I've got a terrifying number of deadlines hanging over my head today, but because I live to serve my tens and tens of readers, and because I'm a fan, and because it's a six-minute walk from my house, I STILL went to the media preview of "The Art of Banksy," which opens tonight.

Again, the deadlines, so I'll be brief. If you're thinking of shelling out $44.30 (all-in) for the show, which features 80 original works and is apparently the world’s largest collection of Banksy’s art ever exhibited, I'll offer some single-word insight. Is it worth going? Yes. Does it feel a tad opportunistic? Yes. Is it all rather ironic given the nature of Banksy's work? Yes. 

I hope that helps. If not, check out the photos I've assembled above, which of course are all over the Internet, and ask yourself: Regardless of how opportunistic and ironic the exhibition might be, would I like to see much of Banksy's best work assembled in one air-conditioned place in a smart, stylish, insightful way? If the answer is "yes," I encourage you to go.

But please don't knock on my door on your way there, as I won't answer, and might have to release the hounds. 

My dad is no help when I ask about Father's Day gifts. Not that I blame him: The occasion didn’t exist when he was growing up in Wiltshire, and his English stoicism dictates that gifts are pointless trifles and we should just bloody well get on with it.

Thankfully, there are two gifts I can always fall back on: Beer and Mars bars. He's not a big drinker, but Dad does enjoy a brown pop now and then. And if you've ever paired a nice pilsner with a Mars you know where he's coming from.

Like father like son I suppose: When my own daughters ask about Father's Day, beer is usually at the top of my wish list. (Just above well-behaved children and a Calgary Flames Snuggie.) Not only is it beer, but thanks to the explosion of craft brewing in Ontario some legitimate surprise and excitement surrounds the gift presentation. It’s become a kind of family tradition: The girls visit the LCBO with their mom — because the Beer Store is the Worst. Business. Ever. — and each of them selects one tall can.

This is perfect, because two tall tins are usually all I need — on the patio, on the disc-golf course, on the dock, in the stands at the wild cow milking competition, you get the idea. I do a lot of work with the Canadian Men’s Health Foundation, and it has opened my eyes to the senselessness of over-imbibing. Where before a six-pack (or more) would somehow disappear in my presence, two tall tins do the trick these days.

Speaking of wild cow milking, my love of tall tins has inspired me to write these country music lyrics:

Hey there Tall Tin
You look kinda thin
But you hold much more than a stubby

And once you're all gone
I've got my buzz on
Without getting excessively chubby

With you, yes, it's true
That just two will do
Instead of a gut-forming 'sixer

So here's to you, Tin
Now let us begin
Time to savour your golden elixir

I’m working on adding some music in time for Canadian Men’s Health Week (June 11-17), but these damn banjo strings keep breaking! Can anyone out there play the juice harp? Help me out, and I’ll treat you to a Mars bar and a pair of tall tins...

This is how my MSN gallery assignments work:

Step 1: I suggest a topic or am given one.
Step 2: My editors determine the number of slides involved.
Step 3: I cry myself to sleep over the compensation.
Step 4: I write the gallery copy, select corresponding photos, yadda yadda yadda, and make my deadline like no deadline has ever been made before.
Step 5: The gallery is posted and the Pulitzer people start calling. Leave me be you bow-tied devils!
Step 6: The gallery is somehow used to sway elections in Burkina Faso.

Somewhere between steps 4 and 5 a few of my genius selections are occasionally nixed. A record-setting four slides in my new "20 incredible moms who made history" gallery, for instance, were given the old heave-ho, apparently because they deal with religious subjects or refer to mothers who gave birth to greatness but were not historically great themselves. I tried to argue the second point — you’ll understand why soon enough — but gave up when I realized that arguing takes time, and time is money, and money is the root of all evil, and Roots makes sweatpants, and sweatpants are a sign of giving up.

So because today is Mother's Day, and because this is my blog and I can post whatever the hell I want (insert evil laugh), here are the four slides that missed, but deserved to make, the cut:

Grace Sutter
When Grace married in the early 1950s and settled on an Alberta farm, she probably didn’t expect to raise seven sons and not a single daughter. It wouldn’t have surprised her that her sons played hockey — they’re Albertans, after all — but there’s no way she could have known that six of the seven would make it to the NHL.

Writer’s note: A mom raises seven boys, six of whom go on to play and coach NHL hockey, and she’s not historically great? Seriously? Come ON.

