Jock (pictured) thumbs downing.
Jock (pictured) thumbs downing.

State of Hawaii to take historic vote on marrying high school jocks and surfers

Sworn enemies coming together?

There was a time in our surf history, and not long ago, that high school jocks and high school surfers were the swornest of enemies. Jocks representing “the man,” surfers representing rebellion against him. The two groups would meet in parking lots, late at night, and pepper each other with insults like “meathead” or “drop-out.” Sometimes these gatherings would take a violent turn, a jock, say, stomping the the bare toes of a surfer, and whole towns would become terrified of what revenge might take place. A surfer, say, spray painting the word “fashist” on a jock’s pickup truck.

Well, it’s a new day and while the rest of the world pitches further and further into polarization, the proud State of Hawaii is set to vote on unity this wednesday, marrying jocks and surfers.

House Bill 133, authored by House Majority Leader and North Shore Rep. Sean Quinlan, will be brought to the Honolulu statehouse floor to be voted upon by the 51 other representatives. If approved, it will provide $685,000 for each of the next two years thus officially establishing surfing as a high school sport.

Recent graduate Sunny Kazama testified last week on the Senate floor and told Hawaii News Now, “I see the money going toward coach salaries, equipment, any logistics they have to work out, and then any costs with officially making it part of the ILH or OIA. That’s where I see the funds going and I’m really excited to see it happen.”

Quinlan shared, “There were a lot of concerns about injury rates. We know from Maui (where surfing is played in high school) that the injury rates are negligible. There’s a lot of concern about the cost of insurance. The cost of insurance is very low. Surfing is an extremely safe sport when done properly.”

He added, “When you look at sort of the broader landscape of the WSL (World Surf League) and professional surfing, we want to give our homegrown talent every single opportunity they can to compete and thrive on that worldwide stage.”

If approved, Hawaii’s Governor Josh Green will sign the bill into law and the marriage will be consummated.

Are you pro unification or do you prefer enmity?

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The Surfer: Nicolas Cage flounders in a sun-scorched plagiarism of Wake in Fright

Nicolas Cage can’t save a film that’s too busy mimicking Wake in Fright to find its own pulse.

Lorcan Finnegan’s The Surfer doesn’t just tip its hat to Wake in Fright—it raids the 1971 Australian masterpiece’s wardrobe, steals its car, and drives it off a cliff.

This Nicolas Cage-led thriller, slathered in sunscreen and psychosis, is a shameless knockoff of Ted Kotcheff’s iconic descent into outback hell, swapping kangaroos for surfboards but forgetting the soul.

For 99 minutes, we’re stuck watching Cage unravel in a facsimile that’s less homage than high-budget karaoke.

Cage plays The Surfer—no name, because why bother?—a washed-up Californian returning to Luna Bay, an Aussie beach where he surfed as a kid before life dealt him a bad hand. He’s there to buy his old home and reconnect with his blank-slate son (Finn Little, barely a blip).

If this sounds like Wake in Fright’s John Grant, it’s because it is: same outsider, same hostile locals, same spiral into primal madness. The surf bros, led by surf poncho-wearing Scally (Julian McMahon, all teeth and no menace), enforce a “Don’t live here, don’t surf here” rule straight out of Wake’s insular playbook.

What follows is a beat-for-beat rehash—humiliation, dehydration, lizard hallucinations—until The Surfer’s living out of a car, slurping puddles, and screaming “Eat the rat!” in a scene that’s pure Cage but no Donald Pleasence.

Why does this sting? Because Wake in Fright is a cinematic titan, one of the greatest films ever made, and The Surfer’s pilfering only highlights its own shortcomings.

Kotcheff’s film, adapted from Kenneth Cook’s novel, is a visceral gut-punch: John Grant, a schoolteacher trapped in a remote Outback town, is stripped of his civility by booze, gambling, and the predatory masculinity of the locals.

It’s a masterclass in tone, balancing gritty realism with surreal horror. Every frame drips with menace—dust-choked visuals, Pleasence’s unhinged doctor, the infamous kangaroo hunt—all building to a portrait of alienation so universal it’s been called the Australian Heart of Darkness. Its rediscovery in 2009 cemented its status as a cornerstone of the Australian New Wave, a film that doesn’t just depict a man’s collapse but makes you feel the existential rot. It’s iconic because it’s fearless, peeling back the veneer of civilization to expose something primal and true.

