Holly Wawn and Barton Lynch
Surf prodigy Holly Wawn, who first alerted Barton Lynch to his Devon patch.

World surf champ Barton Lynch on being bald-shamed by teenage female prodigy

“Hey BL, how’s that Devon patch you’re sportin’ on the top of your head?”

A couple of years back, BeachGrit outed the world champion surfer Barton Lynch as a filthy communist bastard, which you can read here, and which was swiftly refuted, here. 

Barton Lynch, who is now sixty, clinched the 1988 world title at perfect eight-to-twelve-foot Pipeline, although in later years he became more famous for his oratorical gymkhanas on WSL broadcasts.

(Barton Lynch was the sport’s most popular broadcaster before being dumped by the WSL for, it was rumoured, his role in the activist group Voices4Choices, which questioned vaccine mandates and the role of government during the COVID pandemic.)

The surf community was, rightly, apoplectic with the father of competitive surfing Ian Cairns writing, “You’re the only commentator that illuminates concepts and situations in heats, that former champions recognize as well. These insights are critical explanations to the hoped for expanded WSL audience. Otherwise it’s ongoing blah blah blah. Their loss and your gain!”

Filipe Toledo’s daddy Rich added, “Let’s go!!! We missing u papa Smurf.”

Since the dumping, Barton Lynch has poured his considerable skill and insight into a podcast called The Stoked Bloke Show, which he operates with Peter King, the musician, pro surfer and former bandmate of Kelly Slater.

In the latest episode, Lynch describes the day in 2010 he learned he was suffering male pattern baldness. Lynch tells King he was coaching the then thirteen-year-old Australian surfer Holly Dawn when she looked at him and said,

“Hey BL, how’s that Devon patch you’re sportin’ on the top of your head?”

Barton Lynch, Holly Wawn and Devon Patch.
Little Holly Wawn proves kids got no filter. Thirteen years on, Barton Lynch still bears the scars from the youthful joke.

“What’s a Devon patch?” asks King.

“Devon is processed meat,” explains Lynch, “like bologna. We would call a Devon patch the round patch of baldness on a human’s head.”

“I had no idea,” says Lynch. “I didn’t have an inkling I was balding. When there was no one home, I sneaked into the bathroom and…ooooohhhhh… I’ve got a bald patch!”

Barton Lynch wears his Devon well, let it be said, bringing the viewer’s eyes away from his crown with a beard reminiscent of the German philosopher and political theorist Karl Marx.

But don’t be fooled.

“I am for free market capitalism and democracy 100%,” says Lynch. “Not fond of Communism or state control in any way.”

 

View this post on Instagram

 

A post shared by Barton Lynch (@barton_lynch)

 


Kevin Costner (pictured) becoming scared at Southern California's surf reports.
Kevin Costner (pictured) becoming scared at Southern California's surf reports.

Kevin Costner seen fleeing Santa Barbara with two hideous surfboards leading digital sleuths to wonder if post-Christmas hookup with Jewel in cards!

Big ugly.

As Southern California’s surfers know, a massive swell event is heading to our shores. Waves big in San Diego, bigger in Los Angeles, biggest in Ventura. Santa Barbara? Bigger than biggest and extremely scary. Hell chargers like Jen See will, of course, be waxing guns and ready for anything. Actors like Kevin Costner maybe not so ready and getting the hell out.

The Field of Dreams star was snapped by paparazzi fleeing the American Riviera with two hideously thicc rail’d surfboards attached to a very fine Ford F-150 roof. He was at the local airport, hopping on a private jet wearing and, according to The Daily Mail, “rocking shades, a black shirt, blue jeans and camel-colored cowboy boots…”

Very sexy.

For a reason?

Digital sleuths immediately wondered if he was secretly rendezvousing with Jewel, the singer-songwriter he has been romancing since divorcing his wife who refused to leave his house.

Messy.

Jewel was born in Alaska but moved to San Diego to play various coffeehouses and surf. She became famous for her hit 1995 album Pieces of Me, dated Sean Penn, married a professional rodeo cowboy, divorced him and now is with Costner whose wife is hopefully out of his house.

A bystander, anyhow, said, “He just looked like such a movie star getting out of this big black truck and stepping onto his private plane. Everybody was like, ‘Oh, look!’ The man looks really good for his age, like a real cowboy in that monster truck and boots.”

She was clearly not a surfer because his boards were, legitimately, big suck. If he is hoping to impress Jewel, he might be in big trouble.

Or maybe not.

Who knows what she’s into, surfboard-wise.

I hope not his gross sins against Devon Howard.

Yuck city.


Terror ripples through Southern California as “Christmassive Surf” set to detonate coastline!

"This is the end..."

A certain percentage of Southern Californian woke, this morning, with terror clawing at the edges of hearts. Invading the quiet spaces of minds. Pounding, pounding, pounding at psyches. Specifically, those who received new surfboards underneath the tree on Christmas morning.

For their mettle will be immediately tested as a “strong swell” is arriving at the shore, teeth bared, ready to eat fresh Wavestorms, Wave Bandits, Jamie O’Brien LOGs et. al. and spit out their pilots wrecked and ragged.

According to the local KTLA news:

Strong swells along the Southern California coast Wednesday will only build later in the week, prompting officials to issue a coastal flood advisory.

Above-average surf between 3 to 5 feet is expected through Wednesday along the Los Angeles County coasts, according to the National Weather Service. Those swells will reach 7 feet along the Ventura County Coasts.

