Bilzerian (pictured).

Breaking: Famous influencer and “party boy” Dan Bilzerian gets barreled at Kelly Slater’s Surf Ranch!

Plus the scariest ghost story you'll ever read.

Oh but was this fated to happen from the very beginning? The exact moment that Kelly Slater laid eyes on a defunct water ski lake in Lemoore, California and envisioned a long, green barrel? Hindsight is, of course, 20/20 and so it’s easy to say, now, that Surf Ranch was always going to become a douche magnet but did you know that at the start?

Expensive, exclusive and gate controlled by the World Surf League and/or Kelly Slater.

A douche super-magnet the likes of which the world hasn’t seen since Wilmer Valderrama and Danny Masterson bringing their bros to the Playboy Mansion circa 2002.

Diplo has surfed the Ranch a few times.

So has Brody Jenner.

Dan Bilzerian just dried off.

I celebrated this past Halloween with a few wonderful families in Bel Air and was in charge of telling the twelve, or so, children a ghost story. The home that hosted backed up to a verdant canyon filled with trees, brush and poison oak and so we walked the children to its edge, sat them down and I began by telling them a macabre tale about how an old Indian (feather not dot) used to live in the canyon and made it his mission to create a human being. I then blindfolded them and passed around the eyeballs he created (peeled grapes), livers (canned peaches), heart (stewed tomato), etc.

There were many squeals and I hadn’t even gotten to the most horrifying bit.

The old Indian made every part of the body but could not make a soul and was so sad that his human being would never live. One dark and stormy night, though, a bolt of lightning hit the sack of flesh and the soulless carcass came to some sort of life and haunts Bel Air’s hills to this day.

It’s name is Dan Bilzerian.

“Kids, and especially girls, if you ever come across the Dan Bilzerian, spray mace in its soulless face and run far, far away…”

I was pretty pleased with myself.


Surf queen Ellie-Jean Coffey debuts new gal-pal, racing car driver and “millionaire porn star” Renee Gracie: “Ellie-Jean, who is openly bisexual, was seen bending over a table while Renee danced close to her bottom.”

"Renee was spotted groping her blonde companion's chest, while Ellie-Jean closed her eyes in apparent ecstasy."

Australia’s surf sweetheart Ellie-Jean Coffey, who pulled back the velvet curtain on a ten-dollars-a-month subscriber website two months ago where fans can “swipe up to see my vagina”, has been photographed getting titty-squeezed at a Gold Coast nightclub by new gal-pal Renee Gracie.

Gracie, a retired V8 Supercars driver (forty-eight starts, no wins) who says she’s made almost two-mill from her Only Fans site, was with Coffey at Sin City, a classy joint in Surfers Paradise where fifty gets you straight in and two-fifty reserves a table. 

From The Daily Mail,

Arriving hand-in-hand at the crowded venue, former V8 supercar driver Renee, 25, and ex-professional surfer Ellie-Jean, 25, turned heads as they danced wildly together and struck risqué poses for the cameras At one stage, Renee was spotted groping her blonde companion’s chest, while Ellie-Jean closed her eyes in apparent ecstasy.  Ellie-Jean, who is openly bisexual, was also seen bending over a table while Renee danced close to her bottom.  

Examine photos here. 

Subscribe to Renee (“best pussy”), here, EJ (“rubbing your cum all over my tits”) here, or one of her sisters here.

Also in EJ-C news, the sexual assault survivor who lives in a truck has found a fan in eleven-time world  champion Kelly Slater, whose recent relationship movements have been well-documented, here, here and here.

 

 


Western Australian Bodyboarder killed in “very unusual” shallow water attack” by twelve-foot shark; police fire shots, fail to disperse shark which lingered near shore for thirty-minutes… 

"Pretty horrific."

A bodyboarder in his fifties was hit and killed by a twelve-foot shark at Cable Beach, a pretty and mostly waveless beach two thousand clicks north of Perth, on Sunday.  

