Maxed Out

Having grown up in a country with a political system I didn’t completely understand, I spent enough years in university to accidentally rack up the credits needed to earn a degree in Political Science.

With the Beijing Olympics over and CBC having returned to its derivative, somnambulistic programming, one lesson is clear, one in which the residents of Tiny Town can take some solace.

Relax, Canada. Exhale. Smoke ’em if ya got ’em. Our pride is intact for the world to see. We shall not go gently into that good night with nary a medal to show for our trip to the Orient.

With all media clogged like cholesterol-filled arteries with all things Olympic, with the world’s attention riveted to the holy trinity of gold, silver and bronze, and with Canada’s showing still limited to wood, it’s probably time to focus on some o

Last night, my Perfect Partner got down and dirty for me. Using nimble fingers and a time-tested technique, she reached into the damp darkness and searched until she found the hard, rapidly-growing… potatoes! Really, get your mind out of the gutter.

Amnesty International — those pesky do-gooders — are raining on the Olympic parade.

I hear the muffled sniggers and see the puzzled looks.

“Imagine the day when there will be one lift queue at W/B for members of ‘the club’ and another for non-members.” Yo, Beaudry, the future is the past, dude.

In a somewhat uncharacteristically introspective way, this column is about me. In an effort not to bore you to tears, it’s also about you, which, I suspect, is one of your favourite subjects… especially compared to me.

It’s the season of birthdays and, like most holidays — personal and collective — the anticipation of such events often fosters expectations so lofty the reality of the celebration has little chance to live up to its hype.