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Just in: New Zealand Coronavirus Gestapo collaborator “disappointed” in abuse received from surfers!

"Defiant, smart, abusive."

When the whole entire world is put under lock and key, it is extremely difficult to police properly. There are simply not enough jackbooted law enforcement officers, state park rangers, lifeguards to make certain that seven billion people are shuddering inside their homes, hiding from the Coronavirus with curtains drawn etc. Not going outside, to the park or, even worse, the beach.

Thankfully, and if we have learned anything from Hitler’s Germany, Stalin’s Russia, Pol Pot’s Cambodia, it is that many people are more than happy to papier-mâché little swastika badges at home and play collaborator.

But shall we hurry to New Zealand’s Hot Water Beach where one lone volunteer sturmabteilung is being abused by surfers for his brave work on behalf of the state?

A Hot Water Beach resident abused whilst trying to stop lockdown flouting surfers says he won’t give-up on his mission to keep the waters clear.

The man, who wanted to remain anonymous so he could remain unrecognisable to the law breaking surfers, says despite his best efforts, the Coromandel surf beach remained a popular spot.

On Saturday, April 4, police released updated guidelines around Alert Level 4 rules and provided clarity around what was acceptable bubble behaviour – that included a ban on swimming or water-based activities such as surfing or boating.

But just days later, the Hot Water Beach local counted around 20 surfers in the ocean. As Easter weekend rolled in, there continued to be a steady stream.

When he confronted them, he was abused.

“Since lockdown​ started I’ve been trying to educate the people of Hot Water Beach, but I’m not getting very far,” he says.

“They’re very defiant and have been very smart and abusive and they’re making a lot of noise to be noticed.”

He says he’s well-aware that being a “squeaky wheel” wouldn’t do him any favours with the surfing community, but his priority was keeping the community safe.

Should “Defiant, Smart, Abusive” be BeachGrit’s new tagline?

Also, could it be possible that this anonymous man is, in fact, Ken “Skindog” Collins?

More as the story develops.

Breaking: Malibu surfers “enraged, incensed” as Coronavirus Gestapo allows bicyclists to freely travel in “disease-ridden pelotons!”

The hypocrisy!

Hypocrisy is a many splendored thing, ain’t it just though? Hypocrisy and social-distancing laws determined to keep the cold leather of freshly-polished jackboot on the neck of surfers, baseball enthusiasts and playground basketball aficionados. To keep all of our games illegal and especially surfing.

Santa Cruz fell just before the weekend, city officials bending to the mighty will of local son Ken “Skindog” Collins, cancelling surfing for the foreseeable future.

Your town or city is certainly next and once the joy of being an outlaw wears off, the frustration will settle in, especially when you are gazing mournfully at empty waves then almost hit by an aggressive peloton of spandex-clad bicyclists riding shoulder to shoulder, passing their Coronaviruses back and forth with the greatest of ease.

The hypocrisy and why, do you think, that surfing was so easily and readily banned by coastal hamlets around the world but Tour de France-esque play is encouraged? But let us see for ourselves in Malibu, California.


Oh I don’t want to tattle on bicyclists but…. never mind.

I do.

There are very few things more annoying than an aggressive peloton of spandex-clad bicyclists riding shoulder to shoulder especially when they are taking up the entire right lane and I’m in my car trying to do something important.

Like surf.

But never mind, again. No tattling. Out of water surfers should take up a new pastime like Adam Sandler and his young friend.

Clue: Did a provocative photo of a Wavestorm-wielding muscle-stud turn Oprah Winfrey’s Erik Logan onto the marketability of surfing?

A wild theory.

Rare, I would suggest, is the surfer who can forgot the warm October day in 2018 when the WSL announced it had appointed the president of Oprah Winfrey Network and “avid waterman” Erik Logan as President of Content, Media and WSL Studios, effective the following February.

Even a sceptic hardened by the revolving door of non-surfers taking up prime positions within a company owned by a non-surfing billionaire that had bought the ASP for a handful of shekels in 2012, had to concede: here was a man, finally, who knew his chops.

As was reported at the time, Logan was a media executive without peer, who had “led OWN’s turnaround from 2011 and has positioned the company today as the #1 cable network in its target demographic with 5 of the top 20 shows in scripted cable programs for women ages 25-54, more than any other cable network. Before OWN, Logan was Executive Vice President, programming and broadcast operations for XM Satellite Radio, where he helped build the subscriber base to over nine million subscribers, negotiated partnerships, and managed day-to-day relationships with major content providers including Major League Baseball, PGA Tour, CNN, Clear Channel Communications and Fox News.”

