No Pool Needed

"Marco!" 

There are many things that make me cringe, but where do I go to get them all in one place? The internet, duh. Just check out any YouTube comment thread. They're just loaded with great anecdotes. And if you still haven't had your fill of poorly-typed letter/number combinations passing themselves off as words, I recommend Yahoo Answers. You'll read a couple then hit yourself. As I did after looking up "who came up with the idea for Marco Polo the game?"

Fun in the (Presence of) Sun

Being in a movie is fun. Rehearsal is fun. Taking an online History of Women in Sports class is fun. Work is fun. Art is fun. Life is...

Wait for it.

I've been keeping myself busy. I've quickly learned that Summer is not the time to overload yourself with activities--extracurricular and the like; although, I hear those same words come out of my mouth every year at this time, and they fail to sink in. "Summer is for vacationing. Summer is for fun." Fun, for everyone's favorite Lonely Bookman, is welcoming the chaos of multiple projects. My mind works better when it's rolling around in four-to-five schools of thought. It keeps things active, fresh. Plus, imagine complaining to friends that you're too popular and sought after? Right, right. I get it. No such thing.

I haven't found anything incredibly interesting lately. Lots of grocery lists, lots of blank paper. I have been overrun with books that are falling apart, which equals ideas for book-related, art projects. I am a sucker for an easily manipulated picture.

Maybe they called him 'Silent Cal' because he had trouble with our language?

This summer, posting will be sporadic. I'll be tending to the aforementioned whilst trying desperately to reconnect with old friends. My hope is that by the end of August you and I will both have incredible stories to tell and finished projects we can talk about/enjoy for the remainder of 2012. So go to the beach, read a ton of books, paint a picture, adopt a pet, join a club, take up a sport, check out a couple concerts, relax...

Just have fun. However you define it.

Summer Vacation

         "Uh, nothing much. Just hung out with some of my friends."

A 140 Character, New World

"...and when she was all, like, 'Hey, no! No need to worry. I'm just 'tweeting' with some friends.' I let it go, by Crom, I let it go. And why? Because she was my Bilberry, that's why. Then one day this little bluebird shows up with a letter in its beak that reads: 'Leif im sry but um br8king up wit U.' Can you believe that? I think I'd find the technology more incredible if my ass didn't just get dumped."

The Great Summer Reading List

Ah, Summer, what strange tidings you bring. Inappropriate clothing choices, sandals (which I just bought), and vacations. Oh, and let us not forget The Summer Reading List: that epic, publishing house-inspired showcase of titles guaranteed to give you something to talk about well into the winter months. You might suspect that because I work within a warehouse of classic books, I am immune to these kinds of lists but that isn't the case. I'm as much a sucker as the next nerd, but I can't complain. The whole world told me to read The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo and Into The Woods and the whole world had a point.
     This year, however, will be different. I've decided to start--what I'm charmingly referring to as--my "Alpha Beta Book List." What is the Alpha Beta? It's simple. I begin by choosing a work of fiction from an author whose last name begins with A. When I've finished, I then chose an author whose last name begins with B and so on and so forth. My goal is to complete the alphabet by the end of the summer.
     I've been reading a lot of nonfiction lately, so I'm going to restrict my choices to novels and plays. Graphic novels and comic trade will not count towards the list for one reason only: I read those all the time and I can't imagine going a couple months without. Plus, they're so quick. And wonderful. And imaginative. And...oh, yes, getting back to the list...Once a book has been read, I will mark it so at the bottom of the blog in my "Books Read" section. Please feel free to start your own Alpha Beta or tell me what's on your list for the summer.

The first book has already been read: Douglas Adams' A Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy and what an enjoyable read it was. I must confess to having seen the movie before I read the book, but I thoroughly enjoyed it anyway. Sam Rockwell's Zaphod Beeblebrox is quite remarkable.

"Cool? You bet. But The Lonely Bookman's got me beat."

An Entry For The Readers of Tomorrow!

