Maxed Out

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.

By G.D. Maxwell I feel like a kid waiting for Christmas. It’s an uncomfortable, sand in your underpants, honey on your fingers, sunburned thighs on vinyl seats kind of feeling.

by G.D. Maxwell Welcome to the 2004-05 ski season. You’ve been waiting impatiently and, well, THIS IS IT! Sure, Blackcomb opened last weekend. Nothing wrong with that, always a good sign, but let’s admit it, it’s just the appetizer.

By G.D. Maxwell Klaatu. Barada. Nikto. Always nice to have three or four words around you can count on to save the world from being "reduced to a burnt-out cinder.