Charles Cernobori was a hundred feet offshore when the animal, likely a tiger or bull shark ‘cause Whites tend to do a u-turn when they hit Exmouth a thousand kilometres south, attacked.

A couple went to help Cernobori after they saw “trashing” in the water, pulling him to shore and calling an ambulance.

“Obviously that would have been pretty horrific for those people. It was very brave to enter the water and do what they did,” Inspector Gene Pears said.

Cops arrived, fired a volley at the animal, which missed, and the shark hung around for another half an hour.

It’s the first fatal shark in almost thirty years, since a pearl diver was killed at Roebuck Bay. 

WA Police deputy commissioner Col Blanch said the attack was “very unusual” for the area although Cable Beach is occasionally closed when crocodiles waltz through the area.

The man’s death marks the third fatal shark attack in Western Australia in 2020, following January’s Great White hit on diver Gary Johnson in January, and the disappearing of a local surfer by a Great White in October


Polish SCUBA enthusiasts, inspired by Kelly Slater’s Surf Ranch, build world’s deepest artificial dive tank near Warsaw: “Some sections simulate caves and others have a sunken boat!”

Under da sea.

I mostly keep my affinity for SCUBA diving to myself, but it is true, I am a big fan of the French art. Growing up and watching Jacques Cousteau then James Bond with tanks on their backs and knives strapped around their calves was more than my young heart could take and I got my dive certification as soon as I could.

The problem with the SCUBA diving scene, I soon found out, is that it is neither Jacques Cousteau nor James Bond but rather upper-middle aged, slightly overweight suburbanites who treat 60 feet below the ocean’s surface like another neat place to day hike.

Many colorful gadgets. Much slowness of movement.

Well, maybe Polish SCUBA enthusiasts feel the same way as me and hope to bring the sexy back with the almost-finished DeepSpot diving tank just outside Warsaw.

At nearly 150 ft, it will be the deepest dive pool in the entire world and be stocked with cool features like caves and shipwrecks and if that won’t inspire a Thunderball scene than I just don’t know what will.

According to DeepSpot’s Facebook account, there is only one pool left to fill and then the doors can swing wide.

Not according to DeepSpot’s Facebook account, but we must assume, is the influence of Kelly Slater and his Surf Ranch. I’ve snowboarded an artificial mountain in Dubai and floated on an artificial river in Las Vegas but both paled in comparison to the artificial waves in Lemoore. Slater and his team raised the expectations for fake.

That manmade should be better than real and more fun too.

Slater almost achieved with his but the Poles most certainly will with theirs (see video).

I can say, without a doubt, I will be diving DeepSpot next time I’m near Warsaw with a very cool knife strapped to my calf.

Will you join me?


Surfline Men, Rincon warriors.

Surfline Man Goes Surfing (Part Two): “Here he is! At the world’s greatest point break! Except a few others he can’t remember, but they’re all so far away, like South Africa or something!”

Looking around the lineup, he realizes there are a lot of people out. They don’t care about his new beard or his midlength. All they want is waves.

Long before dawn, Surfline Man cues up his fave Jack Johnson mix and pilots the Sprinter north on the 5.

He speeds through a sleeping San Clemente, merges smoothly to the 405, giggles at the Hooters that sits right next to the Vans headquarters, and Bam! He’s right through Huntington Beach.

Past Sunset Boulevard, over Sepulveda, he speeds along the 101 through the Val, the strip malls streaming by on repeat. He stops in Agoura for a gas station coffee. Then, down Conejo Grade, and he’s so close now. The oil rig lights dance on the horizon.

Rincon! He’ll be there in no time.

Exiting Bates Road, Surfline Man pulls into the parking lot. It’s still dark and he’s not even the first one there. Already cars fill the sought-after parking spots closest to the trail. He feels a little grumpy about this. He wanted to be first.

But here he is! The world’s greatest point break! Except a few others he can’t remember, but they’re all so far away, like South Africa or something.

