Rehab Love Child Gets First Pit

October 1, 2009

Andy’s and Amy’s Spawn Pitted – Mickey Claims Babrobotreport header shortby

missing link equation

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?”

monkey brobot randominium headquarters

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?

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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.

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Lewis Samuels’ Ego Explodes in Crowded Market Place

September 5, 2009

44 Innocents Wounded in Blast

brobotreport header shortLewis Sams Head

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.

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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.”

Martinez Mexes-Up for World Title Run

February 27, 2009


Santa Barbara California

Bobby Martinez Aztlan

Bobby Martinez to represent Aztlan


Santa Barbara native Bobby Martinez, a former 7-time NSSA National Champion and the ASP WCT’shighest rated California surfer of 2008, has announced that he will no longer be representing California or The United States of America on the 2009 ASP World Surfing Tour.

“This is a sad day for American surfing” stated Janice Aragon, NSSA director during Bobby’s amateur reign.

After continuing to ramp up his latino image throughout his emergence on the ASP World Tour, Martinez had apparently intended to enter 2009’s competitive season surfing for Mexico but after an alleged botched attempt to smuggle the young pro south to Tijuana via one of the Arellano-Felix Cartel’s drug tunnels and a previous paddle-across attempt (stymied by water quality issues in neighboring Imperial Beach) Martinez decided to stay in his own barrio of central “Aztlan” and fight the good fight. As he pulled up to our interview, his truck was conspicuously bare of the usual bevy of sponsors stickers and instead bore a simple slogan writ large in Old English on a tattered bumper sticker:“Aztlan: Love it or Leave it.”

“Bobby,” who has asked be referred to only by his given name, Roberto, is also dropping the nickname “BMart” as “it sounds too much like a “cut rate retail operation indicative of the oppressive imperialist and racist policies we are wishing to combat in this decision, eh?”

Bobby or, perdon, “Roberto” has thus decided to pull out of competing for his native U.S. to represent “Aztlan”, the spiritual Aztec homeland that encompasses much of the western coast of North America, including his birthplace in central California. Robert Gerard, Rules and Disciplinary Judge, for the ASP World tour, commented “The ASP simply cannot allow its surfers to represent “made-up” countries.”

Contesting the notion that Aztlan is a made-up country, Martinez noted that, “The ASP already sanctions competitors from Euskadi (a semi-autonomous region of northwest Spain and southwest France often called the Basque country) and Hawaii (the not so largely-autonomous 50th State of The United States of America), so in response to the ASP’s decision not to honor competitors from Aztlan, I say ‘No way, guey.’”

Roberto has also announced that he will seek legal guidance in his case to represent Aztlan as its first international star athlete from Mr. Esteban Zul, the officially recognized Ambassador of Aztlan to Cuba. Mr. Zul was quick to mention that Aztlan was the only one of the three “made-up countries” to join “The Coalition of the Willing” offering 500 homies to Bush’s war effort in 2007, and stated that “the ASP’s decision to allow competitors from Euskadi and Hawaii was an important show of politically solidarity in the revolutionary processes of those regions but would lack any real meaning going forward were it to exclude the latino struggle for Aztlan in its campaign to represent indigenous peoples movements.

“It’s really hypocritical,” Mr. Zul noted, “and no coincidence that unlike Euskadi and Hawaii, Aztlan is home to the center of the surf world’s imperialist capitalist ventures.” And perhaps it is no coincidence either then that Broberto ( as Brobot likes to call him) is the only Top 10 surfer headed into the 2009 WCT Season without a major sponsor—or a country to call his casa.


When Robert Gerard was reached for further comment he asked only that we “drop this nonsense of made-up countries” and focus on his intervention in Coco Ho’s notorious 2008 interference against Layne Beachley other high profile issues.

Monkey’s Got Fletcher’s Back

December 2, 2008

Fletcher and Monkey bust air

Fletcher and Monkey bust air

Primate Side-kick Opens Up About Adult Relationship

Earlier this year, Brobot learned that aerial pioneer Christian Fletcher had obtained a new side-kick during an extended stay on the Indonesian island of Bali. Yet Medusa, as the small monkey is called, has ascended mere companionship, and has taken on the “co-pilot” position in the visionary surfer’s next performance innovation.

According to sources, Fletcher claims that he won’t leave the island until he gets barreled at Padang Padang with Medusa on his back. In a recent conversation with Brobot, the monkey confirmed the goal, and said that the only question now, is whether he or Fletcher will drag hands on the barrel’s face. If he gets the nod, Medusa would prefer the double-handed stall perfected by Tom Curren, but he’d settle for the roof drag made famous by Andy Irons. And if Fletcher insists, the monkey may just flip a finger at the camera.

When Brobot commented on the incredible athleticism and unity between the two knuckle-draggers, Medusa commented, “I think we were the last two looking for a relationship. I know I wasn’t.”

Fletcher and monkey bust more air!

Fletcher and monkey bust more air!

The following is a partial transcript of that conversation:

Brobot: So Monkey, not to be blunt, but what the hell has Christian Fletcher been doing in Bali all these months?

Fletcher’s Monkey: He’s on a spiritual type . . . quest . . . to, um, get to the other side of gnarly. I mean, we all know that Fletcher’s gnarly, but he’s taking it further. Pushing the envelop, so to speak.

Brobot: And you’re with him on this quest.

Monkey: Yeah, we’re roll dogs. We get gnarly together.

Brobot: Can you give me an example?

