Much passion.
Days ago, it was announced that the World Surf League, headquartered in Santa Monica, California, had signed a stunning television rights deal with Latin America’s largest network, TV Globo out of Rio de Janeiro. Per the press release:
Today the World Surf League (WSL) announced that, beginning in 2022, Globo will be the official media partner in Brazil. The new three-year media deal will be effective from 2022 through 2024, providing multi-platform coverage that will be amplified on Globo TV, Globoplay, ge.com, and Canal OFF. This new media deal will give the passionate Brazilian audience the opportunity to watch the world’s best surfers in action, including all of the Brazilian athletes that are on the forefront of competitive surfing.
Questions immediately rose as to the use of the word “passionate” as it is the one and only adjective used to describe Brazilian surf fans and has, therefore, become a stereotypical trope. Racist-adjacent.
Why can’t Brazil’s fanbase be “informed” or “dedicated?”
“Loyal?”
In any case, calls are growing for the World Surf League to issue a formal apology to the federative republic. David Lee and I discussed, on yesterday’s podcast, and also discussed Neo-punk music. Worth your time, I think.
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Informed???!!! Never! Ok… some… a few.
Dedicated???!!! Hummm… Oh yeah, it’s true! A dedicated group of media mob lynchers!
Surfista Calhorda – Os Replicantes
1985
Réqui na caranga muito louca pra dar banda
Cheque na carteira recheada de paranga
Prancha importada assombrando a meninada
Corpo de atleta, rosto de Baby Johnson
É, mas quando entra na água
É, na primeira braçada
É, ele não vale uma naba
Ele não surfa nada, ele não surfa nada
Tem duas Surfshops que só abrem meio dia
Vive da herança milionária de uma tia
Vai pra Nova Iorque estudar advocacia
É, mas quando entra na água
É, na primeira braçada
É, ele não vale uma naba
Ele não surfa nada, ele não surfa nada
Ah, surfista calhorda
Vai, surfar em outra borda
Oh, surfista calhorda
Vai, surfar em outra borda
É, mas quando entra na água
É, na primeira braçada
É, ele não vale uma naba
Ele não surfa nada, nada, nada, nada, nada, nada…
https://youtu.be/sBAJkwwNddo
Fleet migrates south for the winter
So it’s stereotype day huh? I was waiting for the wozz to play the culture war game into ground, eventually it was always going to come back on them.
Americans = Materialistic, trigger happy, entrepreneurial. Euro’s = Smarmy. Pomms = Whingers/colonialists. Brazilians = Passionate, Informed and formidable. Aussies= Criminals/Cunts.
I’ll accept being a cunt, not sure about a criminal though
Fair. But watch Chopper and try not siding with that menace. It’s difficult not to.
Gentle Aussie larrakin
So we get bombarded with daily Whoop advetorialsbut can’t mention it once in a 10 minute convo about multi thousand dollar lux watches being used in the surf and gym?
Was wondering why the Wozzle needed a Brazillian politician when they screwed Justine D over.
Makes perfect sense now.
probably the only way to describe em
Should have gone to japan, the snow is heaps better, cheaper and its a shorter flight from your place. I guess the runs r better in italy. And japan isnt very christmassy is it
Even crickets would boycott this shit.
https://uploads.disquscdn.c…
Dave sits down in the papasan chair, which appears to have a new lilac cover instead of the original palm tree pattern on a white background picked purposefully to connote surfy fun, placing his satchel between his feet. He’s come in for yet another “important” meeting about nothing, one of the purely performative variety where everything appears scripted with people taking turns talking emptily about whatever it is they are supposed to talk about while not interacting with any information relayed by anyone else. Not feeling like he’ll be able to discuss anything important with him once the meeting starts, Dave goes over what he intends to say to Erik about the whole “Brazil passionate” thing, fretting over whether to make a big deal about it or not. He takes a hit of the French’s he pulls out of his bag.
“Oh, hey there, Prodie! Neato to see you! What brings you to my office?” asks Erik with a smile of a snakeoil salesman, all the more accentuated by his extra-shimmering fangs.
“Oh, I uh…” starts Dave, stumbling through his planned opener, tripping over his satchel as he tries to stand up.
“Dave?” says Erik, who points to the corner of his own mouth to indicate to Dave that he has something on his face.
“Damn it…” mutters Dave under his breath, quickly grabbing a tissue from Erik’s desk and wiping furiously at his own face.
“So, I was thinking about the year we ha…” starts Erik.
“Let me… before you start, people have been talking around the office about the Brazil thing…”
“What about it?”
“I mean, describing them as ‘passionate,’ doesn’t that seem little racist, or at least culturally insensitive?”
“What? How could saying ‘passionate’ be seen as a negative?”
“It’s not. It’s just that some of the younger people here think…”
“Who are we kidding? There’s only three of us, two,” pointing to himself and Dave, “here.”
“Yeah, I know. I say we ignore it, but just in case…”
“No ‘just in case,’ no one cares. You don’t have to worry about these fake conversations. And, wait, don’t you think Brazilians are generally passionate?”
“Yeah, I mean, not all of them can be…”
“What? Next you’re going to tell me that not all their women like it up their butts?”
“What? That’s innappro…”
“I know, I know.”
“Weird of you to be acting like this. You’re usually the one freaking out about the little stuff. Wait, are you still trying to pretend you’re cool?”
“Yes! How am I doing?” squeals Erik.
“I mean…”
“No matter. Hey, why don’t we blow this stupid meeting? Patchy and I are going to a matinee showing of Encanto.”
“Shouldn’t you stick around more than five minutes?”
“I’m the CEO, I’ve shown my face,” giggles Erik.
“OK, well…” Dave says, getting cut off by Pat entering the office in head-to-toe Florence Marine X product, for some reason rocking the long-sleeve hooded rashguard.
“Hey, Erik?… Oh, hey Dave,” he says as he nods to Dave in the corner.
“Whoa, looking sharp,” mumbles Dave.
“Hey, I got product to flog!”
Without saying a word, Pat and Erik head toward the door.
“Hey, you guys are really going?”
“Yeah, you want to come? It would make it seem like less of a date, which I know is what Erik thinks it is,” hums Pat.
“Yeah, you should come!” shrieks Erik.
“No, I gotta run this fake meeting.”
“Your loss, have fun.”
“Toodles!” says Erik as he scampers down the hall behind Pat, giggling the whole way.
Dave leaves Erik’s office to head to his in the kitchenette, where he opens the refrigerator door to retrieve his lunch, an egg sandwich, which he places on his desk and starts to eat. He boots up his computer and decides to check his voicemail.
“First unheard message: helloohr, Dave? Hey, this is Jess. Whhart do you think *loud car horn honk* farken gronk! Some djuuude cut me off! Deadshit, cunt!… Sorr… I gotta goor *HONNNNNK*… to delete this message, press sev…”
Dave hangs up and gives out a deep, Pottz-esque sigh.
“The worst. This shit is stupid and ridiculous. Got nothing to work with…”
This is a fine Christmas gift. Thank you!