Maxed Out

By G.D. Maxwell In the Before Time, when I lived in the Old Country – Ontario – February was the month of much moaning. The first sparkling rush of winter had long since given way to drab, dreary sameness of dirty piles of snow.

By G.D. Maxwell I give up. Uncle! I just can’t solve the puzzle.

By G.D. Maxwell Ski jumping is to skiing what rocketing over the Grand Canyon on two wheels is to motorcycling… spectacle. Yeah, yeah, it takes skill; it takes talent; it’s a sport, whatever that means.

By G.D. Maxwell The accepted formula for comedy is tragedy plus time: C = Tr + Tm. Time, of course, is relative. I think it was Einstein who said that… shortly after he and Mrs.

In the middle of a vast and sprawling desert there sits a vast and sprawling city. Truth be told, Phoenix oozes more than it sits.

By G.D. Maxwell The earth shrugs, indifferently. Thousands die. Dreams, villages, lives, the past and the future are swept away, ground to bits, bloated by the tropical sun. Change the channel, honey, we’ve seen this movie before.

Wow! What a year. Elections in Canada; elections in the USofA; the Great Cultural Rift; the kind of wackiness we’ve come to expect in B.C. and now the winter of no snow being saved by another Whistler Christmas present.

‘Twas the night before Christmas

By G.D. Maxwell Dear Santa: Yo, ol’ jolly one.

By G.D. Maxwell We’re rolling right up to Peace on Earth, Goodwill Toward Men time. I’m deckin’ the halls, makin’ my lists, jinglin’ my bells and silenting my nights.