Lady and gentlemen... place your bets!

Oooooee, I caught cracks for delivering a singularly underwhelming performance during yesterday’s much anticipated podcast interview with the World Surf League’s President of Content, Media, Etc. Erik “ELo” Logan.

“Gritless!”

“Softball!”

“Do better next time!”

“Etc.!”

All completely honest, true and well-deserved. The only problem, and it’s a small one, is that is probably the best I can do.

Uh oh!

I may have forgotten to mention, at the outset, that I’m not an investigative surf journalist… I’m a tabloid gossip column surf journalist and sorry for the confusion.

But here’s really the thing. My point in going to meet with Mr. President Etc. was, number one, because it was funny and, number two, to begin the process of nudging the World Surf League off the path it chartered when Dirk Ziff purchased it for free those four years ago.

The well-trod ground of manufactured respectability and politically correct charm.

The bland common area.

Surfing’s revered historian Matt Warshaw wrote, more poetically than I ever could, in the forward to Cocaine + Surfing (subscribe to the Encyclopedia of Surfing here!)

The blandness, yes, but mostly the hypocrisy. The sport’s own self-betrayal. We should know better – we used to know better – than to try and reshape surfing into a sport that fits into a Mutual of Omaha ad campaign, or at Olympic telecast. Selling the sport isn’t a crime. But sell it on our own terms, the way Bruce Brown did with Endless Summer. Make them come to us. And if they don’t, so what? But no, we continue slicing off our legacy of cool, of independence, piece by piece, in exchange for a seat in the nosebleed section of mainstream culture. Then we compound the error (not “we” actually, but the World Surf League, the NYSE-traded surfwear companies, and whoever convinced the IOC to make surfing an Olympic sport for the 2020 games in Tokyo) by passing off this auto-swindle as growth and progress.

Amen.

Now, did yesterday’s chat do anything other than make me complicit in this auto-swindle? Certainly not but by the time I’m finished dancing through the High Castle we’ll have Longtom calling heats from the booth, Joe Turpel Michelob Ultra drunk underneath the WSL coffee table, Jed Smith and Vaughn Dead ushering the losers out on a rail while interviewing, a flat screen television in the judges’ tower that allows viewers to heckle directly, proper betting tied directly into the broadcast and the professional surfers brought out like racehorses where punters can can feel their thighs and look at their teeth before placing bets.

Or something.

Aside from cutting the draw down, the action in the water has never been better.

I want to break the action on the land.

The World Surf League President of Content, Media and Studios (Erik "Elo" Logan) podcast is here!

I’ve never been able to hold a “corporate” job, all fault my own. I’m a butthole. Incorrigible but I’ve only just realized this within the last few years. Back when I was quitting my submarine captain gig at Disneyland by calling in “sick” with tuberculosis, back when I was passing all my students at Los Angeles City College as long as they didn’t tattle to administration on me for spending weeks per semester in the Middle East, I thought I was only playing funny angles as opposed to being an incorrigible butthole.

Oh I know Disneyland and Los Angeles City College are not “corporate” per se but imagine how much worse my modus would play in a real office?

I imagine very bad.

And so it is with much wonder and confusion that I observe Erik “ELo” Logan, President of Etc. at the World Surf League.

You’ve seen me be a butthole here, here, here, here, here, here, here etc.

And I thought he’d be smart enough to sort of take it but never stupid enough to actually engage.

He actually engages.

This will be an ongoing conversation, of course, but here we have the first of hopefully many chats with the powers that actually be.

Why does he have so many damn pictures of himself surfing? Because he thinks a person can never have enough!

Who does he want to fuck, marry, kill between Kai Lenny, Kelly Slater and Laird Hamilton?

He wants to move to Utah and marry all three, living in a wonderful pluralistic relationship like Big Love!

What else?

Listen here!

A great question.

Generally, this is how I would describe professional world tour surfers (and professional “free surfers” as I understand they’re called).

Generally, too, I would be lying if I said that the only reason I don’t look away when my boyfriend forces me to watch “surf contests” on his iPad while we are cooking a nice, elegant meal is because there are (allegedly) hot babes on the tour.

I say allegedly because I’m still looking for them.

According to “Mimi” at a “magazine” with an exceedingly violent name, there are at least 10 hot surfers.

Hmmmmmm, wrong!

Sure, “Mimi’s” scoop of the century was published eight years ago and those guys are long gone, but the way I see it, there are only five hot professional surfers:

1. Christian Fletcher

This guy is basically Bodhi. He speaks in Radical Zen Koans and drives motorcycles with a death wish. He’s fast. His motorcycle even has a sticker that says “Live Fast, Die Last.” He invented “aerials.” He has a surprisingly-not-terrifying skull tattoo. 10/10.

2. Michael February

I saw one picture of this guy in GQ (congrats, Michael!) and I was sold. He looks both tall and whimsical, which I like. He also has the smile of a beauty pageant contestant, but I’m told he’s no longer on the tour anymore, why WSL? Why?

3. Chippa Wilson

I swear I don’t have a tattoo fetish, but this guy is smoking! He makes wetsuits look sexy and not like some amoebic neoprene tube sock. He also has a cool name and does sick “airs.” Hot.

4. Jack Freestone

Honorable Wonder Bread mention. Hot Dad entry. Athletic. Currently not blonde. By the way, what are you feeding your ginormous baby? He is very cute but I’m concerned he might smother you or your very hot wife in a few years.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BufUgGHlf2p/

5. Actually, there are only four hot surfers.

Why Your Favorite Hot Surfer Didn’t Get Mentioned?

Julian Wilson — too predictable, too boring, too much of a bratty baby?
Danny Fuller — lost his spot to Jack (there can only be one Hot Surf Dad)
Craig Anderson — very beautiful woman (which is cool, if that’s what you’re into)
Luke Davis — spends too much time perfecting his look for Instagram
The Brazilians — too good at surfing to also be called hot

As I compiled this list, I recalled several of my boyfriend’s agitated conversations with fellow “surfers” about an “industry crisis.”

Might I propose a cause and a solution. There is an overwhelming drought of hot surfer dudes (isn’t this what riding waves is all about, being hot and picking up chicks?), so the WSL must recruit more, and then start making them eat whatever Jack Freestone is feeding his child.

Problem solved.

It's a white rabbit!

Surf journalism is hard work. I woke up this morning ready to greet the day and smash out some important, lively yet restrained words. Taking my customary place in front of my alcohol-soaked computer and its wireless keyboard (a necessary purchase allowing me to type), I began searching for inspiration.

The hours passed and… nothing.

Kelly Slater did nothing noteworthy.

Laird Hamilton did not release any innovation.

The World Surf League is on hiatus for six more days and Mavericks is still cancelled.

Then I was forwarded this video announcing Gucci’s pre-fall 2019 line. I had, in fact, been forwarded it many times though hadn’t watched it. Desperation forced me to push play and I was swept into a glorious world where surfers and muscle people, punks and basketballers, tightrope walkers and artists live peaceful lives together in the acropolis.

I’m supposed to hate it, the coopting, cultural appropriation, the Jesus Christ Superstar vibe but…. I can’t help myself.

What’s wrong with me for loving this so much?

Is it because my mother forced me to watch Jesus Christ Superstar when I was a young boy?

Speaking of, what is the worst movie your parents forced on you as a child?