Maxed Out

By G.D. Maxwell Okay, I’ll admit it. I’m stressed out. Way out.

By G.D.

By G.D. Maxwell It’s spring. Officially. I know what you’re thinking. Spring rolled around a couple of weeks ago. March came in like a lion, left like delicate, perfect pink lambchops, leaving only sunshine and creamy spring skiing.

By G.D. Maxwell I need a diet. Not a lose weight diet, although a tad off the sides and a bit off the front and back wouldn’t hurt. But then, that’s what summers are for, aren’t they? I need a get rich diet.

By G.D. Maxwell "Age is not a particularly interesting subject. Anyone can get old. All you have to do is live long enough." (Groucho Marx) "The older I grow the more I distrust the familiar doctrine that age brings wisdom." ( H.

By G.D. Maxwell "This truly is a four-season resort," I was thinking to myself.

By G.D. Maxwell I was pretty choked a few years ago when the Pope admitted there really wasn’t a Hell. At least not a Dantesque Hell full of unimaginable, eternal tortures.

By G.D.

By G.D. Maxwell Roses are red, Gardenias are too sweet, Valentine’s Day deserves More than a repeat. And so the day of International Performance Anxiety looms large before us.

Like most men of his generation – born shortly before the Depression and coming of age during World War II – my father always tended to see things in stark shades of black and white, the middle ground full of its shades of grey being a wast