Look at this Inuit man. Let his face, an etching of curious disdain, deflate your idiotic woes. Study his posture–the quintessence of nonchalance–then mimic it. He won’t mind; he doesn’t even notice you. Do you see his barren homeland? He pays its harshness no regard–a conqueror need not heed the already conquered. He reads, he naps, he pretends to care. He inserts his own name, Ikniqpalaguq, into classic works of literature, or The Saturday Evening Post. He does not give a fuck. He is a leisured gentleman. This man is NotGraphs in the offseason, but way, way better at hunting polar bears.
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