Listen: Calls grow for ex-professional surfer Matt Wilkinson to justify his bald-faced cultural appropriation of country music and the country music lifestyle!

Wonderbread.

I have absolutely no doubt that you have been following along with the controversy surrounding reality tycoon Kendall Jenner and her dressing in “migrant chic” in order to sell a new tequila. Critics were quick to point out the tequila is integral to Mexican culture and the Jenner is stealing “the look and feel of poverty” for her own selfish gain.

According to The Hill, “This isn’t the first time Jenner has been accused of cultural appropriation or tone deafness. In the past, she has worn her hair in cornrows, sold vintage tees with her face superimposed over those of Biggie and Tupac and appeared in a Pepsi commercial about police brutality where she ends protests by offering an officer a Pepsi.”

Troubling.

Equally troubling, though, with a growing number demanding answers, is Matt Wilkinson’s bald-faced cultural appropriation of country music and the country music lifestyle.

Also, his literal tone deafness.

Days ago, the ex-professional surfer released a short music video that appeared to adopt objects or elements of a non-dominant culture in a way that didn’t respect their original meaning, give credit to their source, and reinforces stereotypes also contributing to oppression.

Country music and lifestyle fans, initially thinking the piece was homage, snapped their fingers along to the 4/4 time until quickly realizing it wasn’t homage, but rather parody, and became sad.

Wilkinson is yet to respond but should be held to account publicly across social media.

White on white violence is still violence.

David Lee Scales and I discussed this, Malibu Karen and how the World Surf League should launch a Master’s Division wherein Nathan Hedge can win groceries for a month.

Very au courant.

Listen here.

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BIPOC surfer fires broadside at “Malibu Karen” and her recently declared war on VALS: “Good morning to everyone except the White woman who tried to hold a meeting yesterday to discuss how to make outsiders feel less welcome and less safe being there. ⁣⁣Localism equals racism!”

Joy is resistance!”

Two days ago, Professor Carla Zamora from The Surf Institute, a longboard surf consultancy, used Instagram to launch a scud into the VAL kingdom, at those vulnerable adult learners who’d gotten to crowding Malibu.

It read, in part,

Correct me if I’m wrong, but just two decades ago being “from Malibu” carried an air of prestige. We were masters of our spot, encouraged, even pressured, to surf at the highest caliber possible and given no leeway or forgiveness when we faltered. It was chaotic then, too, but there was a method to the madness; control to the chaos. Rules were not just established, they were enforced. If you publicly cried about it, you felt it even harder.

Fast forward 20 years. A pandemic singlehandedly changes people’s lives and increases the surfing population by astronomical proportions. As an outdoor activity relatively safe from exposure, 2020 saw nearly every other Joe take up surfing and every other Schmoe become a surf coach. Young adults already versed in the sport, begin flocking in droves to park, no, camp, in our lot for days on end. (Note: this has been a problem prior to COVID). Photographers and videographers arrive with their own talent to rape and pillage the waves, shunning the existing talent who have paid their dues.

Please join me Tuesday 5/25 4p at The Wall to discuss, create, and implement a strategy to take back our home.

We didn’t go, natch, but one woman who did, BIPOC surfer Jae Bella wasn’t sold on the concept.

Bella also took to IG.

Good morning to everyone except the white woman who tried to hold a meeting yesterday in Malibu to discuss how to make outsiders feel less welcome and less safe being there. ⁣⁣
⁣⁣
According to her, people she doesn’t consider “locals” are not doing a good enough job of “acknowledging her existence, let alone her local ‘status’..” and photographers are showing up with new surfers to “rape and pillage” the waves. She’s so upset at this because she has declared that she and the “locals” have “mastered” the “sport.” She called a meeting bc she “cannot and will not let guests dictate the state of her ‘home’…” yes. Her call to action for this little gathering was to encourage the “locals” to “take back their home.” Bihhh are you a dolphin? Because NO. ⁣⁣
⁣⁣
As much as she wants to make Malibu great again, needless to say she did not keep that same energy offline, and said not one of these things at her little meeting last night, which we attended. ⁣⁣
⁣⁣
Friendly reminder that localism=racism. Not gonna spend time unpacking that right now, but today is another day where joy is resistance. And for the record, we’ll be at Malibu, or wherever else our hearts desire, smiling, happy and free. Connecting with the ocean and earth that belongs to no one but god. Taking up space. At peace and unbothered.⁣⁣

Comments on the post were almost entirely positive, localism equals racism etc.