Mary Ball Washington
The mother of America’s first president was instrumental in molding her first-born son, George, into a true icon of history. An orphan at 13 and a widow at 35, Mary never remarried, instead choosing to manage her family and property herself. She was seen as a difficult woman by many, but she did things her way — especially when it came to her nation-building son.

Writer’s note: George Washington said his mother “was the most beautiful woman I ever saw. All I am I owe to my mother. I attribute my success in life to the moral, intellectual and physical education I received from her.” But did he always answer her texts? Even when he was powering his wig? I doubt it.

The Virgin Mary
Two of the three great monotheistic religions have mothers as central figures. (Muhammad was orphaned at an early age, which takes Islam out of the picture.) For the 2 billion Christians out there, the mother of Jesus Christ is about as good as it gets. After all, according to the Bible, Mary gave birth to the messiah after being impregnated by God, spirited him away when his young life was in danger, witnessed his resurrection, established the Stations of the Cross...the list of blessed deeds goes on and on.

Writer’s note: I think I’ll send Mary a signed copy of 1,000 Places To See After You Die. The Aramaic edition, of course.

Jochebed
Judaism, meanwhile, celebrates the heroism of Moses’s mother. Tradition has it that Jochebed, who was also mom to Aaron and Miriam, hid Moses for three months when the Egyptians ordered the death of all newborn Hebrew males. Then she united him with his destiny by setting him afloat on the Nile in a reed basket that was found by the pharaoh’s daughter. Moses was reared in the Egyptian court, and the rest is history.

Writer’s note: If you’re not Jewish, is it sacrilegious to think Jochebed was kind of hot? Asking for a friend...

​When tragedy strikes cities around the world — in recent years in Paris, Nice, Miami, London, Las Vegas, and in far too many others — my first instinct is to make a B-line for them. I suppose part of me wants to make sure that tragedy hasn’t dimmed their lustre. Thankfully, the healing process always makes cities stronger, and I have no doubt this will be the case with Toronto, my home for more than 20 years.

Of course, since I’m already here, Toronto’s enduring greatness surrounds me every day. And IMHO, these 11 spots are where it shines the brightest:

Toronto Islands Park
A 15-minutes ferry ride from the foot of Bay St., the car-free and bike-friendly Islands feel like a faraway slice of cottage country. I’m especially fond of Ward’s Island, home to one of Toronto’s finest stretches of sand, the bucolic Island Cafe, arguably the best disc-golf course in Canada — E.T. Seton Park also has a superb track — and a community of whimsical cottages that’s straight out of a Tim Burton flick. Plus, few places are better for admiring the stunning downtown skyline.

St. Lawrence Market
I love visiting this massive covered foodie paradise on weekdays in the early afternoon, and making a meal of sampling the wares at the scores of vendors spread over the market’s two floors.

Horseshoe Tavern
I’m very proud of the fact that I’ve taken the stage in the same checkerboard-floored venue celebrated in the Tragically Hip’s “Bobcaygeon.” The ‘Shoe, along with spots like Massey Hall, Lee’s Palace and the Opera House, make Toronto the ultimate Canadian destination for live-music fans.

Hockey Hall of Fame
This 57,000-square-foot shrine features 15 exhibit areas cover everything from a vintage replica of the Montreal Canadiens' dressing room to an interactive area where you can snap pucks at a computer simulation of goalie Ed Belfour. My only quibble: Why isn’t an entire wing devoted to the Calgary Flames?

Canada’s Wonderland
I have a thing for roller coasters, and the country’s largest theme park has the Western Hemisphere’s greatest variety of them. There’s Leviathan, Wonderland’s tallest, and Vortex, Canada’s first suspended roller coaster. To quote a visiting cousin: “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!”

Royal Ontario Museum
I’m not really a museum person, but the ROM wins me over every time. Behind its trippy "Michael Lee-Chin Crystal" façade more than six million items are housed in 40 galleries, with world-class collections showcasing dinosaurs, Near Eastern, African and East Asian art, and European and Canadian history.

The Scarborough Bluffs
This 14-km-long sedimentary escarpment provides a dramatic backdrop for more of Toronto's best beaches, a network of marsh-crossing boardwalks, and an expansive marina that’s home to fishing charters that gave me an afternoon of salmon fishing I’ll never forget.

