Maxed Out

Standing at the Darwin Sound's wheel, you look out over water. To port, there's roughly nine kilometres (five nautical miles) of blue Atlantic Ocean, same to starboard, same forward and aft.

When I die, I'd like to donate my mind to either science or the Musak company. Donating your body to science — they don't take just the mind, it's all or nothing with science — sounds noble and lofty.

Silly me, silly me, silly me. Like Charlie Brown, I just have to take a kick at that football. I know I'm going to wind up flat on my back but there's that elusive hope, that aching desire, that insane dream...

There probably aren't a lot of people who honestly believe defendants in criminal cases shouldn't be entitled to a vigourous defence.

I pretty much knew, or thought I knew, what the stimulus for the muffled wail coming from the kitchen was.

Math is hard. And if you think math is hard, don't even think of wading into the minefield of causal relations.

May I call you Justin? I know, it's informal. But it's a lot less informal than hunka-hunka-burnin'-love or whatever else the world press has been calling you this week.

Dear Prime Minister Trudeau: There's a political axiom in the U.S., that says, "Nobody doesn't beat somebody.

Well, here we are, the last week of Canada's longest running — seemingly — reality show: Election 2015. The autumn air is tinged with the battling aromas of hope and desperation.

With the holiday weekend upon us, let us pause and give thanks, for we have many things to be thankful for.