Monkey: Well sure, like, one time Fletcher’s driving a van full of heads down to Desert Point on Lombok. He’s jammin’, squirlin’ out and getting gnarly. Then, just as we’re coming up on the spot, Fletcher says, “Monkey, take the wheel.” And I do.

Brobot: But monkeys can’t drive.

Monkey: I know. We crashed.

Brobot: And some of the passengers, some of your crew, were injured.

Monkey: Yeah, pussies . . . not gnarly at all. I mean, you could lose more skin on Uluwatu’s “racetrack.” So, we kicked the whiners out of the van—we’re rollin’ with different heads now.

Brobot: If we can be frank for a moment, is Fletcher on the lam from authorities in the U.S.? Is that why Surfer magazine wrote that he’s “in so deep, he’s never coming back?”

Monkey: Hard to say. I haven’t seen anything . . . wasn’t there . . . pleading the 5th on that one, and besides, I don’t know anything more that a monkey should know.

Brobot: Rumor has it, though, that the arrest involved a tranny hooker in Los Angeles.

Monkey: No, no, you must be thinking of RVCA’s last team photo shoot with Mickey Avalon. I mean, that guy’s a fruit cake.

Brobot: So, I suppose there are subjects that can’t be broached even between robot and monkey. But tell me a little about your day-to-day life, you’ve become quite famous as Fletcher’s “roll dog.”

Monkey: Yeah, I mean, it’s like the other day. Chris Ward recognizes me and tries to give me a book as part of his literacy program for the Top 44—that’s when I knew I’d reached another level.

Brobot: What was the book about?

Monkey: Like I told Wardo, “What the fuck? Monkeys can’t read!”

Brobot: What did Chris Ward say to that?

Monkey: He said that Bruce Irons told him the same thing but that Brucey eventually took the book and had someone read it to him.

Brobot: And did Fletcher read your book to you?

Monkey: No, he’s vowed not to read until we achieve our goals . . .  I mean, there’s doing and there’s reading about it—and reading about people doing is just not gnarly.

Monkey rollin' with Fletcher

Monkey rollin' with Fletcher

Monkey rolls with Fletcher

Brobot: So I notice that you and Fletcher look so much alike, you even dress alike sometimes. Is that a conscious kind of decision, or just happenstance from hanging together.

Monkey: Can’t say. I don’t dress myself.

Brobot: Who dresses you?

Monkey: Fletcher.

Brobot: Oh, right, that began to occur after you . . .

Monkey: Shit on his shoulder. It happened at Ocean Beach, the club in Kuta. But we’re past that now. I mean, it’s not as if he never shit himself.

Brobot: And about the quest to get barreled at Padang Padang together?

Monkey: Yeah, we’re still working on that—practicing flipping the bird and grabbing my junk for the cameras.

Brobot: But any chance of nailing the shack soon?

Monkey:  Yeah, um, I gotta go. Fletcher wants to go grab a mushroom shake, but thanks for the chat.

Brobot: Thanks, and best of luck, Monkey.

Monkey: Yeah, stay gnarly, Brobot.

Brobot on his way home from Bali

Brobot on his way home from Bali

Miniature Eddie Vedder Performs For Laird

August 14, 2008

Today, Brobot spotted Eddie Vedder performing a private “inside-the-tube” concert for Laird Hamilton. Onlooker Dave Kalama confirms this feat, adding, “They were getting huge shacks! Laird was slotting into massive, heaving waves with ease, mesmerized by Eddie. And, Vedder’s vocals in the barrel were unstoppable.”


At one point in the never-before-performed “concert,” Laird stopped dragging his paddle on the roof of the tube long enough to use the paddle for a cranking air guitar solo. Vedder smiled at the oarsman, so synced in with his host that Vedder could seemly hear the riff that Laird was laying down.


Natives of this Polynesian secret spot fell out of trees, so entranced by the sweet music that the act of harvesting coconuts proved impossible.


The two men first met on the set of “Iconoclasts,” a Sundance Channel documentary series that places two disparate celebrities face to face. In 2007 Vedder traveled to Hamilton’s island home and the pair quickly became friends. Vedder painted Hamilton’s over-size likeness, and they eventually hugged ( 


During a beautiful drive together, Vedder pontificated on what keeps Hamilton in the moment when he’s riding giant waves. Hamilton quickly suggested, “Having a good song in my head, that’ll be helpful.”


Full of praise for his new friend, Vedder said, “Laird is realizing what kind of magic this planet holds.” And knowing a bit of magic himself, Vedder shrunk himself to baby-sized proportions.  Amazingly, this had no effect on his vocal range. Not only did Vedder write a song to keep Hamilton’s next big-wave season grounded, he wrote a whole concert. But the miniature Vedder decided to go one better, and allowed himself to be placed on the nose of Hamilton’s stand-up paddle board (SUP) for the first big session of the year. 


News of their success quickly reached the island of Bali, however, where the Rip Curl Search WCT event was taking place. Eight-time world champion Kelly Slater stood the possibility of furthering his bid for a ninth title at this venue, but word of Vedder and Hamilton’s duet apparently rattled the champ and he went down to a low seed competitor by the name of Tiago Peres. “Slater and Vedder were friends first,” explains one knowledgeable source. “Probably closer at one point than Hamilton and Vedder are now, and Vedder never did anything like this for Slater. That kind of news can definitely affect your game.”


It could be that professional jealousy isn’t only confined to Slater, as Hamilton’s one-time tow partner Dave Kalama has reportedly contacted Slater for a tow event of their own.

The BroBot

September 18, 2007

Ladies and Gentlemen its our pleasure to introduce the Brobot!