Maxed Out

By G.D. Maxwell Okay, strike the set, pack up the moguls, blow kisses at all the instant locals heading back home to Ontario, Oz and detox. That’s a wrap.

By G.D. Maxwell A basic formula for comedy, as the Reverend J. Michael Varrin reminded the packed house at Millennium Place Sunday night, is Tragedy plus Time.

By G.D. Maxwell Three weeks ago, it looked as though the 10 th anniversary of the World Ski and Snowboard Festival was going to break new ground yet again.

By G.D. Maxwell Spring has sprung and winter is finally upon us… today.

By G.D.

By G.D. Maxwell Okay seekers, the most important thing to remember is this: You came to Whistler on your Spring Break to have Fun! Sure, you may have thought you came to ski or board, but you’re confusing tactics with strategy.

By G.D. Maxwell I’m at a loss. Confused, saddened, outraged, impotent, and thoroughly, utterly pissed off. The parade’s movin’ at warp speed and I just don’t know which bandwagon to jump onto.

By G.D. Maxwell Now that my childhood – chronologically speaking – lies in a galaxy far, far away, I’ve pretty much given up on all the silly things I hoped I’d be and never became.

By G.D. Maxwell The endless February sun, lowering in the sky, making its way toward the Tantalus in the distance, bore bright white holes through my shades and left my optic nerves numb and damn near blind. I couldn’t stop looking at it.

By G.D Maxwell To most of the northern hemisphere, February is what the doldrums are to ocean sailing, an infuriating calm. A listless, motionless break in routine you know isn’t going to last but seems nonetheless endless in its banality.