People love to add annotations to their books: it cements the "see, see, these books are mine and I've read them!" quality to a fine collection. These quotes usually revolve around the story, but in my searching I've found passages that explain the day, the surroundings, who the reader was with when they finished the story, etc. They're one-line, journal entries that are purely esoteric, and I'm guilty of this myself.
     Some customers are put off by this, and I can understand why: if you buy a collectible book at a collectible price, the book should be in collectible condition. It's a kick to both hemispheres of the brain to approach a sought after book--one that looks amazing--only to open it and find "Wally finally got over being sick two days before we got to the beach." Exception are made, of course, if the side notes are penned by someone of note.
     I enjoy finding annotations in non-collectible copies of books (they're called "reading" copies in bookese) because it makes sifting through book after book more interesting; Annotations add an additional story to something that's already a story. "This book existed before you picked it up. It's got history, man. This book has been places." In giving the book an added legacy like a set of emotions, we get to use the phrase "pathetic fallacy"when describing it, and why would you not want to use the word "pathetic fallacy?" If I were seventeen and emo was still cool and/or relevant, I would start a band with that name. "My guitar would shout* misplaced teen-angst unto the world."
   

Today's find is more of journal entry than a quote, and like an entry it's both personal and oddly entertaining. The previous owner describes the setting where the book was presented to him, the conversation that prompted the meeting, and even the weather. 

*Yet another example of pathetic fallacy.

Fun With Failed Prophecies

Great books pose great questions; bad books are hilarious.

In fairness, I have never read this book. It may be the answer to all life's questions or the solution to leveling off the kitchen table, I can't say? If I'm making an educated guess, I'd say it deals with prophecies--specifically Doomsday prophecies--that thankfully have failed to come true.
     On page four (the first and only page I checked out) the second paragraph starts:

"Who Built The Great Pyramids?

Some have declared that the monument's designer was a survivor of sunken Atlantis..." 

Atlantis? Atlantis? A sunken survivor of Atlantis? Out of all possible explanations, the first one given links the Great Pyramid of Giza to Atlantis? Yeeeesh.

Beware The Gutter In ALLIGATOR ALLEY

If there is a theme present--and I'm not referring to the lack of posts--it's comic book images. Why? Next weekend is the The Buffalo Niagara International Antiquarian Book, Paper & Ephemera Fair at the Convention Center in downtown Buffalo, and, for the past week, I've been bagging and boarding comics to present at the show.
     Most of the titles are DC and while I'm not a fan of the story arcs, I do love the artwork.

Just check out this issue of The Unexpected. The title constricts the image just a wee bit, but, overall, it's a good composition--a classic circular "X" shape with your eye zeroing in on a snarly, half-human/half-alligator and a scantily clad maiden to lead the focus up, around, and finally back down to the swamp.

I also like that everything in the background is in a brown-wash. It helps to bring the alligator/woman out of the background.


Ah, the conference papers one could write about this; the nerdy jokes one could resort to if we ignored that it's just complete, throw-away fiction. The whole point of the cover is to interest you enough to buy it, and I feel that this image raises enough questions to warrant, at least, a look-through. Why is that beautiful woman in that swamp? Do alligator men just bench press the hotties and eat the ugs? Was she living in that van? Why does that alligator in the background not appear violent and human-like? Why is his tail so long?

Or maybe the whole thing is a metaphor for...

                                                                        ..."parking?"

You know what I'm talkin' about.

Bow Chi-ca Growl Growl.

The Evil Eye

I sometimes wish that bad guys--real life bad guys--dressed the way comic book super-villains do. Imagine sitting at your desk, staring out into the glory that is "the outside world," only to have a giant, motorcycle riding Eyeball zoom by your window. Ignore the shock to your senses and tell me that you wouldn't assume they were up to no good?

And don't even get me started on the laughter.

Think of the laughter!

                     
It's got to be so hard coming up with villains. Orby here is a Ghost Rider baddie, hence the reason he's riding a motorcycle and, while comic-dom is no stranger to walking eyes, laser eyes, floating eyes, and the like, this kind of enemy is really a hard sell.
     I love lame bad guys; however, if for no other reason than the lampooning of said bad guy. A few years and a lifetime ago, Marvel was releasing a series Spider-Man's Tangled Web that focused more on the people Spider-Man affected, rather than the hero himself. And while most of the stories ended on something of a down-note, "lamer" villain stories were often written like they couldn't have been in the first place: as a parody.

