they need exquisite rubber and it is good that we had. Hurley, O’Neill, Vissla, Patagonia, Xcel, Matuse.

But I thought she was a lying broad so ordered mine with no egg and no cheese and hashbrowns on top. Jack Boston did the same. When Tommy came in after running things into the City and running things up the Hudson he looked at our pork rolls and declared, “What the fuck are you doing? Why didn’t you order it with egg and cheese?”

The days were mostly grey in Asbury Park and bitterly cold. So bitter that it hurt these Oregonian bones. That grey sky unrelenting, that bitterly cold wind blowing. It is no wonder that they need exquisite rubber and it is good that we had.

Hurley, O’Neill, Vissla, Patagonia, Xcel, Matuse.

Advertorial?

Fuck yeah it is and I don’t make no bones about it because someday I’m moving to New Jersey full time. The best damned surf nugget on the face of this God forsaken country.


Taj Burrow ACL
"Blew my ACL to pieces…just a little walk in the park floater that went incredibly wrong."

Taj Burrow: “I just blew my ACL to pieces!”

"A walk in the park floater that went horribly wrong…"

As announced on the familiar hornpipe Instagram last night, Taj Burrow is in a Perth hospital recovering from surgery after blowing out his knee during a family camping holiday.

Taj, who retired from competition two years ago after nineteen years on the carousel (“I’m looking forward to freedom so much!”), and who turned forty exactly one week ago, was photographed in a Perth hospital bed alongside his three-year-old daughter, Ms Arabella Rose.

How’d he bust up his knee?

Taj says it was just a “little walk in the park floater at the Bluff (in WA’s north-west) that went incredibly wrong. Blew my ACL to pieces. Just had surgery.”

https://www.instagram.com/p/Bjx6fRZBjAe/?hl=en&taken-by=tajamos

The pain, he says, “fucking killed me at the time Like a lightning bolt.”

A picture demonstrating the gloomy scenario.

 

After ACL surgery you zombie walk on crutches for a few weeks. Maybe two months until it don’t hurt so bad.

Six to nine months before you’ve got normal function.

In the meantime, Taj has his beer biz Honest Ale to work on.

“More biz than drinking, hopefully,” he says.