Hawaii’s Queen of Crazy Mason Ho conquers unridable Mexican drainers in, “What if we are all simply lost souls blown off course, just trying to get home?”

Mason Ho solo surfs wild point wave near site of upcoming WSL contest!

A new short from the house of Ho, Pringle and supplemented with fine drone work by Jason Crane finds Queen of Crazy Mason Ho tied to a tree like a man about to be shot, jaw broken, nose streaming with blood.

Metaphorically, of course.

For any other man, or woman, the Mexican wave Mason wrestles in this short, with drone and land recording his moves, would be a short cut to body wounds and frustration.

Mason is different.

His heart bursts when he sees those rocks pointed at his head, fears nothing when his skin is punctured, and to die doing such a thing would be a courageous thing and therefore wouldn’t be a sad death.

Sharks are different, says Mason, “they tear a piece out of you, and they’re off. And you never know where they’re coming from or how and why.”


Jackson Dorian’s latest short film, set in Oaxaca, Mexico, and starring Tom Curren is funny, full of wonder and “suggests a post-pandemic tone!”

Magic lurks around every corner if you leave yourself available to it.

This week, Jackson Dorian, who is the fourteen-year-old son of the man who pulled BJ Penn from certain death at a wavepool, brings his cache of turns to Oaxaca, Mexico.

Dorian balances a virtuosic sensibility and a naturally cheeky disposition to captivating effect, his mix contrasting with the serious jazz-esque instrumentalist Tom Curren, a three-time world champion and the son of homeless big-wave pioneer and shaper Pat Curren. 

The climax feels a little undernourished but Dorian, and Curren, are so genial and is directed at such a gallop by daddy Shane that you can forgive it almost anything.



Watch Mason Ho’s Mexican tuberiding masterclass, “This country will kill you in a heartbeat and still people love it!”

If popularity can be measured by collective madness, and madness by the number of women in estrous weeping at his mere appearance, Mason Ho is the most popular surfer on earth.

One of the heroes of surfing, and certainly my favourite, is Mason Ho. He is thirty-two years old with light-tea coloured skin and hair so curly that many believe he wears a woollen wig.

And not since, I don’t know, early Kelly Slater maybe, has there been such an amorous cannibalism for a surfer. For if popularity can be measured by collective madness, and madness by the number of women in estrous weeping at his mere appearance, Mason Ho is the most popular surfer on earth.

He has the mysterious beauty of things seasoned by storms, lines engraved by the wind and the North Shore sun.

In this short video, Mason spends his work day examining, via POV camera, the insides of Mexican tubes.

In his trademark signature Rip Curl trunks Mason surfs and surfs and surfs until he falls exhausted into the arms of his guy-pal, New Jersey vlogger Ben Gravy.

Watch Mason Ho raise hell and beat the goddamn out of Mex points in “Them damn burritos ain’t good for nothing but a hippie, when he’s high on weed!”

"We're fortunate to have Mason Ho in our lives."

With his family, Mason Ho could’ve been a fucking prick, Bruce Irons told me once.

Well, he ain’t!

Mason’s shaper, Matt “Mayhem” Biolos says he’s “a savior from the fucking corporate, straight-laced, uptight, fucking, pre-planned-interview-answer surfing world we live in today,” he says. “He’s everything that people think surfing is, and should be, when you think of all the beautiful stereotypes, like from the fucking Beach Boys to fricken’ Sean Penn to Big Wednesday. Mason is fucking incredibly fun to watch surf two-foot junk and 12-foot Pipeline. He’s what everyone’s selling, without trying. He’s the most real guy out there. We’re fortunate to have him in our lives.”

Well, ain’t that true.

Sister Coco says, “I sometimes wonder, ‘How does he stay so happy?’ In times when someone should be so down and negative, honestly, I don’t know where or when it came on so strong.’”

Here’s Mason, in Mex, with his boy pal, Sheldon.

“I am not an educated man,” says Mason, echoing Mexican revolutionary Pancho Villa, “I never had the opportunity to learn anything  except how to surf.”

Surf brand formerly owned by Saint Laurent and Gucci releases stunning surf film, “I went to the asylum and I all I got was this lousy Lobotomy!”

Let it absorb you. Like absinthe.

I went to Lobotomy, the new film from Volcom, a surf brand started in 1991 by an ex-employee of Quiksilver disgusted by how corpo his employer had become although the new brand would soon move in the same direction, expecting vulgarity, eardrum-endangering screeching from an array of guitar bands playing boring songs about angst, sex and teenagers behaving badly, and an interminable armoury of charismatic surfing – and that’s exactly what I got.

Essential. Let it absorb you. Like absinthe.