Maxed Out

Dear StatsCan, your roots are showing. Time — actually long past time — for a touchup. Notwithstanding Sunday's mad dog shooting in Quebec, Canada remains a pretty tolerant country.

"...truth is truth. To the end of reckoning." "...while you live, tell truth and shame the devil!" I didn't say either of those things.

Out of, perhaps, an over-exaggerated sense of fair play, I offer this spoiler: If you've landed on this page expecting humour, satire, light-heartedness or limited insights into the goings on of Tiny Town, move along; nothing to read here.

At the risk of sounding as though this week's piffle is Part II of what it means to be Canadian, I believe I can emphatically say one of the defining characteristics of being Canadian — really Canadian — is embracing winter.

According to the Canadian Guild of Pundits and Opinion Writers, I am contractually bound to include a certain number of New Year's resolutions in the new year's first published bit of fluff, that number corresponding to the total number of words avai

If 2016 were a ski season instead of a year, we'd all be burning our skis or boards.

Act I C hristmas in Whistler: A child's perspective Have a holly, jolly Christmas, it's the best time of the year.... If you're a child growing up in Whistler, Christmas is just like Christmas everywhere.

I had a dream. Doesn't have the same impact when I say it, does it? Alas, we can't all be MLK. Wasn't an earth-shattering dream. No giant leap for mankind. Or womankind. More like weird cartoon. A little funny. A little wacko.

Oh yeah; says who? Oops. Here we go again. One of the abominations of modern life is the inflation, the expansion, the stretching to the breaking point of things many of us enjoy.

Before I segue into Holiday-in-Paradise mode, time to clear out the mail in-basket. Curious minds want to know, apparently. Apologies to those of you uninterested in my correspondence: Letter writer: "Hey you (expletive deleted).