Relax, relax, relax.
To criticize selfie culture is, at his point in time, hollow and silly. Dumb. The selfie is as ubiquitous now as brushing one’s teeth. As bidet-ing one’s bottom. There is no associated shame with snapping a selfie in front of a Black Lives Matter protest, of snapping a selfie on a golden Buddha, of having your male pal snap a selfie of you in the shower…
…of snapping selfies on a jetty whilst hurricane waves lash its rocks and that is precisely where we lay our scene, near Houston. For there two girls stood and snapped but something went horribly wrong and they fell into the ocean and began to drown.
Thankfully, surfing champion Johnny McGee, 67, was in the water.
Without missing a beat, he paddled over to the girls and had them hold onto his legs then paddled them all the way to shore.
A hero?
Without doubt.
McGee told the local radio station, “I guess I was meant to be there because there was nobody else out there. Surfers know through experience, [if] you go underwater [you should] relax, relax, relax. Don’t fight it or you’re going to end up using your energy and your air.”
Fine advice.
It is unknown if McGee later told them girls that they were “on glue” before blocking them on social media.
More as the story develops.
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Is that really “THE” surfing champ Johnny Mcgee !! EPIC !!
“It is unknown if McGee later told them girls that they were “on glue” before blocking them on social media.”
Will the climax of the Beach Grit/Kelly saga be half as good as the Chas/Ashton climax? With Surf Expo now cancelled, might we have to wait longer for an answer?
In all due respect.
Imagine no BeachGrit.
Johnny would definitely have been powered by Laird superfoods. Otherwise, rescue not possible.
On glue…
He certainly dug that one out.
Can smell that model airplane glue each time I read it.
I have a trophy. Does this mean I can be referenced as a Surfing Champion in conversation?
Yes it does !
May I also add that you’re a prince among mods !
Prince Nega – it’s got a ring to it, I think.
Dark Prince Nega…. sounds so street.
could be a new sneaker spono in your future Negs….
Can you rap, btw?
No.
Thanks I think, nervous now.
Hahaha… selfie fail!
I’m glad though, that they only got a good soaking and didn’t drown.
All these do gooders
Destroying the fine work of
Poor Sir Charles Darwin
These girls would most def
Not get Galapagos stuff
Fish nearby dismayed
Nice thing he did, well done!
Selfish Surfer Selflessly Saves Selfies
Houston, too close to New Orleans.
Gnarly! I wonder if Sal is going to get that selfie at the golf course with Kelly!…
Sal sits on the couch, MacBook resting on his ever progressively protruding belly, caused by the result of his being in a perpetual “bulking stage,” like a personal table, worried about his upcoming Zoom session with Kelly. Initially scheduled as personal hangout by Sal in order to temporarily sate his incessant need for his much more successful friend’s attention, Sal is anxious about more important business: are they going golfing together on Tuesday?!
While he knows Bobby told him that he needed to block 100 people on Instagram between now and then before he would commit to going golfing, Sal, concerned about Kelly’s lack of posting on his stories, really needs a progress report. He sees Kelly’s name pop up in the meeting, no picture, just a black screen for several long seconds.
“What is going on? I need to see him!” thinks Sal, to himself.
Just as he is finishing his thought, Kelly’s Ronald McDonald nose enters his vision. Kelly sits back (he was leaning too close to the screen) to reveal his gloriously bulbous bald-ass dome.
Sal: Yooo, Kelllaaay… what’s happening, my man? Long time no talk.
Kelly: I literally talked to you a day and a half ago.
Sal: I know, amigo, I was just wondering… anyway, what’ve you been up to?
Kelly is staring down at his phone, not bothering to look up. In the extra three seconds of silence, Sal notices the music playing in the background from Kelly’s room, which he identifies as “Cruel Summer.”
Sal: Hey, man, what’re you listening to? Sounds like “Cruel Summer”… I can’t remember who sings that…
Kelly: (not looking up from his phone) Bananarama.
Sal: Oh, yeah, weren’t you telling me you got at Sara Dallin in the early ‘90s…
Kelly: (finally looking up) Yes. Now stop for a second, I need to concentrate, I’m in the zone.
Sal: What’re you doing?
Kelly: I’m blocking people on Instagram.
Sal sits in silence for the next sixteen minutes, while Kelly fiddles around on his phone. The song is playing on a loop. Apparently it helps Kelly focus on laying the atomic IG bomb of the almighty block (which no one who it happens to cares about) on people. Suddenly, the music stops and Kelly looks into the screen.
Kelly: So, what’s up?
Sal: Haha, well, first, I would like to say how truly inspiring watching you do your thing right there. Block all the fools who dare say anything bad about you. You’re the GOAT, Vishnu incarnate, the love of my li… my best friend.
Kelly: All true.
Sal: So, I wanted to know if we’re still on golfing on Tuesday? I was thinking maybe Rancho…
Kelly: I told you I would need to block 100 people by then.
Sal: What is your current number?
Kelly: 49.
Sal: Wooo yeah. Lay the hurt! You should make it no problem then.
Kelly: Yeah, I don’t know if I will make it. I might stop Instagram for a couple days.
Sal: But you’ve never gone even 16 hours without it.
Kelly: I know. I kind of just don’t want to go golfing with you. You understand.
Sal sinks further into his couch, depression’s dread washing over him in waves running from the tip of his crown on his head down to his anus. Kelly whips out a guitar by his computer and starts to play unstructured, janky chords and singing monotonously off-key. Sal thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he has ever heard. Twenty minutes go by, nothing, Kelly’s playing or nonsensical singing, gets any better. He puts down the guitar.
Sal: Hey, would you like me to bring you some of your favorite chia-flaxseed-hemp-virginal urine and fart drink?
Kelly: You live so far away.
Sal: So? I’d be more than happy to bring you some. Where you gonna be?
Kelly: I’m taking my Chinese girlfriend out to San-O to surf. I’m talking about Kalani in this instance, (winking) not the real Chinese one from the spa we keep secret.
Sal: Right on! I’ll be there as fast as I can.
Kelly: No, as much as it’s tempting to get free stuff, we’ve seen each other enough today. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Skype me, not Zoom.
Sal: But Skype isn’t the cool way anymore. Zoom is. (Pointing to the screen at Kelly) And only the coolest for God.
Kelly: Fine, you take care of it.
Sal: Then we can really nail down our plans for golf Tuesday?
Kelly: Fine.
Sal: Aweso…
Kelly leaves the meeting, leaving Sal to sit there incapacitated by his couch and increasingly girthy body. Sal is absolutely giddy. One step closer to golf with the Champ. One step closer to intimate hugs. One step closer to the smell of sweat mixed with Hugo Boss Tonic emanating from behind Kelly’s neck rolls.
“depression’s dread washing over him in waves running from the tip of his crown on his head down to his anus” Baaaahahahahaha classic Karl