When I was in high school, I started bouncing a tennis ball off my desk onto Dan Dumas’s, and on down the line. The trick was to bounce your tennis ball in a pattern that your opponent couldn’t repeat. Kind of like “Horse” for stupid kids.
Before long, we took this non-game to an extreme it didn’t need to be anywhere near. We started adding homemade obstacles. Inviting spectators. Painting the tennis balls with highlighters. We even gave it a name. Ready for this? DESKBALL.
It lasted about two weeks, before we realized our time was better spent making fun of people who did this type of thing.
So today I’m making fun of people who do this type of thing. Surfers.
Have you caught this show, John From Cincinnati? Admittedly, it’s pretty good, especially if you belong to that growing religion that bows down in reverence to Deadwood. (Same creators, many of the same actors.) I watched it because someone told me it had a Carnivale taste to it, and I will admit I’ve gotten sucked in and yes, it’s now a weekly dvr for me. Mikey likes.
Except for the surfing. The surfing… I just don’t understand how it could hold your attention for any longer than about two weeks.
Why? I mean, just, how… What the fuck!? Who first decided to carry a frickin’ piece of plywood into the frickin’ ocean and then float back in on it while smoking weed and doing that “gnarly, dude!” sign? Was it an accident? “Hey, wasn’t my plywood right here just a second ago? Oh shit, it’s out on that wave! I’d go get it, but I have no clue how I’d get back. Well, I’ll figure something out.”
And today it’s a billion dollar industry! Okay, I have no idea how much cash there is in the Surfiverse, but it looks to be quite a bit on John From Cincinnati. Competitive surfing is to a day at the beach what Garth Brooks is to country music. They both make a crapload money off of something that would otherwise put you to sleep.
Well, it’s not as bad as parkour, which was invented when some UB student forgot his skateboard.
2 years ago