Kensington Market
Just west of Chinatown, this warren of streets takes its neighbour’s ethnic energy and adds a dose of bohemian style. Ramshackle storefronts house everything from vintage clothing boutiques to taco joints, while street performers swallow swords and do their best Dylan impressions for passers-by.

Distillery District
This collection of brick heritage buildings and cobblestone streets is transformed into a festive wonderland in December, and in summer practically overflows with outdoor patios. The Mill Street Brew Pub, for instance, pours more than a dozen house beers.

Ripley's Aquarium of Canada
For aquarium enthusiasts such as myself, it doesn’t get much better than the shark-filled “Dangerous Lagoon.” The 2.5-million-litre display is home to scores of the 450 water-dwelling species that call Ripley's home, and can be viewed from below via a glass-domed moving sidewalk that’s the longest of its kind in North America.  

High Park Zoo
Toronto is home to Canada’s largest zoo — which is fantastic — and this isn’t even remotely it. But set as it is in the city proper’s largest and best-equipped park, this free-admission menagerie is charming in its own modest way...kind of like Toronto in general.

Dear Gary,

You may remember me from the ice storm of 1998, when I transported a rented generator from unaffected Toronto to my parents' place in hard-hit Kingston. I've never been in a war zone, but darkened K-Town sure looked like one as my ancient, tank-like Volvo swerved to avoid innumerable fallen tree branches and power lines.

Based on the forecast that’s been terrifying Ontarians all week, it looks like we will meet again very soon. But I sincerely hope we don’t, mainly because you seem like a total dick.

Why can’t you be more like your brother Nigel, God of Snow? That usually awesome dude just helped me out big-time in Fernie and Whistler. I’m not Nigel’s biggest fan when I’m stuck in an airport or driving at night, but unlike you I think he means well.

Just face it: Nobody likes you! The only exception might be the photographers who capture the icy splendour of your evil powers. But even then you come across like a jerk by forcing them to scrape off their windshields, and then making them slip and fall on their driveways.

So let’s make a deal: We puny mortals will stop taking your name in vain if you agree to unleash your powers on weekdays only. A few ice-storm days would make up for the lack of legitimate snow days this winter, and might even earn you a few worshipers.

So just hold off till Monday, OK? I’ve got a morning meeting I’d love you to freezing-rain on.

Sincerely,

Adam

Until the 14th day of March, oh great and robustly suspendered Nigel, my 2018 sacrifices to you had gone unanswered. I dined upon everything that pleased you in the past -- nachos, cinnamon buns, poutine -- but you favoured me not with heavy snows upon the slopes of skiing.

With each failed sacrifice I turned to fresh sustenance. Would chicken wings curry favour with you? Apparently not. Would curry curry favour with you? Again, not a single flake fell. Oxtail rotis? Sushi? Oxtail sushi? Sushi rotis? Try as I might, your new culinary predilections remained mysteries to me.

It was with a heavy heart that I dug deep into my freezer for something, anything, that might please your too-tightly-trousered magnificence. It was the Monday of March Break, after all, and my family was about to head to Stowe, Vermont.

That’s when I saw them, sheathed in plastic and bundled together with an elastic band. The wieners were quickly defrosted in boiling water, grilled in a pan, and served “à la Ikea” between two equally freezer-burned buns. It wasn’t much, oh fickle and surprisingly stout Nigel, but it was worth a shot.

Fat flakes fell furiously as we neared the self-proclaimed “Ski Capital of the East,” and I began to joyfully suspect that I had satisfied your latest craving. We all ordered hot dogs from the kids’ menu that evening, and lo and behold, we awoke to more than a foot of fresh powder. When I fist-bumped a complete stranger on the hill that day, oh yellow-mustard-preferring Nigel, it wasn’t only because of the sublime conditions. It was also because I had made my way back into your blessed favour.

Needless to say, before heading to Fernie Alpine Resort in early April, I joined my daughters in sacrificing half a pack of franks to your glorious, duosyllabic and relatively common name. Upon arrival, I witnessed a great omen -- Fernie’s annual Eighties-themed Hot Dog Day -- that foretold of many snowy days to come. It also foretold of some serious hangovers and vintage-store remorse, but that’s another story.

You again unleashed your powers of precipitation that night, compelling me to hike up Snake Ridge and glide down into Cedar Bowl the next morning. If that's what dining upon tube steaks gets me, oh munificent and elastic-waistband-requiring Nigel, I’ll renew my Epic Pass ASAP and see you at Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest in July.

