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Most small town parents probably wouldn’t be thrilled spending a Friday night being confronted with their son hijacking the pulpit of the local church followed by an escort to the back of a police car, much less seeing it broadcast far and wide. Then again, they could have been the ones watching their kids take a high fall without a net or trying to show it’s actually possible to give a 150 percent effort.
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.