The Internet is home to angry men, men who spout rage. Men with time on their hands and rage to burn. Men who love their anonymity as much as they coddle their rage. Surfing is not unique, here. The angry man posts on skate websites, porn websites, ski websites, fashion websites, wherever he can. And surfing has many of them. And, so, who is he? What does he really believe? Is his noise actually heard? How does he want the world to look and feel? We ask him, and preserve his anonymity because he loves it that much. —Chas Smith
COMMENTER: I have something to say! First, please do not call me an outlier or a pest. My words, underneath Internet stories, are the heart of the people. The soul of the true surf community. And don't poke at my grammar. I have attended community college. My words are the salt of the earth. And why am I angry? Because you damn surf industry fools have robbed our beloved pastime of its beauty! You have turned it into a nest of, excuse my French, men-loving men who wear tight pants and low-necked T-shirts. Men-loving men who listen to obscure music and put product in their hair. That is not surfing! Surfing is freezing-cold mornings and bulky wetsuits and hearty cutbacks. Surfing is sitting out in the water for hours and hours and hours, forsaking family and non-surfing friends. And you in the surf industry…oooooh I just boil with rage, for what you have done to our surfing is heresy! You have turned it into a nest of, excuse my French, Luke Stedmans. So when I see your stories about Luke Stedman, or fancy motorcycle building in Bali, or female-fronted bands from Silverlake, California, I bristle, I boil, and then I spit rage! I spit it underneath every story I see. I am the voice of truth and of reason and I must, for the sake of surfing itself.
As for the posts themselves, I borrow my literary style from Charles Bukowski, Andrew Dice Clay, Rush Limbaugh and your grandpa. When I get home from my HVAC job I spend an hour patrolling surfingmagazine, surfline, marinelayerproductions, redtube, stabmag, gunsandammo, youngwisetails, turkeymelt, lastnamefirst and pinchmysalt. I find the most offensive stories of the day and then I stew over them. I go to the fridge and get a beer and drink it and continue to stew. I drink another beer. I drink a third. And then I let the truth flow! It shoots out of my fingers like liquid gold, like liquid beer, and coats the Internet with acuity! I imagine the real surfers, sitting at home, look forward to my posts and read them with great anticipation. I imagine that I am a folk superstar. And you are a, excuse my French, douche.