"The WSL is willing to alienate the core followers and lifers who the precarious stack of cards is built upon so they can chase Main Street dreams."

Four weeks ago, the reigning women’s world champion and Lost teamrider, Carissa Moore, won the Rip Curl Newcastle Pro and the lord did grin and and the people did feast upon the lambs and sloths etc.

As is customary at these moments, Instagram lit up with posts, reposts, of the winner, along with kind words.

San Clemente’s Matt Biolos, the man who has shaped Carissa’s boards for every one of her four world titles and who has been building her sleds since she was fifteen, reposted the clip, below, and wrote, “Way to go, Riss.”

https://www.instagram.com/p/CNb7zqRrXGs/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=embed_video_watch_again

The post was swiftly removed from Instagram and Biolos says he then received a letter from the WSL’s lawyer.

Biolos takes up the story,

“The Lawyer sent me a letter. Wanting money to repost WSL content. told her or him or it, to fuck off and learn how to run a profitable business without extorting the fans for money. Mentioned every surf shop on the planet was posting images of the event and he or she or it should go after them, as well.  

“I said it was my personal IG account, not my …Lost Surfboards business account. I was pissed that the first contact came from some fucking lawyer. That’s a pretty good sign of a company’s detachment from its constituents. 

“To be fair, once I sent a scathing response to the lawyer, Dave Prodan, who I’ve always felt has an exceptional head on his shoulders, texted me and said that this issue had come across his desk and he would try to sort it out for me. I told him I appreciate it and couldn’t pass up the chance to ask who the ‘Fascist’ was now?

“Evidently the lawyers and or suits above Dave, who I really do like, wouldn’t have any of his attempts at diplomacy and if I do any more posts about the WSL, without paying their extortion, I’ll be canceled.”

Lest he be accused of being another WSL hater, Biolos says,

“I’m a fan. I’m deeply connected to pro surfing and the surfers involved. And yes, I am emotionally attached.

“I have long-term friends working in the organization. 

“But it doesn’t mean I’ll bow down to the barely-surfing- outsider-corporate-executives who invaded our culture and don’t really understand it but are willing to alienate the core followers and lifers who the precarious stack of cards is built upon so they can chase Main Street dreams. They are scared to death to charge pay-per view on the events because they damn well know that a lot of the public with tell them to fuck off. The viewership will tank to the point that sponsors will run for the hills. So what do they do? That come up with some scheme to come after us, the fabric of surfing’s existence, all us independently owned and operated surfboard builders who supply boards to the athletes.

“Whatever, I’ll just post more stuff of Mason Ho.” 

Come buy an eleven-dollar bottle of "Little Girl"…

Jadson Andre, a Brazilian who is five-feet-seven and one hundred and fifty-five pounds (a little man), is the world number fifteen and represents, if you’re into this sorta thing, the struggle of the determined poor. 

This ain’t a kid who grew up in the privileged surf ghettos of southern California or south-west France or Australia.

Jadson was so poor that when he was a kid he got a two-dollar soccer ball for his birthday and it deflated, his dad wept ‘cause he couldn’t buy his little man another one. 

Jadson’s mum said it was “one of the saddest days for them.”

The last eleven years on tour, both of ‘em, qualifiers and CT, have been relatively kind to Jadson. He stomped Kelly Slater into the dirt during his first-ever final in 2010 to win the the Billabong Pro in Brazil, and one way or the other, Jadson makes the cut for the Championship Tour each year. 

https://www.instagram.com/p/COsQ8NwLB3d/

And, now, Jadson, who is thirty-one, has become the face of Brazilian perfumer D’Sá, his woody notes of grit and resolve a primer for the emotions that wrap us like honey until they make us drown in an unrepeatable moment of wellbeing.

His signature fragrance is Chiquita, Portuguese for “little girl”, which, says the company’s liner notes, “is the essence of a true seducer, the warm and lush notes of whiskey and leather are highlighted. Majestic, elegant and slightly daring, this exquisite and extremely captivating fragrance is a tribute to masculinity.”

Bottles of Chiquita cost eleven dollars and can be ordered here.