Thursday, July 26, 2012

Je Suis Revenu

Just flew back from the East Coast and boy are my arms tired.
But seriously. What'd I miss?
Took advantage of the first kidless hour in two weeks (God bless gym daycare!) and busted out a double-super-top-secret quad fin design that was doing dirty things to my brain on the plane to SFO.

Now that that's out of the way I can check in on my local sandbar to see how it's handling the remnants of this little south swell...
It’s good to be home.

Sunday, July 8, 2012

Of Frankenfish, Summer Reading, The Hindenburg

As you can imagine, I get the electronic version of heaps of mail (Kilobytes? Megabytes? Brownie Bites?) weekly, from topics as far-reaching as shaping, to why isn't my board ready yet, and what the hell do you mean you went to Baja and left my board at the glasser, and why haven't you called your mom in a month, and how come there's a credit card charge for a movie called The DaVinci Load?
Anyhoo, I treat these correspondence as I treat all of my business dealings: with respect, dignity, and the occasional impulse to post them online so that all 37 (got another blog hit last Tuesday!) of you can enjoy.
I present to you the HHG Mail Bag, Summer Reading Edition!
And a new surfboard for local shredder Chip.

Chip's 7'Something" Frankenfish
Dear HHG, I just finished reading Chad Harbach's best-seller The Art of Fielding and was kind of underwhelmed. However, I don't trust my instincts. First, it's on the bestseller list. Second, there's like fifteen pages of positive reviews before the book even begins PLUS an author interview at the end Also, the cover has cool font and is very patriotic. All of these must add up to an amazing reading experience, right? Is it me? Are my tastes slipping?
LitSlip in Leucadia

LitSlip, if you're asking me for assistance, your tastes are already questionable. However, with regard to Mr. Harbach's novel, you must stand strong with your opinions. What would have happened if Hindenburg captain Ernst Lehmann hadn't stood strong in his belief that his zeppelin airship could be safely docked at Lakehurst Naval Air Station in New Jersey during an electrical storm with strong headwinds in a flammable aircraft packed with combustible gasses? How would history have been changed had flygirl Amelia Earhart not stood firm on her opinion that an equatorial around-the-world flight plan would be a piece of cake? What would have happened if I had not taken an unwavering stand with the lovely Mrs. HHG that there would be 'no consequences whatsoever' in allowing each of our young girls to eat an entire bag of dried cherries during our recent sixteen-hour drive back from Mexico?

More Frankenfish!

Dear HHG,
on a recent surf trip to Baja with a few other couples I noticed an interesting phenomenon with the ladyfolk: there would be hushed whispering, a stifled giggle or two, the sounded of a blender motor, a concealed exchange, and then one would disappear. Several days later she would reappear in search of more margaritas, and the phenomenon would begin again. What gives?
Gray Curious in Carlsbad

Gray Curious, your instincts serve you well: E.L. James' Fifty Shades of Grey is wholly responsible for these behaviors, which can circulate through select populations with a cyclical regularity. Remember The Bridges of Madison County? Overall, this clandestine literary pursuit is far preferable to what the less-fair sex does with their gender-isolated pursuits: jumping off things. Farting on things. Football.

Four Wings+Four Fins=Sixty-Four Times the Radness

Dear HHG, Should I read Atlas Shrugged?
Randy in The Tenderloin.

Randy, please read Atlas Shrugged if you hate humor and self awareness, and love drawn-out 'moral' justifications for self-interest and greed! Also, read if you enjoy hundreds of pages of white men giving speeches about their importance, predictable characters, and d-bags approaching you with their own half-baked, semi-racist, self-serving economic theories. Also read if you love boring shit in general.
Don't get me wrong, Randy. I love bad writing as much as the next person--culture snobs, as a whole, are a  paranoid and miserable bunch, and act as if the rest of the world is the same way. Screw those guys! Read books about sports stars bitchin' cars and celebrity marriages gone bad and murder mysteries that are also love stories that turn into feel good road trips with vampire-hunting ex presidents. There is joy in that stuff, and that's what reading is all about.
And summer.
And Chip's new 7-foot-Something-inch surfboard.