Love,

Adam “Kobayashi” Bisby

TORONTO, CANADA -- In a groundbreaking move aimed at the 100.8 billion human beings who are no longer with us, Mostly Amazing has launched 1,000 Places To See After You Die.

“By publishing an Aramaic edition on Easter Sunday, we’re hoping a certain someone will read, enjoy and endorse this compelling afterlife travel guide,” said Adam Bisby, Mostly Amazing’s Supreme Leader. “After all, so many fascinating places have emerged since 33 AD, and you can only sit next to your dad for so long.”

The richly illustrated book, conveniently laminated to prevent ectoplasm smearing, highlights unique destinations such as:

Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Jerusalem
Admire the magnificent stone arches that are believed to have been built over the biblical Calvary, where Jesus died and rose from the dead. Spectral practical jokers, meanwhile, will get a kick out of materializing above holiday crowds while wearing fake beards, loincloths and thorny crowns.

​Evans City Cemetery, Pennsylvania
A must for zombies, this bucolic graveyard north of Pittsburgh was a shooting location for 1968’s Night of The Living Dead. Bury yourself, wait for a few movie buffs to show up, and let the fun begin! Bonus points for learning a few "Thriller" dance moves.

The Great Pyramid of Giza
Any mummy worth its sarcophagus should shuffle on over to the 147-metre-tall Great Pyramid of Giza. The good news: The only remaining Wonder of the Ancient World is almost as spectacular today as it was when it was constructed some 4,000 years ago. The bad news: You'll probably have to pose in a few selfies, so be sure to have some really nasty curses cooked up.

For a limited time, each copy of 1,000 Places To See After You Die will include a complimentary harp holster and pitchfork stand. The guide is also available in a fireproof format, with miniature and waterproof versions designed for readers who are reincarnated as insects or marine creatures.

“With the eternal souls of everyone who has ever lived among our potential readership, we’re confident that the first-ever guide to bucket-list travel for after you've kicked the bucket will achieve bestseller status,” Bisby added. “Plus, it makes an inevitably wonderful gift for anyone still alive today, except maybe Elon Musk."

To order a copy of 1,000 Places To See After You Die, simply click here.

Night was falling, the frigid winter wind was howling, and I was stuck on the old Duncan double chair at Mont Tremblant.

This was before Intrawest's 1991 takeover, and the bankrupt resort’s business woes were being echoed on the slopes. So it came as quite a relief when the lift shuddered and finally lurched forward.

But my relief was short-lived. Almost immediately it stopped again. There was a pause, then another lurch. Then a pause, then a lurch. A few lurches later, I realized what was happening: I was being winched up.

With the summit more than a kilometre away, I knew I would look even more like Jack Nicholson at the end of The Shining if I stayed put. So I raised the safety bar, dropped my poles, pushed off with both hands, and dropped about 12 feet onto the snowy slopes below. It didn’t hurt a bit...likely because I couldn’t feel my legs.

But that was NOTHING compared to this other time when I...er...actually, in more than four decades of skiing, I can’t recall ever feeling unsafe on a lift again.

If you just watched footage of that malfunctioning Georgian chairlift tossing skiers and snowboarders around like Final Destination extras, I’m afraid I can’t offer anything comparable. Very few skiers and snowboarders can, given that ski lifts are among the safest forms of transportation in existence.

Since the National Ski Areas Association began compiling U.S. industry stats in 1973, there have been 13 deaths attributed to chairlift malfunctions. That’s 13 too many, to be sure, but it’s incredibly few considering that nearly 18 billion lift rides have taken place over the intervening years. U.S. lifts have transported guests more than 14 billion kilometres since 1973, which is equivalent to more than 90 trips from the Earth to the Sun (not on skis, presumably). This safety record has improved dramatically over the last 25 years, with just a single fatality resulting from a chairlift malfunction since 1993.

Of course, reading these stats doesn’t make the Georgian snafu any less scary to watch. The good news: No one was seriously injured. And if some people are scared to ride chairlifts after viewing the viral videos, their loss is my gain. More fresh powder and shorter lift lines for me!

But if I’m not being selfish, I think they should reconsider. After all, are they going to stop riding elevators and driving cars as well? According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, a passenger is five times more likely to suffer a fatality riding an elevator than a ski lift, and is more than eight times more likely to die while riding in a car.

