Here's a nice, tidy little example of how stories get born in this brave new citizen journalism world. Story: Asshat motorist throws beef patty out car window onto crowded street; crazed bike messenger thoughtfully returns it to him; brawl ensues involving thrown coffee, car keying and attempted mauling. The media play-by-play:

1. A random but interesting event, illustrating a larger problem (road rage, littering, asshattitude), happens on a city street.
2. A non-journalist photo blogger happens to capture photos and posts them to a middling popular web site: www.citynoise.org.
3. Word of the story gets out via links from progressively larger blogs.
4. Traffic skyrockets, issue sparks debate, at least one of the principals weighs in.
5. Story percolates up to the MSM, in this case Canada's largest daily, which publishes story about both the original incident and the power of the Internet to reflect on it: http://tinyurl.com/d3y46.
6. Unfortunately, the end of this story is also common-- middling popular web site crashes due to overwhelming number of hits. (At least it was down this morning.) Oh well, that's the curse of popularity for ya.

Personally as a card-carrying, secret-handshake-knowing member of the MSM, I think this is all good and fine and well. Everyone gets an interesting story; everyone's happy (well, except perhaps for now infamous littering asshat). Who says we can't all get along?

I had a most Canadian weekend. We went ice-skating here, and enjoyed the view of Lake Ontario as well as the balmy mid-50s weather. I managed not to fall, but realized anew that ice skating is hard! Ice is very slippery, I'll have you know.

The fruits of my hooker interview have gone live here, bringing the wisdom of Brandy the Windsor Whore to a larger audience. I love the stripper in the photo (not Brandy): Bittersweet Justice. That's an awesome stripper name. Great furry boots, too -- I'd imagine it must be a chilly line of work.

I see the pig farmer (accused) serial killer is finally going to trial. Not that serial killer stories are ever rainbows and kittens, but this has got to be one of the grosser ones. He's pleaded not guilty -- I hope his defense team is cleaning him up for the trial, because he looks like a Serial Killer straight out of central casting. Seriously, I've never seen anyone look more serial killerish. Creepy. I'm glad I'm not covering that.

I have a new music discovery! I'm not sure how cutting-edge I am since I did see her on CMT, but she's from Ontario so I'm claiming her as my discovery. Sarah Harmer -- sounds a bit like Alison Kraus except her voice seems a little harder... not rough exactly but a little more pointed, maybe. Well, I'm no music writer. You'll just have to listen and judge for yourself. Check out the song "I am Aglow" on her website (about halfway down), www.sarahharmer.com. I like her lyrics too: "You're a map of a place maybe someday I'll go / With thoughts of you I am aglow."

And when she makes it big, remember, I discovered her!

I talked to a real live whore last night! It was very exciting. For me, at least. She sounded emotionally dead inside enough that I doubt I made much of an impression.

It was for a pre-Superbowl story about how Windsor, Ontario, just across the river from Detroit, is a super sin city: legalized prostitution, all-nude strip joints, and legal Cuban cigars! Add that to the Superbowl, and it's like the average football fan's version of 72 dark-eyed virgins.

Brandy the Windsor Whore was not much of a conversationalist -- and I think she was probably smoking pot during our interview -- but she did have some pretty good lines. She's got the girl-next-door look going on (no links to photos, sorry -- don't want to get anyone fired), and she talks like a laid-off auto worker. Which, come to think of it, she probably is.

Brandy has a cheerleader special planned for Super Bowl weekend, even though she's not a football fan. "I don't know nothing about it, but they don't care," she said of her discerning clients. I think you're right on that one, Brandy.

So apparently prostitution is legal in Canada, though Windsor is the only city that actually regulates it. I had no idea I'd stumbled into such a den of sin! And I must point out, a lot of journalists have done the Sin City story, but I'm the only one who interviewed a real live whore! Maybe I'll put that on my resume.

I want to write one of those cool glossy-mag service-journalism stories like "9 Tips To A Better You!" or "12 Ways To Sublimate Your Hatred For All Mankind Into A Successful Career In The Bank Of Montreal Call Center."

My problem is I can only get to about #3 on a list before running out of super-duper ideas. Of course, that's usually about as far as I read in those list stories before flipping to the next page. So maybe I shouldn't worry, maybe all those articles consist of randomly typed letters from #4 on.