The surf will surge on Thursday, reaching around 10 feet in L.A. County and up to 14 feet in Ventura County, according to the Weather Service.

But imagine, all the big talk after the wrapping was cleaned up, tossed into the recycling bin, the adult learner holding his new cool pineapple-logo’d soft top, talking all that big talk. How he is going to paddle out and barrel. How he is going to Waimea. How he is going to rhino chase without expecting a ten foot super-swell to actually provide the opportunity instantly.

Uh oh.

And now imagine his girlfriend watching KTLA, becoming excited for her man to show his skills in those strong swells. Planning their trip to the beach. Telling all her confidants about it and inviting them too.

There they all go to El Porto, sun shining brilliantly, 10 feet of pure Pacific fury bearing down.

The end.


Surfer magazine uses gored to describe shark attack
A look of mild surprise passes across sad, tear-stained face of Surfer writer after "gored" faux pas.

AI blamed for Surfer magazine’s latest faux pas that has left surf fans in stitches

"Sharks have horns now?"

Earlier this year, and following a series of damning exposés by Chas Smith, here, here, here, here and here, Jen See wrote of the terrible fate befalling writers at Surfer mag.

“You picture yourself in Hawaii watching beautifully tanned surfers ride giant blue waves. You see yourself at San Onofre, where you’ve somehow instantly become a graceful and accomplished longboarder.

“Instead, your job looks nothing like any of these things. Using AI tools, you scrape social media for trending news. Then using another tool, trained on Surfer’s legacy digital content, you produce a story. You do that many times each day.

“You never talk to another person, never go anywhere, never learn to noseride at San-O. Your job is to punch the buttons to create the content that feeds the search engine bots that crawl the internet all day, every day. Eventually, it would have to start to feel like you were becoming one of the bots, yourself.”

Yesterday, Surfer published a story about a middle-aged man bitten on the ankle by what was, possibly, a shark with the headline “Shark gores windsurfer in Western Australia on Christmas Eve.”

“This is a developing story,” the writer gravely announced.

Surf fans, who will rarely suffer a fool and who are wildly overrepresented in the field of pedantry, were unimpressed, pointing out the thoughtless use of the adjective “gored” in the headline.

“Gores”??? They have horns now? The dude was bitten on the ankle and that’s the headline? Surfer mag has jumped the shark.

“(Gored, definition) Blood that has been shed, especially as a result of violence.”

“Gored implies horns in the united states.”

“And the rest of the English speaking world…”

“Maybe it was a bull shark?”

“Sharks have horns in Australia? Gored? Seriously?”

“Since when do sharks have horns?”

“If the shark gored, it must have been extremely hоrnее.”

“Gored? Sharks have horns? Tusks maybe? Get someone educated to write the header.”

“Gored? Must have been a bull shark.”

“Sharks don’t ‘gore’, media…”

“to wound (a person or another animal) with a horn or tusk”

“Is whoever wrote this not versed in the english language? Sharks bite, they don’t gore.”

“I gored my wife last night.”

“GORED !!????….must have been a Narwhal whale that crossbred with a shark, therefore it must have been a narwhal shark.”

For the layman,

“If you stabbed someone with a sword, you gored them. An animal with sharp horns, like a bull, can gore a person to death. Gore is also blood that’s clotting in a wound.”

To wit, in the tabloid age  sharks maul, bulls gore.


Sunshine Beach beachfront house sells for $28 million
View ain't so bad out the front of the 28-mill joint. | Photo: Tom Offermann real estate

Beachfront hunk of dirt last sold for 200k trades for $28 million in surfer-led coastal boom

You're a surfer. Did you get a piece before it all went nuts?

If you’ve been in the surf game your whole life, you had a front row seat to the coastal property boom. 

Malibu, Rainbow Bay, Hossegor, Puerto Escondido, Burleigh Heads, Sunset Beach, Pupukea, even joints like down-at-heel Maroubra have soared beyond any sorta reasonable imagination. Your ol pal DR almost had to be revived early on Boxing Day after the beachfront joint he kept at Burleigh, selling in 2103 or something, had grown six-fold in price.

And, up there on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast, just north of Brisbane, there’s a place called Sunshine Beach where, well, you wanna check this out. 

A pretty house with all the trappings of the nouveau riche on a little less than acre at 33 Ross Crescent, which last sold for 200 gees in 1987, has just traded for twenty-eight mill. Five beds, a cellar to keep the gimp in and a curved infinity pool overlooking the finely grassed backyard that slopes down to the sand. Oowee.

Sunshine Beach house sells for $28 million
About as pretty as backyards get, doncha think?

And it ain’t even the biggest sale there, another joint was sold for thirty-four mill almost three years ago, the suburb’s median price almost three million dollars. 

Did you get a piece of the beach before the prices hit so hard ain’t no chance in hell your kids or their kids are ever going to own near the surf? 

The beachfront shack I had at La Grav, and which I didn’t buy at two-fifty, now, three mill. 

The beachfront apartment at Burleigh, two hundred, now a little over one mill.

The million buck attached house in Bondi, almost four mill. 

Dreary old Suffolk Park, once bleak as anything, a suburban wasteland south of Byron Bay, now the hippest place among Australian surfers, two, three, four mill for the ubiquitous Palm Springs-styled mansion.

Question to the more financially literate among us: do you regard coastal property, real estate as a category even, as the best grower of personal wealth or is it for chumps and better to put your cash into stocks, vending machines etc?