My Arctic Diary: by Buster

I awoke this morning to the 785th day of Arctic Captivity. Ice everywhere! The temperature was -21 degrees C. Looking at Persephone, I considered cannibalism but rejected it. After all, we are Englishmen. On second thought, we are not. Maybe cannibalism has its advantages.




The snowbirds came and stared mutely at us. I reflected that Mom's in Florida, and we're eating whale blubber up here in the Land of the Midnight Sun. Or Connecticut. Whichever is colder...



Times are hard. A lone polar bear wandered over and complained that his 401K was worth less than a "Bush/Cheney 2004" bumper sticker.


Worse, I am suffering from snow-blindness. My normally razor-sharp eyesight has deteriorated during my Arctic captivity to the point where...well...observe!

Pitiful, isn't it! I tried again, hoping that things would improve, but....

Sigh! I hope that a rescue expedition is on its way. I dream of sunshine and the smell of barbecue and languid afternoons chasing chipmunks.

Send help,
Buster