Great White Sex: Vice-ridden Shark, Good
Time Gal, observed making love for first time in human history:
“Four-plus tons of combined apex predator flesh is an
extraordinarily delicate dance!”
"Their taut grey bodies were pushed closely
together, belly to belly, revolving the entire time…"
It all came undone sooner than I imagined.
Great White Shark morality, long an inspirational high tower within
the animal kingdom, showed its first crack days ago when a
vice-ridden fifteen-footer knocked a gentle superintendent out of
his canoe, near San Francisco, and proceeded to “smoke it like a
cigar.”
I was instantly worried that Great Whites would begin seeking
other pleasures of the flesh. Hot toddies and cool jazz. Good Time
gals in the bad part of town.
A wave of unchecked depravity.
Well, in a just uncovered story, it appears that the
inspirational high tower not only cracked years ago but also
crumbled.
Marine biologist Steve Crawford had been waiting to witness
Great White sharks making love in public for his whole life when he
heard a tale about an old New Zealander fisherman who had seen the
act with his very own eyes.
Long considered the “holy grail” of marine biology, Crawford
raced to meet 82-year-old Dick Ledgerwood to hear with his very own
ears and was not disappointed.
Ledgerwood had witnessed the dance in 1997 when out fishing in
Otago harbor. On an early November morning he tooke his ship out
and set off from Dunedin, heading east to Port Chalmers for fuel.
On the way his first mate Roy hollered, “Oh Dick. There’s something
white in the water back there.”
According to Crawford’s retelling, “It was two sharks wedged
close together, and they were just revolving round and round, very,
very slowly.”
The fishermen had never seen anything like it.
They stopped the boat and gaped at two, four-meter sharks
“locked together” in just four meters of water.
Despite the onlookers, the Great Whites just carried on without
shame.
“They were … locked together, and just revolving in slow
circles,” Ledgerwood continued,.
“Their taut grey bodies were pushed closely together, belly to
belly, revolving the entire time. They were clenched on. Rolling
and rolling and rolling. We just drifted up, and they didn’t worry.
I mean you wouldn’t, would you? laughs. Well, I wouldn’t.”
And it appears as if Dick Ledgerwood is something of an
exhibitionist himself.
This whole business is profoundly disturbing and I fear that
Great Whites may already be well past listening to Sinatra,
martinis, above-the-knee skirts and already be well into 1970s
swinger party debauchery or even 1980s unchecked hedonism.
More as the story develops.
Loading comments...
Load Comments
0
Watch: “What if someone on the beach filmed
the worst wave you ever surfed and it went viral on social
media?”
We all, each of us, have caught a fine wave and
blown it so badly as to bring shame on multiple generations of our
family. I’m not writing here about when we are learning to surf as
children, or vulnerable adults, and don’t really know what a fine
wave is nor am I writing about a wipeout where feet are never
planted. I am writing about being in position to catch the wave of
the day, paddling, taking off, getting stance so egregiously wrong,
arms akimbo, bottom in air, heel over rail, etc. and straight
blowing it.
Looking around after missing the best section hoping nobody
saw.
Haunted for days afterward.
Oh it is the worst thing to suffer privately and David Lee
Scales had such a moment days ago. Now, usually other surfers
either don’t see or don’t care. We all, none of us, are
professionals and so don’t garner collected looks but what if, by
chance, someone happened to catch the worst wave you have ever
surfed and it went viral on social media?
I’m not writing here about @kookoftheday or any sort of
surf-specific viral. I’m writing about viral viral. Like,
Joe Rogan plays it on his podcast, Facebook posts it as its
homepage, late night comedians laugh and laugh and laugh and
laugh.
How would you respond?
Stop surfing?
Host a media event at your local so that everyone can see how
much you rip?
Join in on the fun making?
Much to ponder.
David Lee and I also discuss how crap the World Surf League is.
A greatest hit of sorts.
Watch here!
Loading comments...
Load Comments
0
Josh Kerr and Bede Durbidge, television stars.
Steve Sherman/@tsherms
Longtom: Aussie taxpayer gazumps WSL with
new model of pro surfing!
Some time a little while back in the early days of Covid
chaos the posit was made that if, or when, pro surfing fell over
one of the potential outcomes was the Aussie taxpayer, pro
surfing’s most faithful stakeholder whose deep pockets never run
dry when it comes time to rattle the tin, could pick up the pieces
and run their own Tour.
That vision has now come to pass with the development and
broadcast (on free-to-air TV) of a new concept tagged
Rivals.
Rivals is a Surfing Australia joint, an organisation
generously plumped by a spigot of gubbermint funding and made even
more flush by the entrepreneurial zeal of its former and most successful
CEO, Andrew Stark.
Take former pros, film them shit-talking each other to generate
some pre-”match” heat, add some biographical sauce to the sausage,
then document a single two-hour session at their homebreak culled
from a forty-five day waiting period with the best three waves
chosen by the surfer and judged by the audience.
We’re used to seeing the ageless Kelly Slater as the avatar of
the middle-aged surfer but Hog, and others in Rivals
provide a more representative sample of the effects of a life in
the church of the open sky.
It ain’t pretty. We age terribly.
It offers an elegant circumvention of pro surfing’s thorniest
challenges in this accursed 2020. That being Covid travel
restrictions and the environmental indulgence of excess travel.
I paid no attention to the flurry of promo emails and caught up
with the series by mistake on YouTube, starting with episode three
featuring Nathan “Hog” Hedge. We’re used to seeing the ageless
Kelly Slater as the avatar of the middle-aged surfer but Hog, and
others in Rivals provide a more representative sample of
the effects of a life in the church of the open sky.
