One day I woke up in the northernmost town in the United States: Barrow Alaska. I had chosen to visit in January, because I'm not very smart. I lived here:
I don't know whose bright idea it was to tilt Earth on a rotating axis, but it's amazing how much difference it can make just being a few hundred more miles from the sun. It's damn cold in Barrow Alaska in January. Here's a picture of me during my visit:
It begged the question: What population of people, migrating from wherever it is that people migrate, stopped in Barrow Alaska and said "Hey this looks nice, let's stay here!" In my mind at least, it seems like it would be tough to make that delicate decision over the sound of hundreds of nipples ripping through sturdy fabric all around me.
Meanwhile, thousands of miles to the south, people barely wear clothes. Food grows on trees, plants exist, the sun is visible and you can run around outside naked if you want without having to worry about death by instantaneous shrinkage.
To a polar bear, an igloo is just an upside down bowl of furry chicken nuggets.
Life lesson learned: I'm more of a temperate zone kind of guy.
2 comments:
I can't decide which image I love more: nipples ripping through fabric or furry chicken nuggets. Is that Han Solo under the ice?
Yeah, that's him alright. I mean no, it's carbonite... I mean no, it's me, in the ice... wait. Who?
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