A former co-worker of mine, who moved to Halifax to cover business issues there, has penned an intriguing idea into one of her latest articles, about unmanned drones as they move out of the military realm and into the mainstream:

Although the military and law enforcement are the most obvious users of drones, Stiles said such multi-use devices are on the brink of hitting the mainstream. Smaller drones, such as the 1.3-kilogram Aeryon Scout, could be used in climate research and weather forecasting, fire detection and management, and by news organizations to collect video and audio feeds, for example.

As an employee of a news organization myself, I could see several quick applications — traffic being the most obvious, but also quick-response to breaking news, and fantastic video/photo angles on sites that are difficult to approach, whether that’s fires or crime scenes. We had record-breaking flooding this year, and sent our photographers up into planes on a a regular basis to get a sense of the scale of the disaster — this could have enabled us to get aerial shots even more often.

And imagine what stories could be unveiled just by keeping an eye on things for a long period of time. If you sent the drone over a big box mall every few days for a whole year, you could collate those pictures to see if that massive asphalt parking lot is, perhaps, too big.

The Aeryon company website is conspicuously absent of any price details, and in the article they say it’s tough to pin down. At this point, I suspect it’s a case of “if you have to ask, it’s too expensive.” But I also know I can buy two-foot-long remote control helicopters from a table in the mall for less than $100. Slap a GoPro on that baby, and you’re half-way there.

I like Charlie, although I don’t always agree with his take on things. Aside from a couple of humourous anecdotes about his own drug experiences (limited), the best line in this particular column is when he nails the hypocrisy that’s at the core of anti-drug hysteria:

there seems to be a glaring lack of correlation between the threat it reportedly poses and the huge number of schoolkids reportedly taking it

Precisely.

I just read a fascinating piece on Jon Stewart in Esquire magazine. Although the article is a little downbeat, tracing the evolution of Jon Stewart from someone poking fun at media personalities to becoming one himself (with all the “selling out” baggage that implies), I found the most interesting line to be buried way near the end.

This is Stewart talking to fired NPR newsman Juan Williams:

“If somebody wanted to start a twenty-four-hour news network that would focus on corruption and governance as opposed to the politics of it, do you think that that would have a chance to be successful and change the way debate occurs?”

Huh. Now isn’t that an interesting idea? Sure, in Esquire, they portray it as one more step in the de-Jon Stewartification of Jon Stewart himself, but I think the idea’s got legs.

I recently (and to much furor) postulated on Facebook that there was very little difference between sports journalism and entertainment journalism, and I made an allusion to TMZ that drove every sports fan I know absolutely nuts with rage.

Recently, though, I’ve been thinking that a lot of journalism, period, is reduced to the common dramatic elements that I was calling out in sports and entertainment journalism. Political coverage, for example, is often limited to breathless coverage of what chances a bill has to be passed, not whether it would be a good law, or what its consequences would be.

I’d be curious to see if a news show (let alone network) that devoted itself to covering governing rather than covering politicking would be able to make a go of it.

Telling stories would be harder. You’d have to hire really great reporters, able to craft compelling stories out of difficult raw material. You’d have to pay them well and you’d have to give them the time and resources to cover stories in the depth that they require. Are there enough viewers and advertisers to make that feasible?

I don’t know. But I hope so. And I think Stewart might be the only person I can think of with the juice to get it done.

Read the whole profile: Jon Stewart and the Burden of History – Esquire.

I flipped through this article in the drug store the other day, but had to go find it online. It’s EXACTLY the type of long walk trek that I’ve dreamed of doing for years. Writing in Esquire, Luke Dittrich describes his hike from the Pacific Ocean to the Gulf of Mexico, along (as best as possible) the U.S.-Mexico border:

The buffer zone between the two fences is reserved exclusively for the use of the U. S. Border Patrol, with one exception: At the top of the hill, there is a little door in the northern fence, and a sign informs that twice a week, Saturdays and Sundays from 10:00 A.M. until 2:00 P.M., U. S. citizens are allowed to enter. Then, if there happen to be Mexicans on the other side of the second, southern fence, the Americans are allowed to look at them and talk with them, though reaching through the fence or attempting “physical contact with individuals in Mexico” is prohibited. A portion of the American side of the visiting area has been paved with cement, in the shape of a semicircle, and there is an identical semicircle on the Mexican side of the fence.

The official name of this place is the “Friendship Circle.”

The story is the first in a year-long series describing the whole hike. Awesome. Exactly the type of long-form journalism that magazines do best, and easily worth the subscription fee. (Aside: Subscribing to magazines is ridiculously cheap.)

