Oh but to be the world’s 5th richest man today, of all dang days. To feel his pain, to bear his pressure, to have the winsome joy of e-foiling off the coast of Kauai, a hefty percentage of which you own, not able to salve the pain of hammers.
The massive global outage that plunged Facebook, its Instagram and WhatsApp platforms and many people who rely heavily on these services — including Facebook’s own workforce — into chaos Monday is gradually dissipating.
Facebook said late Monday that it’s been working to restore access to its services and is “happy to report they are coming back online now.” The company apologized and thanked its users for bearing with it. But fixing it wasn’t as simple as flipping a proverbial switch. For some users, WhatsApp was working for a time, then not. For others, Instagram was working but not Facebook, and so on.
Facebook did not say what might have caused the outage, which began around 11:40 a.m. ET and was still not fixed more than six hours later.
“This is epic,” said Doug Madory, director of internet analysis for Kentik Inc, a network monitoring and intelligence company. The last major internet outage, which knocked many of the world’s top websites offline in June, lasted less than an hour. The stricken content-delivery company in that case, Fastly, blamed it on a software bug triggered by a customer who changed a setting.
Oh but to be the Cesar cut aficionado, out e-foiling with this on plate.
Not a chill sesh.
More as the story develops.
Witness describes banal horror of Great White attack on northern Californian surfer, “I saw the dorsal fin and the tail fin of the shark go down in the water… It definitely wasn’t a quick attack. It was nice and slow.”
"It looked like he had a red stripe on his wetsuit… that was actually blood."
A witness to yesterday’s Great White attack on a surfer at Salmon Creek, a pretty wild sorta beach north of San Francisco, has described it as “nice and slow.”
Jared Davis was paddling into the crowded lineup with a pal around nine when a swell rose and revealed a man floating in the water.
“When he was back into view, I saw the dorsal fin of the shark and then I saw the tail fin of the shark kind of going down into the water,” Davis told KPIX. “It definitely wasn’t a quick attack. It was nice and slow.”
The surfer screamed “shark” and “help”; Davis paddled alongside him to the beach.
“He had kind of caught up to me and I saw his leg. It looked like he had a red stripe on his wetsuit, which is pretty common but that was actually blood,” said Davis.
Paramedic Jonathon Bauer asked the victim, a man in his thirties, if he saw the shark.
“And he did get a chance to see it and it was a pretty large shark that did bite him,” Bauer told KPIX. “He actually said he had a struggle with it, as well.”
11x World Champion Kelly Slater took to Instagram, three short days ago, and riffed and jived and found high notes and blew a few low ones too.
The ostensible reason for the one-man show was a duet with Jack Mallers, founder of Zap and Strike, apps with a Bitcoin focus. Slater revealed his love of the cryptocurrency, in May, by savaging Tesla founder Elon Musk. Five days ago, after a lengthy Instagram silence, he posted that Mallers had given him a “tip” about Strike via Twitter.
“Strike is money without borders which empowers people to send money instantly to anyone anywhere in the world. Forget the huge fees Western Union and others charge. And there’s also no fees to buy or exchange into Bitcoin. More freedom for the little guys!”
Many of Slater’s ardent fans assumed his account had been hacked with such a blatant promotion but the 50-year-old assured them that it was all him (“I’m one of those crypto guys (wide smile emoji) (big eyes emoji)”) and proceeded to ask Mallers on for a Instagram Live chat.
Their conversation was fine enough, if you care about that sort of thing, but became fantastic when Mallers dropped off after 30 minutes or so leaving Slater on stage and alone.
Fans questions, comments, salutations came pouring in while Slater, perfectly symmetrical head filling screen, blue eyes darting from comments to camera, answered, acknowledged, elucidated.
Pure free form jazz.
Fiji will likely be re-opening in December and he encourages people to book.
He misses Surfing and Surfer‘s demise, fondly recalling the first picture that he had as a 12-year-old.
He averages drinking one beer a week.
He felt like he was in a “time bubble” at a recent Pearl Jam concert and they remain one of his favorite bands.
“Growing, learning, understanding people better,” is what excites him about the future.
He won a piece of land near Shipwrecks down Cabo way but never claimed it.