So, for all my fellow nerds out there, if you haven't checked out Spider-Man's Tangled Web I recommend doing so. "Double Shots" is a favorite (as it got me into the series), but I am a fan of the whole 22-issue run.

And remember...

The "Magic" of Books

I have a confession. 

For a long time I've been haunted by a gift. And before you start trying to recall what you got me for the Holidays, I want to ease your worry and assure you that it's not a material possession I fear, but a being possessed! And that being...is me. 

Kra-ka-da-booooooooom!

A couple years ago I was bitten by a demonic book and given an extraordinary power. If I focus all of my energies on a damage, unsalable book, I can change said book into a more pleasing item. Allow me to demonstrate:

Amazing, right? Hmph. You don't know anything about "curses." That's right, curse. I mean, if you were given a magic power and the only thing you could do with it was change old, ratty books into things that you could blog about, what would you call that? Laughable? That's what they called my "gift" last year at the 2011 International Wizard/Warlock Meet-Up and Rummage Sale. There are people there that can telepathically communicate with animals. I can change books into things. No, scratch that. I can turn books into pieces of ephemera and ONLY if I blog about them. It's such a tease, and it impresses no one. 

No one. 

Hmph. Well, anyway...

The Erlanger Theatre exists no more but for a long time served as Buffalo's only professional theatre. Everything I'd be able to tell you about it's history has already been told (and done so much better) here, so, go ahead, I'll wait if you want to read up on it and come back. Done? Pretty interesting, eh? Especially that part about Erlanger being abducted by aliens. 

The playbill I found is from November 1931, and it features Maude Adams & Otis Skinner in "The Merchant of Venice." It's full of great, local ads and it even has articles (that relate to products) like "Is Plastic Surgery New?," "Are You Hat Conscious?," and "Murdocke of London Says--." There's also a little promo in the back that announces the Ziegfeld Follies as a coming attraction. 

My Prices Are So Low...It's Criminal!

"Alright, ya dope, tell me where all the deals are before I plugs ya!"

Guns and shoes, shoes and guns. They go together like toast and jam. Honestly, I can't think of a way to ask Mom for a new pair of kicks without glorifying firearms. Maybe it's my country upbringing?

I believe this paper gun, at one time, had a paper trigger which caused a paper George Washington (I am really not kidding right now) to pop out of the barrel and make a snapping sound. Jeezy Creeze, this is far too funny. "Unamerican?! Son, I'll have you know I load my gun with bullets resembling our first President!" What could be more patriotic than that? Wait, wait, don't think about it. Your brain will start screaming that it's finally had enough. The answer is: Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Little boys love guns and George Washington. That's all you need to know.

Don't Spend It All In One Place

"Ah, man. Are these the new hundreds? Lame."

Money, Money, Money, Mah-nay! Mah-naaaaaay!

Yeah, relax. This treasury note is worth about as much as The Death of Superman Comic (zing! nerd joke). It's a reproduction note that's made to look old. If it was real it wouldn't have those margins...and say "copy" at the bottom right. That's fairly glaring.

Still, I got a little excited when I found it. It was tucked away inside an older Civil War book (which, I'm positive, added to said excitement) and when you're used to finding news clippings, subscription cards, and Borders bookmarks, anything with a slight variance can send even the most even keeled of men into an unabashed frenzy. Can anyone say "easily excitable?" I can't. I don't know the meaning of the words.

What's interesting about this reproduction is that there was supposedly a need to make the reproduction. Is it possible that the want to collect Virginia Treasury Notes became so great that it warranted the printing of cheap look-a-likes? It's doubtful. If I had to guess, I'd say that this note (and others like it) was sold off the impulse rack at the local Civil War gift shop. It's an item that's aimed at a certain group and not mass marketed to the general population. Your local big box chain will only sell these if they're printed on a pencil. Similarly, you may also find these at Historical Societies, coin shops, and on the interwebs.

Or in old books, I suppose.

A Little Bit of Non-Fiction Relating To That Which Is Considered Pulp Fiction

"Two Complete Science-Adventure Books." Why waste time being unnecessarily vague when you can tell people exactly what they're getting within the title? Do you like Science? How about Adventure? Well, you should check out this title.

