In scenes eerily reminiscent of major crises in the past, pundits groped for significance, struggling to produce some suitably portentous reflections on events that had occurred just hours before. Hundreds were left stranded in mid-sentence, forced to climb down from metaphors several paragraphs high.

Key media figures appealed to the public to avoid non-essential sections like sports or business, or any that make especially heavy use of hackneyed phrases.

Observers said the crisis was in some ways predictable. "There's always a spike in demand for cliches at times like this," said a journalism professor, who did not wish to be named. "You've got to put out special eight-page pull-out sections, go live with continuous coverage of breaking news. Most organizations have a hard time generating enough trite theorizing as it is. But to have this happen now, at a time when most pundits are at the cottage, just makes things that much worse." The crisis is believed to have begun with an AP reporter in upstate New York filing a routine August heat wave story. After drying on the fifth paragraph, the reporter panicked, hit delete, and fled. The shortfall quickly "cascaded" throughout the eastern media, as editors were forced to divert previously scheduled wire copy to fill the gap. Soon whole features were being spiked, to save overworked night desks from being swamped.

(This phenomenon, of shortages in one area somehow becoming massive surpluses in another, often within a single paragraph, is known as an "explanatory gap," sometimes called "deadline drop." See accompanying indecipherable graphic.)

In the ensuing chaos, reporters gamely made do with off-the-shelf eyeglazers about "humble heroes" and people discovering their common humanity. The streets quickly filled with a veritable river of journalists searching for colour, some wandering miles off topic before eventually being forced to interview each other.

Yet there were few signs of panic. Indeed, a jaunty spirit of defiance pervaded the nation's newsrooms. From the lowliest summer intern to the most decrepit political columnist, everyone pitched in: a "nerves still frayed after Sept. 11" here, a "service ground to a halt" there, with the occasional "hastily-called press conference" and "one thing is certain" thrown in for good measure.

Not even the absence of reports of looting or riots south of the border occasioned much dismay, notwithstanding the missed chance for the obligatory self-satisfied comparison.

As night fell, some valuable lessons were already being drawn -- and questions raised. "It's a reminder of our common humanity.

And our fragility," said Sonorous Voice, 57, a spokesman for the network news anchor community. "With all of our wondrous modern technologies, we are once again made aware that the best things in life are free. Or is it that laughter is the best medicine?" Others pointed to the national media's dependence on imported wire copy as the source of the problem. "136 years after Confederation, isn't it time we were self-sufficient in summer filler?" said the Coalition of Concerned Crackpots, in a release.

"There are any number of pointless 5,000-word features that could be written about Canadians, by Canadians -- stories that bore us as Canadians, rather than relying on foreigners to do the job." Still, not all was in disarray. In the offices of the opposition leaders, crisis response teams swung smoothly into action, having drilled for just such an emergency. Within hours, they had produced a fresh supply of instant solutions and obvious remedies, while cautioning that "there are no easy answers." "This was an accident waiting to happen," said Ontario NDP leader Howard Hampton. "And it's all because of privatization." "For decades, the major news organizations have been scraping through August with only the the barest skeleton staff of commentators. Sure, it works most years, when there's no news of any kind. But what do they do when something like this breaks?" "Clearly the answer is to maintain a permanent excess supply of pundits, in the neighbourhood of 20%, just in case something happens that's worth commenting on." While not necessarily endorsing his solution, media leaders agreed the crisis was a "wake-up call." "Frankly, we were caught with our pants down," said one. "We were like a deer frozen in the headlights, up a creek without a paddle. When the chips were down and the tough got going, we just couldn't generate enough predictable story angles, pat framing devices, or snap conclusions." "We're going to have to develop a better backup system. What's R.

W. Apple up to these days?"