THIS BUD'S FOR US

I've been thinking about the Olympics a lot lately. Now, to be both
fair and honest, I've been -- or, more accurately, hope to be -- paid
for thinking about them. But that's not the point. It's not the point
because paid or not, once I started thinking about the Olympics , it
became impossible to limit myself to thinking about them within the
terms of my engagement. An imagination is a terrible thing to waste.

It's kind of like Prince Charles. I don't think about Prince Charles
too often and there's probably zero chance anyone's ever going to
pay me to think about him. In fact, I'm generally uncomfortable when
thoughts of him pop into my head. I wonder about early-onset
Alzheimer's when things like Prince Charles appear magically in my
thoughts. "Oh dear, more malfunctioning synapses. So this is what
it's like to to what was I thinking about?"

But the Olympics and Prince Charles have at least one characteristic
in common -- they take themselves too seriously. Prince Charles can't
help it. He's been raised to take himself too seriously. Let's face
it, anyone named Prince anything is pretty much doomed to take
himself too seriously. Call your kid Prince and you have no one but
yourself to blame when he grows up without a sense of humour.

Prince Charles is a special case though and I feel his pain. I often
wonder what I'd be like if the only job in the entire world I was, by
birth, allowed to have was unavailable to me. Because my mother had
it. And wouldn't give it up. And I'd gotten into my 60s and never
really done an honest day's work in my life. And conned a beautiful
woman into marrying me. Who left me for a department store heir.

No wonder kings and queens got murdered back in the good old days.

But despite the deck being stacked against him, Prince Charles has
never really done anything to rehabilitate his image as
king-in-waiting with all the warmth of day-old porridge. He's tilted
at modern architecture and organic farming but even when he's going
on about things about which he feels passionately, he comes off as a
prig whose milk of human kindness has turned to cottage cheese.

I've often found myself thinking, "Ya know, if I was advising Charlie
on how to warm up his image and standing with the British people I'd
tell him to learn how to wiggle those ears." Can you imagine? Chuck
droning on about something, looking straight into the camera, winking
ever so slightly and giving those big boys a wiggle. His popularity
would skyrocket.

And that's where Prince Charles and the Olympics join rings. Both
take themselves too seriously. Both need help channeling their inner
absurdity. Citius, Altius, Fortius Futurus! Swifter, Higher, Stronger, Absurd!

Take, for example, the official Vancouver 2010 Olympic mascot:
Inukshuk. (Blanket trademark on the previous sentence.) Nuki, as his
friends call him, represents a good start. His ponderous,
stiff-limbed, lovable-lunk of a character verily dances with, well,
if not absurdity, certainly humour. Imagine, if you will, a chorus
line of Inukshuks at the opening ceremonies. Inukshuks on Ice.
Inukshuks in speed suits.

So popularly absurd is Nuki that unsubstantiated rumour has it
Whistler-Blackcomb is on the verge of announcing an annual Nukis Ski
Free Day on Feb. 12th, countdown anniversary of the start of the 2010
Games . Anyone showing up at the base of Whistler Mountain dressed as
an Inukshuk gets to ski for free. Of course, anyone dressed as an
Inukshuk will have difficulty skiing, free or not. Stiff-armed and
stiff-legged, Nukis are pretty much limited to riding the Village
Gondola but at least on the downhill part of the trip they'll be
waving -- constantly -- to the terrified crowd of skiers stuck in their path.

And while we're on the subject, wouldn't the middle of February be a
wonderful time for Rear-Entry Campbell to declare a Provincial
Holiday? B.C. Olympics Day. Tres futurus.

But as downright cuddly as Nuki is, pressed to be honest, he doesn't
capture the je ne sais quoi of Whistler. One could argue he doesn't
capture that perhaps uncapturable essence of either B.C. or Canada
either but one would be flogging a dead horse at this point in the
offshore production of Nuki paraphernalia, gewgaws and plush stuffed toys.

That isn't to say it's too late for Whistler to adopt its own
unofficial 2010 Olympic mascot. It's not. Not at all. As co-host
resort municipality of the Games , we ought to have our own mascot.
We deserve our own mascot. And even being overly-sensitive to our own
First-Nations peoples, the Inukshuk simply has no historical locus
'round these parts. Nuki has about as much authentic resonance in
Whistler as an Easter Island stone carving, which, come to think of
it, bears a suspicious resemblance to a certain former mayor of
Whistler. You can speculate on which former mayor over a refreshing,
Appleton Rum (gratuitous reference) drink while you train for the
Peak to Valley race next weekend.

Now we could hold a contest to come up with a Whistler Unofficial
Olympic Mascot. Get the school kids involved, engage the many,
talented local artists and their soaring imaginations. Empower the
overworked Arts & Culture people. But given our local history on
popular votes and the Olympics , we probably won't.

But I think it's clear, given Whistler's rich, if brief, history, we
really only have one choice if we want to stay true to the spirit of
the Founding Fathers and Founding Mothers of Whistler, mascotwise.

B.C. Bud.

A tall, lanky fellow, Bud's well known around these parts. One might
almost say Bud's an integral part of the community, the mythology
even, of Whistler. And who among us can deny the historical links
between Bud, Whistler and the Olympics ? Our own most recent
Olympian was, if not a close, personal friend, at least a passing
met-him-at-a-party kind of acquaintance of Bud. Bud figured
prominently in, if not his Olympic victory, then in his subsequent notoriety.

Bud would be a much more approachable figure than Nuki. Bud's the
kind of guy you can warm up to on a cold night, share a beer with,
talk about, well, about anything that pops into your
mind incessantly. With his devil-may-care dreads and bedroom eyes,
engaging if goofy smile and laconic gait, Bud would be an instant hit
in the take-me-home-and-love-me-to-death souvenir market.

Whistler's already broken new ground being named an official co-host
of the Games . Now is the time to be bold. The future is what we make
of it and the Olympics can be a springboard to a brave new world of
specialty-themed tourism.

Enjoy the Games in Whistler; get down with B.C. Bud.