Do they make training wheels for yachts?

When I was a kid, I was told that I was special and I could do anything if I put my mind to it. Teachers, television, even Timon and Pumbaa from the fucking Lion King all seemed to be queuing up for a chance to be included in my own personal cheersquad. It seemed to be a good thing at the time because if a cel-shaded meerkat has utter faith in me, then success is assured.

It was about this time that a friend of mine bought a dirtbike around to my house. It was his new pride and joy - yellow, noisy, even road registered. It kicked ass. He had made several modifcations to it to make it a better ride and I'm pretty sure I remember him saying he wanted to be buried with it (He was 16 at the time). It was all those hard-earned life lessons from everyone else that rang in my head as I was offered the chance to have a go at his dirtbike. Nevermind that I've never ridden a motorcycle before or had much of an idea how a clutch operated.

'It can't be too hard!' I remember thinking, as I revved the bike and waved to my mum who was jumping up and down, protesting over the ning-ning of the engine. 'Just like riding a really loud BMX!' I thought as I pushed the kickstand up. 'What the hell', I exclaimed in horror as the bike launched off at speed, throwing me into the side of the house.

My friend ran over to his bike, checking for scratches and dints while I dusted myself off. I wasn't allowed to ride his dirtbike after that. Fucking meerkats.

The reason I mention this is because of this teen sailor that's in the news, Jessica Watson. You may remember her for trying to be the youngest sailor to circumnavigate the globe solo. Turns out she isn't quite up to the task at this stage, since she managed to crash her boat into a 63,000 ton bulk carrier less than 24 hours into her trip. Riddle me this - how can you possibly expect to safely sail around the globe for eight months when you can't even make it a day without stacking into a target the size of a football field? She didn't just drop the ball with this one - she dropped the ball, tripped over, knocked out her teeth when her face hit the ground, and then accidentally swallowed them.

OH SHIT LOOK OUT THERE'S A FUCKING BOAT BEHIND YOU

Not discouraged by that, Our Jess declared that she would attempt the feat again. Almost immediately, every government official and maritime authority in the country stood up and told her that this was a stupid idea. 'No! Bad Jess! No Biscuit!' they cried out, using such futile tactics such as logic and reason to persuade her to go back to Boating School. It was revealed that she didn't even manage basic tasks while she was at sea. But no! THAT COULDN'T POSSIBLY BE IT! Her mother went on record this week and said that we were all doubting her because she is a girl.

Knock knock - We're all doubting her because she can't sail more than 24 hours before crashing into something. This has nothing to do with being female. Don't fucking bring that shit into it. At the risk of sounding like a callback radio guest, I think the parents are to blame. Personally I would've pulled the plug as soon as I learned that the boat she was sailing was pink enough to lead the next Mardi Gras. Look at that. No, open up the image again and LOOK. LOOK WITH YOUR EYES. I wonder if there's a fucking frangipani sticker on the back.

I'm sure there are cheaper and less disastrous ways to get your kid to move out of home. I learned my lesson when I flew headfirst into a brick wall, maybe Jessica Watson should do the same before she accidentally falls asleep and crashes into Fiji.

Well this certainly won't go down well

As an Australian, I've seen many moments of national outrage unfold. Hey Hey It's Saturday being cancelled, Corey Worthington or whatever his name was, but I now hold a special place for every single man, woman and child who was at the Melbourne Cricket Ground during the first quarter break of the AFL Grand Final on Saturday when the name of the new Vegemite was announced.

There are a number of Americans who read this blog, so I'll describe it in a way you can relate to. Picture this in your head if you will (because I had to) - It's the Super Bowl. Biggest game of the year. Millions of viewers on television, and a stadium packed to capacity. It's the end of the first quarter and the crowd are getting into the spirit of things. Little Timmy is enjoying his first football game, and his father bought him an official jersey along with an overpriced snack and drink. Life is good. Everyone is enjoying themselves.

Trumpets echo around the stadium, and a strangely dressed man is lit up by spotlights as he proudly enters the stadium and walks onto the field. In one hand, a brilliantly white cloth. In the other, a golden cage with an American Bald Eagle. The crowd hushes. and Timmy has the feeling he is about to witness something special.