Indicative reactions.

“Beautiful photos, send that lady love and peace”

“She and her wrinkled raisin eyes could not contain nor comprehend this level of Beauty and Glory in a wetsuit coming at her all early 9in the morning in her precious ‘Bu. Work ALL of it my Sis. You look so amazingly glorious in that sea.”

“1. You’re amazing, powerful and beautiful. 2. Fuck that bitch. Hell fucking no!! 3. Thank you for speaking on this!! Wishing you a love and joy filled day!”

A rare dissenter.

“Get better at surfing before you can saying you fuckin’ popollo kook. You don’t surf. You’re not a surfer. You take pictures of yourself floundering around in one-foot shorebreak. Stop labelling everything as racism cuz you’re black. You’re not a surfer. You’re a poser. You’re like scooter kids at the skatepark but worse cuz you think your opinion actually matters.”

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Yeah, the rumours are true. I'm taking the mid-length to Malibu tomoz.

Surfline Man goes to Malibu: “He heard that only losers surf with leashes now, and he’s not about to show up with a leash dragging behind him. Everyone would immediately brand him a kook, for sure!”

He’s going to Malibu, and he’s going to get such good waves on his fabulous turquoise midlength with no leash. No one will even know that he has ever surfed it with a leash at all. It’ll totally be a secret.

Surfline Man needs a roadtrip.

It’s not like Cardiff is bad or anything. In fact, he’s pretty stoked he moved here, on the whole. There’s such good waves all the time. He can’t believe how much he’s surfing now, and he’s like, totally a regular at the Pannikin.

It’s all working out so perfect.

But he needs to change it up. It’s not good for his surfing to always hit the same waves. He should try different spots. It’s the only way he’ll get better. And he is so determined to get better at surfing.

Why even do it if he’s not going to be good at it. That perfect cutback, it’s totally coming to him, he can feel it.

Reclining on the couch, Surfline Man scrolls through Surfline looking at forecasts. So many beautiful charts and graphs, it’s so much fun to look at them all. Where to go, that’s the question. Trestles is definitely out, due to the whole ex-girlfriend thing.

Surfline Man scrolls some more.

There’s a nice pulse of south on the forecast. Surfline Man thinks hard. He hasn’t been to Malibu lately. In fact, he has never surfed his beautiful turquoise midlength at Malibu.

Yes, that’s exactly it. He simply has to go to Malibu with his midlength. Where better place to learn the perfect cutback than Malibu. It was meant to be.

Joel Tudor says that Malibu is the best summer surf spot in the world, and Surfline Man knows better to argue. He might get punched in the face. If he’s honest, Surfline Man is pretty sure he’ll get punched in the face eventually anyway, but he’s not about to speed up the process.

Heading to the garage, Surfline Man pulls his midlength out of the rack and gazes at it lovingly. You can’t even tell he dropped it on the tail, at least that’s what he tells himself. He carefully removes the leash and unties the string. He heard that only losers surf with leashes now, and he’s not about to show up to Malibu with a leash dragging behind him. Everyone would immediately brand him kook, for sure.

Daydreaming of Malibu’s perfect rights, Surfline Man slides his now-leashless mid into his Sprinter. Fresh avocados for a mid-day snack. Bottled water. Rinse kit. Fresh HydroFlask in the latest colorway for summer. Surfline Man recently bought a new changing poncho, and he is super excited to use it for the first time. It would be so embarrassing to have his bare ass just like hanging out there on the PCH.

Get in the van, we’re going to Malibu.

Surfline Man wakes up before dawn, pours freshly made coffee into his fave Yeti mug, and hits the road. Surfline Man is so excited. He’s going to Malibu, and he’s going to get such good waves on his fabulous turquoise midlength with no leash. No one will even know that he has ever surfed it with a leash at all. It’ll totally be a secret.

