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Posts tagged as “polar bear sex”

Hopen to get lucky: Polar bear couple ‘delight’ voyeuristic meteorological station staff as well as each other

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Read Time:2 Minute, 57 Second

“This was not ordinary bunny rabbit sex. Here they kept going for a good hour, to the delight of the Hopen residents’ Peeping Tom mentality.”

Not much more needs to be said. But of course we will because, well, sex.

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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Random weirdness for the week of April 3, 2017

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Read Time:3 Minute, 12 Second

Egad, how shameful is it our Local Paper of Record resorted to clickhits by playing up this YouTube video that’s as natural to Svalbard’s best-known wildlife as it is to its humans living the wild life? Um, well it’d be the rest of Norway’s media, including our supposedly non-conforming deviant selves, following in their, um, tracks.

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.
Happy
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