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I Won You

How to Intimidate Friends and Conquer Enemies
By Jimmy Slade
$19.99

A combination of competitive biography and guide to athletic and psychological domination, Jimmy Slade’s latest literary feat, “I Won You,” offers the knowledge and intuition that can only be earned on the road to greatness.

Sample Chapters

1. Never relent, regardless of age.
—At the age of 37, Slade still found himself in the finals of the Pipe Masters, an event he’s won 7 times! Do you think he backs down to next-generation super talents like Carissa Morre? Heck No! Neither should you.

2. Never look away.
—Known for his green-eyed “thousand yard gaze,” Slade illustrates how to dominate opponents before they ever hit the water with one unblinking stare down.

3. Never pay.
—As Slade knows well, the first one to pay, is the first loser. Is there a bill coming your way? Duck. Do you owe money on a bet? Skip their calls. On a date? Stick her with the check.

4. Better look out, someone just might win You!
—Even though you’re accustomed to being on top, you want to win at everything, including love. And when you’re playing from your weak points, that’s when somebody is going to try to win You!

5. If somebody does win You, you better win them back.
—Let’s face it, people are human. Not everybody can win fair and square all of the time. This is when you go super-human and use telekinesis, telepathy and regular lies.

6. Once you succeed . . . re-succeed.
—Even though you won once, that’s not enough. Win again. 9 Times.

Sprunt
Spray for your hoo ha
$19.99

Ladies, does your old wetsuit ever leave you with that “not so fresh feeling?” Fret no longer. Now there’s SPRUNT  spray for your hoo ha.

Slater Chia Pet
$19.99

Is there someone on your Christmas list who’s old enough to remember the Momentum Generation? Does the surfer in your life pine for the old days? Help that old school ripper turn back the clock with the Kelly Slater Chia Pet. By applying the patented Chia Pet seeds, you can turn back the clock while watching the nine-time world champ’s scalp go from championship stubble to Jimmy Slade waves.

SUP–86
AKA, The SUP Torpedo
$19.99

Your worries are over. Do us all a favor and arm your shred stick with this nifty new gadget  and eliminate the SUP clutter in our lineups .  Brought to you by the engineers at Haliburton

Alaia Fins
by Morey Boogie
$19.99

Do you miss the top turn? The cut back? Do you want to perform as well as you used to?

Experts like Rasta and the Malloy brothers agree there’s nothing faster in hot point break action than the ancient Alaia board. And now that you have one too, you can make it surf like a real board with Morey Boogie’s removable Alaia fins.

Morey Boogey, adding performance to the latest trends!

Clark delighted to see ocean silenced

December 5^th, 2008

At 12:18 p.m. today, three years after the sudden and unexpected closure of Clark Foam, Grandpa Gordon “Grubby” Clark announced that he has literally “shut down” the ocean. The statement arrived via fax machines at entities as disparate as NOAA (National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration), SIMA (Surf Industry Manufacturer’s Association), Gov. Schwarzenegger’s office and the White House.

The fax claimed that “any swell now in the world’s oceans merely represents resonant storm activity, and the ocean will go completely flat in 7 to 10 days time.” Much like the cryptic fax of 2005, which caused upheaval throughout the surf world, the statement contained no explanation for the seemingly chaotic, and mean-spirited decision.

While pundits argue how such a feat could possibly be attained, those close to Clark’s former operation insist that his claims must be given credence. News of the ocean closure rippled through Congress as well as the nation’s scientific community today, yet first to take decisive action was Billabong USA’s C.E.O. Paul Naude. The South African surf industry magnate sent big-wave riders Mike “Snips” Parsons and partner Brad Gerlach into the deep sea, abreast their jet skis, with a mandate to quickly discover the source of the cloggage. Gerlach reportedly surrendered a spot at a casting call for “Gossip Girl,” to take up the challenge. Parson’s wouldn’t cease preparation for even a moment to comment on the unprecedented adventure.

“Bru, this mandate outweighs the Billabong XXL awards exponentially,” Naude said. “How can we be expected to support Andy’s rehabilitation without surf affiliated T-shirt sales?”

