Revolution: March into your local surf shop today, buy a t-shirt, sticker, towel, march back outside and kick a VAL!

Celebrate Surf Shop Day!

Today, in Australia, tomorrow in these United States of America is the third annual Surf Shop Day. That special time of year when we, as grumpy locals, come together and celebrate the most wonderfully grouchy places of all.

Your local surf shop.

Oh the magic, the perfectly curated magic held within a local surf shop’s four walls. I waxed poetic about in the international best-seller Cocaine + Surfing. Would you like to read?

I panic and run into the nearby Laguna Surf and Sport without thinking. To a place even more pressure filled than the mean streets, or at least a place that used to be. The California surf shop was once a bastion of all things cool. The boards, the trunks, the clothes, boardbags, magazines, VHS surf videos, Lagwagon soundtrack and especially shop workers. Grown up surfed out Orange County preteens who would mock hapless customers from behind glass counters filled with surf stickers and quiet derision.

I remember stepping through the doors and into the fog of sweet surf wax as an Oregonian youth on family trips down south. I would gaze lovingly, longingly at the at the merchandise that I couldn’t afford. I would run by hand along the rails of boards I could only dream of owning. Sometimes a shop worker would ask if I needed any help in the most laconic way possible, usually while flipping through a surf magazine and never with eye contact. My heart would always seize and I would mutter something and flee, trying not to gaze at the Sex Wax in the glass counter lest anyone caught me and think I was a blushing pervert.

And the shop worker in Laguna Surf and Sport asks me if he can help me find anything. He is standard surf cool and I feel the muscle memory of a kooky youth but swallow hard and make a panic impulse buy instead of running away. A red and black Laguna Surf and Sport trucker hat. He seems appreciative and probably is. The surf shop has fallen on hard times, even harder than the rest of American retail. Online shopping, changing habits, fast fashion, etc. have all cut into already slim margins plus the surf shop is tasked with selling the apocalypse. The Volcoms, Reefs, Quiksilvers and Billabongs that nobody wants to buy anymore.

The hat definitely won’t fit my skinny head but I feel happy giving a small drop of life support to my childhood nirvana and head back out into the perfect evening, check my phone and try to find a place to kill some time where the raddest ten year olds on earth don’t lurk. A neon light across the street advertises sushi.

Yes, Laguna Surf and Sport is very fine but my favorite, now, is Real Surf Shop in Oceanside. A crusty place with hollowed out surfboards hanging on the wall once used to paddle cocaine across the border, into these United States, from Mexico.

Only a local surf shop would display such a glorious artifact.

I also love Zuhg Life in Lincoln City, Oregon. Though I have never been, they once had many boards stolen by a methamphetamine connoisseur. Very fine.

Support your favorite today, in any case. March in and buy a t-shirt, sticker, towel, trucker hat then march outside and kick a VAL or at least heavily vibe one.

Let’s keep our traditions alive.

Listen: A massive, all-consuming civil war is set to pop between Surfline and the World Surf League. On which side will you fight, bleed, maybe die?

Bro against bro.

A strange wind has been buffeting southern California lately, maybe accounting for weird vibrations, maybe responsible for such odd behaviors and especially coming out of southern California’s Santa Monica.

To wit, it was revealed late last evening that our World Surf League had turned the screws on shaper to the stars Matt Biolos for daring post celebratory WSL Instagram content of his team rider Carissa Moore to his personal account.

Swift removal of offending material and a cease + desist letter from the WSL’s legal department.

When the longest employed man in professional surfing, Dave Prodan, got wind of the kerfuffle, he reached out to Biolos to help sort but was also violently bashed down by his own organization.

What sort of business sense does that make?

A strange wind, I already told you.

But speaking of the World Surf League, David Lee Scales and I discussed on today’s podcast as it relates to Surfline.

Scales had just conversed with the forecasting giant’s newly appointed CEO and made some sort of case for Surfline taking over all content, sending the best surfers out at the best waves during the best swells and filming away.

This, to me, felt like a direct challenge to the WSL’s core business and I wondered, if the two declared a massive, all-consuming surf civil war on each other for which side would David Lee take up arms, bleed, maybe die?

Without a second thought, he said, “Surfline” then tried to explain his poor choice.

I would definitely battle for the World Surf League.

Surfline is an insidious enemy intent on pushing thousands upon thousands of new south swell-infected VALs into each and every lineup. Imagine the potential surge if Huntington Beach is also allowed to own every facet of our beloved pastime. Marketing wave events, marketing surf events, marketing, marketing, marketing.


The World Surf League, what with Ultimate Surfers and hammering Biolos for sharing heart-warming moments, seems to be on a successful participation eradication program. Something I can certainly get behind.

Not the rebel tour we want but the rebel tour we deserve.

We also talked to the great surfing historian Matt Warshaw about the historically unique and equally revolutionary Project Ibelli, Melinda Gates and Jeffrey Epstein.

Something for everyone.

Don’t miss here.

Ward (pictured) bottom left. Happier times.
Ward (pictured) bottom left. Happier times.

Surf royalty, star of upcoming Ultimate Surfer, overheard discussing life on set: “It was psychological hell, they took our phones and the producers plotted us against each other!”

Brutal. Absolutely brutal.

But how much surf royalty has southern California’s San Clemente produced? More than any other seaside hamlet anywhere on earth? Off the top of my head, I count Richard Nixon (father of Nixon watches), Shane Beschen (father of Noah), Chris Ward (father of Malia), Dino Andino (father of Kolohe).

All very fine but it is the penultimate on that esteemed list who is of most interest, today, for Malia Ward is set to star in this summer’s The Ultimate Surfer won by Zeke Lau and the most interesting for sure.

The 23-year-old USC graduate, who splits her time between Malibu and San Clemente, enjoys longboard skate dancing, tennis, acting and, of course, surfing.

Though did she enjoy her time the Surf Ranch set of The Ultimate Surfer?

Well, an impeccable source overhead young Ward describing her experience thusly:

“It was psychological hell. They took our phones and the producers plotted us against each other. I had no idea what was going on and hope I don’t look like an idiot.”

Oh the trap of dang reality television. As I recently shared, contestants in any show, lured in by promises of fame, an increased platform, fame, fame are but meat in Hollywood’s ravenous, and ravenously undiscerning, jaw. There is no care for emotional well-being, for truth. Only blood, ratings-spiking blood, will do and producers have spent the last two decades-plus sharpening their teeths on the bones of naive hopefulls.

The fact that World Surf League CEO Erik “ELo” Logan threw surfing’s young, vaguely innocent QS and QS-adjacent hopefuls to the jackals shows a level of cutthroat savagery not seen since he took the reins some three-ish years ago.

He came from Hollywood and either knows, or is vaguely aware, of the game.


Absolutely brutal.

Expect Surf Fan Island to be put into production next where the loving BeachGrit community is rounded up, boated to Anacapa and left without food or drink to die slow, dull deaths.

It won’t be televised.

Blood feud: WSL reports surfboard shaper Matt Biolos to Instagram, sends legal letter, for posting photo of team rider and four-time world champ Carissa Moore; Biolos says he won’t “bow down to the barely-surfing-outsider-corporate executives who invaded our culture and don’t understand it!”

"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.”

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.” 

WSL tour veteran and world number 15 Jadson Andre face and inspiration for Brazilian fragrance company D’Sá, “The essence of a true seducer… masculine, majestic, elegant and slightly daring!”

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.

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.