In bombshell edict, surf company Vans
classifies Mark Zuckerberg as “Hawaiian” for purposes of local
inclusion in digital Triple Crown series!
By Derek Rielly
Mele Kalikimaka!
As part of the reimagining of the Pipe Masters and the
Hawaiian Triple Crown, a three-event series once lauded as the
equivalent of the world title, VF Corp’s shoe company Vans
set aside forty percent of entries for Hawaiian surfers, with a
whopping fifty percent of starters in the Pipe Masters counting as
“Hawaiian”.
A watershed moment for North Shore locals, whose island
wave-park is swamped by surfers every October through February.
“There’s no shortage of rising talent within the region, but
more so it’s about uplifting and respecting the culture and
community that’s there today,” Justin Villano, director, brand
management (Action Sports) at Vans, told Forbes.
Perfect, yes?
But what makes a Hawaiian surfer?
Because unlike New York or Texas, whose residents can claim to
be New Yorkers or Texans wherever they’re from, if you live in
Hawaii it ain’t considered right to call yourself Hawaiian unless
there’s some Polynesian blood swimming around in your veins.
To wit,
To enter under Hawaiian inclusion rules, must there be a genetic
link near or distant, like Koa and Makua Rothman with a Hawaiian
mama, Mason and Coco Ho with a Hawaiian great-grand mammy or the
Moniz family with proud links to Molokai?
(There’s an estimated 5,000 pure-blood Native Hawaiians left… in
the world.)
Or, like the Florence brothers, John John, Nathan and Ivan, all
invitees to Pipe, is being born on the rock to mainland American
parents, enough?
Yeah, well, someone had to define what Hawaiian meant for the
purposes of the rule book and so on and it came down to a simple
formula of how long you’ve lived in Hawaii.
And, if you can prove you’re a permanent resident of Hawaii of
three years you count as Hawaiian.
Oprah Winfrey and Pierce Brosnan are also eligible for Hawaiian
inclusion, although their entries would seem unlikely.
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Christmas hero. Photo: 9 News
Fifteen-year-old boy gets knocked off board
by shark, defies mother’s “no surfing” order and paddles right back
out firmly establishing himself as hero these divisive times so
desperately need!
By Chas Smith
A Christmas miracle.
It is Christmas morning, in America, and
families are gathered together trying to get along. Oh, these are
divisive times, as you well know, and finding something to agree
upon can be a tall order which is exactly why a fifteen-year-old
Australian boy is being hailed as a hero by all except mothers.
But let us travel to Perth where we find Bryce Hickman. He
happened to be out surfing a break called “Cosies” with his twin
brother when he spotted a six foot shark lurking and malingering.
“I was waiting for another wave, then something kind of nudged my
surfboard,” he told 9 News. “I looked again and there’s this big
shark, then it darted off.”
Hickman shouted a warning to his brother and the two of them
paddled over the reef and to the beach where their mother informed
them that no more surfing was to be done.
Well, the youngster had only caught one wave pre-shark
encounter, not a satisfying amount, and so waited for a few hours
on the beach then, in defiance of both his mother and fear, paddled
back out and caught a few sets.
A hero.
Surfers on the far left and those on the far right, sitting
around the Christmas tree and usually wishing death upon each other
are now nodding solemnly and saying, “That Hickman boy is a good
one.”
Except for mothers who are united in rage.
A Christmas miracle.
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Godfather of psychedelic surf art and “test
pilot” for LSD found dead, alone, in mountain cabin, slumped over
easel, hand clenching paint brush
By DJ Seaweed
Sex, drugs and rock n roll on repeat.
Bill Ogden is dead.
He’s been dead for four days.
His cold, lifeless body waits, waits for someone to find him. He
died doing what he loved, painting. His body was found hunched over
his easel. Paintbrush in hand, clenched with rigor mortis.
What a metaphor for Bill’s life, clinging on to the art until
the very end.
Bill Ogden is dead and there no one coming to check on
him. His body will lay there for three more days until
officer Schmitt finds him.
I made the call. It’s called a “wellness check”.
It’s when you call the police and ask them to check on someone
you are worried about. It had been a week, and Bill was not
returning calls or answering his phone.
