Last night I went to Blogtv.ca‘s “opening” party at Supermarket. I attended hoping to see a couple bloggers I might know from Toronto but alas there was no Brett Lamb, no Rannie, no AcidReflux or Thickslab. Come to think of it, I didn’t see anyone from my blogroll or visibly queer bloggers there. There were suits and trendy youths scarfing back OMG vegetarian springrolls!!! (as one frail blogger exclaimed), but no one I knew. I chatted briefly with a couple event organizers and managers for BTV and then, with my beer firmly in hand, started to play with their software.

BlogTV is a Vlog site for people who don’t have their own MySpace page yet, or YouTube account. In fact, it looks to me like it’s trying to be a DRM-goodie goodie version of Youtube. No uploading of TV shows or soccer head-butts but you are able to create “shows” within channels, go live with your web cam and invite people into these shows via video chat. You can record it for later viewing pleasure and create a little series, allowing people to subscribe to your show, if you’re good and interesting enough. I’ve got my show page ready here, but I’m having issues with the sound and profile picture upload. Hopefully that will be ironed out soon and you can see me rant like a disgruntal teen after a Smashing Pumpkins concert.

As I scarfed back free beer and looked around the room I was hit with a sense of deja vu. I’ve done this before, 5 years ago at Paladium on John St (remember that monster video game arcade for Generation WTF?) for the launch of Rogers iMedia’s Women’s portal: Springboard (Yeah, Rogers got into the ‘i” thing for a couple years). Or an abandoned factory floor for the launch of SHIFT magazine with models wandering the party with wireless clamshell iBooks. Or at a Virtual Services launch party, boasting some new porn initiative they were proud of…

Room full of trendy kids? Check!
Unabashed flaunting of slick technology? Check!
Free food and drinks? Check!
Four or five “suits” sitting at the bar? Check!
Business cards flashing from hand to hand? Check!

The evening was missing the pre-web burst thumping house music, and concert-style lighting, replaced with The Commitments soundtrack and low lighting but the generated vibe was there: Lookit our cool app! After a while of observing all this I got a bit skeeved. Maybe it was the two pints of beer hitting me like a hammer but I felt that history was repeating itself again. Because when the last internet bubble broke I fell hard. Not as hard as some but enough to leave Dead Robot shaped skid marks on the road of credit ratings. I realized what was missing: money coming in. There were a couple banner ads on the site but no deluxe sign up at a small fee or any other kind of discernible cash creation. I decided that it was a good time to leave.

As I was going out the door, smiley bright party greeters 180-ed and thanked me for coming. One held up a jet black gift bag. I had forgotten about the free t-shirts and logo-laden swag handed out at events like this.

“You gotta promise to blog about it!” the cheery doorman said, withholding the bag from me.

“Sure. Deadrobot.com,” I said, drunkenly.

They thanked me and handed over the bag.

On the streetcar I open it to find BlogTV branded impulse items: gel mints, a winter cap, a long sleeve shirt, a water bottle and… holy shit… a Logitech QuickCam Communicate STX web cam.

Ladies and Gentlemen, the next web bubble burst will begin in 5… 4… 3…

Wellesley Subway station, 8:20am

The woman in front of me in line for the Goof-in-the-Booth has her money out and is ready to buy her tokens. Just as it’s her turn, a gust of wind comes along and blows the $10 from her hand and it lands on the grimy floor.

In this weather, you know the floor is wetter and saltier than a post-tsunami South East Asian resort lobby. And just as muddy. The bill stays where it lands, mockingly absorbing the sludge on the floor.

She mutters something that sounds like “bugger” or “sonovabitch” and wipes the $10 on her pants. Yes, her own pants. She slides the money into the slot and asks for tokens.

The Goof-in-the-Booth takes the ten, straightens it, looks like he’s going to place it with the rest of his tray of money when suddenly with a cluck of his tongue, his patience lost, shoves the bill back through the slot. “This ten is dirty,” he brilliantly deduces.

The woman balks and looks at the offensive money.

“I won’t take it,” the Goof elaborates.

“But it’s all I have!” she says, panic rising.

“We don’t take dirty money,” The Goof explains.

I think the TTC better rethink that strategy, I say in my head.

“What am I going to do? It’s all I have on me!” She reiterates.

The Goof glances quickly at the line that has formed behind Dirty Money Lady and decides that the situation warrants not being such a belligerent asshole. He waives her on, obviously annoyed that she got a free fare and that someone would actually pass muddy money into his slot. His attitude unmistakably saying he let her ride this time… this time… for free, but next time, lady, you are so busted.

Thinking back, he could have just set the damn bill aside for the duration of his shift to dry or pass it on to some poor schmuck in change, but no, apparently he had to hassle her for a few moments before being “the Better Way” and letting her through, making her feel like crap for getting a free ride.

This little scenario sums up the duality of the TTC that doesn’t flatter it’s meritocratic image much (sorry Busdriver, I know you don’t make policy…). On one hand, the Teet complains ad nauseam that they’re cash strapped, yet this Goof-in-the-Booth, a fine representative of the company, seemed quite picky about where the cash comes from. Meanwhile, while I’m thinking of it, I have to ask: when will they update the token machines to take $5 bills? Probably never it seems, even though the new $5 are just as susceptible to counterfeiting than the more profitable $20.

Does the TTC actually want our money or is it waiting for another big dollar bail out from the government?