Maxed Out

I was going to call this the You Can't Fix Stupid Files, but a precocious six-year-old of my acquaintance insists I shouldn't call people stupid. I don't think he's right but there is a line between stupid and ignorant.

I've been giving a great deal of thought to culture lately. I've been thinking about culture for, oh, maybe the last 10 minutes now and already I'm beginning to get the same sensation I get when I suck down a frozen daiquiri too fast.

I'm a tolerant guy ... make that a pretty tolerant guy. No, really. You can be both tolerant and judgmental simultaneously.

The melodrama spooling out of Ottawa and wherever former minister Jody Wilson-Raybould has been holing up would be laughable if it weren't for the fact it's pretty much brought the governing of Canada to a standstill.

I have this friend in Toronto. He and his partner are both successful lawyers, great people and good companions. They have a beautiful home in a tony section of town and a cottage on Georgian Bay.

In the age of hyperbolic, social-media hysteria, it's probably hardly noteworthy for the appointed head of the Canadian Broadcast Corporation (CBC) to compare Netflix to the cultural imperialism of the British Raj.

It will probably come as a surprise, shock even, to those of you who regularly read this column—thank you both—to discover I sometimes say things I perhaps don't exactly mean.

Now that we've got Christmas and New Year celebrations out of the way, and we're wrapping up the Reverend King's week for those states south of us who deign to celebrate it, we are ramping up for the main event: winter's tourist season.

I'm not much of a poker player. It's always taken too much effort to earn money to see it disappear so quickly with so little pleasure left behind. But I'd like to sit down at a high stakes game with ... not sure who but someone at the RMOW.

Hi Dave, Just wanted to say, Dave, I miss you. Wow, that was easier than I thought it would be. I'm sure this comes as something of a surprise to you.