Pulps are wonderful finds for a number of different reasons; pulp art is, in my humblest of opinions, one of the main reasons why these publications remain so popular. Like penny dreadfuls (great name, right? LOVE it!), dime novels, and pre-code comic books, these periodicals were not made to be kept. For ten to twenty-five cents you could purchase, read, and then dispose of said magazine before the elements did it for you. Pulps were so named because of the quality of paper they were printed on. They tanned very easily, came shoddily cut, and went brittle within a couple of years.
     Many of the stories used had been or were also printed elsewhere. The Time Machine (Hey, wasn't that a muh-muh-movie?) was published almost fifty years before this pulp hit the newsstands, so the text was already more common than, say, the artwork. Each time a publishing company circulated a story, they employed an artist to paint a new cover for it. Spice it up, you know? It's so much easier to sell the same story over and over and over if you supplement it with new imagery. Comic book fans have fallen prey to this hundreds of times. Why do you think they reprint the same comic book a dozen times--the same month it comes out--with a dozen different cover images? Because they're jerks. Greedy jerks. Because it's easier to sell multiples of the same thing when the art is different. And they've got to do something because they've ruined their own collector's market by flooding said market with overpriced garbage.

Vintage Pulps, even in Fair or Poor condition, fascinate me because they're not supposed to still exist. They were made to be thrown away, and that makes them truly collectible.

Side Note: Stay tuned for my newest comic book creation: Penny Dreadful. A comic book that will never feature multiple covers for the same issue.

A Blog Post About Cookbooks and Bonus Recipes

Cookbooks--old and new alike--always come with a bonus. Occasionally I'll find a recipe card bookmark in a novel, but it's far more common to find not one or two or three but dozens of cards stuffed inside used cookbooks. And it's perfect, really. I'm to the point where if I don't come across one I assume the book was never used.
     Recipe cards are a boring find. They're straightforward; they're predictable, and, even though they're in someone's handwriting, it's very possible to find the exact same recipe in a book or on a website. However, because of the handwriting they remain one of the things that I wish I could give back to the previous owner. It's a wonderful thing to be able to go through your Grandmother's old recipes, find something that you want to make, and then try desperately to decipher what she meant by "take it out when the coil pops three times steady." It may feel like you're suffering through making that meatloaf together!

Hand-written, recipe cards are becoming a thing of the past. Sure it's possible to find them in old books (see above paragraph), but when's the last time you wrote one? I know that I went through a phase about five years ago where I felt the need to document some of my funnier recipes (see old blog post), but I would never sit down and record every, single recipe that I have floating around in my head. Why? Because I have the internet. And that, as majestical as it can sometimes be, has made me lazy. If I want to know how to make an appetizer that will impress my friend's friends, I'm just going to type "I want an appetizer that will impress my friend's friends" into the almighty Google. Something will come up. Something always comes up. All hail, Google.
     So when you're trading in the family cookbook collection for something more modern, take the recipes out of the books. They're a great testament to what your relatives had to do if they wanted one to stay handy, and they're a nice keepsake to pass down to your kid's kids. Who else is going to write down that info for them? Google? Not yet, anyway.

Not yet.

Don't Do This

Act I

A man sets foot inside a gigantic bookstore and looks around quizzically before walking upstage to a wooden, sales counter. A lonely bookman is seated behind a desk that is piled high with all different types of books. Music, by Vivaldi, is playing faintly in the background. These two men are the only two people in the store, at present. 


Man (forcefully) : You buy books?

Bookman : That depends. What kind of books have you got?

     The Man reaches into his backpack and removes a very good condition History book. 


Man : Interested?

Bookman (without hesitation): No, I'm sorry. We're only interested in local history at the moment.

Man : Come on, man? Ten bucks? Cheap.

Bookman : No, I'm sorry.

Man : Come on?! Five bucks? Pause Two bucks?

Bookman : I'm not interested right now.

Man (angrily) : Well, what the hell am I supposed to do with this?

Bookman : Have you already read the book?

Man : No.

Bookman : You could read it.

Man : I don't want to read it. Looks around, frantic You got a garbage can?

Bookman (surprise) : What?

Man : I'm just gonna get rid of it.

Bookman : Look, man, what you do with your book is of no business of mine, but I'm not going to let you put it in my trash can.

