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It's a must attend event... for the future of Tiny Town

Some say it was Woody Allen, others attribute it to Mark Twain, but I suspect it was William Shakespeare who said the basic formula for comedy is Tragedy plus Time.
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Some say it was Woody Allen, others attribute it to Mark Twain, but I suspect it was William Shakespeare who said the basic formula for comedy is Tragedy plus Time. Since he wrote both tragedies and comedies, and seems to have said everything else in the English language, who am I to quibble.

Knowing the simple-sounding formula, however, doesn't make comedy any easier. Being funny is still a bit like corralling smoke, making a crushed beer can round again or trying to explain to your girlfriend that you were honestly trying to be both sincere and complimentary when you told her she really looked better carrying a few extra pounds.

Like all simple equations, Tr + Te = C is not a universal. For example, the wit who walked into guest relations the day after the Quicksilver accident, lo those many years ago, and quipped, "Hey, I hear you guys are having a lift sale... 10 per cent off." was definitely not being funny. Come to think of it, I'm still not certain that one's funny. Maybe in another decade. Then again, maybe not. Some things simply defy humour. I'm not sure, for example, the Epoch of Harper will ever be considered a laugh riot despite its tragic arc.

By contrast, the Victoria sitcom, Shit Christy Says, is almost always hilarious. Whether she's trying to be serious — oh c'mon, is she ever serious? — or not, she can't seem to help herself. It's as though John Cleese is writing her speeches. "But seriously, folks, it is better to be a MILF than a cougar." Perhaps it is, especially when you digress in the middle of a stump speech to tell the audience a microphone that won't stay upright in its holder reminds you, unsympathetically, of your ex-husband. Ba-da-boom! Never a wrong time for limp penis jokes.

I mean, how funny was the episode, Last One Out's a Drowned Rat, when most of the Liberal caucus announced they weren't going to run again in this election. "I want to spend more time with my family." "I was never planning to run again." "It's time to pursue other opportunities." So many ways to say, "We're going to get creamed and I don't want to be part of this train wreck."

Those remaining, the hopeful, the otherwise unemployable, the builders-for-the-future, have ordered their campaign literature and signs, none of which make even passing reference to Ms. Clark. She will be a ghost in this campaign, stumping for her own seat — by no means assured — and being notable by her absence from everyone else's campaign, with the possible exception of Adrian Dix whose fortunes are boosted every time she appears in public.

It's enough to make a guy wonder.

But I digress.

Where I was trying to steer this stream-of-consciousness piffle before it began to meander like a dog sniffing out a new neighbourhood was into the history books. OK, I know it's dangerous to use the "H" word but stick with me for another half page. If it doesn't work, I'll refund what you paid for this paper.

The formula for history is Anything + Time. It doesn't matter who said that. History happens. Special events, an assassination for example, make it interesting. Unexpected outcomes make it interesting. Colourful people make it interesting.

Textbook writers unfortunately tend to make it painfully dull. And if there is a heaven and a hell, I hope there is a special, hideous corner of hell for 99 per cent of the academics who wrote the history books that made you recoil when I used the word the first time.

The big problem with contemplating history as it's happening is the Anything part of the equation. If Anything, and therefore Everything, contributes to the soup of history, how do we know what's important when it's happening? And how, especially, do we know what's important in our own back yard, an arena we tend to take for granted in much the same way we devalue our personal skills?

Well, I'm here to tell you what's happening this week may well be historical, within the context of Tiny Town. And we can all be part of it, though, having said that, I'm sure it'll just be the usual suspects who show up for Thursday evening's public open house.

Of course, the outcome could be tragic — not in a comedic way and, really, only time will tell — but it could, with a little luck, be, dare I say it, sustainable. And groundbreaking.

Last fall, our council appointed the Learning and Education Task Force to investigate opportunities for Whistler to pursue learning and education. This was partly a forward-looking initiative to investigate an avenue of economic diversification in a one industry town and partly a reaction to the never-ending quest of the owners of what are known as the Zen lands to build something other than what the land is currently zoned for — four estate homes.

The task force has been beavering away all winter. It's had discussions with a number of organizations interested in pursuing education, in some form or another, in Whistler. Groups interested include Quest University, Cap U, Emily Carr U, the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra and others. Some involve utilizing the infrastructure and resources of the town as a focus for students' practicum terms, some want to offer classes here, Whistler International Campus wants to build a full-blown university on the aforementioned Zen lands.

The task force has been, "researching Whistler's economic context, trends in post-secondary education, social and economic impacts of post-secondary institutions, the range of opportunities available to Whistler, potential risks, and tools for moving forward."

Ultimately, any decisions will be up to council. Those decisions will be shaded by individual councillor's experiences, the task force recommendations, interactions with the proponents of various plans and, in no small part, public reaction. That would be why going to the public open house between 5:00 p.m. and 8:00 p.m. this evening (Thursday) is more important than whatever else you were planning to do.

We've all come here from different places. We've all stayed here for different reasons. This is the town we've decided to sink roots into, raise families, and live our lives in. In no small part, we chose Whistler because of what it had to offer and the kind of town it was. We've all had a part in making it the town it has become.

The question before us is what kind of town is it going to be? Blending education into tourism is one path. Grafting a university onto the town is another. If you don't think having a say in that decision is more important than, say, watching hockey, don't bother to show up. For the rest of you, I'll see you there.