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And you seem stuck with a government and a gaggle of presidential wannabes who can’t find a solution to pouring endless dollars and lives down a rathole in the Middle East and simultaneously find dollars to fund healthcare, education and infrastructure projects at home.
The only obvious solution to your problems is to get in your car, fill up your tank, play Border Delay Roulette, drive through downtown Vancouver and up the Sea-to-Hell highway and frolic your worries away at Whistler.
Judging from the way Muni Hall seems to be growing and the way Whistler council is throwing money around, you’d have to conclude that notion isn’t as preposterous as it seems.
While purely anecdotal, it seems like every other person I bump into these days has just landed a job at the Muni. The Ministry of Misinformation has managed to double its ‘communication’ staff in anticipation — I’m guessing here — of actually producing some communication. Now, admittedly, doubling is a matter of going from one to two but it’s not my fault if the math seems brutal. Let them massage the message. People I thought were assistants are suddenly getting assistants themselves. The Ministry of Sustainability is threatening to become unsustainable itself. And gone are the days when people mused about how we’d need a much smaller staff post-Olympics and pre-buildout. Good one, eh?
With the generally rock solid exception of councillor Nancy, the pudding-solid exception of councillor Eckhard, and the occasional, your-guess-is-as-good-as-mine surprise coming from one or another of the others, I’m not even sure what planet these guys are living on. Must be planet Olympics. It certainly isn’t the one where people are making tough choices between food, fuel, shelter and the ever-looming, never-known future.
In the best of years, when Whistler is over its head in snow for the second season in a row, the difference between profit and loss for nearly every business in town is rubber tire traffic. We’re so big now that destination visitors alone won’t sustain our mass. Without those endlessly patient souls who drive up each weekend from Washington and those auto-destination tourists who come from a bit further afield, we’re back to cryin’ the blues we were wailin’ 24 months ago. Summertime? Summertime’s all about people driving up and through.