FIVE WAYS TO MOTIVATE YOURSELF TO FINISH A PROJECT:
1. Break the project down into small, manageable pieces and give yourself a small reward after each one.
2. On your desk, display a visual reminder of your motivation, such as a postcard from a vacation destination or a past-due electricity bill.
3. Limit your non-work-related Internet usage to truly essential things, such as posting insightful, witty observations on your personal blog.
4. Blah blah blah flkdsaghdl;jlsqjafkl;djruiwtuoavn,xmnv,dlkgj, the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog.
5. I like cheese.

Ouch, talk about stealing thunder! Paul Martin's resignation as Prime Minister/leader of the Liberal Party just got totally wiped off the front page by Mario Lemieux resigning from the NHL.

Speaking of hockey, funny quote from new PM Stephen Harper, on why the Liberals' campaign attempts to get Canadians to hate him failed: "Canadians can disagree, but it takes a lot to get Canadians to intensely hate something or hate somebody. And it usually involves hockey."
(Courtesy AP writer Beth Duff-Brown.)

In other news, Canada elected a Conservative Prime Minister and the sun still rose in the East this morning. And I finally got election results and (much later) some sleep last night.

This is my first election in ten years without access to instant returns on the AP wire, and I think my head is going to explode. My god, I had no idea I was such an addict to election returns. Admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery, right? Where the hell's my 12-step program?

As mentioned below Canada's government, in all its paternalistic wisdom, forbids disseminating any election results until ALL the polls in the country close, which is 10 p.m. EST. And it's much harder to get around this law than I thought. So instead of instantly getting the results at my desktop and listening to my bureau chief call races for the AP wire I actually have to sit here and wait until the media reports the results to regular mortals. Which is far too long to wait!! Right now I'm reduced to getting bootleg early results from a web site called, no joke, The Surly Beaver. Oh how the mighty have fallen.

I'm wearing a suit, and since I don't have a job interview that must mean it's election day! My election day suit-wearing is a proud tradition that dates back to 1996, when I was a reporter for The Charlotte Observer interviewing toothless yokels in the backwoods of South Carolina.

Well, that's not entirely fair. Some of them lived in the frontwoods.

But see, I wear a suit on election day because democracy is worth dressing up for! (That's actually a better slogan than Rock the Vote, now that I think of it!) Voting is important and the startled voters that I've accosted outside polling places in South Carolina, Seattle and now Toronto no doubt appreciate that I honor their patriotic duty by donning my finest apparel. Although, they probably didn't notice my suit today since it was under my parka. But it's the thought that counts.

Election day got off to a good start for me when the first person I interviewed gave me the perfect quote that I just knew would be the third paragraph of my story. That's the kind of thing that makes me feel like the stars are aligning, knock on wood. Plus she was a yoga instructor who voted Conservative, and how often do you see that? Only in Toronto...

My highly unscientific exit poll of six voters in my district yielded some startling results: three Conservative, three NDP. I had thought I'd have trouble finding Conservative voters, because my neighborhood has voted Liberal since the beginning of time. But it was just the opposite -- I didn't find one Liberal voter. Conservative landslide, anyone? We'll find out soon.

By the way, my highly unscientific exit poll is probably highly illegal -- Canadian law prohibits reporting any results before the polls are closed everywhere. No exit polls, either. No political advertising, and no endorsement editorials allowed on election day. Bloggers even have suspended their comments section to avoid running afoul of the law. They interpret the whole freedom of speech thing a little differently up here.

One undercovered story of this Canadian election has been the influence of bloggers. And I'm not just saying that because I've now joined their pajama-clad ranks. Here are my two indications of bloggers playing a key role (to have a proper news story I'd need THREE whole examples, which as we all know is proof of a trend, but for blogging purposes I just have two):

1. The income trust scandal. The Mounties are investigating whether the (soon-to-be-unelected) Liberals tipped off their fave insiders before making an important tax announcement. This was based on suspicious spikes in trading right before the announcement. Bloggers were all over this like white on rice. Esoteric investments, trading patterns, conspiracy theories -- totally up their alley.
And when the scandal broke is the MSM, that's when the Conservatives overtook the Liberals in the polls. The Conservatives are ahead for many reasons, but I think it was the blogger-fueled income trust scandal that really started their momentum in January.

2. The Big Scoop of the campaign was the Liberal party's platform being leaked ... to a blog. And not just any blog, but the blog connected with a two-year-old conservative magazine called The Western Standard. The mag is basically the closest thing Canada has to Fox News. Which, blessedly, is still a far far cry from Fox News.

