Money, wealth, and societal standing are factors that do not hold any water in a surfing lineup. Surfers make up their own hierarchy when it comes to rules at a surf break, and that’s how it has always been. So why should a pouty billionaire have any say to where people surf? He […]
Many people believe that print magazines should be free. Hell, some of us writing this may even agree with that statement. However, a free publication is not possible without advertisers. Advertising raises money for the printed publication in exchange for a business/company name being mentioned/shown inside the mag. It’s a pretty awesome and equal […]
Rambler Surf Magazine is here, and it’s a dream come true for our team. Our writers, editors, reporters, surfers, and photographers hope that it is for the reader as well. If you are interested, please head to the SHOP section of the URNSURF website and click a few times until you’ve ordered yourself a copy. […]
Jeremy Flores takes over John’s backyard with a win at the Billabong Pipe Masters, and John Florence must settle for the rest of the world… The classic Banzai Pipeline was semi-firing yesterday (by Pipe standards) with windless conditions to start the day, and a ton of amazing surfers in the water. John John was very easy to […]
To the man who always gave us a reason to have a celebratory beer even in the absence of waves; Carson Wentz we wish you a speedy recovery. Wentz suffered an ACL tear in his left knee during a third quarter drive in the contest between the Philadelphia Eagles (11-2) and the Los Angeles Rams, […]
Vote for the Cover Shot for the first edition of our magazine (Fall 2017): Yes, that’s correct. We are planning on printing a real life magazine… Well, sort of. We have to admit that we’re new to this publishing thing, and it may not all look perfect. However, we promise you this… Nothing we do […]
Pouring PBR, as galavanting ghouls shout hysterics in the night. Smirking teenagers take aim, and soon toilet paper pirouettes as rolls are released. Kooks cackle and abdomens ache. Suddenly, all is silent. A single distinguished drop douses the dirt. A drop of… Blood? Wenches wail! No, it could not be. Drip. Drop. Dripp. Dropp. Drippp… Drunk? […]
Member Stella? Oh… I don’t actually member. I was in fucking Puerto Rico being a huge pussy–drinking 10 ounce gold and surfing chin-high Domes. The hardened dudes that were still in Jersey were delivered double-overhead perfection, also known as Winter Storm Stella. I was brought back to Stella after getting drunk with our friend Ryan […]