General Rubbish

Amazon wants you to pay down their J.K. Rowling auction debt

So, J.K. Rowling sat down and wrote the fictional Tales of Beedle the Bard, which is a book inside the Harry Potter universe. She made seven copies of the book; six were given away as gifts, and the seventh, the "Moonstone" edition, was put up for auction. It was thought it would sell for around 100k, but Amazon.com ended up buying it for roughly $3.98 million bucks. Yow.

To Rowling's credit, the money all went to charity, but Amazon is now selling "deluxe" editions to the tune of $100 bucks a pop. Ouch. This is supposed to be a replica of Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore's own edition, which he willed to Hermione in Book 7. Is that a bit ridiculous? Perhaps just the asking price and the complete getup.

According to Amazon, "Tucked in its own case disguised as a wizarding textbook found in the Hogwarts library, the Collector's Edition includes an exclusive reproduction of J.K. Rowling's handwritten introduction, as well as 10 additional illustrations not found in the Standard Edition (which is only $7.59) or the original. Opening the case reveals a velvet bag embroidered with J.K. Rowling’s signature, in which sits the piece de resistance: your very own copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, complete with metal skull, corners, and clasp; replica gemstones; and emerald ribbon."

So, if you've got Harry Potter money burning a hole in your pocket, order away. But I'd suggest you buy the standard version and use that other $92 and change to look for a new hobby.

Writing on the Metro

Riding the surprisingly empty subway to Union Station so I can hop on the train to San Diego. I'll be liveblogging most of Comic-Con along with Karina Longworth for Spout (www.spoutblog.com). Will Christian Bale surprise everyone and their mother by making a LAN appearance? Let's hope so, I need some more bad puns.

US Marines invade Los Angeles

My first test post from the iPhone, while driving in the middle of a Marine convoy. Safe? You be the judge.

Uncomfortable Bathroom Eye Contact

Have you ever made eye contact with someone in the bathroom? I'm not talking about while you're actually going to the bathroom, in which case guy etiquette requires that you stare straight ahead at the wall until you're done with your business. Of course, the drunker people get, the more often this turns into some drunken yahoo at a bar yelling loudly at you while you pee, usually something like "HEY MAN! THERE SURE ARE SOME HOT BITCHES IN HERE!" Naturally, he's peeing with one hand while holding his beer with another. Classsssssy.

That also brings me to the subject at hand. I noticed my zipper was down today, which meant it had been down all morning while I was meeting TV executives, talent, and other journalists. Either this means no one noticed, or that people were too embarrassed to tell me. Do you tell perfect strangers when their zippers are down, or do you let it be because that means you'd looked at their crotch, either inadvertently or on purpose? It's a quandary that continues to vex me.

Oh, in a side note, I did indeed survive the entire hospital ordeal. I'm not dead, although at times I felt like I was going to be living in that room hooked up to multiple machines for months. Thankfully, that only ended up being 8 days. But it was a pretty eye-opening 8 days. I've been thinking about moving back to Austin for years now, and this might be the catalyst I've needed to kick my butt into gear. Property prices and other reasons are too strong to ignore now.

I'm in the middle of a "Perfect Storm" July, with the Television Critics Association, E3, and Comic-Con, and today is day one. I'm jumping into the fray with my blogging dagger in my teeth, so check back and see if I've survived.