Surfline Man cruises through the long swooping interchange over the 405 and merges on to the 10, that weird narrow old freeway that cuts through Santa Monica. Hurtling west, he reaches the tunnel that magically transports him to the coast. It’s always a surprise that tunnel, the way the shimmering ocean and wide sand beach so suddenly appear.

In these pre-dawn hours, there’s not much traffic, and Surfline Man sails up the coast. A line of campervans sits parked along the shoulder, and a cyclist headbanging along the highway swings out into the lane to avoid them. Surfline Man slows to make space.

He’s going to Malibu, and he’s in such a good mood right now.

Rolling past Topanga, Surfline Man sees the Boardriders shop. With its giant wave mural on the wall and the succulents growing out front, it sends out an almost irresistible siren call to Surfline Man. He resists, barely. Malibu. He has to get to Malibu. But gazing upon the deep blues of the Boardriders mural, he can’t help but think about just how fucking cool surfing is.

Yah. Surfing is so cool, man.

Now he’s in Malibu.

A pair of girls in cute as fuck spring suits dart across the highway, longboards tucked under their arms. Surfline Man slows to avoid them and to enjoy the view. Parking is competitive and the tiny lot at First Point filled long before dawn. Surfline Man really wants a spot up front, but he is resigned to the likelihood of a long walk.

Then he sees it. A parking spot! It’s on the other side of the highway, but a small detail like is not going to stop him. Surfline Man pilots his Sprinter into position and after a quick look-see, swings a tight u-turn, or at least, the tightest u-turn he can manage in the van, which is about as tight as his cutback.

At least he’s not terrible at parallel parking, and Surfline Man soon has his Sprinter wedged into a space, right there at First Point Malibu.

He made it! Surfline Man can’t even believe it, he’s going to surf Malibu right now.

From his prime parking spot, he can see waves sashaying down the point. A slight south wind folds wrinkles into their faces. Black dots march through the lineup, and cluster around the peak. It’s crowded, of course. When has Malibu ever not been crowded? Not lately, that’s for sure.

Stoke undiminished, Surfline Man slides into his Long John. Thanks to all the surf he’s scored, his arms are looking so toned. He looks like a guy who surfs, Surfline Man thinks, as he checks his tousled, sun-kissed hair in the Sprinter’s side mirror.

Surfline Man saunters down the splintering wood steps to the parking lot. Someone is banging a drum, and the scent of sativa wafts lightly in the breeze.

Through the gap in the wall, Surfline Man pauses to take it all in. The beach is packed with people even this early in the morning, and brightly colored umbrellas pop. Longboards lounge against the wall, same as it ever was.

History man, there’s so much of it. Standing there on the beach, Surfline Man can totally feel it.

Now to get a wave. Up close, the crowd does not look smaller. Undaunted, Surfline Man paddles his turquoise midlength into the lineup. An uncontrolled chaos reigns. Surfline Man sits on his board and watches for a few minutes to get the vibe.

A wave comes. Five guys paddle and three guys make it. Four guys and a girl drop in from the shoulder. One kicks out. One falls. The surfer in front slides through a stylish turn, arms up, hips swiveling. He walks the nose, as behind him, three others grapple for space. Two loose boards float unclaimed on the inside. Another wave comes, and the whole thing starts all over again.

Up close, it’s much more intimidating than Surfline Man expected. But he came all this way, so he’d better at least try to get a wave. Trying seems better than nothing, anyway. He positions as best he can near the peak, which isn’t very near at all. He hates to be that guy, you know the one, the guy who always drops in from the shoulder. Necessity is making him rethink his principles.

Moving down the point a bit, Surfline Man looks for a likely spot. Not too close to anyone else, not too close to the peak. Surfline Man tries to channel his warrior side, which he’s not sure he actually has, but it sounds good.

He can get a wave at Swamis, so why not here?

Sure, brah, you are totally getting a wave here, says his inner voice. Shut up, inner voice. This is totally not the time for inner voices.