The Surfer, by contrast, is a pale Xerox. Thomas Martin’s script wants Wake’s depth but settles for vibes. Finnegan apes the psychedelic flourishes—lizard zooms, Cage’s bloodshot eyes, but misses the moral weight.

Where Wake’s locals are complex monsters, Scally’s crew are cartoon bullies. Where Wake builds dread with precision, The Surfer drags, repeating Cage’s misery until it’s numbing. The climax, a half-cocked nod to The Swimmer via Wake’s nihilism, flops like a beached fish. Radek Ładczuk’s cinematography, all searing whites and feverish reds, is the one nod to Wake’s oppressive aesthetic that works, but it’s not enough.

Cage, however, is a one-man cyclone, howling and sobbing with enough gusto to fuel a dozen B-movies. His rat-chomping frenzy is a GIF waiting to happen.

But even he can’t save a film that’s too busy mimicking Wake in Fright to find its own pulse. McMahon’s villain is a paper tiger, the social commentary (class? toxic masculinity?) is cribbed and muddled, and the pacing sags like wet sand.

The Surfer isn’t just a rip-off—it’s a reminder of why Wake in Fright endures as a colossus of cinema, its raw power untouchable.

Cage completists might stomach the ride, but the rest of us should dust off Kotcheff’s classic and leave this soggy imitation to dry out. ★★ (out of ★★★★)

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Vedder (pictured) thinking surf thoughts.
Vedder (pictured) thinking surf thoughts.

Songman Eddie Vedder recalls how a morning San Diego surf led to Pearl Jam magic

"It was one of the days where you think you might not go out but I had the music in my head..."

Very famous singer/songwriter Eddie Vedder and his affection for the surfing life are already well and truly known. The baritone is close friends with Kelly Slater, barrelled at his Surf Ranch and even attended the Eddie Aikau opening ceremony. Legendary lensman Steve Sherman was there, in 2006, to capture the moment and shared with Surfer Magazine:

To everyone’s surprise, Kelly cruises to the event with Eddie borrowing one of his guns to paddle out for the ceremony. It was quite a moment. I’m on the beach shooting as all the invitees walk into the water when Kelly and Eddie stroll up getting ready to paddle out, just then Taylor Knox walks up to Eddie and surprises him! Taylor and Kelly are super good friends with Ed, so this is a great moment.

Later that night Pearl Jam played a small gig for 200 people up in the valley at the park while security roamed the bushes all around keeping people from sneaking in , it was like seeing Pearl Jam at a high school dance. They rocked the joint with Kelly sitting in on the last couple songs. Kelly had just won his eighth world title and they presented him with a guitar with the number eight painted on it. It was a musical night the North Shore won’t forget.

Entirely wonderful though did you know Vedder did not hail from the Pacific Northwest and instead came to Pearl Jam via a surf-inspired song?

The rugged 60-year-old sat down with CBS Sunday Morning, not terribly long ago, and shared his origin story, doing midnight shifts as a San Diego security guard, going for a foggy surf, becoming inspired whilst floating in the brine, running home, pressing record et voila.

History made.

But where does Pearl Jam rank on your favorite grunge-era bands of all time?

Please don’t forget to include Melvins.

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“I was suicidal” Kelly Slater reveals his life’s darkest hour in brave new interview

"I need you to come over right now," Slater told best pal Benji Weatherley.

It is a remarkable thing that even after forty years in the spotlight, Kelly Slater still has the ability to surprise with revelations about a life lived almost entirely in the public square

And in a new interview Slater has pulled back the velvet curtain on a dark chapter when he, very briefly it must be noted, considered suicide.

The year is 1993. Slater is the hottest thing in the sport, the reigning world champ, the youngest ever, a surfer of zeitgeist shifting talent whom the previous generation, Gary Elkerton, Martin Potter and co, can’t get near.

It drives Pottz and Kong nuts, in particular, alpha bears flexing and grunting but failing, spectacularly, to rattle the wildly talented twink.

