Maxed Out

If last week's column proved anything it proved you shouldn't mix national and local politics and the World Ski and Snowboard Festival in the same 1,100 words. The Festival deserves all of 'em. And this week, I'm making amends.

Spring is unsprung and the hills are alive with January in April. We're mired in a funeral-procession of a federal election that reminds me uncomfortably of the film Eraserhead - will this nightmare never end.

Music has charms to soothe a savage breast... and I'm in need of a lot of soothin' these days. Fortunately, I have a lot of music. It - and the uneasy knowledge I'd be completely alone - is about the only thing keeping me from taking to the streets.

At the risk of eliminating myself before my Campagne de Fous ever really gets off the ground, I'd just like to say the world would be a much better place today if World War II had never happened.

Spring has sprung and the season of renewal can only mean one thing: a federal election. Elections aren't necessarily the best thing about spring. In truth, they don't even crack the top 100 best things about spring.

Oh to be the Japanese government. Sure, they've got a natural and manmade disaster of epic proportions to deal with.

Moving to a new place is a daunting prospect. Fitting into that place is even scarier. It's like going to a cocktail party where you don't know a single person... naked.

George Mallory was a paradox. Nothing in his many youthful adventures suggested a natural addiction for altitude. Yet, he spent much of his life trying to get higher.

I really don't want to write this column. After 12 years of darkness during the reign of St.

It all seemed like such a good idea at the time. Indeed, it's been a bonanza for our municipal leaders. They've been graced with awards, feted at high-level gatherings, asked to speak to important people and even consulted about how they did it.