He was going to adopt a dog in Mexico when he was just there. Found at a taco stand and it needed to go the the veterinarian to get shots and cleaned up but he had to get to the airport. He tasked someone to check in on the dog after he got home. The person found and sent pictures to him. He was thinking about having that person bring the dog up to California but decided it would be better for him to do it himself. In the morning he found out the dog had been hit by a car and died.
Very sad but also like a Zen koan.
Someone commented “F.U.” and he responded “Ok, you’re dropped.”
Less Zen but still powerful.
The great Rickson Gracie, on bottom, real calm in the storm. Vale Tudo/Choke
The blissful joys of hypoxia and the realisation that Twinks raised on surf can roll with Bears! “If I could survive the sea, there was no human that I could not deal with because no man can bring the same level of panic and discomfort as the ocean!”
I think of these words every time a two-fifty pounder is grinding his knee into my solar plexus and my eyes start to leak.
There’s a moment when life slips away, when you teeter on the edge of the abyss, and as that sweetest sap serotonin floods the brain, where the divine is revealed.
Pain, depression, all the wrongs of your life evaporate as paradise unfolds before you.
I frolic in a meadow with my children back at an age when they still wanted to hang out with me.
Look over there, a happy chimpanzee in a t-shirt and diaper bounces up and down! A pitcher filled with freshly squeezed lemonade sits on a small wooden table! A chihuahua with patches of fur missing dances on her hind legs! The setting sun throws a golden glow over the tableau!
I’m here, paradise, so take me God.
Then, your legs are getting shaken, a couple of slaps paint your face and you realise that ten seconds ago your head was wrapped in the flexed gastrocnemius muscles of a man whom you’d only just met.
Getting choked in a jiujitsu class is the closest you’ll get to drowning in a controlled environment and it is, I suspect, one of the reasons, although not the only one, why so many surfers are driven to the sport.
“Surfing taught me, probably more than anything else, how to deal with the infinite power of things that are beyond our control,” Rickson said.“All of the emotional, physical, and spiritual elements I needed to surf big waves also applied to fighting. If I could survive the sea, there was no human that I could not deal with because no man can bring the same level of panic and discomfort as the ocean. With fighting I am only fighting another man. I only have to be precise, smart, and at some point, impose my will on him.”
I think of it every time a two-fifty pounder is grinding his knee into my solar plexus.
Breathe, just breathe.
Now, jiujitsu, like surf, don’t come easy.
You start off as a white belt and via a grading system that is casually observational rather than formal, at least where I roll, you gather stripes as you improve in your live sparring.
Don’t tap so much? Escape the clutches of abear? Finish your own submission? Stripe.
A stripe is a piece of tape that is wrapped around the black end of your belt. Four stripes and you’re one step away from an upgrade. White to blue, blue to purple, purple to brown, brown to black.
Train six days a week for ten years and you’re close to black. People in the biz joke about it being a more demanding course than neurosurgery.
Like surf, I’m slow to improve despite hitting the gym six days a week.The concepts of leverage and angles don’t come easy.
I get tapped more than I should.
I get pretty busted up: ears flare up from being locked in triangles and being squished into the mats and give me the appearance of a weathered elf in Christmas photos; three black eyes from accidental flying elbows and knees; I hurt my back when I don’t warm up and my fingers ache at every joint.
An eye gouge from my son puts me into the Sydney eye hospital and off the mats, and water, for three weeks.
I feel like a machine that has slipped its cogs.
But it’s so in my head I’m thinking armbar escapes and chokes when I surf.
"Next thing I heard the dude screaming. I knew he got bit.”
A surfer in this thirties has been choppered to the Santa Rosa Memorial Hozzy after being bitten on the upper thigh a little after nine this morning by a suspected Great Whiteshark at Salmon Creek, sixty miles north of San Francisco.
Other surfers in the water brought the man in to the beach parking lot where paramedics used a tourniquet to stop the bleeding.
“I was out with five guys — we heard a couple people yell shark about 50 feet away,” a surfer named Cody told KPIX. “It was by the mouth of the river. The sharks come there to get salmon…Next thing I heard the dude screaming. I knew he got bit.”
The man is in a critical condition, say authorities, but is expected to live.
Last May, the shaper Ben Kelly was killed by a ten-foot Great White while surfing at San Dollar Beach, south of San Francisco, but what is essentially the same stretch of coast when it comes to Whites.
(Yeah, I know, the entire Californian coast is a White highway etc.)