Maxed Out

Reluctantly, while attending a mild-mannered Northern Gateway protest, I signed the petition to liberalize, legalize, do whatever to the ridiculous Canadian laws against pot.

The corks have popped, the bottles are empty and today's the day we wish was tomorrow because we'll all be feelin' better by then. When I was in school, my strategy was always to start strong in case I finished weak. That pretty much describes 2013.

"Sometimes you eat the b'ar and sometimes... well, he eats you." – The Stranger " Sometimes you're the windshield; sometimes you're the bug." – Mark Knopfler " Stuff happens." – Donald Rumsfeld Yeah, and sometimes it doesn't.

'Twas the night before Christmas and dour Billy Scrooge was beside himself. Until moments ago, he'd been revelling in the day's accomplishments.

It started a few weeks ago. It all made so much sense at the time, the logic of it camouflaged the first step onto that proverbial slippery slope.

It will probably come as a shock to many of you who have already braved the in-bounds slopes of Whistler and Blackcomb mountains this season but believe it or not, there is still an alpine responsibility code. No, really.

The cosmic circle's spun 'round one more time and the mountains are open. OK, some small part of the mountains are open, for those of you who insist on being glass-half-empty pedantic.

I am a self-made man. I say that not out of any outsized sense of pride, more as an alibi for everyone else who's played a role in my life and would prefer to evade any responsibility for the person I've become.

I've been wondering this week what the success of Whistler has in common with my old motorcycle. If the parallel between the two, obvious to me, doesn't immediately strike you, perhaps I should explain. I have a beautiful old motorcycle.

Cogito ergo sum.