Pique'n Yer Interest

I have an unusual problem: I'm dirty stinkin' rich. That's right.

It was a lovely evening drive on the highway. Traffic was sparse, weather conditions were dry and bright, the best possible CD was filling up the Yaris with music, a long weekend was still ahead, and I was heading south.

I've had one foot out of this town since the moment I arrived. I've stayed as long as I have because I need a job. But After two years, I've never really connected with the town. The nature is nice — most certainly but I'm from B.C.

The Canadian Centre for Policy Alternatives (CCPA) recently lobbed a grenade at the Canadian government and banking industry after uncovering some $114 billion in cash-and-loan support to prop our vaunted national banks, a bailout of sorts that every

As a nature-minded kid I'd largely indulged my interests in frogs and bugs through intermittent reading, the occasional pet snake and a fondness for National Geographic magazine.

Hey, baby, can you pass me a swizzle stick?" Sammy asked Dean as the latter stood by Sinatra at the window of the chalet.

All my friends were gone and I had to get to Brooklyn. This much I knew. By the time I had parted lips with whoever she was, the room had all but cleared out. I was alone, totally and completely, in a strange and foreign city.

Maybe it's just me, but I find it ironic that a copy of the BC Building Code is $210, about the same price my wife paid to buy me a big bag full of cordless power tools for Father's Day a few years ago.

Blasting through around 50 centimetres of 7th Heaven powder on Friday, sunlight sparkling off the knolls I hadn't shredded yet, I felt a little guilty.

Here's a very Canuck fantasy for tax season. Imagine you had a gold mine of your very own.