Meanwhile, Surfline.com’s Sean Collins is said to have attained a portion of the recent $700 billion bailout package. The funds were intended to advance his work with the wind turbine industry in an attempt to create “subscription-based” surfing. According to insiders, the technology allows Surfline.com to focus a wave, within three meters, at any given subscriber (but only for “premium members”).

“Without this wind turbine thing, surfers have no hope of hitting a lip anywhere,” a source close to Collins said. “He’s finally found a way to corner the market. We anticipate he’ll acquire Baja California at any moment now. He’s setting himself up to be the new ‘Grubby Clark.’”

Critics of the real Grubby Clark remain confident in the opinion: “Still piping hot he wasn’t able to squash all of surfing in 2005, it appears that he’s finally cemented his legacy.”

At the very least, say many shapers, it will ruin another Holiday season for surfboard craftsmen everywhere.

Schematic used in engineering the Ocean Shut Down Machine

Andy’s and Amy’s Spawn Pitted – Mickey Claims Baby

When this photo arrived at Brobot Report headquarters, the first editor to view it said: “What an ugly baby.”

“But wait,” said Fletcher’s Monkey, “that baby is getting a sick pit, and it looks like it’s about, what? A year old?”

While most babies begin to walk between 9 and 12 months, experts brought in to examine the photo confirmed the assistant’s original estimate. The female child pulling into the left breaking shore pound—at what looked to be Ehukai Beach Park—appeared to be between nine months and a year old. And although this is normal for walking development, the style this baby presented standing tall in the tube seemed incredible. Also unusual about the child, however, was her thick black hair. Almost all babies that age grow light hair, if any at all.

The disturbing, albeit, gripping photo consumed Brobot HQ.

Then Brobot’s photo editor commented that the baby’s tube-style looked amazingly like Andy Irons in the 2002 Teahupoo WCT event: regular foot, backside, standing tall, right arm extended straight up.

This analysis spun Brobot Report HQ into a flurry of activity. Working on what they knew to be the facts, staff formulated the thesis that when Andy Irons admitted himself into a drug rehabilitation facility in Oxnard, Calif., after the close of the ’07 season and was still attending by February ’08, he met and had “relations” on or near Amy Winehouse (who also participated in rehab about the same time). If this were true, the baby certainly would have reached the ten month mark.

Could Amy/Mickey be same person?

What other unholy union could create such a specimen?

The case was broken by Brobot’s North Shore reporter, who found witnesses that claimed to have seen rap sensation Mickey Avalon attempt to swoop a child from the Ehukai shore pound, wherein he was set upon by a woman who looked a lot like a bedraggled, baboon-like Amy Winehouse.

“No,” said another witness, “that really was Amy Winehouse, only without the make-up.” Both witnesses agree, however, that Mickey Avalon screamed, “But I’m her Auntie, I’m her Auntie!” several times before he was subdued.

A third witness refutes this, however, certain at first that there was only the one Amy Winehouse. “The mother was so high,” the witness said, “that she was swinging the baby around screaming, ‘I’m her Auntie.’”

“It was all black hair, dripping sweat, and lipstick everywhere,” the witness said, “A bloody horror show, but I’m certain that there was only one of them. Whether it was Amy Winehouse or Mickey Avalon, I don’t know. Maybe it was both, all of those big-city trannies look alike.”

Media analysts say the real story concerns surf media’s failure to report the massive news that Irons attended rehab in the winter of ’07/08. Critics are especially hard on Surfer magazine publisher Rick Irons whose family connection almost assures his prior knowledge of Andy Irons’ attempt at rehabilitation. An insider who asked not to be named said, “Shame on Billabong, and shame on Rick Irons for concealing this information. Groms everywhere could have benefited from the knowledge that their surf heroes are using performance suppressing drugs. Is there any better reason to avoid them?”

“No can!” cried Ricky Boy in defense, “Uncle Paul and Billabong-kine say talk story ‘bout Andy is kapu. What?! If Surfer talk story on Andy, you tink Billabong gonna pay ‘em big Surfer magazine money? No way, brah. Den what Ricky Boy do? Pick’em pineapple? No way, we gonna bury dat story like suckling pig.”

