The “Morning of the Mo” is a Movember tradition started by the Aussies several years back (hecho en OZ, supongo) wherein a group of MoBrethren meet up at an ungodly hour to go for a retro surf sesh in stache-tastic solidarity. Of course, late November in Australia is what they call “summer” while late November in the South Bay is what we call “shrinkage”. So the Aussie concept of riding vintage boards in little more than threadbare nutters demanded a bit more sacrifice than the hour or two of sleep that the brothuz from down unduz so gallantly forfeit for their southern-hemi MotM.
Here we see EPR and Noonan joining the rest of the squad in the BRISK fall waters at our beloved El Porto. And yes, Noonan is in fact dressed like a Chinese hooker in a rice paddy… if Chinese hookers wore neoprene tights… which they might, you’ll have to ask Jonesy. And EPR must have been feeling muy MoMacho that morning because he’s pulling a most unseasonable Selleck in those vintage Hobies. But that’s what it’s about – innovation and adaptation…and maybe a little bit of pain. Given the hemispheric discrepancy between CA and OZ, the lads interpreted the day a little differently – too cold to get naked and too absent-minded to harvest their quiver of swallowtails and super-logs, the MoBros of LA decided to do what they do best – just get weird. With pride in their well-groomed 3-week lip lawns, the Lords of MoTown suited up in pleather pants, purple wigs, bananas… and bananas? …and commandeered the sloppy little peak at 40th Street in support of Movember USA.
You’ll notice the extra gear didn’t stop Noonan from launching a violent rooster tail of spray… for prostates. Why grow a moustache when you can got the testicles to paint a Fu Manchu in the sky with your stick. En serio, either homeslice is freebasing MSG or we should all surf with a straw sombrero…
Sure his style is slightly less violent than Noonan’s… but this Mo-Hermano is a Shaolin soul surfer and thus he’s all about the PAZ*AMOR*BIGOTES.
Ask EPR for your own limited edition Paz*Amor*Bigotes tank. Proceeds go to Movember and you’ll look like a sexy beast with your guns out blazing and a message of Peace, Love, and Moustachios to share with the world. It’s basically your classic win-win situation. Especially if you can wear it in a getaway car as stealth as this Crime-MoBile:
…and I’m sorry, but didn’t I say “pleather pants”…?
…and I could have sworn I said “banana”…
And perhaps it’s only fitting that we finish on a ‘naner. The MoChachos like to have fun but there is nothing amusing about their mission. Prostate and testicular cancer is serious stuff across the Americas. So behind each goofy looking tard in a wig is a man with a prostate, with a set of testicles, and with a story about how these diseases have affected their lives and the lives of those around them. Sadly, too many men are crippled by machismo, verguenza, or just plain pereza and don’t get regular health checks. So because early detection is so critical to successful treatment, the Movember awareness campaigns have already saved lives across the continents. Combine that with the $100 MILLION raised this past November -that’s right, ONE HUNDRED MILLION dollars Mr. Bigglesworth- for education, research, and treatment… and it’s no longer a total pipe dream to imagine the near eradication of these two unrighteous maladies …maladies that hit us right in the nards.
See more photos from the inaugural MotM by MoSista and ace photog Brooke Merrill.