Letter to mr. gordon merchant am osa – billabong doesn’t have to suck.
Dear Gordon, can I call you that? I think we have sorted your problem.
You want to maintain a personal supply of this, and in bulk .. which is perfectly understandable.
– and not everybody is helping. That’s the guts of it. Agreed? Fine.
We have to look at money in a different way Gordo, we have to establish ownership of currency – your ownership in this case. We have researched the findings of the Currency Institute of Chicago, they are the ones who ascertained that the number of different DNA imprints found on a single piece of two year-old folding currency is over 25,000. That means that the tenner in your pocket will in all probability end up in someone else’s kick before the sun goes down.
This is the rot Gordo, and the rot must be stopped.
We have also done some research on your early background and have had it confirmed that you were known as a complete tight-arse when it came to lending wax, this is officially documented. * What was also memorable about those days was that you never borrowed any either.
More confirmation of what you were is evident in certain photographic evidence (held securely by an Avalon source). Evidence that wins you a gong for The Oldest Sluggos in Australia Award, the OSA.
No rot there either matey.
This is what you were Mercho, and you have to ask yourself – where did that guy go? Find him and all will be sweet.
Thank you, It’s been a pleasure.
Thw name Greasy comes to mind with others like muscles, worm, runt and bobcat. They left the current Bra boys in their wake,
– It’s stinky Ted, I have this from The House of Mabbit
Gee whiz Pete..where’s the love man?
It’s been a tough week for Billabong..why just the other day the Wall Street Journal reported the B-bong boys had rejected a buyout offer from “TPG Capital” of $763.5m.
They said that number “does not reflect the fundamental value” of the company.
Sales are down, they are closing 100 stores worldwide, and giving the boot to about 400 people.
Profits have “nosedived” ( I think they meant pearled).
Clearly, these are perilous times for the Merchants of the world, sad really..it reminds me of the John Lennon quote
“damn, I’m down to my last 20m quid!”.
we see capitalism in distress Dr.B – something must be done
Greed forged ahead when logic slipped behind and the sport that greed was founded upon lies in the waste of money’s collateral damage.
Growth was the Sirens Call to those who knew nothing more than surfing equipment, but fantasized of controlling the market place and into assuming the retail end as monopoly. Growth that was unsustainable to the sport and the lifestyle (art), but thoroughly seductive to the wealthy ambition.
They deserve their fate and if the truth ever leaks, that fate will include criminality.
You aren’t above the laws of man, nature or money Gordon. And your lacky’s (Naude//Stapleberg) are fools with their gold.
RI hell…. too bad there is none.
Hissssss at the blinding white light bankers running high and tight, murky waters bottom of the harbour floating near the surface, the spell broken the merchant spins the spin , more more give me more buy take steal waste con rob and cheat when i go ill have the biggest coffin in the fucken lineup.
Carve it on my grave momma “here lies the wasted body of the “RipQuickBong” born of something beautifull but died a lonely diseased broken abused two dollar whore, miles from the place she was concived, she had led a charmed life but had turned her back on those that raised her pissing on the ground she was born on ,she move away to the bright lights seeking fame and fortune only to fall into a life of drugs greed and corruption ashamed of her past she slowly pushed away those that stood by her for years not wanting to face the truth that she was really a fucken lying stealing two timing whore until one day thay awoke and saw her in a true light but it was to late she had sold herself so many times nothing was left and she died lonely and scorned curled up against the wolves on a windy cold city street her fingers clasping a crumpled stained faded postcard of paradise “.
the back door opens and they step quickly out into the night a stray dollar bill floats on the breeze as they slide quietly away into the shadows faceless ….
Share holdings as of today and times the number beliow x 2.70 AU /Unit not bad for a company that just trades on consummerisim …
Merchant (Gordon Stanley) 37,770,098
Perennial Investment Partners Ltd. 25,542,084
Colonial First State Global Asset Management (Core 21,557,645
Templeton Investment Counsel, LLC 16,651,846
Baillie Gifford & Co. 15,605,230
Concord Capital Limited 14,847,380
Maple-Brown Abbott Ltd. 12,602,451
INVESCO Australia Ltd. 12,561,444
Fidelity Management & Research Company 11,723,946
Capital Research Global Investors 7,477,751
What does this say about the modern image driven surfers born of the ” bronzed ozzy ” age not much of any real fucken value i would venture.
And the blood letting starts the emperor ever ignorant of the deadly sins
Goes forth and strikes down his loyal and trusted servant Et Tu, Brutes …
I would have slotted ambition somewhere in there sj, aim that thing the wrong way and everybody gets mowed down ..
And inbreeding. Nobody listens to turtle.
In the words of the great el capitano ” Bruce was not a banker but he did fit one with a concrete wet suit once “
Click to access 426ys2x7nkmgyr.pdf
Not a single mention of Surfing , watch in the future as Grubby comes crawling back down the beach looking to borrow a board and get himself back into the line up once again to drop in and steal a wave and ride it to shore before jumping into his car a pissing off with the board to sell it in some crappy store and pocket the cash , the pack should tighten up and not let him back in he has already dropped in and burnt us enough
darkness awaits darkness
darkness darkness darkness
bikies roll into town , their bikes loud obnoxious designed to scare the general population , a tactic taken from the Luftwaffe in the rumble that was WW2 the scream of the Stuka.