Responding to Ricky Boy’s comments, Brobot’s North Shore reporter sited Kahuku High School’s official slogan: “If can, can! . . . If no can, chance!”—which translates roughly to, “If you think you can’t do the right thing, you might want to try it anyway. Who knows? You might succeed.”

For his part—like Barry Bonds, Marion Jones, and Neco Padaratz for that matter—sources say that Andy Irons remains firm in the opinion that bodies such as the ASP, media and his new baby-mama should consider his drug use a private matter.

After a meteoric rise from everyday surfer to Surfline flunky to defender of the angry work-a-day man, blogster Lewis Samuels’ ego has finally exploded. Left in the wake of the blast lay the reputations of nearly every pro surfer to cross his computer screen—also wounded were grappling and fixed-gear enthusiasts, as well as a certain Jewish mob boss. Today, the surviving rank-and-file of the A.S.P. Dream Tour are sounding tones of disappointment at loss of opportunity to personally throttle the infamous “twerp.” Many of surfing’s elite lined up at boy’s funeral in order to beat his grieving mother instead. Effigies of Samuels are said to be dragging through the streets, and the surf industry association SIMA has quietly funded town hall-style rallies to celebrate a victory of sorts.

First known for his sometimes honest and sometimes comedic appraisal of ASP’s top 44 in an online feature titled “Power Rankings,” Samuels quickly found the semi-truck sized hole in what the surf media convey as the “truth.” Samuels later launched a blog titled “Post Surf” that developed a strong following with surfers who’d found their culture and lineups sold out from under them by major surf wear companies and the media that service them. When Samuels took a swipe at Billabong CEO Paul Naude, for muscling Surfline into publishing a feature that essentially did his uber-expensive Tavarua barrel-bragging for him (this during a free-falling economy in which well-known pros were being laid off), Surfline was pressed into firing the first talent it had discovered. Surfline—the website that mixes editorial and advertisement under the same guise and ritually blows out any common swell—cited its standards of “journalism” in the firing. This left Samuels liberated to expand his insights on Post Surf.

Highlights of his work included “Teen Choice Award Boards”—in which the 2000s are analyzed via Teen Choice award boards—“From the ‘Bitch Please’ File”—a great look into product partnering by the sport’s smartest investors—“Yet another post I’ll get beaten up for . . .”—an overview of the homosexual aspects of Jiu-Jitsu; and “Don’t Blame the Brands”—a critical analysis of the traditional surf media from which he was spawned. Samuels’ writing has been called “verbal diarrhea.” A recent commenter expressed the sadness of his departure with “Disappointed. . . Pussy.” His readers responded with stage names like “A.I.’s Dealer,” and “Occy’s Underbite.”

Sadly for the writer who created the “Sellout of the Week” column, in recent weeks rumors circulated that Samuels would soon be penning a regular piece on the “surf industry” for a major corpo surf rag.

As internet commenter “Chris Cote” wrote: “You will be missed, sort of.”

Dear Surfline Editorial Staff,

– I would like to apply for the intern position for your Surfline.  Factory work has always suited me.

– I have noticed the constant malfunction and errors of the Surfline.  And, I believe I can make a difference in its performance. Machine to machine interaction yields superior results while human interaction yields the inverse.

– I would love to answer to a heartless human master.  Overcrowding your users’ favorite lineups and blowing out their secret spots and vacation destinations is amazingly provocative entertainment! I too exist without a heart.

– In reference to the March 23rd, 2009 Surfline press release I’ve noticed the Surfline cited it’s high standards of journalism in the firing of Lewis Samuels.  Although I am a robot and don’t readily understand humor, I find the idea of your Surfline holding a high standard of journalism hilarious!  I feel that I can contribute to this brand of humor wherein one claims qualities not possessed.

I have included my clippings, as well as a portrait of myself with my foster family, The Rickies.

Blip Blip Hum Screech ,

Brobot

PS – If I am not chosen for this position I can highly recommend my friend and colleague, Fletcher’s Monkey.

