Maxed Out

After enough seasons I have to take my shoes off to get an accurate count, springtime in Whistler remains a disorienting mystery. It has something to do with what social scientists call imprinting.

“Alberta has proven its leadership in addressing climate change year after year.” Lewis Carroll didn’t write that sentence. One thing is perfectly clear though; whoever did has made one too many trips down the rabbit hole.

There are immutable laws governing life on planet Earth — gravity, for example — but there aren’t very many. What there are a lot of are really good rules of thumb. Don’t spend more than you earn. Don’t run with scissors.

My Perfect Partner and I are at odds over my latest theory about UFOs. Yes, UFOs.

And so, the seasons turn. Like daylight savings time, spring slips in under the radar early this year.

If you’re at all like me — and I’m certain there’s at least one person in your life who hopes you aren’t — you’ve probably not been following politics as closely as you may once have.

Canadians aren’t, as a rule, particularly pushy. This is a country of two solitudes, multiculturalism, universal health care and collective goodwill. The west in Canada was never really wild; it was well-managed.

Roses are red, Violets are blue. I’ve got a secret, Betcha do too. With the possible exception of secrets and the cult of self-esteem, Valentine’s Day is the greatest threat to romantic love ever invented. Secrets are the very antitheses of love.

If I were Mayor Ken or councillors McKeever, Lorriman or Wake, I might have looked out over the empty seats in Myrtle Philip a week ago Tuesday and thought to myself, “Nobody in town really gives a damn about the budget or the proposed property tax i

The battle over the budget fades into obscurity. The debate about Canada’s role in Afghanistan seems temporarily irrelevant. The U.S. election, a pas de deux on a darkened stage.