Man : Why?

Bookman (crying huge tears on the inside) : Just donate it somewhere.

Man : I'm sick of carrying it around.

Bookman (dying inside) : Again, I can't tell you what to do with it, but it is a bit offensive if you throw it away in front of me.

Man : Why?

Bookman (crushing emotions down into a tiny ball) : Numerous reasons. Lots of reasons. Can you please just donate it somewhere?

Man Exits.

I won't always be able to buy your books, but, if you bring a few in and that ends up being the case, please don't threaten to throw them away in front of me. 

Spin Spin Sugar

Yeah, that's right, I rock the vinyl. And you best bet I'm gonna be rockin' the club tonight when I roll up on two rims with this: Little Golden Records (featuring The Sandpiper Chorus) "O Christmas Tree/Joy To The World." So before a punk points out "that it ain't Christmas," I want to point out that this record is as relevant as it is yellow. Dig?

Sooooo, yeah, a whole 45. Normally I find receipts, ads, junk...but today I definitely found an entire record lurking inside an old magazine. Which is kind of funny, right? I can't tell you how many times I've attempted to mark my place and the only thing available to mark my spot was a 45. Or the record just "accidently" found its way into the issue. More probable but not nearly as funny. That is why we're going to stick with the bookmark answer.

And while we're on the topic of records, I think it's fair to ask what it is that you listen to, oh, great peoples of the interwebs? Me? I enjoy anything that makes me want to create art. Which has significantly narrowed down my list of recommendations over the past ten years. It's not like it was when I was in High School and I just dug it if it was angst-ridden. Now I crave this foolish (and highly subjective) thing known as "substance." Who listens for substance? Answer: Someone who appreciates "art," a.k.a Snobs.

So here it is, these things that I can't bring myself to stop listening to. Some of these CDs* have even been spinning for years on end.

In no particular order:

1. Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes - Up From Below (Not only is this the perfect album to paint to, it's also the perfect soundtrack to have playing when you realize it's gorgeous out and you should be outside)
2. Laura Marling - Anything (No, that isn't the name of the album. I literally mean Anything she's done. Ever.)
3. Amanda Palmer - Who Killed Amanda Palmer (She has my life. A weird thing to admit, but she married one of my favorite authors, and she's so creative. So creative and so incredibly talented. So now you understand.)
4. The Kills - Midnight Boom (Last Day of Magic is, hands down, one of the best songs I've ever heard. I've listened to it hundreds of times. And so have my friends. And my roommates. And my neighbors. Sorry?)
5. Kelli Ali - Psychic Cat (I thought I loved her when she was with the Sneaker Pimps, but I was kidding myself. Both acts got better when they went their separate ways.)
6. Sneaker Pimps - Becoming X (Totally, completely, and tragically underrated. From the very first song you're hooked.)
7. Spoon - Gimmie Fiction (The whole album is great, but the lyrics to "I Summon You" are without fault. Plus, it's impossible not to bump up and down to "I Turn My Camera On.")
8. Fiona Apple - Everything. (Again, not an album title. I just mean Everything.)
9. Nine Inch Nails - With Teeth (I've been revisiting a lot of albums lately. NIN is still one of my favorite bands of all time.)
10. Smashing Pumpkins - Mellon Collie and The Infinite Sadness (Maybe the only album I own that sums up my teenage mindset while still allowing me to dream of great things to come.)

I could go on. 

*Stands for Compact Disc. These have been replaced by little magicians that live inside your iPod and telepathically play whatever you have selected in your catalog. It takes three magicians to achieve this, hence, (M)agicians (P)erforming in Threes. MP3s. 

Days of Free Tickets and Tops Markets

If I win I'm gonna go crazy, I'm gonna jump up and down, I'm gonna tell all a' mah friends, I'm gonna...wait, when does this expire? August of 1982? Damn it. Well, what are the odds that Tops would still honor this? What? The Three Coins Restaurant is no longer around? Double Damn.

This ticket made me laugh. On one of my favorite episodes of The Simpsons, Bart rents a car and decides to travel cross-country with Milhouse, Nelson, and Martin. Their destination? The World's Fair. Along the way they pass by a club whose featured guest is Andy Williams. Nelson, the "bully", is so taken that he has to stop and watch.

