Maxed Out

By G.D. Maxwell The Canadian Senate, that moribund public patronage trough for aging political bagpersons and defeated politicians, has sung its own song of freedom, its own redemption song - Don't Bogart that Joint My Friend, Pass it Over to Me.

By G.D. Maxwell It’s hard to think there will ever be, a fruit as perfect as the rasp-ber-rie. It’s harvest time at Smilin’ Dog Manner. Push has come to shovel and we’re about to test the limits of friendship.

By G.D.

Sustainability in practice, Cariboo-style

By G.D. Maxwell Ah, the sounds of summer. I'm doing my best to be pragmatic about the chainsaw screeching next door. It's a temporary aberration. I'm sure it'll stop sooner or later.

By G.D. Maxwell Like so many things in life, I imagine you can apply the 80-20 rule to explain the garbage I keep finding where people have camped before me.

I know Pique comes out on Friday and for that I am grateful. It entertains me, it helps me plan my weekend and it reminds me of what I was thinking about earlier in the week when I wrote this. A memory is a terrible thing to waste.

Well, they might still not smoke marijuana in Muskogee – who cares? – but if so, it must be about the last place on earth. The Killer Weed is enjoying a high, so to speak, a renaissance of reefer, a bounty of bud. Roll another one...

By G.D. Maxwell I am not a violent man. Ornery, crabby, opinionated and cynical, but not violent. I religiously believe in turning the other cheek.

By G.D. Maxwell "Why don’tcha all f-f-fade away, And don’t try to dig what we all s-s-say." — Peter Townshend My generation sucks.