Plus, can you do THIS after riding an elevator?

I rest my case.

Pity the parents who have yet to make a plan for March Break, which starts on Monday here in Ontario. I've been there: I still hear about the Arctic waters of the swimming camp we booked at the last minute, the soccer debacle with a single lonely ball, and the five days of French that were “worse than school.” Quelle horreur!

In our defense, choosing camps isn’t easy. Something that seems fun and enriching can turn out to be anything but. Consider these seven options: They appear to have it all, but as any experienced parent knows, appearances can be deceiving.

MacGyver Camp: Hosted by Richard Dean Anderson, this camp gives kids the skills to turn fallen satellites into hang-gliders and to safely defuse explosive devices by always cutting the red wire.

Cryptocurrency Investment Camp: Invest in your child’s future by giving them the tools to make bazillions of dollars by buying and selling Bitcoin, Zcash, Bunko and Ponz-E.

Asbestos Abatement Camp: Worried about those suspicious-looking panels in your basement? Turn your child into an abatement expert who can safely identify and handle asbestos for $275 an hour (plus HST).

“Sleepaway Camp” Camp: Perfect for budding slasher-movie directors who want to get into some seriously messed-up shit.

Cooking With Edible Slime: Is your child obsessed with making slime and MasterChef Junior? Combine their passions at this week-long camp hosted by Rachel Ray look-alike Ray Rachel. Be sure to make room in your fridge for up to 30 pounds of goo that looks and smells like pond scum, and tastes much, much worse.

Spanish Inquisition Camp: Designed for teens, this historically accurate recreation of the 300-year-long religious tribunal covers topics that are more relevant today than ever: Heretic expulsion, freemasonry suppression, dating etiquette, the list goes on.

Blogging With Bisby: This 15-minute camp, hosted by yours truly, will impart many of the “skills” needed to turn blogging into a source of income worth tens of dollars a year. Although, on second thought, maybe the cryptocurrency or asbestos camps are better bets…

To paraphrase Ween: “Take me away to some other land...I gotta get away from this cold before it drives me crazy…”

Just as many season-pushing Torontonians, myself included, began pronouncing winter to be over and done with, Environment Canada goes ahead and issues a “Special Weather Statement” for Hogtown. Serves us right, I suppose, given that it’s minus-19 in Regina right now.  

So let me make up for my annoying optimism by suggesting scores of places to get away from this and any other snowy blast (as well as plenty of spots where a snowy blast is a good thing).

WAIHEKE ISLAND, NEW ZEALAND
Just 35 minutes from Auckland by ferry, this compact island boasts an impressive array of sunny diversions. Emerald waters and sandy beaches blend beautifully with dozens of boutique wineries, fine restaurants, art galleries and craft studios, while walking trails wind through nature reserves and ziplines soar above it all.

CHECK OUT THE REST OF MY “20 UNDER-THE-RADAR PLACES TO CATCH SOME SUN” MSN GALLERY 

PROVIDENCIALES, TURKS AND CAICOS
This Caribbean archipelago’s most-visited island is home to Grace Bay, which is widely regarded as one of the world’s best beaches. There’s also a host of luxurious beachfront resorts, dozens of upscale restaurants and spas, and some of the region’s best snorkeling, scuba diving and deep-sea fishing.

CHECK OUT THE REST OF “50 BEST DESTINATIONS TO VISIT DURING THE WINTER”

ISLAMORADA, FLORIDA
This is a gorgeous 30-km stretch of keys named Plantation, Upper and Lower Matecumbe, Shell and Lignumvitae. It’s where mangrove gives way to beautiful ocean, and where much of the Bloodline TV series was shot. Indeed, the Moorings Village and Spa, a luxurious 7.3-hectare property, stood in as the Rayburns’ hotel.

CHECK OUT THE REST OF "20 HOT SPOTS IN FLORIDA TO ESCAPE WINTER”

​NOSARA, COSTA RICA
​Surf shops and yoga studios were imported to this pretty Guanacaste town by its large expat community, but the luxuriant vegetation and plentiful wildlife of the nearby refuge, as well as the three lovely beaches, all come courtesy of Mother Nature.

CHECK OUT THE REST OF "YES, YOU CAN TRAVEL TO THESE GORGEOUS BEACHES"