VAL (pictured) headed to rent surfboard from rack using his phone. Photo: Full Metal Jacket
VAL (pictured) headed to rent surfboard from rack using his phone. Photo: Full Metal Jacket

Declared “War on Locals” reaches dangerous new phase as San Diego startup rolls out app-based surfboard rack rental system!

When did it go wrong? Difficult to say, exactly, but somewhere between Covid and Ben Gravy.

Grumpy locals, from Maine to Monterey, know that the days of old are absolutely over. Adult learners rule most lineups, paddling out all wrong on lousy soft-tops, jibber-jabbering loudly about their tech jobs, misbelieving that “the best surfer in the water is the one having the most fun.”

When did it go wrong? Difficult to say, exactly, but somewhere between Covid and Ben Gravy and now we have clueless hordes going straight even at places as holy as Waimea without anything to be done. Violence has been cancelled and even stern yellings extremely frowned upon. Light social media shaming is the last available weapon and that, friends, ain’t gonna win the war.

The Duke rolling over in his Newport Beach grave.

Well, things are set to get worse.

A San Diego startup has just unveiled a brand new app-based surfboard rack rental system. You know, like those electric scooter stands that popped up in every major metropolis five-ish years ago.

Per Spectrum News:

To try out surfing, you need a surfboard. And not everyone has one or can get their hands on one, so there could be some logistical challenges.

That’s part of the reason a surfboard rack app-based rental system was developed. It’s called SurfUp, and it’s hoping to make surfing a little more convenient.

The rental rate is 20-cents a minute. It also includes a few free minutes to account for the time it takes to walk from the rack to the sand, and back again for the return.

There are currently three racks around Pacific Beach though I’d imagine fresh ones are already being shipped to the aforementioned Waimea, Ours, Mullaghmore, Teahupo’o etc.

Dark days.

Anderson, as she appeared in Brazil Vogue, and Slater, inset.

Notorious love drug ecstasy blamed for Pamela Anderson’s decision to dump Kelly Slater and marry Mötley Crüe drummer Tommy Lee after four-day courtship despite surfer being her great love, “My skin was melting, I was drugged out!”

“I’d never done [ecstasy] before. I didn’t even know he’d put it in my drink!"

In a jaw-dropping interview, Pamela Anderson has revealed it was the notorious party drug ecstasy, famous for turning whomever is in your immediate vicinity into the greatest love of your life, a drug by turns absurd and compelling, for her decision to dump Kelly Slater and marry glam-rocker Tommy Lee.

Anderson, now fifty-five, tied the knot with Lee after he followed her to Cancun, Mexico, after which she says the drummer spiked her champagne with ecstasy. 

“I’d never done [ecstasy] before. I didn’t even know he’d put it in my drink,” Anderson said in an interview with Dax Shepard on the Armchair Expert podcast. “My skin was melting, I was drugged out.”

And then,

“[Tommy] goes, ‘Do you want to get married? And I go, ‘Absolutely!’”

Anderson, who was supposed to meet Slater’s family in Florida following the shoot, had to call the then twenty-three-year-old two-time world champ and explain why she wouldn’t be swinging by to meet Mama Judy or brothers Stephen and Sean. 

“My first phone call was to him to tell him I was married. He was like, ‘What?’ That was horrible.”

Slater, whose every pectoral and abdominal muscle is still clearly defined and who is still in the full rude vigour of perfect health, is a testimony to the long-term benefits of abstinence, as compared to Lee, now sixty, who is a dried-up stick of a guy, neck shivering with turkey wattles, hair died a sad onyx.

Anderson divorced Lee after a DV beat-down for which he was imprisoned and married another five men in her desperate search for a meaningful love, although no one could compare to Slater.

“He was my big love actually,” says Anderson. “He was such a sweetheart to me, and so good to me.”

Slater, meanwhile, has maintained a steady relationship with Chinese bikini designer Kalani Miller for an astonishing fifteen years. 

The pair are yet to marry but, says Slater, he and Miller plan to wed in the future.

A lot happening. Pictured.
A lot happening. Pictured.

In blunder reminiscent of storied “Backward Fin Beth,” World Surf League CEO Erik Logan mistakes Hawaiian legend Duke Kahanamoku for gun slingin’ actor John Wayne!


Those, here, who have been around for a handful of years will certainly recall the near-perfect Beth Greve. Hired as World Surf League Chief of Marketing, or some such as the WSL loves nothing more than made-up titles, Greve was billed as a “purveyor of cool,” and flexed in classic WSL fashion. Interviews about cool, herself, surfing, etc.

Then she actually went surfing.

Per the Pulitzer Prize winning William Finnegan:

As if to confirm everyone’s suspicions, Beth Greve, the W.S.L.’s chief commercial officer, was photographed in Bali lugging a beginner’s board across the beach with the fins put in backward. Backward Fins Beth became famous in surf world—more than half a million views on @kook_of_the_day. And then BeachGrit, an Australian Web site that delights in trolling the W.S.L., blew up the image to billboard size and installed it on a freeway in Lemoore, just in time for the Surf Ranch Pro. The billboard shot zoomed around the surfing Internet.

Slater saw it. He is a tireless online poster, with a rare degree of patience. On his Instagram feed, a magnet for cranks of all kinds, he has spent years debating flat-Earthers, laying out innumerable scientific proofs that the planet is round. He’s a well-informed environmentalist; right-wing flamethrowers rain hellfire on him for that, and he often takes the trouble to reply to them individually. When the Backward Fins Beth billboard went viral, Slater showed a tiny bit of pique. On the BeachGrit Instagram feed, he wrote, “Funny. Cheap. Character Revealing.” The BeachGrit crew was ecstatic. They had successfully trolled the king.

