Five or six years ago, the CBC Prince Edward Island afternoon programme Main Street — I think it was during the Nils Ling dynasty — ran a contest where listeners were invited to come up with lyrics to the theme song to the morning radio programme Island Morning.

That theme song had a timeless quality about it: it was a cross between a space ballad and the music you might expect to hear in Tootsie when Dustin Hoffman is hitting his stride as a cross-dressing soap opera star. I expect many Islanders heard that theme song hundreds, if not thousands of times; certainly the hosts must have it drilled into their heads.

This morning I awoke to a new Island Morning theme song. Because I use “awoke” only as a general description of my activity, I cannot say for sure how it sounds, but my vague recollection is that it was more “Broadcast News” than “Tootsie.”

Now, for all I know, this new theme has been playing for weeks or months, as the pre-9:00 a.m. hours are not ones during which I tend to be awake.

I hope they gave the old theme song a good send-off. Perhaps it can find new life in, say, the former Soviet Union where a new radio station, operating in the fragile shell of burgeoning democracy, can use it to introduce their own morning show. Don’t be surprised if, when on your next trip to any of the “-anias” or “-istans,” you hear those familiar rhythms.

Good-bye old theme song; you will be missed.

The Croatian city of Zadar is located on the shore of the Adriatic about half way up the country from the southern tip.

When you read tourism guidebooks about Croatia — and there are not many of these around these days — and you want to find the area my paternal ancestors hail from, you usually end up reading the section that starts with Zadar, as Perusic is inland from Zadar. While the coastal part of this region of Croatia is beautiful and scenic, the area inland is mentioned by one guidebook as “the Croatian Siberia.”

Zadar made the news this morning: a story on Ananova titled “Radio listeners stunned by ‘sex demand’ threat” reads, in part:

The 35-year-old woman, named only as Vesna G, from the Croatian port town of Zadar, walked into presenter Josip Portada’s studio at local Radio Pag. She pulled out a gun and told him he would have to have sex with her or die.

The story has a happy ending (depending on your perspective, I suppose):

Portada managed to talk the woman out of her demands and eventually called the police. She is being questioned but police have not released further details on the case.

For more Croat fun, read this page about the Pag triangle.

I welcome opinions from The Readership on the best way, in your considered opinion, of driving from downtown Charlottetown to the Charlottetown Airport.

I usually take a taxi to the airport, or get a drive from a friend, and I find there are very strong opinions about the proper route to take: some prefer the “Grafton to Riverside Drive out past the QEH” route, others the “Grafton to Kent to Longworth to Mount Edward Road and out past the Do-it Centre” route and still others the “University Avenue to the Charlottetown Mall, on to Rte. 2 and past Sherwood Volkwagen” route.

Something tells me you readers will not hesitate to set me straight.

Recent demonstrations of “why it’s good to be Canadian:”

In Windsor in late October I ended up at dinner in an Italian Restaurant with a three library types, two of whom were from America and one from Toronto. My fellow Canadian and I had to first explain why a $1 Canadian coin is called a “loonie,” and then, further, why a $2 Canadian coin is called a “toonie.”

I’m sure other countries have their nicknames for coinage; I’m fairly confident that only in Canada could we have a naming scheme like this, where the name of one coin ($2) only makes sense if you know the name of the other (Note to non-Canadians: the $1 coin in Canada has a loon on the back). In Canada, as nowhere else, everything truly is relative. (By the way, I’ve noticed an increasing tendency in the U.S. to call $1 bills “singles.” Perhaps this has always been the case and I’ve just missed this until now?)

On another front entirely: you really can sent a letter to Santa Clause, North Pole, Canada, HOH OHO. And it really will get answered, if not by Santa herself, at least by her colleagues at the post office. Only in Canada, I think, can we have the combination of (a) witty postal code usage, (b) public servants donating their time to a novel project and (c) their employers and the community supporting their efforts.

When I was working in the Composing Room of the Examiner in Peterborough, one of our tasks during late November and early December was to work on a related (but more commercial) project, which was a “Santa Letter page” surrounded by advertising. While in other months when the work was done and we were sitting around waiting for the presses to start we could browse the classified ads or clean out the film developer, during Christmas all hands on deck were dedicated to the seemingly endless task of typing in the seemingly endless pile of letters to Santa that arrived at the paper. I never want to type “Dear Santa” again.

Has anyway else noticed that the Tim Horton’s Iced Cappucinno has changed flavour in the last month or so; maybe I’ve just been the victim of a couple of bum Ice Caps, but it seems that there may be a new formulation that’s sweeter and more chocolatey in a way that’s not at all positive.

Those of you in the readership who have had cause to click on the Statistics link to the left may be wondering about the source of the freakish traffic increase in mid-November.

This “traffic” was actually almost entirely from a set of six IP addresses (all starting with 216.144.230.) in California controlled by a company ironically called EWAN. From the appearance of the traffic logs, it looks like either some person or robot thought that our server was an open proxy server (it wasn’t, and isn’t), and so they hit us with an HTTP request every second or two for a sustained period of time.

After fruitless attempts to contact this company about the traffic, I finally just cut off the offending IPs from access to the machine at all, which made the traffic go away, eventually.

So, in the end, I wasn’t suddenly uber-popular, except in an annoying computerish way.

There’s a commercial right now running on various Canadian cable channels for EdgeTV that compares watching the channel to “lifting your middle finger to the forces of conformity.”

The Edge takes its identity from the Toronto radio station formerly known as CFNY.

The irony of all of this is that the history of CFNY has seen it grow from being a tiny Brampton-based, independent progressive rock station to being merely the “alternative” brand in the portfolio of Corus Entertainment.

Among other things, Corus controls YTV, Treehouse, and Kids Can Press. The company is the “largest radio operator in terms of revenue and audience tuning,” with 52 radio stations in its portfolio. It owns 19.9% of Food Network Canada.

The company reports a yearly operating revenue is $652,800,000.

In its 2000 Annual Report, the Message to Shareholders finishes with:

Our commitment to increasing shareholder value is unwavering. Our promise is twofold. First, we will continue to entertain, enlighten and inform our audiences through our diverse portfolio of assets, and second, we will delight our shareholders with our commitment to deliver superior operating results across all of our divisions.

In short, I don’t think it’s stretching the truth to suggest that Corus Entertainment is one of the primary “forces of conformity” in the country and that if one subscribes to their EdgeTV service, one is bolstering the forces of conformity rather than raising a finger to them.

Oliver has developed three new obsessions: one is saying the word “no” (the meaning of which he only barely understands), the second is the television programme, and companion website, Blues Clues and the third is the book Classic Thai Cooking. Let it never be said that he isn’t well rounded.

I’ve now set up discussion groups to allow us to talk about programming, administration and technical issues related to the Community Radio project.

I hate to forever be dumping on the good folks at the Capital Commission, but as they have come up with yet another inane idea to pollute my capital city home, I feel compelled to speak out.

If you take a quick drive or walk down Great George Street this festive holiday season, you will see a new collection of 35 lit Christmas trees. In front of each tree is an incredibly ugly large white placard that says something along the lines of “This Tree Sponsored By…” and then the name of a local business.

In today’s Guardian we learn the following from Kim Green of the Capital Commission:

“We have three main goals: to attract off-Island visitation, to keep people shopping downtown and to keep people from going to Moncton and Halifax to shop. We’ve got it all here so let’s stay home and spend the money on P.E.I.”

Can somebody explain to me why intelligent people from away would travel great distances to shop in downtown Charlottetown this season so as to be able to view generic Christmas trees with giant ugly placards in front of them?

Or, indeed, why I, as a downtown resident, would in fact not want to immediately escape to the quite confines of, say, Ellis Brothers Shopping Centre (not downtown) or, say, Summerside, Souris, Montague or North Rustico — or even Moncton! — none of which, as far as I know, have festooned their Christmas Trees with commercial calling cards.

The Guardian article goes on to say:

The freshly-cut eight-foot trees which make up Christmas Tree Lane were purchased by companies, families and service groups as a fund-raiser for the Children’s Wish Foundation. They will act as the focal point of this year’s Christmas light display.

Supporting the Children’s Wish Foundation is, of course, a laudable goal. Whatever happened to the days, however, when local businesses were quietly satisfied to do charitable good without some mandatory uglification project trumpeting their good works? I’ve got nothing against Christmas Trees — it’s the fact that they’ve been turned into billboards that bothers me.

And one more thing: the Guardian story’s lead says that Great George Street has been, by virtue of the prostituted trees, turned into a “winter paradise.” The Guardian here is either guilt of printing Capital Commission propoganda verbatim, or of abusing the language; a paradise is “a place of bliss; a region of supreme felicity or delight.” Christmas trees might be nice, but let’s agree to keep the work paradise for things that are really, really neat, okay?