Maxed Out

By J.J. Geddyup It was raining in Tiny Town. A steady, persistent, rain somewhere between drizzle and deluge. An ornery rain that had overstayed its welcome, like some tiresome politician trying to grind out one more vote in a pointless election.

Right on, Hugh! In the closing days of the battle for the Alamo – a Catholic mission near San Antonio in what was then Mexican territory and what is now Texas – General Santa Anna, leading a force of Mexican troops vastly outnumbering the c

By G.D. Maxwell Hey Boys and Girls, it’s time for another Exercise in Democracy here in Lotusland.

I have come to terms, yes, even embraced living in a tourist town.

By G.D.

Imagine an anthropologist from, say, the planet Marengue, secretly visiting Whistler to observe the habits and rituals of the indigenous society.

By G.D. Maxwell What a week. First winter arrives bringing one of this season’s rare opportunities to catch what many of us fondly remember as "powder skiing.

By G.D. Maxwell I’ve been giving a great deal of thought to culture lately.

Misadventure and cross-country skiing seem to be closely linked concepts in my experience. It might be the desert-dweller in me or, more likely, just my innate lack of co-ordination.

Spring is a wonderful time of year. Naturally, it’s a whole lot more wonderful when it actually comes in springtime instead of the middle of winter.