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Random bits of weirdness for the week of Aug. 18, 2015

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“The island of Spitsbergen has been a nude zone for decades. However it is not required to stay naked in this area.” We ought to just end this week’s roundup here since there’s no way we’re going to get weirder than that. But authorities are posting lots of signs with that warning – and apparently family-friendly images of buttocks – to alert unaware visitors about the likelihood of encountering naked bathers, according to the online news portal The Local. “Although nudity is generally not prohibited in public, it always leads to conflict,” a statement by officials about the signs notes. “The prerequisite for peaceful coexistence is the considerate and proper behavior of all visitors, both clothed and unclothed.” Look, we’ve published enough nudity in these pages to know it’s not a novelty here (you’ll have to scour the back issues to see when, since it’s an obvious and desperate ploy to attract readers), but we still feel like we’re missing out on some prime Peeping Tom peering. Alas, here’s the switch: it seems that, while you’ll never figure it out by Googling, there apparently is some mysterious place bearing our island’s name in Zurich’s traditionally nudist area of Werdinsel. Since the news article describes Werdinsel itself as an island that’s been a nudist spot for 50 years, we welcome any peepers who want to give us the naked truth.

About Post Author

Mark Sabbatini

I'm a professional transient living on a tiny Norwegian island next door to the North Pole, where once a week (or thereabouts) I pollute our extreme and pristine environment with paper fishwrappers decorated with seemingly random letters that would cause a thousand monkeys with a thousand typewriters to die of humiliation. Such is the wisdom one acquires after more than 25 years in the world's second-least-respected occupation, much of it roaming the seven continents in search of jazz, unrecognizable street food and escorts I f****d with by insisting they give me the platonic tours of their cities promised in their ads. But it turns out this tiny group of islands known as Svalbard is my True Love and, generous contributions from you willing, I'll keep littering until they dig my body out when my climate-change-deformed apartment collapses or they exile my penniless ass because I'm not even worthy of washing your dirty dishes.
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