“To pull a knife, that was alarming. She walked down the beach and did that premeditated, wasn’t a heat of the moment type thing."

If you’re old enough to have operated a television set in the nineties, you’ll know, and maybe have loved to death, the pint-sized Jewish actor and comic from Beverley Hills, Pauly Shore.

Encino Man, Bio-Dome, In the Army Now, Jury Duty might’ve been hit with “sharply negative” reviews and Shore did win Worst New Star of the year for Encino Man, but the people adored Shore.

If the moon was in the right quarter and the winds were blowing just the right number of miles from the east, he was untouchable.

Then Pauly’s star waned. His shtick, once edgy, grew stale.

Hollywood, always eager for the next warm body, preferably teen or younger, moved on, leaving Pauly Shore washed up alongside other nineties icons Christian Slater, Alicia Silverstone and Macaulay Culkin.

Now, a fifteen-year-old ripper from El Porto beach in LA, reportedly a nephew of Shore’s, has had his board stabbed by a woman after the pair clashed in the water, the kid filming, poorly it might be added, the exchange.

El Porto Girls will cut ya.. adult girl attacks 15 year old boy.
byu/Prestigious_Syrup636 insurfing

Prestigious Syrup 636, who posted the video, writes:

“The 15 year old is a competition level surfer. The girl lets just say is not. From what i gathered from some surfline rewind cam vid is they bumped boards as they took off right next to each other. You hear him say ‘you bailed your board’. He made the wave she didnt. I think she got a ding in her board and got out of water. There is cam footage of The kid getting out to apologize and tried to offer to get her board fixed but she didnt want to talk and was yelling at him and went to her car and got that knife or whatever it is.. i been surfing porto for over 20years never seen that chick before. That kid is good kid maybe a bit aggressive In wave count but he gets alot of waves because he good at surfing. Hes got some sponsorship and rides for jon lalaane surfboards. He’s actually the nephew or something of comedian Pauly Shore. He was way more polite then i would have been especially at 15. The cops were called but she was gone and they said there was nothing they could do. Haven’t seen girl back at porto since but we haven’t had waves there in a while Now.. being a little cunt or not shes an adult hes a kid and to pull a knife or whatever that was is alarming. She walked down the beach and did that premeditated wasn’t a heat of the moment type thing.”

You like ’em feisty? I sure do.

Dark days for a once happy boy-man whose eyes have been opened to the horrors of being a lifelong surfer.

The Disney-ification of surfing has been written at ad nauseam: the advent of the leash, big-wave vests which suddenly enable the likes of me and my 50 closest friends to paddle out at waves far beyond our grasp, the dreaded midlength. 

Reading those who have dipped their pen into this tired inkwell often conjures images of old men no longer able to paddle into waves, cursing me for my youth and still-intact hairline. 

But, on the wrong side of 25, maybe it’s my time to enter these hallowed grounds. 

Surfline is killing surfing. 

It has been an abysmal summer in San Diego. Small, windy, and inconsistent. I’m pretty sure I’m getting scoliosis from schlepping my log down to the beach every morning. At best, maybe two swells since May. 

Still, like the junkie I am, I check the forecast religiously, multiple times throughout the day. And, to my utter amazement, I notice something. Maybe, just maybe, a swell. In fact, the first swell of fall. Nothing special, but just enough to pull the trusty shortboard off the rafters. 

Surfline sees it too. That all seeing monster. It knows. It always knows. A week out, it gives the day a modest 2-3+. Seems about right given the forecast. 

But then, an Instagram post. “First WNW Swell of Season Provides Widespread Waves to California.” A menacing blob dashes across the screen, plunging into California. 

3-4. 

It’s 24 hours before the swell arrives in San Diego. 4-5. Surfline posts a cam rewind of Mavericks, captioned “Swell Update: @peter_mel packed one this morning at Mavs.” A lone figure pulls into an unremarkable closeout at Mavericks. 

I check the forecast before bed just for giggles. Has the swell turned code red yet? What’s the Surfline color code for “Epic” again? 

2-3+. An unremarkable 2-3+. Exactly what the forecast calls for. Surfline pulls off the ultimate bait and switch. 

I pull up to the beach a little earlier than usual. I have to be at work early and I have a feeling there’s going to be a crowd. 

The street is full. A surfer next to me pulls on a brand-new changing poncho. It matches his out of the box suit. I can almost smell the new neoprene. 