Did I really need to tell you that Nelson is the bully of the show? Of course I didn't. Why? Well, because you're so great! And when I win these tickets* guess who I'm taking? That's right!

SIDETRACK:

I do this a lot. I list something, and I get sidetracked--one of the reasons I have trouble posting daily. But I have a question to ask all of you native Buffalonians:

Who won?

Stores advertise contests all the time, but who wins? Someone must. Maybe you know them? Maybe you know someone who knew them through someone? I don't know, but I'd like to know.

Where'd ya'll find it: Inside Michael Harrison's Fire From Heaven: A Study of Human Combustion in Human Beings. (Why was there a need to say "Human Combustion" and "Human Beings?")


*Disclaimer: Tickets will only be obtained through time-travel. If time-travel is not present at the time of blog posting, it never will be. It's paradoxical. It's best to hope for robotics.

Remember! You Must Remember!

"Stop judging and you will not be judged." A simple enough statement, but one that has been largely ignored in...well, every single decade ever.

Shameless Plug #2

                     Yes, friends, the time has come, yet again, for me to exploit your readership. 

Manny Fried's The Elegy For Stanley Gorksi

March 15th thru April 7th: Thursday, Friday, & Saturdays at 8:00 pm

at

The Manny Fried Playhouse/Subversive Theater 

We are located inside the Great Arrow Building on Great Arrow Street. 

On behalf of this wonderful cast, I'd like to extend a welcome to any and all interested in seeing our show.   And, if you can't make it, if your schedule's so full that you can't allot the time to have your world rocked by a cast of Political Theatre's finest, then spread the word. Shout it from the rooftops.

Your favorite Lonely Bookman--and his wonderful cast (did I mention wonderful?)--thanks you. 

Bookz In The Hood

Dang, it feels good ta be a gangsta...

Just kidding.

And if you were able to read today's find, you'd know that gangs are no laughing matter.


I grew up in white, rural America. When I was in my early adolescence, the word "gang" was exciting to me because it was so foreign. I can recall several kids in my class (trust me. there were not a lot of kids to recall.) making an attempt at starting a gang--a "real gang." I can't remember the name, but I'm sure it was something like "Bad Boys" (without a Z) or "The Killers." Yes, yes. Please, go ahead and laugh.
     I was probably the sixth inductee into this gang, and, to celebrate, I went straight home and rapped about it with my Momz. Mom, ahem, was not happy  and reacted accordingly to her son's nonchalant, "Yeah, I'm rollin' wit a posse" by threatening me with the reality of being grounded.

That ended my career in a gang.

This pamphlet was actually a nice find. I assumed it was going to talk at length about how evil gang members are, but, I was wrong and was reminded of an age old adage, "Don't hate the gang member hate the gang." Which IS what this pamphlet preaches. Sort of. After you finish reading about all the psychological horrors that gang-warfare can do to a mind, you are treated to the blunt, simple statement: "You can't treat the effect and ignore the cause." Basically, gang members--real and rural--are people with differences and those differences stem from the environments they grew up in. Youth, without proper guidance, are more likely to end up in a gang because it adds the sensation of "family." Not a revelation, I know, but I do appreciate anyone who looks at the Why? instead of the What!?

"Cuz no matter what you believe, you gotz ta believe in reasons, son."
                                                                                 -TLB

Today's pamphlet was brought to you by The National Bank Note Issues of 1929-1935. Riveting reading. Trust me.

"How Much Is My Book Worth?"

I receive a few calls a day from folks asking how much their old books are worth. It's become a common question but remains one that I cannot answer over a phone. Determining the value of any book--not just one that's ''old''--is close to impossible if the book is not within the hands of the appraiser. There are simply too many factors that play a part in what makes a book valuable. Today, I hope to explain some factors and make a couple jokes doing so. The following are questions or statements that frequently come up.

Question: "My book is old. It's got to be worth a lot, right?"
Answer:   "Not necessarily."

