Overtweezered man, the "jackhole" and relaxing woman.

Airplane seat etiquette: Are you a damn-the-world recliner or a head-rest drummer “jackhole”?

Check your privilege!

Here’s a little ditty that went everywhere, a woman throwing her seat back on a plane and a bespectacled man with over-tweezered eyebrows responding with an insistent drum-beat on her head rest.

The little clip got sold to an agency, hit millions of views, tens of thousands of retweets and got turned, naturally, into a men-brutalising-woman thing.

Sadly, neither party had an abundance of melanin thereby removing the important racist angle; a mistake, I think, as the reclining woman represents unthinking colonialism occupying foreign territory and the over-tweezered man the brave native with only his hands to fight such advanced and overwhelming weaponry.

The common conclusion, among reasonable citizens, I think, would be: two pests both as annoying as hearing the scurry of critter feet on the ceiling boards at night.

I’m not a recliner.

Take it back an inch, maybe, long-haul, but the good citizen wedges a pillow against the wall or on the head-rest and deals with it. A smart traveller will bang a foursome of sleepers and wake up in Denpasar, Singapore or half-way across the Pacific.

If you want to sleep, buy a biz ticket.

Once, on a fifty-minute puddle jump, a clown threw his seat into full recline with a contemptuous thunk as the plane started to climb, jamming me into my seat.

Couldn’t eat, couldn’t move.

I didn’t respond with a gentle tattoo on the head-rest.

Now, you, friends, some countrymen.

In what camp do you fall?


Le Royale with Cheese.

Breaking: Two lovable bottlenose dolphins wash up on Florida beach “stabbed to death in the face!”

Positively Tarantinoian.

Oh this tragic life we live, tragedy around every corner, tragedy in every cupboard, tragedy and pain and torture but still, we surfers, we aquawomen carry on. We wake up in the morning, wax our boards and paddle into the yawning blue. Sometimes sharks are there to eat us. Sometimes seals to scare us and sometimes, if we’re lucky, dolphins to pump joy throughout our tragic bodies.

The Golden Retrievers of the Sea!

Well, in more tragedy, two Golden Retrievers of the Sea washed up on a Lower Alabama (Pensacola, Florida) beach today stabbed to death in the face or maybe shot also in the face. According to the Florida fish and wildlife conservation commission and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, one dolphin was also discovered dead in waters off Naples in south-west Florida late last week.

Officials said the animal had received bullet, or stab wounds – or possibly both.

Positively Tarantinoian.

According to The Guardian, “Experts believe the two deaths might have stemmed from humans feeding the animals. When dolphins learn to associate people and boats with food, they can expose themselves to dangerous situations. Officials urged people to not feed wild dolphins.”

And I pretty much knew it. Soft-hearted centrist Democrats who love giving tiny nibbles to panhandlers but hate the idea of systematic overhaul are to blame.

Pete Buttigieg.

A $20,000 dollar reward is being offered for his capture.

Collect here.

1-800-853-1964


Lilith Hair.

Revealed: 90s feminist icon and ultra-core VAL Sarah McLachlan calls surfing “The second best drug in the world!”

The first best drug in the world a surprise reveal!

What do you miss most about the 1990s besides Black Flys girlz, young Ross Williams, slammed Nissan Sentras, young Paul Gosselaar, denim on denim, Jimmy Slade?

The all-female traveling music festival Lilith Fair?

A fine answer.

Lilith Fair, co-founded by Sarah McLachlan balanced the rowdy, egotistical and… frankly testosterone overload energy of the Warped Tour, all those Doc Marten wearing boys in Black Flag tees. It was the musical version of Plessy vs. Ferguson except not overtly racist.

In any case, Sarah McLachlan. And you are in the circle of trust here so can be completely honest. You have teared up once, at the very least, to her emotional hit Angel. Mourning a lost love or broken pair of Black Flys.