Now, I surf a nondescript spot every morning. No camera; not even a Surfline entry. A C-grade spot that can get fun but is tucked away and crushingly mediocre. 

On any day, 5 or 6 guys, 10 max. Today, 40. 

I paddle to the outside peak, a tricky part of the reef that is seldom surfed. Two locals turn and grin at me, quietly lamenting the absurdity of a 40-person lineup. 

One of the bigger sets swings wide and I’m in position. It’s standing up on the reef. I set my rail. 

Like a gimp-styled superhero, he drops in from the heavens. Arms flailing, an unintentionally delayed bottom turn. I straighten, lest my bang rails with this intruder. He does a few ungainly pumps, straightens, and kicks out. 

And then, the pièce de résistance. He flashes me a shaka. Not a limp, ironic shaka, but a hard, twisting shaka. The kind that makes your forearm cramp. It’s not an apology. It’s an “aloha, bro.” 

You know who he is. He exists in every lineup. The surfer just competent enough to wreak havoc in a lineup. 

Jen See’s already made the connection, but it’s worth repeating. This is your fault, Surfline. You’ve created this agent of chaos. You’ve pumped him full of color-coded, easy to read, always embellished forecasts and pushed him out to sea. 

And that was fine. Even nice. A discerning beginner could piece together how to read buoys. You taught us something. You taught me something. 

But then you decide to double down. You started throwing out meaningless buzzwords to your 2.2 million followers. A post (or two) for every “swell.” Code red. First swell of the season. Hurricane X. Raising the temperature, giving the masses exactly what they wanted. 

And yes, the brands didn’t help.

They clothed him, put him on a 7’0” funboard, and told him jazz hands look cool on a wave. 

But you’re the one who put him in the water. 

“You have to be a gnarly tough son of a bitch cocksucker to go beyond the point where you think you might die!”

Do you remember, yesterday, watching Ian Cairns and Elon Musk bludgeon your favourite online resource to pulps of blood?  

Kanga, who was famous in the nineteen seventies for brazenly presenting his titanic buttocks to the beach as he flexed into bottom turns, took to X to attack Wikipedia for its “shocking inaccuracies.” 

He was moved to comment after Musk, the fifty-two-year-old billionaire owner of Twitter/X, as well as SpaceX and the nerd chariot producer Tesla, quipped “History is written by the victors. Well, yes, but not if your enemies are still alive and have a lot of time on their hands to edit Wikipedia”.

The “talented but elitist” former world number two, who once strangled a Hawaiian surf star on a ten-foot wave and who told me once “You have to be a gnarly tough son of a bitch cocksucker to go beyond the point where you think you might die!” replied,

“My personal experience with Wikipedia was shocking. Accused of hacking I finally had to engage with another Ian Cairns in Scotland to vouch for me, that I was me. It makes me doubt every page on the site. It’s not Encyclopedia Brittanica!”

But what did Wikipedia get wrong? Much speculation yesterday although a phone call placed to Laguna Beach this afternoon, where Kanga, who is seventy-one, lives, revealed it was less what they got wrong than what they missed out on. 

First, of course, we had to laugh about silly Erik Logan being jettisoned from the WSL and his “disturbing” stunt with Filipe Toledo, Kanga explaining that’s what it’s like in Hollywood, “They do creepy shit”.

Anyway, Wiki missed that he was there for the formation of the IPS (Fred Hemmings’ version of pro surfing), then the ASP (Kanga’s version), his work on Big Wednesday, the OP Pro, how he came up with computer scoring with the ASL, six CT wins etc.

“I wrote all this and put it in there and made it…right… and then I came back in the morning and it had reverted to where it was.” 

Editors figured Kanga was a hacker.

“They contacted me, this guy starts messaging me, saying, you’ve hacked this Ian Cairns’ account, cause he’s a famous Scottish actor or something. And, I said, dude, this is…me, and they threatened to ban me from all sorts of stuff, the whole cyber thing. I just realised the people you’re dealing with have this sense of ownership over information.” 

The custody of information is a very thorny topic with this dynamic man.

“Elon, that guy,” says Kanga, “he’s under investigation for so many things these days because he dared to release the Twitter files, actually supports stuff, is anti the trans agenda, he’s not down for the plan and now he’s fired all the election interference people. Yeah, man! They’re going to have to do away with him! The people who are very left are freaking out.”

Are you on the left, the right, or a fence-sitter, and, again, how can you not love Elon for all the clever trinkets he makes? Asking Matt Warshaw, specifically.