A drum roll begins as this man opens the cage and lifts the majestic animal onto his arm. With his one free hand, he undoes his pants. He then lifts the bird's tail up and begins fucking it up the ass. Several arkward minutes go by, the shocked silence broken only by the protests of the bird, and the crying of children. After the man is done, he wipes the eagle clean with the cloth, and throws it into the crowd, pumping his fist triumphantly into the air.

The crowd does nothing at the sight of this almost blasphemous act. They allow it to continue, and await the next quarter.

THIS is on par with the crowd's reaction when Kraft named the winner of the national 'Name the new Vegemite' competition. Almost 50,000 entries were sent in to name the next iteration of our national spread, and then Kraft fucked the proverbial eagle by calling it something even my eight year old niece laughed at...

'Proudly made in Australia?' I'm sure that's about to change.

When Kraft announced that the new Vegemite was now called iSnack 2.0, nobody did anything. Sure, the entire stadium booed, but there were no riots. THE STUPIDITY COULD HAVE BEEN QUASHED THEN AND THERE! But no, tens of thousands of people and not a single one decided to lead the people in a revolt against quite possibly the most retarded name for a product since... well, the dawn of time.

There are so many things wrong with what I just wrote down (the iSnack bit, although eagle-fucking came on a bit strong). Who the fuck thought that this was a good idea? Has some grossly overpaid, suit wearing shitbag received a bonus for approving this tripe? Kraft's Corporate Head Of Bullshit wrote that iSnack 2.0 personifies the spread's 'personal call to action' as the 'next generation Vegemite'. I don't know how much crystal meth those clowns have been smoking, but I'm quite sure that the entire country is laughing at them because of it. I'm not sure how easy it is to smash a bottle of iSnack 2.0 on the corner of a table and make a shank, but I'm seriously considering trying it out the first time I hear someone ask for it with a straight face. I asked Ms. Felicia about this debacle, and she responded with this tirade for us:

'iSnack. This would mean that not only is Kraft trying to pander (and fail) at reaching a generation, they also fail at realizing that this generation gives two shits about putting the letter 'i' in front of words. In actuality, this generation would rather have it be called 'tits', because let's be honest, who wouldn't want to have some tits on their toast in the morning. Or maybe 'thighs'. Spread some thighs on your breakfast. For breakfast. Whatever the fuck, doesn't matter any more because Kraft's gone and shit in their hands and smeared it all over themselves in a rain-dance of horribly epic proportions.

'OH GREAT MARKETING GOD, TELL US OUT OF THESE THOUSANDS OF SUBMISSIONS, WHAT WE SHOULD NAME OUR PRODUCT!' Someone farts, someone else misinterprets it as iSnack 2.0 (probably marketing), and they call it a day.

I hate the name, and I don't live anywhere near the continent of Australia. When I hear it, the name alone sends me into a mouth-foaming frenzy in which I stuff dried, rotten leaves into my mouth and find the nearest bar to drown myself in a giant vat of hot oil. Holy mother of fuck, what were they thinking.'

The guy who apparently entered the name into the competition, Dean Robbins, is apparently living in Western Australia after relocating from Melbourne. He has two loves in his life - his family, and Vegemite. I'm calling bullshit on this one, because nobody would do this to a product they love. The Vegemite (sorry, iSnack 2.0) website has a photo of this tosser with a giant shit-eating grin (Sorry, iSnack 2.0) holding up a jar of this horribly named, cream-cheese infused spread. He might as well just hold up a sign saying I JUST TOOK A ISNACK 2.0 ON OUR NATIONAL SYMBOL AND THE DICKHEADS AT KRAFT THOUGHT I WAS BEING SERIOUS.

I found this on the internet. It's a much better choice.

The more I hear about this guy, the more I'm convinced that he is now Australia's biggest troll. Instead of going on the internet and enraging a public message board for his own amusement, he's gone and pissed off an entire country. Dean Robbins, if you're reading this... You should have moved interstate AFTER they revealed iSnack 2.0, because now not only does everyone in this wide brown land want your blood, but they also know where you live.

Good luck with this one, champ. Serves you right for fucking our Bald Eagle.