But does it surprise you that a voice that dropped down straight from heaven (Canada) is also the core-est VAL of all time? According to a just published interview in the San Diego Union-Tribune it’s true and together we shall read:

“I learned to surf 22 years ago and surfing became the second best drug in the world for me. It still is, apart from music,” said McLachlan, who learned to ride the waves from a friend at Trestles, near San Onofre. “I spent 11 days in Mexico in January; we do surf trips there every year with a bunch of girls and whole families. And I live on the west coast of Vancouver Island in the summer so that I can surf every day.

“I love sitting on the board in the water and waiting. I’m not very chatty. I just want to sit and stare, and be in the moment. One of the beautiful things about surfing is, when you catch the wave, you are wholly engulfed in that moment and there is nothing else you can do.”

Did you learn to surf at Trestles?

No.

Do you go on Lilith Fair yearly surf trips?

No.

Did you move to a very cold island so you can surf alone and not be all chatty and lame?

No.

Sarah McLachlan is more core than you, than me, than Derek Rielly.

She may head up the More Core Division when BeachGrit relaunches it next year.

Quickly, though what is Sarah’s first best drug in the world? She says surfing is the second best drug, apart from music, so what is drug number one?

Cocaine?

(Buy here)


Mayor Cheat (pictured) mocking surfers.

Just in: Democratic presidential front runner Mayor Pete Buttigieg hates surfers as much as “benefactor and bestie” Hillary Clinton!

We are under attack.

It is political season, in America, the most delicious time of four years when mayors pick themselves up by the loafer laces, stare hard in the mirror, shout at their husbands to give them “One more damned minute, Chasten” and will greatness.

“I’m what the greatest nation the world has ever produced needs. Time to run for president. Time to run for president. Time to run for president.”

The most delectable time of four years except this four years American surfers are very much in the crosshairs. Very much “grist for the mill.”

Four years ago, Democratic candidate Hillary Clinton lost in shocking fashion to the world’s richest man Donald J. Trump and blamed the vicious defeat on surfers, waging a quiet campaign to disparage and destroy our vile kind since.

We had (have?) a candidate. A Hawaiian who rips cold New England and understands (?) both Jed Smith and Vaughn Dead.

The Clinton Machine tagged her with a “Russian Asset” label and left her for dead.

And now in just revealed evidence, the  face of the Clinton Machine, Mayor Pete Buttigieg, is continuing the feud by hating “The Jack Johnson of South Africa” Dave Matthews.

Stunning but true.

A post pulled from Buttigieg’s Harvard days disparages Matthews’ “dark turn” in the early 2000s and shall we read?

Difficult but we must.

“This week, I picked up a new album by Dave Matthews, a prophet of the carfree joy of my high school years. But unlike the cheerful strains of the late-nineties-Dave, the solo project Some Devil is a sober, even grim reflection of how much the world has changed in a few short years. The man who brought us the playful riffs of “Too Much” and “Everyday” is now promoting the album’s first single “Gravedigger.” Matthews is not the only one undergoing a tonal shift: if you’ve paid attention to Radiohead this year…”

And it is too painful for me to continue as Radiohead’s Thom Yorke is also a rabid surfer, even though a British man with a very lazy eye. Also one of us.

Damn you, #MayorCheat. Damn you for hating us surfers in the day and age of tolerance. We will not stand for this.

Will we?

More as the story develops.


Sugar Cub v Wolf: Watch Julian Wilson climb atop Kelly Slater like a wild animal in the night!

Julian v Kelly freesurfing in Portugal. Who wins?

Here’s a somewhat dated, though still compelling, hit from Julian Wilson’s YouTube channel that presents Julian and Kelly Slater freesurfing in Portugal in late 2019.

It’s interesting on two levels: Julian, thirty-one, and riding a trad sorta shape from the Gold Coast’s Jason Stevenson and Kelly Slater, then forty-seven, grilling his figs on his for-elite-surfers-only Slater Designs sled.

On a first viewing, Kelly makes the silk of his kimono ripple so sinuously as to suggest two women making love while Julian shakes his hips and mimics a femmie boy.

Winner, Kelly.

A second viewing and I appreciate the way Julian waves his hands back and forth as if he were icing a cake in the air.

Winner, Julian.

You?