I chatted with Western Standard publisher Ezra Levant, who said the leak "created an enormous buzz."

"We publish 24 times a year, so it's not like we get a lot of hot news tips. This one was very time-sensitive. The web was really the only way to do it," Ezra said.

He was also rather adorably excited that his blog was ranked 322nd for traffic (including U.S. blogs! he noted). For the record, my blog recently ranked #1 in a survey (of all the blogs my parents visit).

I got the air vents cleaned today, and after the guys left I noticed the heat seemed to be working really well. I thought wow, cleaning the vents really helps! Then I noticed he'd turned the thermostat up to 78 before leaving. No wonder the dog was panting....

In other news, this must be some sort of threshold event in terms of me making it on the Canadian media scene _ I've been blogged about (second item). Woo-hoo!

An editor from the U.S. actually e-mailed me the other day, "I wish our politics was this exciting!" (This in response to an e-mail I sent explaining the background of how a top Liberal official was forced to resign after posting a picture of a female opposition candidate on his blog next to a picture of a Chow dog, under the heading "Separated at Birth.")

Canadian politics -- exciting -- whouda thunkit?

I was interviewing voters yesterday and when I explained to a lovely older woman wearing a rad bike helmet with devil horns on it that USA Today was pretty interested in the election, she responded huffily, "Yes, I guess they WOULD be, with HARPER winning." (Harper's the conservative turned smiling-nonthreatening-moderate candidate.)
Oh yes, lady, you've figured me out -- I'm the advance squad of the vast right-wing media-industrial-military complex sent to scout out our takeover. Curses, foiled again!
Actually, what I said was, "Cool helmet."

I can't help it, now I can't stop thinking of what the United Chimp Party platform would be.

1. Demand U.S. lower unreasonable tariff on bananas. If not, no more maple syrup for you, yankees!
2. Every NHL team must have one chimp/monkey/ape player on ice at all times, which will at first cause all sorts of wacky frustrations but will ultimately teach everyone What Being A Team Is Really About.
3. Throwing feces is now an acceptable form of debate in Parliament.
4. First order of business: Prime Minister Chimp and Stephen Harper take crazy road trip across Canada in a classic 1958 Chevy Impala. Harper must wear this outfit at all times. Hijinks ensue.
5. All cattle ranches in Calgary seized by government, converted to banana plantations patrolled by chimps riding cows.

I think Canadian law doesn't allow Americans to become Prime Minister... but it doesn't say anything about chimps! Mwahahahaaaaaaaaaa!

I just heard on BBC World how New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin thinks Hurricane Katrina was a sign that God is mad at America.

Tangent: I must say that hearing about the latest crackpot news from America is ever-so-much more pleasant when it's delivered in a posh BBC accent. It gives me that nice illusion of distance. And I think of Julie Andrews: "Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down! In the most dee-light-ful waaaaaay!"

Where was I? Oh yes, God's wrath. The solution here is so obvious I'm almost embarrassed to point it out: Ray Nagin. Pat Robertson. Cage Match. Let God sort this out once and for all.

I do sleep easier at night knowing that no matter what happens in the Canadian election next Monday -- say, a chimpanzee in a funny hat is elected Prime Minister (which would be AWESOME) and a meteor shower strikes Ottawa while unseasonable wildfires ravage Toronto and Vancouver -- absolutely no one in this country will say it's God's punishment for voting Conservative/Liberal/United Chimp Party.

I had such a social butterfly weekend. Well, for me at least. That is to say I didn't spend the ENTIRE weekend reading "The Golden Compass" and watching Tivoed episodes of "My Name is Earl" (love that Jason Lee!).

On Saturday we had another couple and their daughter over for dinner, and it was very nice and very grown-upish, in a good way. (Good grown-upishness: Dinner parties with wine. Bad grown-upishness: Taxes and back fat.) I made lasagna, which was awesome if I do say so myself. And I do. Even the 10-year-old liked it, although she warned me herself she was a fussy eater. Victory!

And then on Sunday we went on a guided hike to learn about the "hidden streams" of the Beaches (our neighborhood). Apparently our street, Norway Avenue, is named after an old river that used to flow into Lake Ontario! Now "old river" may be a euphemism for "sewage canal" but I think Norway River sounds more romantic, so that's what I'm sticking with.

