Https://rwdriver.medium.com/trumps-cyber-ninjas-audit-arizona-s-carnival-recount-e741730a235d?sk=06af95ab1f58097906c4eae7c3afbaa7

Shark Week Becomes Squalene Chum

We are only a few days away from one of the most loathsome weeks for surfers. A week of nightly TV that most of us salty, nasal drippers do everything to avoid. It happens every summer, that one week where the fun vibe in the lineup gets a bit frosty and sketchy; where freaky thoughts about oversized fish with multiple rows of sharp teeth swim through our collective domes.

It’s Shark Week on Discovery Channel. Oh, how I love this freakin’ week… Read More - Da Bob - YEW

Only Pottz Can Save Pro… Surfing!

Last week the WSL officially announced the death of this year’s 2020 tour and a retooled 2021 list of events... But lets get real, only Martin Potter can save Pro Surfing! Here is a serious question for all you Pro Surfer lovers out there… Since the onset of COVID-19 and the shutdown of the World Surf League’s 2020 Pro Tour… Have you really missed Pro Surfing? Did you miss the sunny opening leg on Australia’s Gold Coast or her cold slabs at Bells or Margaret River? Maybe the itch you were looking to scratch was some live Indo? Or were you looking to gawk at the sandy thongs of Brazil’s Oi Rio Pro!?! I know I miss J-Bay… I miss everything about that cold, sharky, right hand point break! Teahupo’o? Slater’s ranch in Lemoore? No! The European Leg? Da Pipe Masters? Be honest… No You Don’t! Didn’t! Haven’t! Read More - Da Bob - Medium

Patiently… Dealing With Life’s Kooks

by Rusty

There is a Zen thing all true surfers seem to tap into at some point during their salty existence. This happens when the impatience of youth surrenders to the power of Mother Nature. When a true surfer recognizes and accepts the swells, tides, waxing & waning moons… This centered place of Zen can only be learned over time; time spent searching for the right position to catch watery ripples of energy, seconds of time spent joyfully sliding, trimming and riding that amazing energy. The more time us flawed humans spend diving into the ocean, the more we discover how small we really are, in this big and crazy world. For the open minded, this all translates into the graceful gift of patience.

So, how come the older I get, the more impatient I grow everywhere else in my life?

I have no patience for my neighbors… Please mow your lawns and take down last year’s Christmas lights!

No patience for all you kooks on my freeway!

No patience for people who walk around while staring at their cellphones!

I have not patience for anything Bluetooth!!!

No patience for my expensive “High-Speed” internet! Freaking load already!

No patience for the gum-chewing blonde pharmacy assistant, who always forgets to refill my life-depending meds!.

No patience for $4.50 Grande Lattes! Hey kid, all I want is a black cup of coffee... To go!

No patience for airport security… How many TSA kooks does it take to waive a magnetic wand around my junk?

No patience for the “New Math” my grandkids don’t understand!

No patience for 909ers who show up at San O’s during a good swell and create a never ending line just to get down the hill… Pick up your trash & go home!

Oh shit… where’s my Xanax? I need to go surfing and get my thumping blood pressure under control.

Aloha Kooks!!!

This is dedicated to all you 909er’s (951, 657, 760…) You know exactly who you are! Surf Punks - My Beach

I came across a pic of my old girlfriend…

I came across a pic of my old girlfriend… A lovely girl, great personality, beautiful skin, gorgeous curves… A drop dead knockout! But she just couldn’t commit (Honestly, I’ve always been a one woman guy). The summer of ‘67 I made my first pilgrimage to the Islands and she decided to hook up with a writer named Kesey and moved to Frisco… Last time I saw her, she was dealing Orange Sunshine in the parking lot of a Grateful Dead concert. The real story… Das Burgfräulein von Strechau / The Damsel of Strechau Castle in Styria, 17th century by an unknown artist.

One of the many legends of Burg Strechau in Styria recounts the story of a damsel who waited for her lover to return from the Holy Land to free it from the infidels. When he did not return, she broke her vow and married another man. When the bride appeared for the wedding ceremony her face suddenly changed into that of a skull and devilish creatures dragged her into hell.

Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Model Makes Waves At 56 - YEW!