That’s what it was. Chief Commercial Officer but, anyhow, yeah. “Backward Fin Beth” was born then depressingly quit very much too quickly and was lost to history.

Until now.

For her spirit, it appears, lives in current Chief Executive Officer Erik Logan who, just moments ago on a World Surf League Billabong Pro Pipeline spot, spun kook magic.

Logan, who has not been afraid to dance to the beat of his own surf-adjacent drummer, has not yet stepped all the way right in it.

Until now.

For in that Billabong Pro Pipeline spot Logan appeared to be unaware that Hawaiian legend Duke Kahanamoku and gun slingin’ actor John Wayne were two different people. The Oklahoman insisted on referring to the aforementioned Kahanamoku, whose full name was Duke Paoa Kahinu Mokoe Hulikohola Kahanamoku, as “The Duke” or the nickname of the other aforementioned Wayne.


Questions surrounding Logan’s actual surf knowledge have percolated for years but this blunder shows he is as clueless as feared. He, for sure, had zero idea that Duke’s name was Duke.

Oh I know he reads, here, and know he wants to try, and, therefore, should really enlist someone to be his surf tutor.

Eddie Rothman?

Kaipo Guerrero?

Clyde Aikau?

A from-the-grave Beth Greve?

Who would you suggest?

Best-selling author weighs in on Bethany Hamilton sparked fire against World Surf League’s new trans-inclusive policy!

"When I hear people debating where trans folks belong in sports, my first thought isn't sports. It's suicide."

I have known Jamie Tworkowski for a decade-adjacent now and don’t think that I’ve ever met a kinder man. The handsome Floridian was, and still is, a ripping surfer who got his professional start in the august role of brand rep for Hurley, if I’m not mistaken, on America’s east coast and worked for years before finding a better calling in helping folk not end their lives prematurely.

To Write Love on Her Arms, which Tworkowski founded in 2006, is a non-profit that seeks “to present hope for people struggling with addiction, depression, self-injury and thoughts of suicide, while also investing in treatment and recovery.” Later, he wrote the best-selling If You Feel Too Much (buy here) and, today, travels the globe speaking on various important issues.

In any case, he took to social media in the aftermath of Bethany Hamilton, and other surf legends, coming out swinging against the World Surf League’s new trans-inclusive policy and presents another side worth pondering.

Without further ado…

Food for thought: There is no crisis when it comes to transgender folks dominating sports. There is however a crisis when it comes to suicide rates among transgender and non-binary individuals. To those saying “Just give them their own division,” as someone else pointed out, “othering” someone is the first step to dehumanizing them. Which brings us back to the actual crisis: Transgender human beings dying by suicide because of the ignorance, judgement, and hate they experience day after day. So my question is this. Which bothers you more: The purely hypothetical crisis that trans folks are coming to take over the women’s tour? Or the possibility that a living breathing transgender human being, hoping for love and acceptance, would read these comments and feel like even more of an outsider? The tour likely won’t change. But if the surfing community would stop with the fear and actually consider a picture bigger than this bullshit culture war, we could not only change but save lives. And to the Christians reading this, I’m pretty sure Jesus was a big fan of love. And love is very interested in things like seeing people want to stay alive.

…and then…

I’ve avoided this platform since last night. Haven’t looked at comments or DMs. I don’t love politics. I don’t enjoy conflict, especially with friends. I don’t enjoy being insulted.

I’m aware that some of my opinions are unpopular in the surfing community. But last night I chose to say something.

I grew up a surfer and spent the first eight years of my career working in the surf industry. I’ve spent the last 16 years working in mental health and suicide prevention. I’ve learned that suicide rates among LGBTQ folks are exponentially higher than the average. I’ve learned that words matter, always but especially when someone is struggling. I’ve learned that kindness and compassion can save a life.

So when I hear people debating where trans folks belong in sports, my first thought isn’t sports. It’s suicide. It’s belonging. It’s wanting people to want to stay alive. It’s wanting people to experience the joy I’ve found in surfing and other parts of life.

Do I think sports should be fair? Yes. Am I an expert in that? No. But also I believe there’s a bigger picture: How can we care for folks who are already marginalized? While we debate, can we remember that we’re talking about human beings? Can we use language that is compassionate and kind?

If you’re a Christian can you try to keep in mind that this means you’re called to love and your faith suggests that every person alive is made in the image of God?

If for you the debate is about women’s rights, are you equally passionate about: A woman’s right to choose to become a mother? A woman’s right to marry another woman? Every woman’s right to seek asylum when fleeing violence and poverty?

None of this is about me being a hero or a saint, or having all the answers. But I want to be someone who cares about people.

And I think that has to mean paying special attention to how we treat those who exist in the margins of society. And I definitely want to live in a world where less people die by suicide.

To sum it all up, I believe there’s a way to have hard conversations where we simultaneously keep in mind that whether we agree or not, the words we choose make an impact on the real lives in the balance. Maybe it’s not only a conversation about where people belong in sports. Maybe it’s also a conversation about the fact that belonging is a powerful thing, the kind of thing that can change and even save a life.

Open Thread: Comment Live, women’s quarterfinals plus of the Billabong Pro Pipeline where pain or damage don’t end the world!

Headed into the salt mines.