Maybe this one? Nah. Or this one. Surfline Man watches as the lead surfer falls just after he passes by. Damn, so the worst timing. Surfline Man looks at the next one, already six guys on it. Shit. Next one, bro’s nose-riding, can’t drop in on that.

Okay, a lull. Surfline Man is feeling tired, but he’s not about to give up.

Then, it comes. It’s not a set wave, but Surfline Man is past the point of being super choosey. He’ll take anything now.

This time, there’s two guys and a girl up and riding. Suddenly, the guys collide. Surfline Man can’t believe his eyes. They fell! Surfline Man notices that the girl is cute, but there’s no time think about that right now. He must catch this wave!

Surfline Man scraps in from the shoulder, not quite in position, but fortunately, his beautiful turquoise midlength looks after him, and corrects for his mistakes. He glides into the wave, and looks down the line as though in a fever dream. He can’t believe he is actually standing on a wave at Malibu! For a moment, he forgets to surf.

A few tentative pumps and suddenly, Surfline Man is speeding down the line. Surfline Man doesn’t know what flying feels like, but maybe it’s something like this. He tries really hard not to flap his arms too much or do anything else super kooky and awkward. It’s so hard.

Surfline Man forgets all about his quest for the perfect cutback and the cute girl he met at the Seaside Market and the ding in the tail of his beautiful turquoise midlength and the leash he left in his garage to ensure he looks cool.

He forgets about everything except this moment right now, sliding down the line at Malibu, the pier straight in front of him, Cher watching from her house up on the hill. Malibu, fuck it’s cool.

The wave dwindles to nothing, and Surfline Man kicks out. He’s at the bottom of the point, and he still can’t quite believe it. He got a wave at fucking Malibu! Surfline Man resists the urge to fist pump. It’s a struggle, but he’s determined to play it cool. Surfline Man’s pretty sure there’s a dumb shit-eating grin on his face, and he decides that he doesn’t even care.

Surfline Man walks up the beach. He stops to look behind him, taking in the perfect waves, and the crowd of black dots, the blue sky overhead.

Yeah, man, this is living, he thinks, as he walks past the wall, midlength tucked under his perfectly toned arm.

Surfing is so cool, and Surfline Man can’t wait to do it again.

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Watch: “Grumpy Local Fever” breaks out at Ohio waterpark as attempted snake on surf-themed ride leads to all-out brawl!

A dangerous mutation.

Three years ago, now, and in a brave speech to the Surf Industry Manufacturers Association, co-Waterperson of the Year and owner of the World Surf League first identified the “grumpy local” as a dangerous scourge.

But don’t pretend you don’t know that when you go beyond constructive criticism and cynically try to rally negative sentiment towards the WSL, when you try to take us down, you are not just going after us. You are going after Kelly Slater. You are trying to take down Lakey Peterson. You are going after the dreams of Caroline Marks and Griffin Colapinto. You are undermining the hopes of every kid who lives with salt in their hair, dreaming of being a world champion one day. And I ask you: Why? It seems pretty obvious that if the WSL keeps growing in popularity, and surfing takes its rightful place among the great and elite competitive sports, everyone connected with our sport, and certainly all the members of SIMA, will prosper, except maybe a few grumpy locals who have to deal with some new faces in the lineup.

Long relegated to coastlines, that grumpy local festered and complained, told kooks to beat it and went after the dreams of Caroline Marks and Griffin Colapinto. A nasty virulence but contained to ocean-fronting states.

Until now.

With the growth of wave pools and “surf-themed water rides” in Lemoore, Munich and Texas it was only a matter of time before grumpy localism spread and, last week, a particularly nasty grumpy locals, dealing with new faces in line at a “surf-themed water ride” at Kalahari Resorts in Sandusky, Ohio really got into it.

Per several news reports two “surfers” tried to cut, or snake, the line and then things went wild. punches thrown, punches received, people knocked out, lifeguards arriving to sort out the hurt and getting knocked out too.