Logan’s waterman bona fides are impeccable: he is the co-founder of Shred and Speed, not sure if it’s a SUP shop or distributor but I think is big in the SUP game, SUP brand Infinity, and he owns a store for watermen in LA’s Manhattan Beach called Nikau Kai Surf Shop.

It is “Inclusive” and “welcoming” and was “Born out of the desire to expand our horizons and open new doors in surfing and what surfing means to us.”

Beautiful sentiments to complement a dazzling CV.

But, at what point did he think, I can sell pro surfing? 

What precipitated his decision to leave Ms O?

Earlier today, a reader sent an Instagram post from February 2018, eight months before the WSL’s announcement, with a telling comment from the SUP-riding, VAL-championing CEO.

It is revealing, as well as a little titillating.

On the IG account, Hotsurferguyzz, which delivers a cavalcade of muscle-studs to its one hundred and eighty-five followers, under a photograph of twenty-four-year-old Hawaii-born Jay Alvarrez holding a Wavesetorm surfboard, and beneath the hashtags #hotsurfer #hotguy #surfing #sun #beach #cutesurfer #cuteguy #sixpack #eatsurfpartysleeprepeat #surfingisfun #surfer #staysalty

Logan writes,

Wow, I love this! 🏄 🌊


Alvarrez, of course, is without peer in the surfer-hunk game, as evidenced by his six-and-a-half mill followers, more than Kelly Slater, Julian Wilson, John John Florence, Italo, Jordy Smith combined, with three million in change.




What did Logan see in the photo of Alvarrez?

Unlike the average man who might be tempted to linger a little long on the surface anatomy of Alvarrez’ abdomen running from the iliac crest to the pubis, Logan, in my opinion, saw the marketability of surfing to the fabled American mid-west.

What girl, what boy, could resist a sport that was able to produce seemingly endless images that emphasise the predominance of the sex instinct?

A marketer to the bone.

Am I right? Or am I right?

If you liked the book, you’ll love the movie: Watch Coronavirus Gestapo beat hell out of Chas Smith!

These are not our salad years.

Just over one year ago, back when human beings were allowed to touch each other, Stab magazine editor-in-chief Ashton Goggans gently touched my neck. Oh the softness, the connection, and a high-water mark of my personal cinema.

One I thought I might never best until yesterday circa lunchtime when I dared eat a vaguely Thai-esque salad near the beach.

Sriracha, a peanut sauce, greens and rice noodles etc. from a local restaurant.

Very delicious.

My wife was there too, eating her salad, a mirror image of mine, when the Coronavirus Gestapo rolled up.

Itchy finger on bullhorn trigger.

Freshly totalitarian.

We are a month in to a shifting quarantine, new places getting closed daily. First they came for the parks, then they came for the surfing etc. with tensions extremely high.

This short film, cinematography and direction by my wife, is not as actioned packed as the Open-hand in Orlando but does have its avant-garde charms including the last lines delivered to the Gestapo, “Hope you’re proud of yourself, buddy. Hope you feel real good.”

Intensely powerful.

Classics of the resistance genre.

More as the story develops.

Photo of seminal eighties band Surf Punks by @billdanziger

Listen: “And that, dear children, is how the phrase ‘If you don’t live here, don’t surf here’ was reintroduced and the VAL uprising crushed!”

Go home!

I wake up this morning an outlaw, a misdemean* with a rotten attitude and matching sneer. Parents pull their children six feet away from me when I saunter down the street. Grown grandchildren pull their grandparents even further.

A real tough, which is yet another silver lining to this Coronavirus Apocalypse where totalitarianism reigns and surfers must learn to fight The Man once again.

The Man and the VAL.

But do you think it’s possible that this moment right here is the moment surf localism takes root once more? That our own grandchildren will someday sit on our knees while we regale them with stories about once more becoming bad?

I hope.

I trust.

David Lee Scales and I chatted with Ron Shine of Boardporn fame, from bad Rockaway Beach in New York, about surfers hardening up. About surfers flexing dormant muscles and shouting at interlopers then David Lee and I peeled away and chatted other various nonsense.

Our best show yet?


We did it remotely and will never do such again.

Shame on us.

*If a felon commits felonies I assume that a misdemean commits misdemeanors.