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Posts tagged as “Odd Olsen Ingerø”

‘The Man’ Odd out: Svalbard’s governor retires after a decade of rescues, rejections, receptions and bear executions

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Read Time:4 Minute, 49 Second

Any governor claiming to be an anti-politician is wading in bear droppings. In the case of Odd Olsen Ingerø, that’s literally true.

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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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Our new overlord: Kjerstin Askholt named Svalbard’s next governor

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Read Time:2 Minute, 51 Second

It could be said she’s a cold-hearted woman with lots of experience in prisons. Or instead reveal she’s long kept a lookout for Svalbard’s well-being and is inviting lots of Facebook friends to visit her at new job in “nature that is breathtaking” with more emoticons than 97 percent* of her government peers.

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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