We knew something was wrong.
Bill Ogden was a legendary artist in the surf world. He’s was
most famous for painting the cover for the 1974 surf movie
Forgotten Island of Santosha and his painting of the Banzai
Pipeline for the 2010 Billabong Pipe Masters surf contest.
But just like the Forgotten Island of Santosha Bill is about to
be forgotten, forever.
This article is the last gasp.
This is it.
There is no mention of Bill in the Encyclopedia of Surfing and
his art is in no surf museum. Bill is being erased by surf culture
and heritage.
Bill Ogden showed talent at a young age. He drew black and white
cartoons inspired by MAD Magazine.
In the 60’s Bill moved from LA to Laguna Beach.
He quickly became part of the counter culture and hippie
movement at the time.
His art caught the attention of a movement in the Laguna Beach
called, “The Brotherhood of Eternal light”.
The Brotherhood was a bunch of rich surfers that had money,
money from their parents, money for drugs.
This group loved Bill’s art and thought it reflected the mission
of the group, and the mission was to change the world with love
through LSD.
The Brotherhood welcomed Bill with open arms. Every movement
needed a marketing department, and that was Bill.
In return, Bill got all the acid he wanted.
In Bill’s words, “I was a test pilot, they would test it on
me”.
A test pilot for the most famous acid/LSD of all time, Orange
Sunshine.
Sex, drugs and rock n roll on repeat. Big-time parties were had,
rituals performed. This was the 1960’s and acid was still legal.
The Brotherhood’s headquarters was in Laguna Canyon and they were
making acid/LSD by the sheets.
Conservative America quickly caught on and made acid/LSD illegal
in October 1966 with a very public arrest of Timothy Leary.
Leary was a psychologist and author and a very public supporter
of LSD. Timothy became the face of the hippie movement and
partnered up with the Brotherhood and the cops knew it.
When Leary got arrested The Brotherhood turned to their in-house
artist Bill Ogden. They had Bill create a poster asking the public
to donate between $100,000 and $500,000 to bail Leary out of
jail.
The hippies waited and waited and the money never came.
So they devised a plan to break him out of jail.
AND THEY SUCCEEDED!
After this event, half of the hippies left Laguna Beach and
headed for the mountains of Idlewild, California. Leary went with
them.
The cops slowly started rounding up and arresting the hippies in
Laguna. But the hippies were not done with Laguna Beach, they had
one more trick up their sleeve.
In 1970 Laguna Canyon hosted The Great Christmas Happening, “the
last gasp of hippiedom”.
A free festival.
The Brotherhood wanted to throw the biggest party the world had
ever seen. A spiritual music and arts festival that promised a free
light show, free music, free food, free beer, free art, free sex
and a chance to meet the festival’s special guest, “JESUS
CHRIST”.
The Brotherhood looked to Bill Ogden to create the flyer.
Bill made the flyer and it was sent out across the USA
encouraging all hippies to come to Laguna on Christmas Day.
Unfortunately Bill signed the flyer.
His name was the only name on it.
Hundreds of thousands of hippies showed up to Laguna from all
over the country. The festival happened and it was a complete
disaster. No light show. No food. No Grateful Dead. No beer.
And, yeah, no Jesus.
It was cold, soggy and rainy. The only free thing there was, was
an air drop, from the sky of 10,000 LSD Orange Sunshine acid tabs
onto the entire crowd courtesy of the Brotherhood’s private
plane.
The next day is referred to as The Big Bust. The Laguna Beach
cops rounded up all the hippies and threw them in jail, starting
with Bill Ogden.
When Bill got out of jail, he wanted to change.
He didn’t want to be associated with the Brotherhood. Bill
started doing some poster art around town and switched his focus to
surf art.
Bill had a new approach. He would mix surf art with
psychedelia.
Bill started doing more and more surf art which caught the eye
of John Severson. John had a little magazine called Surfer.
John and Bill worked out a deal where Bill would have the back
cover of Surfer, exclusively doing artwork for a swimwear company
called Jatzen. This went on for four years, from 1973-1977. If you
read Surfer magazine during that time, you’ll recognise the
art.
