Now that the kiddies are back in school and the summer that wasn't is quickly becoming the autumn that is, it's time to turn our attention to more grown up matters we've been neglecting, like balancing our cheque books, finding our skis in that haphazard landfill we laughingly call a storage shed and... oh yeah, kicking the Campagne de Fous into a higher gear.
Now that there are more fous than ever, maybe this would be a good time to get back to hammering together my platform, one creaky plank at a time.
So far, there seems to be some traction among some candidates for my plank about downsizing - they call it rightsizing, a word they may have picked up by hanging out with consultants too long - the resort. You remember, boosting our occupancy numbers by converting some of the benchland condos from tourist accommodation to what they really are, someone's second home. It's gratifying to hear serious people talking such nonsense.
But no one's picked up on my Save the Bears plank and that's a shame. It's been a tough year on bears. What the heck, it's been two tough years. Lousy early summer, bad berry crops, too many bear-car collisions, and way too many bad - read, hungry - bears executed for break and enter crimes.
By now we could have gotten a good start on Whistler's Bearly Tolerable tourist attraction with just the bears we lost in this summer's carnage. They'd be alive and happy, dressed in their colourful costumes, eating all the garbage they craved, letting tourist kiddies pet them and sit on their bearbacks for photos, wrestling drunks and, of course, taking part in the daily Run With the Bears through Whistler Village. Man, talk about a wasted opportunity. I'm betting we could have seeded the whole program for way less than the cost of the Barenaked Ladies... and gotten way more free publicity.
Now it's time to pull down the green eyeshades, roll up our sleeves and begin to tackle the really intractable issues. Transit, for instance.
Frankly, I'm not sure we can wrestle this one to the ground. Let's face it, we're ahead our time. Back in the old days, when Gordo was running B.C. and Arnie was running California, we were on the cutting edge of the Hydrogen Highway that was going to span time and space between here and there. Good ideas might never die but they shrink like crazy in the wash and now that we've been spit out the spin cycle, the Hydrogen Highway has shrunk. No longer California to B.C., it runs pollution-free from Function Junction to Emerald. Okay, everything has to start somewhere.
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