Maxed Out

Okay, I've waited as long as I can. Being a stellar practitioner of the fine art of procrastination, I recognize my old friend The Last Minute when I bump up against it. Ouch, that hurt.

So, you're in a dark alley on the wrong side of town.

Would you prefer to see your property taxes go up... or would you rather see me cut this dog's throat? Zippy the Dog's hopin' that's a rhetorical question in such a dog-lovin' town. Me too.

I may have to become a politician some day to ever truly answer the unanswerable: What the heck happens to people's brains once they become politicians? The problem, I suspect is, once you're close enough to get any real insight into the answer, it's

To serve and protect, eh? As a society, there's this pact we make with police officers. It's part of what can broadly be called the social contract as painstakingly developed by Hobbes, Locke and Rousseau, among others.

Holy cow! What a difference a week - or a few weeks - makes. Once again, we're free to wander the mean streets of Tiny Town secure in our illusion of security, haunted by nothing other than the global economic meltdown's impact on tourism.

"Dear Max: I've just read the Pique cover to cover as usual..." For which I thank you. "We sure have a lot of 'Adult Services' competing for business in our little 'fun for the whole family' town. The Roxy's ad really stands out.

Valentine's Day. I once met a man who claimed to be not the least bit worried, ambivalent or spooked by Valentine's Day.

By any measure, Monday was a warm day. Too warm for a ski resort in the opening days of February. Even this ski resort. Skiers from La Belle Province sweated like fat farm hopefuls in their puffy down, Tremblant ski suits.

Well, I've never seen a magic act to quite top the one in Ottawa Tuesday. I've seen lots of elephants disappear, women sawn in half, doves flying out of top hats, coins pulled from ears, billions of dollars vanish without a trace and even J.J.