It ain’t pretty.
We age terribly.
Still, Hog rips and the cameos of the Carroll brothers, muscles
rippling in their dotage and heads that would scare a dog out of a
butcher’s shop, are inspirational.
It’s worth the watch for that alone.
The Hog segment of Rivals confirmed an impression I
hold as a truism: pro surfers get more media attention at the
beginning of their CT careers but become far more interesting once
they are off Tour. Kelly being one exception; he’s far more
interesting now.
Fanning is another, at the other end of the scale. He’s as
interesting as he’s ever been but gets far more attention now off
the Tour.
Not sure about the states but in Australia Fanning is bigger
than Jesus right now.
Sixty Minutes segment on his new bub, front page in glossy
magazines, a bona fide celebrity down under.
His omniscience continues in Rivals, where it makes a
nice contrast with his former Coolie Kid honchos Joel Parkinson and
Dean Morrison. Parko looks like every second fifty-year-old Deus
Dad walking the streets of Byron Bay with a salt and pepper beard
nursing a kombucha and a mild hangover.
Dingo wears the countenance of the man used to physical labour
signed up to cage fight in twent-one days.
The chemistry between the Coolie kids illustrates a weakness of
the series. Not everyone can carry an Ep.
Hog pulls it off, as does Josh Kerr.
Jay Bottle Thompson’s segment is much weaker. The high point is
Botts trying to negotiate his way through Sunday morning Burleigh
with a wave count artificially inflated by some very cunty
behaviour. I say high point when I mean low point but it does
foreground pro surfing’s elephant in the room.
Which is the very uneasy detente between pro surfing and the
vast majority of recreational surfers upon which it depends for
it’s fan base and access to venues.
How fucking exciting would it be to see the local concretor
after a night on the meth and a bad row with the missus aimed up at
Dingo or even Saint Mick?
Rivals, which takes place in amongst the recreational
rabble, features the very real potential for true carnage. No
disrespect to Bottle but he has the mien of a man who couldn’t
punch his way out of a wet paper bag. I’m not condoning it, or even
encouraging it but how fucking exciting would it be to see the
local concretor after a night on the meth and a bad row with the
missus aimed up at Dingo or even Saint Mick?
Thats always been a black irony of the govt funded surfing
bureaucratic-industrial state. They foment chaos and violence
amongst the very people who’s interests they are supposed to
represent.
Would Rivals keep any incident in the final show?
I think, yes.
The excellent narration is written and delivered by Jed Smith,
one half of the Ain’t that Swell team. Jed plays it for
laughs with a hyper-bogan delivery and realism that is the
anti-Turpel in almost every way.
Maybe a delivery that is too Australian for an international
audience?
Judging by some of the comments below the line in YouTube,
yes.
If the producers of Rivals have missed a trick it’s by
keeping the talent confirmed to old pros. How much more
entertaining to have an Ep with Noa Deane, Creed or Craig Anderson,
rather than old warhorses like Bottle or “Micro” Hall.
That would bridge the pro surfer/freesurfer divide perfectly in
a post contest world.
Still, as a glimpse of a post-WSL future or even as alternative
to being smothered in the slow moving sludge river of schmaltz that
is their commissioned content, Rivals is as thirst
quenching as an ice cold VB and as brilliant as the blazing
sunshine in an Antipodean sky.
Now, who’ll give me odds on the first pro to get their porthole
punched out by a cuckolded reccie.
Loading comments...
Load Comments
0
Florida man shows best of humanity by
gently and lovingly cradling shark that viciously attacked him,
refusing to let go, for multiple hours!
For it was there on Jensen Beach, very near Port St. Lucie, that
a Florida man simply named Jeremy was severely bitten by a confused
nurse shark. A poor animal so befuddled, so perplexed that it
refused to let go for hours.
What did Jeremy do? Bash the creature on the head with a conch
shell until its unnecessarily aggressive brain matter filled the
Atlantic?
No.
He lovingly cradled the chronrichthye as if it were his own
child, likely knowing that he had entered its environment and
deserved the whatever manner of dismemberment befell him, while
lifeguards and firemen gathered trying to figure out how to
dislodge the sharp, extremely painful teeth.
Jeremy continued smiling and joking as a crowd gathered. After
much time, shark still affixed to arm, the lifeguards and firemen
gave up and transferred him to a local hospital where the shark was
removed and thrown into a medical waste bag.
“You’re a hero!” one man on the beach shouted as he was wheeled
away.
A hero indeed, displaying the very best of humanity. Showing
what makes us very cool and sharks beautiful but completely
un-evolved.
The Florida Man I strive to be.
Loading comments...
Load Comments
0
From the BeachGrit legal department: “What
will the WSL’s death rattle look like? Kelly Slater’s retirement?
Elo’s return to Oklahoma?”
And now, the death of all corporations, litigation.
ASP Holdings, LLC, aka the WSL, is currently being sued in
federal court by Evanston Insurance Company.
Evanston and the WSL allegedly entered into an insurance
contract in 2017 that covered Paul Speaker, Terrance Hardy, and
Jonathan Miller in their capacities as Executives of the WSL.
Speaker, Hardy, and Miller were sued in 2017 over alleged
actions stemming from Zosea’s acquisition of the WSL.
Evanston is seeking “a judicial declaration to the effect that
the [policy] does not provide any coverage for a lawsuit captioned,
Michael Barnes, et al. v. Zosea ASP Holdings.”
According to the complaint filed in June of this year, the WSL
tried to invoke their insurance policy in the Barnes dispute.
At issue is the fact that the policy allegedly only covered WSL
executives in their official duties.
The litigation was stayed pending completion of Barnes v.
Zosea.