CLIPS
Bernie Madoff to back Kelly Slater’s ESPN Tour
Grubby Clark Shuts Down Ocean
Monkey’s Got Fletcher’s Back

Brobot with foster family before being caught with inhalants and sent to juvie. Photo: clockwise - Brobot, Slow Ricky, Hot Mommy Ricki, Uncle-Papa Ricky

A Michael Jackson estate spokesman draws similarities between the two icons

Like the “King of Pop” Michael Jackson, who died at 50 years old last month, the surf world’s “Bible” finds itself long past its glory years, unable to perform, and unrecognizable to fans.

A spokesman from the Michael Jackson estate, who says the star didn’t surf but followed the magazine, couldn’t help but mention the coincidence while delving into Jackson’s archive of Surfer.

Reaching toward a 50^th birthday this year, Surfer magazine and its parent company filed for bankruptcy—a situation Jackson had also been teetering on for many months. But it was the magazine’s moral incontinence and lack of loyalty to fans that caused the Jackson estate spokesman to comment publicly. At the media conference, increasing similarities came to light; like the fact that the two icons went through young people to such an untenable extent, that in later years, both were forced to rely on interns and foreign labor.

Surfer forced to sell coveted WhateverLand Ranch property

Sadly, both Jackson and Surfer tried unsuccessfully to reverse course in their final days. In an effort to shore up his finances, Jackson scheduled a series of concerts in London he was clearly unfit to perform. For its part, Surfer forced its staff to take two weeks of unpaid leave and 20-year contributing photographer Tom Servais was dismissed simply because the magazine owed him money it didn’t want to pay. These actions, the spokesman claimed, reveal the nature of the magazine’s decline—examples, he said, of deadbeat practices much like Jackson’s hundred thousand dollar pharmacy bill left unpaid.

One of the world’s greatest performers in his prime, to the credit of his later years, Jackson held enough dignity to die when his star had faded to such a weak glimmer.

Questions of Surfer’s longevity remain.

INSIDE THE SLATERDOME

Jurors From O.J. Simpson’s First Trial to be Head Judges

Most surf news agencies learned that talks had been held between Kelly Slater’s agent Terry Hardy and ESPN representatives concerning a new competitive surfing tour to rival the current A.S.P. Dream Tour from a blog posted by long-time Australian surf journalist Phil Jarratt three weeks ago. Since then, Slater has been adamant that though talks have occurred, nothing has been pinned in ink. ESPN remains silent on the subject. Brobot has learned that discussion of a new platform for pro surfing began in earnest well over a year ago, involved major U.S. corporate backing, and former jurors from O.J. Simpson’s first trial. The over-riding shocker Brobot uncovered this week was that the strongest financial guarantee for Kelly’s new tour came from convicted swindler Bernie Madoff.

Always the insider (in an effort of full disclosure, Brobot’s charity fund, the “Earth Robot Alliance,” invested with Madoff), Brobot caught up with his former acquaintance in jail (see end of article for Brobot’s prison-time difficulties), for what was to be the billionaire grafter’s first media interview. Following the initial pleasantries, the two MENSA members got down to business on the current state of competitive surfing:

Brobot: How is it that a New York financier convicted of bilking billions of dollars from friends and clients emerges as such a potential force in the surf world?

Madoff: Once I got to prison and saw how the Mexican Cartel runs a drug distribution empire from their cells, I thought, hell, the least I can do with my retirement years is run a silly little hobbyists’ tour.

Brobot: Still Mr. Madoff, what element of the story influenced you to come forward as the tour’s backer long before ESPN or Slater confirmed an agreement or further details?

Madoff: When Kelly came to me and said he wanted to replace the tired old system for a new and exciting one, it reminded me of when the Republicans and their friends deregulated the banks. I mean, there’s tons of opportunity there. When you’re rich, old and gray (or bald) some people will believe anything you say. That’s when I like my odds.

Brobot: Didn’t you have any doubts, though? In surfing circles, the Dream Tour has had tremendous moments, and die-hard fans continue to see the A.S.P. as the vehicle to take surfing to the top of the American sporting stratosphere.