This residency with Surfer sky-rocketed Bill into the surf
space.
Soon, he was working with every top surf brand, including
Billabong and Quiksilver. Everyone wanted a chance to work with
him.
“My art was a reflection of the culture,” said Bill, “and that
seemed to resonated with people.”
Over time, Bill became increasingly difficult to work with.
Bill was convinced everybody was trying to rip him off and take
advantage of him. The life of a struggling artist was hard on him
and his lack of money kept women away, he says. He always wanted a
family but his lack of money and security kept women from settling
down with him.
Bill tried to compete with the art scene in Laguna Beach but his
damaged relationships made it impossible for him to succeed. So
just like the hippies before him, Bill retreated into the mountains
of Idlewild, where he would stay, alone in a cabin, painting.
Over the next decade, Bill lived on Bill’s terms. It wasn’t much
but Bill was happy to paint in the hills, in the arms of the
Idlewild mountains.
His life was simple. He had his art, he had his dog and he had
his tiny house.
But, Bill was lonely, very lonely.
He was alone. No wife. No kids. No family.
Until three years ago, Bill got a call. Then a message on
Facebook.
This is how the message read.
“Hi, my name is Brittony and I think you’re my father.”
What?? This message blew Bill’s mind. It had to be a
mistake.
The two started talking on the phone. Bill was sure it was a
mistake.
How did you find me, he asked?
When Brittony was 18 years old her mother, a hooker and junkie,
had died. One year before her death, she asked her mom who her real
Dad was.
Her mom gave her the names of three men.
Brit would hold on to those names for almost three decades.
Brittony had a tough life. Growing up without her mother and her
father, Brittony was left to face this world alone. She moved from
San Diego to LA and got involved with drugs and started living on
the streets.
Soon, Brittony would see all her friends die of a drug overdoses
or go to jail.
She made a decision to crawl her way out of her situation.
She quit doing drugs and started to get involved with
health medicine and spirituality.
Brittony made a commitment to herself. She was not going to end
up like her friends. Over the next few years she started to thrive.
Looking and feeling good.
She moved up to San Francisco and got heavily involved in the
health food scene. Her life became more about self-love, self-care
and she did it all on her own.
She was a miracle.
One day, Brittony started thinking about those three names her
mom gave her before she died. It had been decades since she really
thought about it and plus social media didn’t even exist back
then.
The first name she searched didn’t look like it checked out. The
second name she searched didn’t check out either.
Then Brittony searched the name Bill Ogden. That’s when all
space and time stopped. Brittony whole body went into chills. The
image of Bill’s face appeared on Brittony’s screen and she began to
weep uncontrollably.
The image of the man was a identical copy of her face. It was
her Dad.
As Brit started to search Bill’s page, she quickly discovered
her father was an artist. A very good artist.
Yes, Bill Ogden looked like Brittony. Those almond eyes were the
big giveaway. But, she had to be sure. She sent him a message.
“Hi, I think you might be my Dad.”
The two started talking on the phone regularly. And Bill was
excited at the possibility that he had a daughter.
Bill agreed to a DNA test and it came back an exact match. Bill
Goden…was… Brit’s father.
When Bill received the news that it was true, that he really did
have a daughter, he told her,
“I was hoping it was true”
Those words from Bill, her father, were the greatest words she
had ever heard. It was the most special moment of her life. To know
that her father wanted her.
Brit showed Bill a picture of her mother.
Bill recalled a day in the Laguna canyon, where he lived at the
time.
He remembered taking a shower and hearing a noise in the
backyard, and watched as a hippie girl climbed over his fence. The
girl saw Bill and hopped in the shower with him. The two had sex
and she jumped out of the shower, never to be seen again.
It’s a pretty wild story but hey, it was the summer of love.
Over the next few years, Bill and Brit would meet up. They were
planning to travel together. All the these questions about her past
and who she was were being answered. Brit now had a Dad and Bill
had a daughter.
It was a beautiful thing. A second chapter in life. A chapter of
love, hope and optimism.
Everything was going good.
Until last week, when Bill unexpectedly died.
Who am I and how do I know all this stuff?