They hang around on the corners the average person crosses the street so as not to have to deal with them , the odd groupie[s] and inquisitive kid start to hang around with them.
soon they pick up a few locals and start a branch in the town WTF MC , next a tattoo parlour and a few open days a so called poker run or stuffed teddy hoedown at the club, before long they are part of the local scene going about their skull doggery with immunity …by god before long the local chamber of commerce start to say they are good for the local community.
whispers behind closed doors still arise of possible doggy things going on associated with the club but no one really believes them do they ? a few new members get busted for this and that you know the usual violence theft a onion here and there , but as folks say that’s the new crew not the original guys they are all cool just last week they donated at the blood bank and sponsored the local mini bike club completion.
Then all of a sudden something tips the scales the heat is all over them the club is in the media they are told to pull down their fences the original members are getting asked questions in public the club closes it chapter and leaves town as they ride out all loud nasty and giving the forks a old local sitting on street under a shady tree in a side street smiles to himself and says to no one in particular never liked those fucken stukas anyway…
Nice yarn. Relevance?
insert corporate surf gangs for bikies
Ahhh, I see!
Other than the small matters of never having invaded Poland or ever being in a criminal cartel, I can see how your analogy works.
For a worrying moment there I thought you’d lapsed into hysterical hyperbole.
Laird, look at the swarms of folks up in here whinging on about TEOT surfing world AWKI.
The fact is, people lose jobs, as dozens of companies go out of business every single day, yet none of that noise has an effect on the multi dozens of NEW businesses created every single day…. And this does not even take into consideration all of the grave dancers who come in and clean up other’s messes and mistakes….. at a profit i might add.
Hells bells,iIt once took 90% of our population to grow our food. Now it takes 3%. Are we worse off because of the job losses in agriculture?
Facts without theory is trivia. Theory without facts is bullshit.
This one sums up quite few up in here…. A psychotic thinks 2+2=5. A neurotic thinks 2+2=4 … and can’t stand it.
A bloke I know once got a job by answering the question ‘ what does two plus two equal? ‘ – with another question. ‘What do you want it to equal?’
It is widely rumoured the first question was posed by Stinky Merchant to an accountant who was applying for a job at Billabong in the early days.
He was probably hired on the spot.
Could’ve been worse. Perrin would have pointed “Look over there – an eagle” and lifted Greasy’s wallet.
My long term interest in this whole sorry corporate surf industry saga is for hopefully some time in the future a generation of surfers will not relate our life style to a group of fucking clothing companies and maybe with a bit of luck we might return to the days when you could look forward to some sort of creditable creative cultural journalism that was not written by the current so called “critiques at large” that think surfing started with Nat and Ended with fucken MP.
whoops sorry im venting please feel free to delete
SJH, sure, design folks working in the fashion industry will always pull from the past, but does anyone really think anyones about to return to the old days?
The Future. Is Now.
black light catches yellow hair black roots visible , lipstick no longer applied with care, yesterdays laid bare catching in the corners down cast eyes reflect a life bruised kind fingers white hot pass down over eyelids heavy tired grey ,crumpled stained plush velveteen threadbare dull lifeless “click” it is night
Ahhh Greasy … what happened to “Boardshorts for surfers” and “What do you think the best name to call my new company … *ffffftt *cough *cough … ya reckon? Done. Billabong it is.” C’mon man, where’s the spirit, lost in 1972? I guess the hip pocket nerve is mightier than the sword.
If I saw a bundle of thousands of dollars on the table dinner would wait until I counted it … board shorts are board shorts, take the money and run Hally. Dora was first in that field.
Nah, Greasy wanted my last $200 to “help him out” though he never really said what for, obviously to kick off his business for some “You can have Sydney, Melbourne, I’ll have the rest” pipe dream. Never thought making boardies in the backyard was a viable investment at the time, who would? Should have known but probably would have ended up being out $200 bucks and stuck in Kirra … broke!
The silver black gold
Loudly quiet empty heavy clouds , the wet has come and gone , grass turns to gold then crumbles black , long lines of beasts birds and livestock criss cross the dusty paddocks in search of water , no matter how muddy , white gleaming skulls teeth barred in grimace stare in silence.
Tacka tacka caching rippppp ,Slam ,my palm hits the surface of the cluttered desk , a crisp crumbling of waste paper bounces of the wall and misses the trash can by at least a foot, haha i think to no body in general you loser , i slide my chair back knocking over a few empty soldiers and stoll over to the door a brief look back arround the room a flick of the light the door pulled firmly closed and i stroll of into the bright night .
Water under bridge? Unknown but seems i’m still around! Got a tentative appointment to see Nat at Angourie, if he’s not hard at work on the farm, so may be inclined to tap on Greasy’s door. Never know, he may be home … or not. Winter … so definitely a wave or two will be had. YAY