Same Letter, Different AnswerThe letters we received this month at TransWorld SURF were piss-poor. Mostly two-sentence contest-entry forms begging for free stuff. I remember a time when kids used to write letters to magazines just to see their names in print. As a matter of fact, my first printed piece of surf journalism was a scathing letter written in response to a Sam George article about longboarding in 1993. I wrote shit like, “Sam George, you are a kook. F-k you!” While this was very immature and just plain nasty, it was my first realization that I, too, could be in magazines. I wrote Surfer magazine ten or so letters after that, which never got printed. But that first one did, and that’s what mattered. Now I am the editor of my own little magazine, and I’m the one people are saying, “F-k you” to, and it feels good. In this month’s letter section I will display my keen letter-answering prowess by answering the same letter five times. This is not only a ploy to show how powerful I am in this ultra-competitive and financially lucrative business of letter answering, but also to show you, the reader, that I am the best letter answerer in the small and omnipresent world of surf journalism.-Chris Cote
Drivers’ EdMy name is Daniel, I’m from South Carolina. I began surfing last summer and have really gotten into it now. I got my license afew months ago. I talked with my mom about letting me drive to the beach this summer, so that I could surf more often and stay longer. But my mom makes me so mad that it drives me crazy. She won’t let me drive down there ’cause she says it’s too busy. I told her that I would be able to handle the traffic, but she still won’t let me. If I depend on her to take me to the beach this summer, then I will be waiting forever. School will have already started again, and it will be cold. What can I do? Any suggestions at all would be greatly appreciated.Daniel C.Hemingway, South Carolina
As summer swells wrap gently onto the Eastern Seaboard town of Slashville, the local helgies fully start frothing their beaks in raw shaka style. “Woooooo!” The war call of a Rippersville surf soldier breaks the calm of the irie beach scene. The Rippers of Rippersville have come to rumble with the Shredders of Shredsville! In an explosion of flying fists and flaying flip-flops, the Shredders are fully harshing the mellows of the melons of the Rippers. After a brief beach-blanket beat-down, the Shredders retreat and their leader Harold Sacks whines, “We’ll be back to slam some tweakage on your lids. My dome’s all tattered right now. Ghude, that’s so haole.”
Say no to drugs and yes to the excitement of electronics.
I am the surf-magazine editor. A cool breeze of arrogance follows me everywhere I go. When I walk past you, a waft of my attitude may be following close behind. Look for a storm of pomposity to blow into your town as I enter your area code. Watch for a tide of coolness to ebb onto your beach when I surf at your break. Beware the stench of self-centeredness when I break the winds of egotism.
There you have it. As you have just read, I am the best letter answerer in the world. Keep those crappy, invisible letters coming, and a breeze of sarcastic narcissism will blow the wave of your hair from wedging right-hander to mushy left reef break, bro.-Ed.