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Posts tagged as “Anders Behring Breivik”

‘We must open our eyes:’ Five years after Utøya killings, local survivor disappointed some treating it as ‘a natural disaster’

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Read Time:3 Minute, 42 Second

It was the attack the country could never forget, yet it seems people have – or at least the lessons they should have learned.

The fifth anniversary of the mass killing spree by Anders Behring Breivik comes in the midst of a wave of terrorist attacks, mass shootings and other international upheavals that has some Norwegians wondering when they’ll become part of the turmoil. That upsets Viljar Hanssen, who was a 17-year-old Longyearbyen student when he was nearly killed after being shot five times by Breivik at the Utøya youth camp where 69 people died.

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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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Random weirdness for the week of May 3, 2016

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Read Time:1 Minute, 58 Second

A space object that may or may not be the Death Star or some other alien craft cast a light ray on Longyearbyen last week (see photo above). Alien sightings are reported regularly in Svalbard, including people claiming a spaceship spent a year or so on the town’s beachfront and a UFO that crashed in the mountains is now hiding with the zombies in the Doomsday Vault. For more about our endless efforts to pursue the truth about what’s out there check out our otherworldy coverage

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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Unable to forget: Local survivors of Utøya moving to new places, but old scars remain on fourth anniversary of tragedy

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Read Time:5 Minute, 1 Second

Viljar Hanssen just moved into his own “man cave.” His brother, Torje, celebrated his 18th birthday last week. But as they enter new landmark stages of their lives, they’re being forced to admit to themselves they’ll never be able to leave behind the physical and mental scars inflicted on them four years ago today.

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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