As TurtleGate enters its 26th day, PostSurf has uncovered shocking evidence that Tiago Pires may in fact be the gentle turtle that was raped by Australian deviant Andrew Mooney. The conspiracy goes deeper than even I anticipated. Way back in late March 2009, Anthony W. won Comment of the Week for the following:
“Portugal… country of Tigers… country of the pussiest waveriders ever! When waves get bigger they all run away to the safety bays where it’s 2 foot offshore and make faces of someone getting spit out of an 8 foot pipe barrel on a bogging bottom turn. How did Tiago Pires got that Tiger alias? He looks more like a turtle with weird arm positioning. Is the guy’s neck that short or does he tuck in between his shoulders as protection from the real tigers? God, his surfing makes me wanna vomit… looks just like another brazzo from the wrong side of the Atlantic.”
A thorough investigation has revealed that this comment was in fact penned by
This month, Roy Powers had the unique pleasure of just barely beating two of the least stylish surfers to ever don an ASP jersey. No - sadly Peterson Rosa did NOT come out of retirement. One can only dream… Powers instead took down Jihad “The Moist Moose” Khodr at J-Bay, and Aritz “The Tits” Aranburu in Brazil. Those scalps do not come cheap, my friend. In the distant future, after the apocalypse, after the Pacific has festered into a putrid pool of Chinamen’s semen and toxic waste, after I’ve finally earned and spent my first dollar of profit from surf writing, ol’ boy Roy will sit around a campfire, beyond Thunderdome, and tell the feral groms about olden times. Roy will not tell tale of his loss to Fanning in Brazil (3.87 heat total) or his loss to Martinez at J-Bay (7.50 heat total). No! Instead, proud pruned Powers will tell his minions “I aranburued Aritz The Tits! I whipped his simple full-cream ass by .23 of a point! Now get me a diaper. I think I soiled myself.”
Miky Picon’s stock rose significantly in my book after he verbally abused ASP head judge Perry Hatchett, following a controversial loss to CJ Hobgood in R2. Needing a 7.18 on his last wave, Picon earned a 7.1, gingerly floating instead of committing to a vertical, English-speaking turn. Picon lost, freaked out, and was fined a cool $1000 for his tired-child tantrum. Are we witnessing the first stirrings of the next Victor Ribas – will Miky soon be throwing rocks at the judges? One can only hope. The ASP is frantically trying to justify itself right now – if Kelly Slater gets his even-dreamier Dream Tour, I can almost guarantee that Mr. Picon will not be on it. But what Slater fails to recognize is that few things in this world are as endearing as a small, irate foreigner. You just want to put them in your pocket and then accidentally crush them to death! Like Lennie in
Some excellent commentary at the Billabong Pro, as usual. Luke Egan, a true renaissance man, smoothly transitioned from the role of Tahitian contest director back to the role of Parko’s cheerleader, and then into the role of sports broadcaster. One of my favorite moments of the webcast was when Egan credited Nic Muscroft with getting a second at Bells to Joel Parkinson. Alzheimer’s bitch said WHAT now? I mean, seriously people. Even my mildly retarded dog knows that wildcard Adam Robertson finished second to Parko at Bells – and this is the same dog who tried to eat a bee today. Yes, both Muscroft and Robertson are blond, Victorian regularfoots. But as Muscroft can surely tell you, he has not made any finals recently. How in custard-fuck can Luke Egan coach Parko to three victories without being fully aware of who he surfed against in each final? That’s the surf industry for you… Oh, and Nic Muscroft? He had the misfortune of watching Kelly Slater’s 4-nines heat from the water… while Slater trampled him.
I have not personally experienced the miracle of childbirth and parenthood. All of our friends are getting pregnant as if semen is an airborne pathogen and vaginas are panting dogs. My 65-year-old uncle, an inveterate bachelor who spent 45 years gambling on football and enjoying life’s finer things, just had his first kid. Now he’s acting like he invented babies. Another member of the fuckin’ cult – “I forgot to pull out! Therefore, I understand the deep mysteries of life in a way that lowly non-breeders like you will never comprehend! Now look at the baby…LOOK AT THE BABY!” What does this have to do with Jihad “The Moist Moose” Khodr? Absolutely nothing. Jihad barely lost to Ben Dunn in Brazil, by .07, and lost to Roy Powers during a restart snooze fest at J-Bay, where he caught his first wave 35 minutes into the heat. This poor mutant meringue will be off tour soon enough. And when I finally succumb and have a kid, I’m going to hire Jihad Khodr to be our nanny. I can’t wait to see it! The Moist Moose has the bulky grace of a young Jackie Gleason. Can’t you just picture him, changing a diaper, arms flailing like moray eels, his small, bound feet doing the samba? When the diaper is pinned, Jihad will raise his arms in triumph, bellow a tremendous Muslim hoot, and do a double-pump fist claim. Brazilian nannies are worth every penny.