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Posts tagged as “Kronprins Haakon”

Random weirdness for the week of Aug. 13, 2019

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Read Time:5 Minute, 29 Second

Ammosexuals get off on another Svalbard fantasy involving polar bears, Bjørnøya addicts gets a re up of their drug of choice and (maybe) hookers selling themselves for a fix, and the recent failure of our shinny new research ship is blamed on Those Dark People.

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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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A ‘TITANIC’ ICEBREAKER? Sea ice damage forces science ship dubbed ‘Norway’s new pride’ to abandon first Arctic expedition

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Read Time:3 Minute, 18 Second

There’s no good way to spin this: The Kronprins Haakon research ship, hailed as one of the world’s most advanced icebreakers, sustained enough damage from sea ice on its maiden Arctic expedition north of Svalbard to force the cancellation of the trip and put several major projects in jeopardy.

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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