I found out about this hike through this group called Linkup, which is like Meetup.com for people who are too cheap to pay Meetup's monthly fees. But apparently you get what you pay for. This was my second Linkup event and I swear I have never met a more conversation-impaired group of people in my life. The whole point of Linkup is to meet new people, so you'd think the people who attend these events would make just the slightest bit of social effort, but no. This is a transcript of like five conversations I had:

ME: So, are you from Toronto originally?
UNCOOPERATIVE CONVERSATIONALIST: No, I've lived here all my life.
ME: So, how do you like it?
UC: It's nice.
*silence*
ME: I moved here from Seattle a few months ago. Toronto seems like a great city so far. I love my neighborhood.
UC: * nods*
ME: It's very livable, y'know?
UC: *glassy-eyed stare*
ME, casting about desperately for conversation topics: I make a mean lasagna. Also I can sing the entire soundtrack from Grease. Wanna see me do a cartwheel?
UC: *silence, not breaking eye contact*
ME: Oops, I seem to have accidentally set myself on fire in an attempt to escape your coma-inducing dullness. Byee!

I'm not asking for the Algonquin Round Table here, but a little reciprocal conversation would be nice. And it's not that I bored all those people into a stupor, because I'll have you know I am a sparkling, fascinating, witty conversationalist. It's true! I could chat up a lawn chair, and probably have done so in some dim-lighting, open-bar situations. Plus now I know tons of interesting facts about hidden streams in my neighborhood. My next dinner party is going to be a smash hit!

Canada might have a conservative government soon; how strange is that? Conservative Leader Stephen Harper has a double-digit lead in the polls, with 10 days till the election. Apparently he has successfully pulled off an image transformation from "Scary Right-Wing Animatronic Robot" to "Dorky But Lovable Moderate Humanoid."

What I want to know is, if Canada elects a Conservative, what will happen to all the Americans who moved here after Bush was elected in 2004? Will they all move back? Emigrate to Iceland? Retreat to an underground hippie compound on Vancouver Island?

One thing I continue to appreciate about this Canadian election are the French-language debates. In the last one, Jack Layton totally got the best translator. He must be paying them off or something -- he sounded like Michael Caine. Poor Paul Martin sounded like the homicidal computer HAL from 2001: A Space Odyssey. Stephen Harper sounded like a heavily medicated Jack from "Will and Grace" and Gilles Duceppe was apparently translated by Theodore, the chubby brother from "Alvin and the Chipmunks." Tough break, fellas.

Another thing I like about this election is that, despite a lot of negative campaigning, the campaign is so much more focussed on the issues than presidential elections in the U.S. The "scandals" are about things that actually matter to the election, like the misspending of public money, not what kind of haircut someone got or the bizarre sounds they make while having an apparent psychotic break onstage after the Ohio primary. And I recently realized that I have no idea what any of the leaders' spouses are named. My election brain isn't cluttered with information about what sort of cookies Mrs. Harper likes to bake and how Mrs. Martin balances life as a First Lady with her challenging career as an astrophysicist. AndI find that quite refreshing.

Today is Hockey Day in Canada! Woo-hoo! I thought every day was hockey day in Canada, but according to the CBC this is THE hockey day. I have been celebrating by watching hockey on TV, which I think is the traditional way to observe HDIC. Although I should probably be drinking beer to get into the full spirit of the holiday. Ah well, Hockey Day is still young.

In political news, polls now show the Conservatives ahead in election campaign. Wouldn't it be kooky if they won? I mean, whoever wins is going to have a minority government anyway so it's not like they'll be able to steamroll anything. Plus Canadian Conservative does not equal American conservative. But Canada turning Conservative would be kind of trippy, like your pot-smoking hippy cousin** who suddenly shows up for Thanksgiving dinner in a suit and tie talking about supply-side economics. Far-out, man. Will all the Americans who moved to Canada after Bush won now move back?

**I prefer this cousin analogy to Tucker Carlson's "retarded cousin" comparison. Grown men who wear bow ties and floppy bangs shouldn't throw retarded stones, Tucker dear.

My car is possessed by the devil. In a way I guess it's flattering that Satan himself would ascend from the underworld just to imbue a 1996 Honda Civic two-door with his evil spirit, but it's also a bit baffling. What have we done to deserve this, little red Honda?

It started when my husband informed me that the dome light was flickering on and off by itself in a very spooky-like manner. When I went to investigate, the Honda rejected my attempts to unlock it with the keyless remote thingy, and when I unlocked it with the key the car went apeshit and the alarm started blaring. Same thing when I tried putting the key in the ignition.