Erie County Sheriff Paul Sigsworth, not used to grumpy localism, initially blamed alcohol for the fracas, telling Cleveland 19 News, (Two of the involved parties) were both very intoxicated, and they were also combative. The male was combative with our deputies. He was charged accordingly, and he also had a warrant out in the state of Michigan. We want everybody to come and have a good time, but we want them to be responsible with their consumption of alcohol. We’ll continue to respond to 911 calls out there, whatever they may be, and if people are intoxicated to the point where they’re causing a disturbance, they’re going to be arrested.”

We know that alcohol is not to blame, though, and co-Waterperson of the Year Ziff should think about setting up grumpy local mitigation centers in waterpark adjacent communities as part of his philanthropy.

Wise and kind.

Watch here (if you’re of age and not easily triggered).

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Travel's gettin' real sexy again.

Surf Travel Biz brought to knees by pandemic develops “COVID-19 tool”, aims to re-open world to intrepid shredders: “It was like a bomb exploded!”

Hit the button, punch in where y’coming from, where y’going, and you’ll get a list of what you can and can’t do and where you can and can’t go. Australia? Screwed. US? You got some travel options.

For anyone in the travel game, airline, travel agent, maker of limp pastries tossed at passengers in coach, biz didn’t just slide in March 2020, it plummeted off a cliff.

Billions of dollars worth of plane tickets, hotel bookings, boat trips, whatever, all rendered void.

Planes were grounded and sent off to the desert in California, the airlines’ flight attendants sent off to eek an existence as playthings on OnlyFans. Contracts with travel agency employees were terminated, offices cleared out, them pretty Herm Miller chairs thrown onto Craigslist, the whole industry all dead in the water.

German surfer, skier Tim Heising, whose surf, snow, travel business LUEX.com had been running on an upward trajectory since he kicked it off in 2008, explains what it’s like to be booted in the teeth.

“It started real subtle. We didn’t worry about it too much until sales literally dropped to zero from one week to another,” he says. “We’ve had so many affected trips, we couldn’t keep up processing date changes, refunds and credit vouchers. It was like a bomb exploded, and there was no stopping in sight.”

First thing he did was cut costs and draw up the ol worst-case scenario plan.

“By the time we implemented some changes, the situation went from bad to worse. We had no other option but to (temporarily) lay off most of our staff and move out of our cushy office and into our homes.”

Heising didn’t feel great about icing his employees but, worse, was the spectre of losing his own shirt and almost a decade-and-a-half of work.

“Some days, I didn’t know how and for how long I was going to be able to feed my family. It was such an emotional rollercoaster, and for a long time, we had no idea how and if we’re going to pull through.”

“Fear of bankruptcy because we didn’t know what was going on with the trips that were already paid in full and people were requesting refunds for,” he says.

Heising wasn’t gonna let his biz slip away, howevs. He cut some deals with suppliers, got a piece of the government aid pie and focussed on getting surfers to the Maldives, which remained accessible during the pandemic and where the waves were, still are, gloriously empty.

And, now that the world is getting a handle on the virus, surf destinations are opening up, slowly. But if you wanna travel you’re going to hit plenty of logistical speed bumps.

There ain’t two countries alike when it comes to COVID protocols, requirements etc.

So Heising and his LUEX gang came up with a “COVID-19 tool”. Hit the button, punch in where y’coming from, where y’going, and you’ll get a list of what you can and can’t do and where you can and can’t go.

Australia, our pretty hermit kingdom? Screwed, pretty much.

The US, a whole lot better.

“Our intention with the tool isn’t to promote traveling per se but to ensure that people playing with the idea of going on a surf trip have access to accurate, up-to-date and relevant information to keep everyone involved safe,” says Heising.

“We also get many people asking us for information on what traveling might look like in the future, and just like everyone, we can only speculate. A lot of countries will adopt more lenient protocols for vaccinated people – similar to what the Seychelles, Belize and Barbados are already doing. But how exactly this will look like, and if we’re required to carry a vaccine passport with us once we embark into the ‘new normal’ remains to be seen.”

Darkest days over, silver linings in clouds, Heising is getting the gang back together.

Business is good, not booming, but it’s good.

Birds are in the sky.

Boards are being shoved into bags.

Ain’t never gonna be a time like this, again, at least not until the next time the world shutters.

There’s a window into empty lineups.

Right now.

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