With his Yeti mug filled with gas station coffee in hand, Surfline Man saunters through the parking lot from his less-than-perfect parking spot and heads down the trail to take a look at the surf.

it’s totally firing dude
you should totally drive up here

Even through the high tide, Surfline Man can tell the waves are so good. He can’t resist texting his buddy to tell him what he’s missing. He’s pretty sure this is what friends are for. Why else would he put up with those bros?

After a short nap, cuddled up in a spare boardbag he found in the back of the Sprinter, Surfline Man is ready to surf. He pulls on his new Patagonia wetsuit. It’s a little tight, but he’s sure it’ll loosen up. Then Surfline Man carefully unwraps his precious midlength and gives it a quick touch-up with a fresh block of cold water wax.

Surfline Man catches a glimpse of his reflection in the window, new wetsuit, new beard, midlength. He feels so good right now, like a surfer in a magazine or from one of his favorite videos.

Maybe he should make a video. Like, he could have his own Youtube channel, even. That would be so cool.

Trying to be chill, Surfline Man heads for the trail, but he can’t contain his excitement. He’s going surfing! The waves are so good and the tide is totally perfect. He is so ready to rip now!

Surfline Man tiptoes through the cobbles, pretty sure that everyone on the beach is watching him. He’s going to fall on his face with his beautiful midlength, new wetsuit, and new beard, and everyone is totally going to laugh. This is like, the most stressful thing ever.

Safely through the cobbles, Surfline Man makes the paddle out between sets like, so easy. Dry hair, don’t care, he is feeling so pro.

Looking around the lineup, he realizes there are a lot of people out. They don’t care about his new beard or his midlength. All they want is waves.

Maybe he should have skipped the nap, and surfed the high tide. It’s too late now.

A set comes, and Surfline Man scrambles with the crowd. He looks up to see a bearded man sliding smoothly down the line. He can’t decide if he’s more jealous of the beard or the surfing, but the dude can surf and he thinks the beard looks super familiar. He’s pretty sure it’s Keith Malloy, I mean, who else could it be.

Starstruck, Surfline Man totally misses the set looming outside. Faster than he can even think, the set is right there, and Surfline Man discovers the perils of his beautiful midlength. He tries to duckdive, but he lacks the strength to shove all that volume underwater. Instead, Surfline Man gets so tossed.

Four more waves follow and he’s helpless to do anything but get washed all the way down the point like a leaf in a fast-moving stream or some other poetic nature shit like that.

Frazzled, but he’s not about to give up. At the bottom of the point, Surfline Man sees a wave. It’s not much, but he goes for it, and rides it all the way to the beach, which really, if he’s honest, wasn’t that far away.

Fuckyeah! He caught a wave at Rincon. He struts up the point, like he’s just made the wave of the day.

This time, this time, it’s going to be different, he thinks, as he paddles back out. He’s not going to get distracted by Keith Malloy’s beard, if in fact, it was even Keith Malloy, which maybe it wasn’t. Really, he doesn’t have time to think about that now.

Waves. He needs to catch one!

After three hours, even Surfline Man’s beard is defeated. Sure, he managed to pick off a couple of insiders. He didn’t get to do his cutback that he’s been practicing so hard, but he’s pretty sure he looked super stylish anyway.

It was fine. Really, he’s stoked. It was super fun.

Surfline Man walks up the trail to his not-perfect parking spot. He carefully wraps up his precious midlength and standing on his yoga mat, he wiggles out of his suit. He pours soothing warm water from his rinse kit over his head. Then he cooks up some Mac and Cheese. A man needs his comforts after a hard day of surfing.

How’d you do out there? Get any? asks the dude in the Sprinter across the way.

Yah, it was so fun out there! Super stoked! Surfline Man says.

Driving south down the 101, rocking out to Rebelution, Surfline Man plots his triumphant return to the Rincon lineup. For one thing, his midlength was totally the wrong choice. He should have known better. Really, Surfline should tell him what board to ride. That would be so helpful.

Whatever. Next time, it’s going to be totally different. He’s going to get so many set waves.

Surfline Man just needs to find the perfect surfboard.