Trapped on a desert island - New school bitches

Since before society, when man had just discovered the magic of islands, the question was posed: what the fuck are we gonna do once all the motherfucking boats be sunk? The answers given to that question are both fascinating, boring, completely unrealistic, and lets be honest, not as cool as the answers I'm about to give you. Why are my answers better? Because my first name is Graham and my last name is Krenz and that's all you need to know. Jerk.

Here's what you need to bring to a desert island:

A fleshlight.
Ya. A fake vag. You're on an island, in case you weren't listening. You're surrounded by water, and the only thing you're going to be banging otherwise is a coconut or a dolphin. Now, I may be speaking from experience when I tell you that coconuts are terrible to make love to (not to mention a laxative) but can you imagine nailing a dolphin? They kill sharks. Because they feel like it. Try sticking your sea cucumber in one of those pelagic bitches. So really, your only choice is a fleshlight.

A subscription to National Geographic.
If any bunch of people know things about things, its the people who know things about things who work for national geographic. They strand themselves routinely on islands for fun, much in the same way dolphins take spearing penalties to beat the shit out of sharkfish, which pretty much makes them the authority on surviving island shenanigans. How you will get this delivered to your island is up to you, I'm not a scientist, or a deliveryologist. Maybe you can train jellyfish to bring them to you. Stop being so demanding.

A shitload of weed.
An island. A tropical island. You're already in a reggae video, minus the hot bitches with weird hair and huge asses, so you might as well be stoned for the entire 30 year duration. You can even use a dead dolphin as a bong if you pack the blowhole just right (after you've had sex with it, of course)

A pogo stick.
Spear fishing would be made a lot easier if you could strap a pointy thing to the bottom of the pogo and bounce about in a murderous and I'm sure hungry (and I'm even more sure horny) state of rage. Those little swimming bastards wont know what hit them until you crush their skulls with a battle cry of "WHEEEEEEEEE!". Lets face it, fish are assholes. You'll have no trouble killing as many fish as you have to if your conscience is as wrecked as mine is (due to Nelly Furtado's shift from pretty Canadian princess to Timbalands blowjob-monkey) and they're high in protein to boot.

That's all you need! And for added fun, get stoned, tie the fleshlight to the pogo stick, and bounce around getting off to the tribal ladies in national geographic. You'll forget you're on an island at all!