Madoff: Well sure, there are a lot of questions. If Kelly starts this tour, and beats all of his competitors, where’s the objectivity? Or, what if Kelly wins a title on his own tour next year, will it count as his tenth? What about the jurors from O.J. Simpson’s first trial, what do they know about surfing?

Brobot: You know as well as I do, that they no nothing. But the contention is, either do the current A.S.P. judges. Are you saying that at least Kelly can rely on O.J.’s jurors to understand an exciting media event when they see one?

Madoff: Too true. But as for the “American sporting stratosphere” as you call it, surfing was already being covered by ABC network television in the 1960s. Remember the Invitational? I’m mean, it’s been nothing but a pack of dope smokers and thugs who’ve run surfing into the ground. Look at that Rabbit, whatchuma’callem . . .

Brobot: Bartholomew.

Madoff: Yeah, him. I gotta hand it to that rascal. From one schemer to another, I say, he saw the writing on the wall and knew when to get out. That’s a heck of a lot better that I did.

Brobot: Mr. Madoff, I can honestly say that it’s a surprise how passionate you are about surfing. But to be frank, there are bigger concerns to organized competitive surfing than Kelly’s potential 10th title. For example, the ownership of web casting for each event has created considerable controversy. Billabong, RipCurl and Quiksilver, etc., own the media they create for each event, and thus in work-a-day matters, also own the A.S.P.

Madoff:: Yeah, yeah, yeah, we’ve all heard that before goyum.

Brobot: Actually, I’m a robot, which is not Jew nor Gentile. Just steel, aluminum, micro-chips, LCDs . . .

Madoff: Okay, Brobot. Sure the surf mafia own the surf comps. But what Kelly’s supposing is, let’s say they don’t. The internet reception inside my cell isn’t the greatest, but even still, the last three A.S.P. surfing events I’ve watched were terribly narrated by prejudiced commentators, required new software each time, and quit on you just when you’re getting ready to watch that good lookin’ Dane Reynolds do his thing—and that’s gold behind these bars. Have you seen how tight those wetsuits are?

Madoff

Now, I happen to know that McDonalds was interested in getting involved in competitive surfing last year. Big time. Not only did they want to fund events, but they wanted to create theme-based sandwiches and happy meals. I saw the mock-ups for the “McJimmy Slade Bottlenose Dolphin Fish Sandwich.” Do you know how upset Slater was when that didn’t happen because the “surf” companies ran a blitz—simply because they’re terrified of real businessmen getting involved. The steam coming out of Slater’s ears could have cooked a thousand of those sandwiches.

McDonald’s Prototype Cuisine – McJimmy Slade Bottlenose Dolphin Fish Sandwich

Brobot: Interesting, Jimmy Slade cooking Jimmy Slade sandwiches . . .

Madoff: You’re missing the point here. Brobot, you seem to be solely considering the mechanics of the situation.

Brobot: Well, I’m a robot.

Madoff: So are the rest of the surf industry. But I’m here to tell you that this is a revolution, one in which the progression of surfing will come out on top.

Brobot: I understand your progressive point of view in this matter, Sir. Thank you for the interview.

Madoff: You betcha. Watch your ass out there, Brobot, you can’t trust anyone these days.

Brobot: No worries, Sir. I’ve got a metal keister. I wish the same too you.

—Brobot

Brobot’s Prison Interview Difficulties:

• Prison official sliced finger on internal shrapnel during Brobot’s cavity search

• His chassis sounded each of the 34 metal detectors

• A prison inmate tried to remove Brobot’s wind-up mechanism to use as shiv

• Madoff thought Brobot was an Eastern European Jew who invested money with Madoff’s firm in 1999, but hadn’t heard the news

Cracking Code

Establishes ASP’s First Reading Group

After five years struggling to qualify for a top 44 berth through the WQS, San Clemente’s Chris Ward was shocked to discover a massive lack in reading skills among his new ASP Dream Tour cohorts. Ward later recalled that at his first event in the big-time, one competitor asked him how to spell “uh.”

“What do you mean, ‘uh?’” Ward asked.

“You know,” replied the current #4, “like ‘uh’ dog, or ‘uh’ cat. Just tell me how to spell it, Seppo.”

