A perfect Iqaluit summer: lotsa beer, lotsa bitches

No summer in Iqaluit is complete without the sound of yobs howling in the night, decorating the dust-yards with beer cans and plastic Smirnoff bottles.

Last night was perfect: gang after restless gang, happy drunks gamboling about in the midsummer warmth, sharing wealth and good cheer with their neighbours:

“C’mon out and party, man. We got lotsa beer, lotsa bitches, lotsa beer, lotsa bitches. All right! Lotsa beer, lotsa bitches.”

Why not? They might as well enjoy their youth while they still have it. Half or more will be dead or dying by the time they’re 50, if they haven’t already offed themselves or earned a life sentence.

Your sleepless content provider took the picture below at about 5:30 this morning. You won’t find such an image in any tourist brochure, but I do believe it does contain a certain squalid beauty.

You know you're wealthy when you can throw these away.

When you can throw these away, you know you're wealthy.

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