A book's value is determined first and foremost by it's availability. A long time ago, before the days of the all mighty Amazon, books were only sold by new bookstores (duh) and used book resellers (double duh) which limited the availability of certain titles. Example: Books that aren't immediately aimed at the best-seller list are either a publishing house taking a chance, a book that's aimed at a particular demographic, or a little bit of both. When a book on how to make costumes is printed, it is done so on a very limited print run simply because it will not have the same kind of audience that Sue Grafton or James Patterson does. So, back in the olden days, if you were too late to catch that book on costuming when it was new, you would have to rely on your local, incredibly handsome, used Bookman to come across the title for you. This process could take years, and the cost placed on said book reflected that. It's supply and demand. Plain-jane simple.
     Now, in the high-tech tweeting world of the future, Amazon sellers (and all like it) have narrowed that margin of availability: If you want something--be it old or new--you can find it online. This forces the value of the book to decrease.

Question: "My book says 'First Edition' on the copyright page. Doesn't that make it valuable?"
Answer:   "Not always."

Most books are First Editions (it's true) so what matters more is the printing. Sound confusing? Lemme break this down: Modern books are printed with a number line. If you grab a recent publication from your bookshelf and look at the copyright page, you may see a sequence of numbers that looks something like this: 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1. If a 1 is present, you've got yourself a First Edition, First Printing (1st/1st). If the 1 is omitted and the first number is a 2, then this is a second printing and so on and so forth.
     "I have a 1st/1st of The Deathly Hallows. That means it's rare, right?" No. Scholastic--the company that published the US Harry Potter series--knew that a lot of people were going to buy it, thus, there are thousands of 1st/1st copies floating around on the interwebs. This ties in with what I mentioned earlier: A book is released to the public knowing it will sell a million copies, a million people buy it, and then 3/4s of those people try to resell it. This is why you can purchase the book on Amazon for less then $5.00. Right now the supply does not meet the demand, and it will take a long time (if ever) for that to happen.

Question: "Ok. So my book is old, not readily available, and a first edition. Now it's worth money, right?"
Answer:   "Maybe."

Another key factor to determine worth is condition. A 1st/1st with a missing dust jacket, cracked hinge, missing pages, grape jelly stain, etc. is going to worth a lot less than a 1st/1st that doesn't have these blemishes. Someone who is willing to fork over the cash for the book is going to be far more hesitant to do so if the spine is messed up. Additionally, restoration can be very costly. In most cases, it is cheaper to buy a better condition book elsewhere than to pay someone to repair your beat-up copy.  

These are not all the questions, and I definitely don't have to time to list all the answers, so I recommend asking someone in the field if you're unsure. Just remember: Just as a car dealer can't determine the price of your trade in over the phone, neither can I do that with your old books. Not until Amazon releases their book teleportation device anyway.

"Even the great Edgar Cayce couldn't determine the price of a book over the phone."

"Let's Read The ReeeeView Agaaaaain!"

Printed Media, oh-so fascinating at times. Just take a look at this, my babies. A newsletter dedicated not just to The Rocky Horror Picture Show but, more specifically, to the Western New York Fans of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. And what newsletter would be complete without comic strip accompaniment?

Found: While singing "Dammit, Janet" and looking through a lot of file folders, hidden amongst a bunch of comic books, buried beneath a sea of untold riches.

Lonely Bookman Info: I was too young to get swept up in the mania that surrounded the Rocky Horror Picture Show, but that didn't stop me from falling in love with it. When I was a youth, I wore out my Dad's RHPS Vinyl and even though we differed in musical tastes I enjoyed knowing that we had this one, incredible thing in common. My Father and I are both showmen (we both love the stage!) so it maybe comes with little shock that we are both Rocky Horror fans. I can also pull off a pretty mean Tim Curry/Frankfurter impersonation. The vocal part, I mean. Get your mind out of the bargain bin.

The Dog Ate It

Someone forgot their homework...

...forty years ago.

I found this (with little to no surprise) tucked in an American History Textbook from the sixties. Do kids still write in cursive? I know I broke the habit of doing so right before I entered High School, and my teachers thanked me for it. You would think that someone so artistic would be a natural at the elegance of cursive handwriting. Not so. I have comics to blame for what I like to call 'exaggerated, emotionally-charged block printing.' It's really very nice. All the kids love it.

A friend of mine routinely practices his hand at, well, handwriting. He's full of great tips on the subject, and he stresses that angle of pen and posture are two key components of great penmanship. A clean workstation is also vital, and they make rather large writing desks make sense.