It’s like the article was written specifically for me, since it’s not just long walks that fascinate me, but borders as well. They’re so … odd.

(photo by Vance Jabobs, in Esquire)

Eagerly, I read through the whole thing. Well, the whole thing until, about 500 words in, I got to this little nugget:

A laser requires energy to operate, but it’s not always as easy as plugging one into a wall socket. The gin-and-tonic laser would have to be powered, or pumped, by other lasers.

Yes, according to Popular Mechanics, you can make a laser out of a Gin and Tonic. But Step One is “first, get some lasers.”

And lest you think that you can just rig up a buncha laser pointers, the article quickly goes on to state:

During the 1975 experiment in Boulder, researchers pumped straight gin using a 20-watt carbon-dioxide laser, which is 4000 times more powerful than a 0.05-watt laser pointer …. With 20 watts of carbon dioxide laser light, they could only produce 0.00001 watts of coherent gin laser light.

Now, although that sounds a little dispiriting, the article does conclude with the possibility of drinking a laser, “at which point,” they say, “all of the meticulous effort will be worth it.”

And that does sound cool. So I go back and read it again. Do I really need to come up with a hospital-quality CO2 laser that’s easily worth several thousand dollars? Turns out, no! Teased with a link from the article, Popular Mechanics promises that I can build my own!

Wait — I can build a powerful laser in my basement? Why isn’t that the headline, skipping all the Gin and Tonic stuff?

So I click over to that article, on Instructables. I am told that, with an Etch-a-Sketch and a broken scanner, I can build a laser for less than $30. Incredible!

The first step? Buy some laser diodes.

Sigh.

Look, I know the difficulties of writing at deadline. And in this online world, it’s always deadline. And I know how easy it can be to slip into cliché or to use a hackneyed phrase or truism as a quick, convenient shortcut.

Often, I don’t even mind. But sometimes I see evidence of lazy writing that just bothers me all out of proportion with the offence. I’ve highlighted an example that caught my eye from the Winnipeg Free Press.

I’m sure that the anonymouse “Staff Writer” is not an lazy journalist. But I’m sure that he or she is pressed for time — racing to get this story up on the website to keep pace with other media.

It just frustrates me because it doesn’t make logical sense. That one line picks at my brain. If there are “obvious reasons” why firefighters couldn’t do save the warming hut, then why bother explaining that straw burns quickly? Or, if you feel like explaining that straw burns quickly, then just take out the “for obvious reasons” phrase. A revised sentence could just say, “Straw burns so quickly that fire crews couldn’t do a thing.”

And, of course, it’s doubly frustrating, because if you extrapolate from this sentence, you might be led to believe that firefighters literally did nothing as the straw hut burned. I call B.S. on that assertion. Did they water down nearby structures to keep it from spreading? Did they try to douse the flames at all? Did they refrain from blasting it with water because the burning straw would spread? Or because they didn’t want to ice up the area? Did they at least keep onlookers away? All of these actions would be evidence that fire crews did something — and I’m sure that they did. These would add colour to the piece, too, bee tee dubs.

That’s even setting aside all the possible “house of straw” Three Little Pigs jokes that could be made.

Sigh. Lord knows I’m not perfect. Hell, this whole post is full of lazy writing. But sometimes it just irks me so much.

“Things Real People Don’t Say About Advertising” is a new single-serving Tumblr that makes me laugh because I work in media and I see these attitudes on display all. the. time.

Like the one above.

Once you master spelling, then you can move on to grammar. And once you’ve mastered communicating in the English language, then you can move on to telling stories in a compelling way.

But you have to start with spelling. And that’s why it was so frustrating to see “A young man creaped slowly out of a car” on the front page of the Toronto Star website this morning.

That’s not a typo. That’s evidence of someone who doesn’t know that the past tense of “creep” is “crept.” And, even if you were going to “-ed” the verb, you would still spell it “creeped” and then I could maybe let you get away with it, as an Americanization of the verb, even though it’s not correct.

On their perpetual liveblog (auto-updates, impossible to link to the specific story, but try here) it has already been fixed. I’m not sure whether to blame/credit the byline, Curtis Rush, the “with files from” Daniela Germano or the “pchoi” who updated the story, but I suspect that one of them got it wrong, and another one of them fixed it.

Lord knows I’m not perfect. But if I don’t know how to spell something, I look it up. And that’s how I learn the correct spelling.

(As an aside, I used to pass that intersection every single day, either walking or switching from streetcar to subway or bus.)

Better? It was produced by the actual Fox news team in Dallas-Ft. Worth.

According to a blog on the Dallas Observer, the video (which was originally posted to the station’s Facebook page) appears to have been produced for the Lone Star Emmys.