SI has included, amongst its usual bevy of young beauties, the most attractive 56 year old swimsuit model I have ever gazed upon.

by Da Bob for YEW Of course...  I look forward to this annual pageant of beauty ever year. However, the older I get, the crustier I grow, the more uncomfortable and creepy I feel about ogling SI’s annual Swimsuit Edition.  In short, I just don’t feel right about gawking at the assets of Generation Z. Read More - Da Bob - YEW

Chummy Uncle Hobart

My family’s deadly history with sharks goes way back to this photo taken in 1916. That’s my Great Uncle Hobart, whom I sadly never got a chance to meet. My Grandfather claimed that Hobart was the chummiest, best looking waterman of his generation. A turn of the century bronze god, but cursed with a vain vanity and thirst for fame! He tragically died after this photo was taken - as these fossilized jaws accidentally snapped shut, cutting him into two bloody pieces. 

Please show Uncle Hobart some love and visit Rusted Aloha’s store... linked in my bio… Ohhhh Uncle Hobart… You are forever missed. Love, Rusty!

Burnett’s Cocoaine Hair Oil

Besides my daily saltwater dip, this is the only hair product I use… Good old Joseph Burnett’s Cocoaine Hair Oil! Now don’t get all preachy on me and say, but Rusty “Just say no to dope” or “Ugh to drugs”. I am not dousing my grayish locks with Amazonian March Dust… Nope, the “Coco” is just coco-nut oil. It’s Rusty approved!!! Conditions the hair I have left, smells great and keeps the ladies sniffing around. #StokedTillDeath

Happy Birthday To... Me!

Tomorrow is my Birthday and my loving, wonderful, grown-up kids ordered me a few things online… #BirthdayPresents…

A New Cali State Park Day Pass Old School @katinusa​ Boardshorts Nat Young’s “Church of the Open Sky” and #Weed Suppositories?!?!? https://twitter.com/RustedAloha/status/1285729682051272704?s=20

The Death of Body Surfing

I just came across a comment about Body Surfing that I had never really taken into account before...

“The surf leash broke up surfing and bodysurfing, which up to that point had been united since the beginning — wipeout, lose board, bodysurf, repeat…” — Matt Warshaw

As I think about it, this is totally, freakin’ true… The leash did squeezed the life out of bodysurfing! Read More - Da Bob - Medium

The Rusted Wives Club

by Rusty

About every 3 months or so, I undergo a Cardiac Stress Test. It is not by any means a pleasurable medical experience and normally leads me to examine many of my life's questionable decisions. But none the less, this medical inquiry offers my loved ones a measured sense of reassurance that my old, rusted butt is going to keep paddling around this watery planet… just a little bit longer.

The seriousness of this medical procedure really should not be understated. To ensure that my heart - and head - are in the right place before I undergo this test, my wife encourages me to find my “Happy Place” by hanging out at the beach and surfing with the boys. She understands that a good morning in the surf helps relax me, calms me down, puts me into that zen type place, “that only a surfer knows.”

It took me three wives to find the right lady, but #3 totally gets me.

With my toes freshly sanded and hair still salty, I am ready to have all the wires and electrodes attached to my wrinkled body… I have to say, it sucks getting old. With each year the probing and prodding of my anatomy gets deeper and deeper, sometimes reaching soul piercing depths.

So this is how the test normally starts; again, this happens about once every three months... I come home from a sunny surf session and find all three of My wives, in My living room, sipping several bottles of My wine… 2 Former Wives + 1 Current Wife = Spousal Overload... Instant Heart Attack or what my doctor has diagnosed as a Cardiac Stress Test!

If I was actually hooked up to an EKG machine, at that shocking moment, it would fucking blow up!

These “Tres Señoras de Rusty” love to do this to me; they love to see the horror on my face, the fear in my eyes, the sweat build up on my upper lip. They love to redline Rusty’s old ticker!

Once the initial shock wears off, after I gulp down a glass of wine, the inevitable questions of my actual health come up. Because folks, here’s the bottom, without me, this “Rusted Wives Club” would have no financing!

This medical farce is actually a quarterly business meeting, called to order by the three owners’ of “Rusted Beauties.” Each quarter’s agenda consists of only one bullet point and that is simply my health; or rather their complex, non-medical assessment of my well-being and how that could affect their lavish purses. For the three of them, it is a fun afternoon of risk management done over a few bottles of wine. For me, it’s the fuel that will ensure that I outlive them all!

Aloha.

Doctor My Eyes - Jackson Browne Doctor, my eyes Tell me what is wrong Was I unwise to leave them open for so long