So my neighbors who looked out their windows last night to investigate the source of the blaring car alarm were treated the sight of me shouting "By the power of Christ, I compel thee!!!" and beating my Honda with a plastic grocery bag (I didn't have a crucifix handy).

Strangely, that had no effect on the car. So I called the dealership and they said it might be a dead battery and I should try jump-starting it. Obviously they're just part of the Great Satanic Honda Conspiracy. I'm stocking up on holy water.

Perhaps it's because I'm part of the dreaded media elite (or at least they haven't taken away my secret membership card yet), but I don't understand the outrage over newspapers getting the trapped miners story wrong.

Of course, it is bad to report facts that are not true. It is especially bad to banner them across your front page. I will grant these complaints as valid. But I also think people should get over it.

The "12 Alive" story came from two sources: the families and the governor. The governor told AP, "They told us they have 12 alive." And then he left the church to go to the command center, where the media couldn't follow. So you've got that, and jubilant family members celebrating. Reporters are supposed to do what, grab the family members and say, "Wait, are you SURE they're alive? What if this is all a sick rumor and they're really all dead? Do you REALLY know for sure?" Yeah, I'm sure that would have gone over real well. The rumors came from the command center, and the people at the command center choose not to set them straight.

The newspapers went with the story they had. And I don't think that's a sin, despite the fact the story turned out to be wrong. The difference between this story and say, the WMD story turning out to be wrong, is that in this story reporters sought out and reported all available information while in the WMD story they did not. There's a difference.

Another difference is that newspapers didn't hurt anyone but themselves by running this story. For the families of the dead miners, the damage is already done. I doubt that inaccurate newspaper headlines added anything to the crushing grief they must be feeling. The inaccurate "12 Alive" headlines didn't hurt anything except newspapers' pride. It certainly didn't spark any wars or anything.

So yeah, it's bad when wrong stuff gets into the paper. But when news is made between the hours of 11:30 p.m. and 3 a.m., it's gonna happen sometimes. I just don't think it's the end of the world. Today's news, tomorrow's fishwrapper. Get over it.

Am I an empowered consumer or just a nasty grump? It's so hard to tell these days. Let's just say I had an unsatisfactory conversation with a customer service representative at the Bank of Montreal. After navigating their endless phone tree and listening to their horrendous on-hold music for 10 minutes, is it too much to ask for friendly customer service? As you may have already guessed, the answer is yes, absolutely, that would be way too much to ask.

So I expressed my displeasure at the end of the call, and the customer service lady started telling me why I was wrong, and then I told her I thought she was being very rude to me and I hung up. (Which may be rude also, so pot-kettle-whatever, but at least I said goodbye.)

Anyway, I was feeling pretty justified in my snippiness. It would be great if I existed on some higher Zen plane where rude customer service people didn't bother me, but I don't, and I don't want to just absorb their rudeness like baking soda absorbs bad smells in the refrigerator. Standing up for myself in the face of rudeness is a good thing, I believe.

But then I started to worry -- what if they do record those conversations, like they say they do, and her supervisor listens to it and she gets fired and now she's unemployed and wandering the streets of Bangalore or Bismark or wherever these calls go and her children are hungry and now she has no money and the rent's due and she's all alone and she steals a loaf of bread to feed her starving child and then she's arrested and she serves 20 years and then she gets out but Inspector Javert still follows her everywhere and she can never be free and then she gets mixed up in a crazy revolutionary scheme and then dies to save her daughter's lover and they make a hit musical about it but it'll be too late because she's dead and it'll be ALL MY FAULT.

Whoah. Maybe I should just do internet banking from now on.

In other news, The New York Times scientifically explains why pandas are cute.

A few newsflashes... really all the news you need to know today.

Windsor, Ontario: Den of Sin!!!

Blame those wacky Americans and their wacky gun culture.

The National Mitten Registry represents all that I love about Canada.

Now I'm going to go work out, floss and moisturize. I am a walking New Year's resolution cliche.

Edited to add: Oh, and Santini, the Dark Master of Escape ... escaped. He was not one of these new, hip young magicians. In fact he looked kinda like a Teamster. And his stunt consisted of watching a metal box for two minutes until he popped out of it, while two announcers in baffling, hideous poufy dresses broke the dead-air silence by wondering aloud, "Ohmygosh, do ya think he's going to make it?" again and again. Not exactly captivating television -- I think escaping from metal boxes sort of went out as a form of spectator entertainment shortly after the Lincoln-Douglas debates.