But then the ol wheels start to spin off their hubs and, to the surprise of everyone, Slater finishes the year sixth behind Derek Ho, Damien Hardman, Gary Elkerton, Pottz and Tom Curren, surfers, with the exception of Tom Curren, he’d usually beat in his sleep.

In an interview with the comic and RVCA sales rep Jay Larson and the noted Filipino surfer-skater Lyndon “Choccy” Cabello, Kelly Slater says it was the embarrassment of his results that had him sitting in his hotel room contemplating ways to kill himself.

Kelly Slater, whose vulnerability is evident in his ongoing online debates with surf fans, tells his hosts he doesn’t want to get into it too deeply, but “I was suicidal…I was so depressed and I had a moment where I was, like, ok, I’m considering this.”

The host asks Slater if his sponsors offered help and he tells ‘em, well yeah, if they knew. But, he says, he was in his hotel room in Kirra on the Gold Coast and called up old friend Benji Weatherley, staying nearby, and asked for his help.

“I need you to come over right now,” he told Benji.

This little fork in the road, says Slater, convinced him the pain of losing was far greater than the joys of cruising the tour with pals.

“I remember thinking, I have to put everything I have into (pro surfing) and see how far I can go with this competitive thing, all my focus, everything I do in the day effects how I’ll go. That was a real learning lesson, to get me focussed and on target.”

Slater is asked if any books got his head right and he says, yeah, he was reading the Tao of Health, Sex and Longevity, Modern Practical Guide to the Ancient Way is a book by Daniel Reid. The book was first published in 1989 and explores Taoist principles for diet, exercise, breathing, meditation, sexual practices, and more, emphasizing balance and harmony with nature’s rhythms.

Reid famously encouraged sexual yoga where men are encouraged to conserve energy by limiting ejaculation, redirecting it to enhance vitality, a practice long enjoyed by your old pal DR.

The book was so fundamental to Kelly Slater’s life he named his kid after it, explaining to the host that white people pronounce it Tao, like with a T, and the BIPOC among us, use a D, like, Dao.

Suicide talk swings in at eighty-eight minutes.

Also, who else into sexual yoga? I believe it should be taught in schools etc.

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Isabella Nichols and her wedding gift for sister (or maybe not).
Isabella Nichols and her wedding gift for sister (or maybe not).

Professional surfer gifts twin sister 63-year-old bell as consolation for missing wedding!

Isabella Nichols delivers a fairytale ending.

One of the most gut-wrenching stories of this month was certainly the tale of Australia’s Isabella Nichols missing her twin sister’s wedding. The 27-year-old Australian was in El Salvador, you see, but not why you might think (locked into a mega prison after overstaying a US tourist visa by 30 minutes). No, the former World Junior Champion was in the country competing in the longest surf contest in history, one that dragged out over a grueling nine days.

Nichols attempted to put a brave face on the familial devastation after coming in 2nd, declaring, “I love coming back here (to El Salvador). The people are amazing, and the waves are beautiful. It’s just an incredible part of the world, and I just have so many people to thank. Especially my family for understanding that this is part of the job, and I was there (at the wedding) in spirit. As athletes and anyone really working on the road, there’s sacrifices that you have to make. This one was probably the biggest sacrifice I’ve had to make. My parents, my sister, George, and everyone at home, I just wanted to say I hope you have the most wonderful day today. I’m dedicating this one to you, Helena.”

Well, what do you gift a broken-hearted twin sister after missing one of the biggest days of her life? Apparently a 63-year-old bell inside a mid-sized wooden box with no walls. Nichols went straight from the longest surf contest in history to the longest running surf contest in history, the Rip Curl Pro Bells Beach, and proceeded to stomp countrywoman Molly Picklum then Brazil’s Luana Silva on route to a stunning victory.

“The process for this win has honestly been a 15-year process,” Nichols stated afterward. “I’ve been coming here since I was 15 years old. All the trips down here, three times a year to come down and work on my technique and it’s all paid off. To have a bell, honestly this does not feel real. I’m speechless.”

Oh shoot. Maybe she isn’t gifting it to her twin. It sounds like she’s just straight up keeping it. Possibly doesn’t match the marital home’s decor?

In any case, Nichols is now number four in the world after nearly giving up professional surfing altogether.

A fairytale run.

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