Kelly Slater hits back at historically inaccurate troll on Instagram: “I don’t give a sh*t…you’re on glue. You’re a miserable coward…Accusing me of being a racist? My girlfriend is Chinese… f*ck off.”

Bait offered, taken, much entertainment.

A few days ago, Kelly Slater, world champ many times, posted a provocative response on his Instagram account to news that 260 Chinese boats were fishing near the Galapagos Islands, that volcanic archipelago in the Pacific with the most diverse and plant species in the world.

Same joint that inspired Darwin’s theory of evolution.

Slater was succinct,

“Send the navy and sink em?!”

One follower of Slater, a kid who’d only ever made one post, aware perhaps of Slater’s penchant for responding to even minor player in the IG game, issued a bill of challenge.

“You would be the type of fool to advocate for military violence and US involvement overseas. The US needs to stop fucking policing the world. Getting the military involved has never helped anything it’s always the same people who end up hurting and having to pay for it.”

A popular, though untrue, historical inaccuracy.

The US was pivotal in saving the West in World War Two, its involvement in the Great War ended the stalemate there, South Korea would be Communist if not for the three-year long US-led UN intervention between 1950 and 1953 and Kuwait would’ve been folded into Iraqi borders in 1990.

Vietnam, Afghanistan, Iraq, okay, not so great.

Slater’s riposte.

“Fuck off. It’s a joke, albeit a serious topic. I’m currently and always have been anti war. I’m also pro environment and wildlife.”

The kid parried,

“Sorry I didn’t find ur joke very funny. My family was displaced of the US fucking bombing their homeland.”

The kid’s parents fled Baghdad?

Here, I got into the DMs and asked where they were from.

“My mom came here from Iran during the revolution in the late seventies.”

Me: “US didn’t bomb Iran. Only that dang failed chopper rescue of hostages.”

He: “It was the result of US-backed coup. The US night not have been dropping the bombs themselves but they sure as hell funded it.”

Me: “US backed the Shah not the Ayatollah.”

He: “Point I’m trying to make is that US involvement overseas never works.”


After the thing about his family being displaced, Slater kissed the button, as they used to say in renaissance fencing.

“And I don’t really give a shit to talk to you or hear your opinion so fuck off.”

The kid proved a master of defence.

“Shits not really a joke.

“You privileged little fuck.”

“Don’t need to be an asshole about it wow.”

Before, finally, the dagger blow, the coup de grace, from Slater:

“Writing me out of the blue talking shit is such a crock of shit. Accusing me of being a racist? My girlfriend is Chinese. You’re on glue. You’re a miserable coward. And now you’re blocked.”

“Hahahaha,” wrote the kid.


Question: Will Kelly Slater’s Surf Ranch redeem itself in the Covid era or is the place magically dull and dumb?

Like, so dull and dumb as to be a true honest-to-goodness miracle.

This, you know, is BeachGrit. A place where the glass is forever half full. The cob of corn always half uneaten. It’s anti-depressive to its very core and so I come before you with an honest question. Within our current vacuum of professional surfing (possibly extending through the next decade) are you thrilled to pieces about the upcoming Rumble at the Ranch or will you accidentally miss it due a gynecological examination?

I ask because if Kelly Slater’s crowning jewel doesn’t captivate in the Covid era, it is magically dull and dumb.

Like, so dull and dumb as to be a true honest-to-goodness miracle.

The John Carter of sporting inventions.

Rumble at the Ranch has an intriguing format, a solid cast including Pip Toledo, Caroline Marks, Kolo Andino, Kelly Slater himself and is taking place in front of starved-to-near-death professional surf fans.

But the wave.

That mechanical ripple mowing in that straight line as a high-pitched whir fills the cow stink. Four minutes between mechanical ripples. One surfer waiting her turn.


It is very difficult to imagine it being more captivating than a gynecological examination.

Am I being overly rude?

Convince me I’m wrong for I want to believe!

August 9: WSL to run “mixed-doubles” contest starring Kelly Slater, Caroline Marks, Toledo etc at Desert Ghetto; promises “one afternoon of perfectly-groomed rippage!”

No spectators, remote judging…

On August nine, sixteen WSL surfers, men, women, are gonna bring pro surfing kicking and jerking back to Lemoore in Central California. 

I don’t have a lot of affection for Surf Ranch events, who does I suppose, although that forty-second tube section does allow my Japanese houseboy to serve cocktails and I always have enjoyed watching Caroline Marks’ cut-throat savagery there.