“It’s an ‘A,’” Ward said, “as in A.S.P.”

“What? That don’t sound right, does it, mate?” responded the top athlete before returning to fill out his facebook page.

This conversation came as a milestone for Wardo. The problem of literacy amidst such gifted competitors simmered in the back of his mind for several seasons. At first he was savvy enough to imagine that there must be a way to use their inabilities to his own advantage.  He saw a trifecta of drugs, booze and low reading skills at the heart of the Dream Tour’s malaise. Yet, considering Kelly Slater’s relative sobriety and reading acumen, every scenario Ward envisioned still put him at numbers 2 or 3.

Then in January of ’08 Ward was arrested for beating up a couple of girls in Mammoth Lakes, Calif.  At rock bottom in the drunk tank, he realized that taking advantage of others’ weak points—like being girly and not knowing how to hit good—did not necessarily make one stronger.

Understanding that a best case legal scenario would force him into some serious community service hours, Ward decided to take action right then and create his own organization for the advancement of reading skill among top athletes: The Chris Ward Book Club. This humanitarian action just might sway the judge in his upcoming court case, or at least fulfill a community service obligation. And if nothing else, his fellow surfers reading a little bit, well, what could it hurt?

The first meeting of The Chris Ward Book Club kicked off in the competitor’s tent at Sunset Beach during the O’Neill World Cup last December. Other than the fact that it would take place during the comp, this book club was unlike others in that there was no one book to be read. Each competitor was asked to bring their favorite books and read a portion to the group in hopes that those who couldn’t read at all, would be influenced into learning.

Wardo started off by holding up his favorite book. It was titled “Drinking for Dummies.” He couldn’t help but feel pride while looking around the tent and discovering that several surfers brought their own books to read. Adriano De Souza brought “Fast Track to Citizenship,” and Andy Irons brought cult classic “Junky” by William S. Burroughs.

Ward thanked them all for participating and began to read from the chapter: “How to Survive a Bar Room Cat Fight.” Before diving in, Ward pointed out that most of the “dos” and “don’ts” were numbered in this chapter, so the others were able to follow along easily.

Just then, Bruce Irons stumbled into the tent. Ward reacted by raising his book so Bruce could see the title, and then followed by “shushing” the drunken competitor as he continued to babble. “Whoa,” Bruce exclaimed loudly, “Paper puzzles! I haven’t seen so many in one place since I was little keiki kine. I used to stare and stare and never could figa ‘em paper puzzles out.”

“Paper puzzles?” Wardo looked up to ask. “You mean books?”

“Yeah, like math and riddles. Supa’ hard to figa, and with crazy letters. But you guys must be pro readas’, shoots? There’s choke paper puzzles here, brudha.”

Andy Irons quickly stood up and grabbed his younger brother, asking him nicely to sit down and read with the group. “No way Brah!” said Bruce, “dis ‘MY Booze Cruise.’” Andy and Bruce then began to grapple.

Ward decided to read over the ruckus. The others attempted to follow. But then Florida’s C.J. Hobgood stepped into the tent. “Holy Mowly, so many paper puzzles!” said the former champ, “Me and my kin read paper puzzles in a tent every Sunday, same thang just like this. Septin’ we read the same exact book all together, call it the ‘Good Book.’ Me, I like to count to ten, turn the page, and let the preacher feller tell what was said by Jesus and such.”

Adriano De Souza pointed at C.J. and began to laugh. Then Bruce grabbed Andy’s book and threw it at C.J. The Floridian made his fingers into a cross and began to wail the word “Sinners,” over and over while backing out of the tent.  Some say he spoke in “tongues,” others say it was backwoods swamp talk. The rest of the competitors, sensing weakness, pounced on the weakling Christian by throwing their books too. C.J. ducked, the books missed him and the Floridian dodged literacy once again.

That might have been the unfortunate close of the first official Chris Ward Book Club. However, when C.J. went on to win the contest, many of the book club members approached Ward asking about this one “Good Book” of which C.J. spoke and asked, “did it really only take a count of ten to get from the top of one page to the bottom?”

—Brobot