I’m a surf journalist and I was was in the process of
interviewing Bill.
I recorded over five hours of Bill talking and telling
stories.
I reached out to him a year ago and to talk about his art.
Bill had all these great ideas and hoped I could help him get
his art out there again, even have an exhibition. He told me he was
still creating tons of art and was excited about the future.
Then Bill stoped responding to my texts. He didn’t call me back.
I left messages. Four days went by and I started to worry. I had
the police stop by his home for a wellness check. That’s when they
discovered his body.
Bill Ogden was dead. Found in his art studio. He died doing what
he loved.
The sheriff gave me the coronor’s phone number. The cops found
Bill’s dog and put her in the pound.
Britt was crushed. The Dad she had found was gone. They had
three sweet years together.
Now, she’ll come down from Northern California and pick up the
pieces of what’s left of her father’s life.
She doesn’t make much money and this whole thing is a struggle,
emotionally and financially.
She needs help. She would like to cremate her father and return
him to the ocean he loved.
World Surf League CEO Erik Logan viciously
and publicly outs famous actor Edward Norton’s private kink: “You
may not know but Ed is a huge surf fan, lover of the Surf Ranch and
a huge supporter of the WSL!”
By Chas Smith
Rude.
We, each of us, have things in our lives that
we would prefer to remain private. Maybe a penchant for watching
Hallmark Christmas movies while sipping alcohol-free egg nog
snuggled up in footed jamies. Or a quiet love of bodice rippers and
buttery chardonnay. Well, apparently the very famous actor Edward
Norton is a fan of professional surfing.
Nobody would have ever known and the star could have kept his
kink hidden, like the rest of us, if it wasn’t for that dastardly
World Surf League CEO Erik Logan.
In a vicious public outing, Logan took to Instagram and posted a
screen grab of Norton’s new film Glass Onion, penning:
This is pretty cool. First, have to say, the sequel to Rian
Johnson’s Knives Out, “Glass Onion” is really fun and such a great
watch.
What was even more fun, was this scene (no spoilers) with Ed
Norton and his hat! (Swipe left if you didn’t see)
You may not know but Ed is a huge Surf fan, lover of the
Surf Ranch, and a huge supporter of the WSL.
Love these little Easter eggs in movies. And Thank you
Ed!!!!
Better Business Bureau on high alert as
World Surf League refuses to deliver promised gifts to fans who
slaved over survey ahead of Christmas!
By Chas Smith
Kick coal!
It is officially Christmas, in Australia, Christmas Eve
in the United States. The most glorious days of the year
when friends and families come together, share love, gifts, with
each other, sing and smile. Peace and joy gripping hold, pushing
stinginess and resentment into the cold night air everywhere.
Everywhere except Santa Monica, that is, where the World Surf
League finds its headquarters and pre-revelation Scrooge is
worshipped like a saint.
For directly ahead of yuletide, the WSL sent out a survey to its
dearest fans but I will let one of them pick the saga up from
here.
I got an email that asked me to take a survey about the WSL.
Normally, I would ignore it and not bother, but they offered a FREE
hydro flask for my time and effort. No “while supplies last.” No
“limited to first X amount of surveys.” Just fill out a survey, get
your hydro flask.
So, I did it. I like free stuff and I know the value of a
hydro flask. I guess that should have been a red flag (how would it
be financially viable?), but I carried on. I finished the survey
and it said, “click here to get your Hydro Flask and use this code
at check out.” It rerouted me to the WSL store. Things are looking
great. I selected my water bottle. I entered the code and it was
not accepted. The code reached its “USAGE LIMIT”????
This was my response to the WSL.
“I took your survey. Then, I tried to use the code and it
didn’t work. Said the code used it’s usage limit. Not cool. I will
never fill out another survey for the WSL.”
I have not heard back yet. No E Lo saying “I’m sorry.”
Crickets!!!
You can get away with a lot of stuff, but don’t offer me
something for taking a survey and cheese out me!!!
Unbelievable.
Absolutely unbelievable.
David Lee Scales and I discussed, anyhow, along with WSL’s edict
not to say Joel Tudor’s name and the value of cashmere. Gather
around the Christmas tree and listen.