Format is thus,

Eight teams of two, one man, one woman.

Each team is “determined by a blind draw as performed by the WSL Tours and Competition office.”

The Rumble, as it’s called, starts with a quarterfinal. Each team gets four waves, one right and one left each.

Judges score the heats remotely.

Top score from each surfer gives the total score.

Then there’s a thing called a “rebate.”

Let’s say Team A’s male surfer blew it on his Right, scoring at 3.33, but Team A’s female surfer smoked it on her Left, scoring a 9.17. In this scenario, Team A’s female surfer would be able to give her remaining Right to her male partner for a rebate surf to try and improve on his initial score.

The maximum number of waves a single surfer can surf in a heat is three — their two original waves and a rebate wave from their teammate. Rebate waves are not bonus waves — there are still only four waves available per team, per heat.

Think of this this way: Teams will either surf two waves each, or one teammate will surf three waves to their teammate’s single ride.

WSL’s gonna webcast this live, three pm local time on August 9, 2020.

Eight am on Australia’s east coast, midnight in Europe, seven pm in Brazil.

You dig?

Listen: Bobby Martinez loves Waco pool and its “nasty-ass water”, says he won’t be surfing the Palm Springs tank (“I need to kiss your ass to surf some sh*tty chest-high wave?”) and tells Chas Smith “I would’ve f*cking lit your ass up!”

Beautiful Bobby…

Bobby Martinez is a thirty-eight-year-old former professional surfer from Santa Barbara’s westside in California.

In his rookie year, Bobby drew an axe from the waistband of his knee-length elasticated shorts and won Tahiti and Mundaka.

Fifth in the world. Rookie of the year, obvs.

Bobby was six when he got into surfing, and he got real good, real fast. He was riding Al Merrick handshapes by the time he was twelve (Bobby’s Abuelo met drug-smuggler Al in prison in 1969 and they became golf buddies) and he won a still yet-to-be-bettered seven NSAA titles.

In 2011, as we all know, Bobby committed career suicide live and quit the tour for good, aged twenty-eight.

Matt Warshaw, the great surf historian, described him as either “a giant crybaby, or the New Millennium Dora.”

If you’ve ever spun in Bobby’s orbit, you’ll know how much he likes to talk shit.

And pro surfing never meant that much to him, anyway.

Channel Islands’ Devon Howard tells me that every time they post a little Martinez footage, it gets twice the engagement of Dane Reynolds and co.

In this interview, Bobby talks about his old pal Paul Fisher, now a world-famous DJ (“When I heard it, oh my god, this is Fisher’s fucking music? What the fuck is this shit?), how much he loves surfing Waco, river surfing in Wyoming, his transition from boxing to jiujitsu to wrestling, how he would’ve made Chas flop around like a butchered dog after saying bad things about his house in a story and why, even after all these years, surfing still makes his soul sing.

(Available on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Google Podcast, Stitcher, TuneIn + Alexa, iHeartRadio, Overcast, Pocket Cast, Castro, Castbox, Podcast Addict, Podchaser, Deezer and Listen Notes.)

Watch: “Surfers begin to unify behind consensus candidate Kanye West ahead of the 2020 United States presidential election!”

The future is now!

You, like me, are a political animal, no? Craving the various storylines coming from Canberra, London, Brasilia and of course Washington D.C. The intrigue, the power shifts, the alliances and scandals. Outside of the World Surf League’s Lawn Patrol, politics is the greatest show in town. In any town. But we are also tired of the tired “right” vs. “left” divide. Of the “culture war.”

Now, there is, you no doubt know, an important election in these United States of America this November pitting Republican incumbent Donald Trump against likely Democratic challenger Joe Biden.

An ugly choice between the lesser of two senilities and impossible for the surfer to be truly excited about either.

Thankfully, a possible champion has risen.

Kanye Omari West.

Tell me, true, that you haven’t been moved by the artist’s surprise candidacy. That it hasn’t spoken directly to you on a profound level.

President Ye would serve our interests and it frustrates me that he is being undermined by the mainstream media and Kris Jong Un, to say nothing about his wife Kim who dismissed him, recently, by saying he is currently in the midst of a bipolar snap.

Very rude.

David Lee Scales and I discussed presidential hopeful Kanye West, partners/lovers being unsupportive of brilliant ideas, famous authors stabbing possibly unsupportive partners/lovers with penknives, rebel surfers and microaggressions on the latest podcast. You may have already listened but now you can watch too because we live in the future.