Also, Cursive just means 'joined writing.'

So informative, this one is.

-TLB

My New Apartment

Pretty sweet new digs, huh? Yep. And the rents cheap. I pay in used radial tires and advice. Can't beat it. I'm going to set up my awesome new surround sound system just as soon as the landlord installs some outlets.

Found this postcard in an old medical book about treating inflammation. The book, unfortunately, was falling apart.

Growing Up On The Newsstand

It's no secret that I detest celebrity gossip. I understand it from an escapist point of view, but I hate it. Loathe it. Can't seem to escape it.

A few weeks ago, I watched a documentary called Smash His Camera: a film that looks at the life of Ron Galella, a man who became 'famous' for taking pictures of celebrities. In other words, Galella is paparazzi--plain and simple, and his favorite subject (and picture) graces the cover of the film itself.

Behold, the immortal Jackie O.

It's subject matter is something I'm super familiar given that I sell vintage celebrity magazines on a daily basis, and, if you look at any of publications from the 70s and early 80s: Screen Stories, Movie Screen, TV & Movie Screen, etc., you'd be hard pressed to find one that doesn't feature a picture of Jackie and her children.

When I began selling magazines, I gravitated towards the scholarly. Esquire was my first choice because of their long running history with iconic authors. I listed multiple vintage issues (on eBay) at the starting price of $5.95 and breathed a heavy sigh as that sat in my online store, untouched. A week later, I listed some Teen Beats which would go on to fetch, on average, $15.00 an issue. I was baffled but kept at it.

Rolling Stone, Galaxy Science Fiction, Scribners...none such luck, so, despite my own qualms, I began listing what the people wanted. It got to the point where I could look at a single issue and instantly tell how much it would sell for based on who was in it. I hated this (still do) as I became a stupid black hole of celebrity knowledge. Once, while on a date, I answered a trivia question about a 90s teen star without hesitation. I tried to laugh it off; I explained the type of merchandise I sold, but the damage was done. The date had ended.

At first, you don't feel too bad for the celebrity. Despite how many covers they grace, most of the headlines seem relatively harmless. "Divorce Rumors?, Who Kissed Who Under the Mistletoe?, Which of These Birds Did Johnny Make Sing?" Annoying, yet tolerable.

It was until I realized that, through photographs and stupid headlines, I was witnessing Jackie's kids grow up. Imagine what that's like? Being photographed from a distance by some creep in the bushes ALL YOUR LIFE. I can't imagine that. I would go crazy. Yet, when we see it at the newsstand it's acceptable, and necessary, because it helps the issue sell. It's a very hard pill.

And one I almost swallowed watching Smash His Camera. Halfway through I found myself feeling sympathetic to Galella's plight: "I do what I do because I love these people." I will admit, the man has passion. Clips from the documentary show Galella weaving in and out of traffic, forging documentation, and hiding in the shadows--all in relentless pursuit of his target. The end result being a treasure chest of candid shots that capture the celebrity in a series of unscripted moments.

Or he's a stalker.

An idiot who gets paid to stalk celebrities and their children.

It's hard to put a price on privacy. It's hard, but it's done. Every single day.

So what's your take on this? Am I being too dramatic? (of course, I am) Do you agree? Disagree? Are you hungry? Who's hungry? Feel free to vent in the comments below.

-TLB

Unearthed Memory #1

A few years ago, I began a blog that would highlight some of my finer features as a rambler, a gambler, and, well, you know the rest. Like so many other blogs before it, I failed to keep it going. I just could not find the time to post anything and when I actually did I erased it within a few days. Below is a random post from said blog. It was a trip for me to read it, and, hopefully, you'll get a kick out of it too. It was originally called:


Do It For The Kids...or Spite


While taking the Rail, on Monday, I found myself surrounded by a group of kids between the ages of 7 and 10 that were touring part of the city (can I say City?) with a guardian. They were loud, annoying, and full of an energy that I've all but forgotten. Like everyone else waiting for the train, I periodically glanced at the lonely teenager in charge of them and thought, "How much do you get paid? Why aren't you keeping them quiet? Why are they running? This is dangerous. Corral your kids. