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Posts published in “Rants”

Editorial: Norway’s Russian-like tyranny threatens to crush one of Svalbard’s best news sources

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Read Time:2 Minute, 49 Second

Remember the furor about the Russian deputy PM’s visit (you should since we and lots of other media are still fixated on it)? BarentsObserver made it happen by breaking the story – and now government officials in Norway are stripping the publication of its right to publish without censorship.

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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Rant: The most insane journalism ‘full discloure’ ever (win 10,000 Turkmenistan ‘dollars’ if you can prove otherwise)

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Read Time:5 Minute, 45 Second

To start with, I have to disclose I’m clueless about how to explain this without inflicting everyone with a fatal case of diarrhea of the word processer. It goes something like “the author of this article is the subject of an article the subject translated for a publication that pays him in order to directly compete with the publication founded by the subject which is now seeking to…”

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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Icepeople staff confesses to mass corruption

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Read Time:1 Minute, 15 Second

We have robbed the fine people of Svalbard and beyond. But we’re really, really sorry.

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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‘F*** did I learn a lesson today’: Our idiot editor becomes the biggest buffoon of the great storm of ’15

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Read Time:3 Minute, 9 Second

“First-person coverage of the storm. I can’t wait to read all about it.”

The f**k you can’t, since I have no desire to insert myself into the news, especially when it involves my yet again being the most clueless person in town.

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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Open letter to intrepid novices hoping to visit during the March 20 total solar eclipse

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Read Time:2 Minute, 41 Second

The following is a comment I posted at The Guardian’s website Sunday in response to an article they wrote about visiting during the March 20 total solar eclipse. It makes absolutely no mention of the insanity that will reign – suggesting a place to stay at for £90 a night, for example – so I figured trying to set their readers straight (and ours, if we had any, was worth a try).

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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Sucks to be me – and you, if you’re reading this

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Read Time:47 Second

Since I’m pretty much porting my entire newspaper over to a blog site, I might as well have a category for the mindless crap that represents 99.? percent of all posts. And you’ve just wasted a bit of your life reading what’s basically a test post, But so it’s not a complete waste of time, I’ll also include some initial “insider” crap about publishing this fishwrapper.

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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