Maxed Out

" The rich are different from you and me ." - F. Scott Fitzgerald Yes, yes they are. I'm not entirely sure why but I believe feedback loops come in to play somewhere. Wealth breeds an expectation of deference, if not outright obsequience.

Renaissance, eh? Before wading into the merits or otherwise of what the MotherCorp is proposing, let's clear up one thing that seems unequivocal: The name Renaissance sucks! It's pretentious, pompous, puffery.

Dear Prime Minister Selfie: What's that? Oh, did I hurt your feelings? Sorry. Quid pro quo , don'tcha know. It's been six months, JT. The glow is starting to fade. Still new, but not so shiny these days. We had such high hopes.

Even if it were held somewhere within the borders of our neighbour to the south — Washington state — and let us give thanks it isn't, the World Ski and Snowboard Festival would be old enough to legally drink this year.

In 20 years of writing a weekly opinion column I've tweaked numerous noses, tied powerful knickers in knots, been called a lot of names and even been threatened a couple of times.

Welcome, welcome, welcome. I've been remiss in welcoming Spring Break enlightenment seekers. Fortunately, it always seems to be Spring Break for someone, somewhere and if you're like the other seekers, you're here now. So welcome.

Sometimes the mail, e or otherwise, brings inspiration. Were it always thus. Dear Max: I'm a little conflicted by last week's "Maxed Out.

Let's talk about budgets. No, wait! Before you turn back to the crossword or decide it's time to wash the cat, give me two more paragraphs to explain. I know what you're thinking.

I may have committed a crime over the weekend. I went to someone's house. I bought something they made. I consider it art. So bust me, baby, bust me.

It is, to paraphrase Pierre Trudeau, impossible to live north of the American elephant and not notice its "every twitch and grunt." These days though, I'm not certain those twitches and grunts aren't signs of life being choked out of the beast.