Pique'n Yer Interest

Last December, the Resort Municipality of Whistler (RMOW) was in full-blown crisis mode.

Even though it's called the World Ski and Snowboard Festival (WSSF), I always think of it as one of the best locals' parties of the year.

In the film Canadian Bacon, there's an iconic scene where John Candy plows through a festival crowd in Toronto, sending bodies flying in all directions—and everybody he pushes over apologizes to him.

In this space, I've touched on how enjoyable it is to see an edition of Pique all the way through, from writing the stories and taking some photos, to putting together some pages and proofreading the copy. I've subsequently gone a step further.

"Help me. I don't know what to do." I'm standing in the forest on a narrow trail in Squamish, less than 24 hours after my life has imploded.

I could feel the pain in his soft voice as he told the story of men in masks slaughtering a rhino for her horn, then leaving her suffocating to death, the blood pooling under her head.

As some Pemberton residents recently learned, the Pemberton RCMP's newest recruit has gone missing. "Please return Officer Scarecrow!" a concerned citizen wrote on the Pemberton community forum Facebook group.

Ever since my coffee machine decided to stop working last year, my French press has become my most treasured possession.

My father had polio. Born in the '30s, it wasn't all that uncommon. It was serious, but he managed to beat it, mostly—he never played sports, his legs were too weak for that, but, hey, he could still walk. Not everyone was so lucky.

Countless corporations are trying to make sure that they're on the right side of history by trying to stake a claim on the side of good takes. And they're doing everything in their power to make sure you know.