Boom. Roasted.

(via tdw)

Photo: That’s a completely different kind of newspaper “web”. Source: Winnipeg Tribune archives, 1957.

I’m intrigued by the idea of an open-source, peer-to-peer “university” as a way to both learn and to perhaps share my own knowledge, and now there’s a course that’s tailor-made for me — “Open Journalism and the Open Web.”

Says the syllabus:

a solid six-week online curriculum that will benefit both “hacks” and hackers (that’s journalists & programmers, in plain English). Each week the course will focus on a different topic, and each week the participants will be joined by a different subject-matter expert (or two) from the field of news innovation. The course readings, online participation, and a seminar are expected to require roughly 4-6 hours per week.

The six subjects include the basics of both journalism and coding, project management, collaboration, datasets, maps and open sources.

Very interesting!

There are only 40 seats, and to weed out people who aren’t serious, they’ve set a “sign-up task.” I’m seriously considering it.

(via Boing Boing)

Oh, idealism.

Of course, journalism’s never been like that, though many journalists have struggled mightily. But one of the consequences of the Internet and our info-filled society is that it’s forced just about everyone into a similar role.

Surrounded by information — much of it misleading, or downright false — we’ve all had to develop our own internal bullshit detectors. Judging by some of the chain emails I get, some people are worse at this than others.

However, it’s impossible to simply rely on journalists to be good gatekeepers anymore. In the first place, there’s too much information flying around; we’re bombarded with it, continually.

And secondly, journalisms itself is being squeezed — more and faster deadlines, smaller budgets, and fewer people, all dealing with the same info-onslaught.

So, sometimes, though I loath to admit it, the ideal of journalism suffers. Sometimes, it’s just not up to snuff. Sometimes, we journalists basically copy a press release and call it a story. Sometimes, we don’t have time to dig up the dirt, or to challenge our sources.

And, as British comedian Tom Scott figured out, the public should be warned:

It seems a bit strange to me that the media carefully warn about and label any content that involves sex, violence or strong language — but there’s no similar labelling system for, say, sloppy journalism and other questionable content.

So he made labels, which he’s been sticking on the free commuter papers in London. Here’s a couple of my favourites:

I also liked “WARNING Journalist hiding their own opinions by using phrases like “some people claim”” and “WARNING To ensure future interviews with subject, important questions were not asked.” which I see all the time.

There’s a bunch more, and he’s helpfully provided a pdf that you can download from his site (mirrored here) so you can print your own on a sheet of stickers.

Boing Boing suggests using them as part of a journalism course. Hmmmm.

Lately, I’ve been on a kick where I’ve been reading (almost exclusively) novels about journalism. There are lots, apparently because many journalists not-so-secretly dream of being novelists.

As soon as I saw this one — “Dwarf Rapes Nun, Flees in UFO” — I knew it would make its way to the top of my list.

Best of all, copies are going for a cool $0.01 on Amazon.

I suppose the reporter probably asked something like “Where are you dumb?” but hopefully phrased it more politely. Anyway, the paragraph that made the story goes like this:

Smrke, however, admits to needing a little help in one area: “I always get made fun of because I can’t always tell my left from my right without having to check. . . . That’s probably the most shocking thing about me,” she said, laughing. “I subtly put my hands down on my pants and make Ls” to figure out which is which.

Now, I’ve always had a problem with people who think they need to do this. Can’t tell left from right? Yes you can. And your L trick is stupid.

Go ahead, put your hands up and make Ls — or put them on your pants, subtly, like Smrke does. I’m guessing your palms are out, or down, correct? Because that’s the only way this works. If you happen to make Ls with your hands, and you’re looking at your palms, the L will be on your right hand.

So, if you can remember up and down — or palms vs. backs of hands — you can remember left and right.

(Aside: I read somewhere that right-handedness is determined genetically, but if you don’t have the gene for right-handedness, you basically have a 50/50 chance of being either right- or left-handed.)

One of the things my mother taught me was that, if you’re bored, you can try making up a little game to help you with your task. It never worked with the dishes, but I think the key is to make your game somewhat subversive.

That’s what Top Gear star James May did, when he used to work for Autocar magazine. He was fired in 1992 for his little game, which came to him when he was faced with putting together a ridiculously boring supplement.

The game? Using drop caps to spell out a hidden message:

If you add the right punctuation, it says “So you think it’s really good, yeah? You should try making the bloody thing up. It’s a real pain in the arse.”

Which, I’ll bet, is true.

Confession time: I’ve done the same thing myself. Although never with drop caps.

You can read a little bit more about the episode on his Wikipedia page, from which I got the image.

(thanks, Andrea!)