If giant manbabies are crying for the waaaaamblance then all is good with the world. And yesterday they cried a river.

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I'm guessing the workers at the brewery no longer get a freebie six-pack at the end of a shift.

I've inhaled the double cheeseburger at Miss Kay's, gotta Getta Burger, breakfasted on Ben's, and been to 5 Boroughs in both boroughs.

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He was born to the working class in a time when that meant knowing your place and never rising above it. He rose above it.

So, I made a mistake. You could even say I was wr… wro… less right than usual.

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He speaks, or rather walks and carefully minds what's left of his beer, for all of us who are pretty much over this.

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This is what failure looks like. Men coughing their lungs out in dark, viscous blots of toxic meat rot.

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The last time I watched a new series of Twin Peaks I lived in a share house in Darlinghurst.

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So, I deleted all the social media apps from my phone. I think my life is better without them. Before you protest, "But JB, I just saw that photograph of a black cat dressed as Darth Vader that you shared," I didn't delete my accounts. Just the apps on my phone and, for good measure, my iPad. Having done so, I feel a lot less stressed and I'd like to talk to you about why.

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I've renamed my mortgage "good debt" and I feel richer already.

War is over yet dozens of soldiers and former soldiers continue to fall, depressed and alone.

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You expect us to take the word of a scientist about how to drink tea? I think not.

The veteran broadcaster was not just the voice of the national sport, but a much loved ambassador to the powerhouses of the perfect game as far away as Bad Odursburg and Middlefart.

A new poll has discovered that 49 per cent of sensible adults who answer my polls on Twitter think huntsman spiders will definitely kill us all, while 51 per cent of respondents are gullible idiots destined to die screaming as the human pudding sacks of these gigantic, horrifying arachnassassins.

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We love these idiots. We, the media. You, our readers and viewers.

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Like everyone, when I first heard this story I thought him a massive idiot. But most of the coverage failed to mention that he jumped in not simply as a dare but, most crucially, to impress a girl.

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Maybe it was just my Twitter. Maybe this didn't break out anywhere else, but it did break out all over my timeline.

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Bill Gates once said that people tend to overestimate what's possible in one year, and underestimate what's possible in 10. He was talking about technology, but think about your life 10 years ago and you'll probably agree that the super-nerd spoke the truth. I wrote my welcome column here at the Instrument 10 years ago today. I've filed just under a thousand times since then.

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Calm down, concerned Brisbane brothel owners. You've got bigger problems than Tinder.

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The food is banal. The cocktails are boring. Jo-Jo's probably won't be missed but she should be remembered.

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At least while Rome was burning Nero merely played with his stupid fiddle.

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Cory Bernardi is no Donald Trump. Say what you will about Hair Gropenführer, he at least had an economic message.

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When heads of state around the world were condemning Trump's de facto Muslim ban, Malcolm Turnbull insisted it wasn't his job to.

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Somebody goes and punches a Nazi, conveniently standing in front of a television camera, and all of a sudden nobody knows anything any more.

How good is Pauline Hanson's trolling game? Way better than the government's, and that's saying something.

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The money Christian Porter is chasing from former welfare recipients is the same money that Sussan Ley spent catching flights when she accidentally bought her Gold Coast apartment. Public money.

So far 2017 is off to a cracking start. It hasn't killed any meme-worthy celebrities, and Trump isn't President.

If you don't believe in Santa, how can Santa believe in you? The big man gets lost in the annual culture war over Christmas. Maybe he's hiding, his jolly heart broken. It's odd, I know, to say he's missing when his merchandising imagery and pre-stocktake sale discount signage is everywhere. But Santa lives in our hearts first – his condo at the North Pole is just a residency requirement of the job – and our hearts are increasingly hostile places.

There's something to be said for a really lousy Christmas. A nice Christmas with family and friends can be a joy and a treasured memory forever. But a really shitty December 25? That can have its own charms too.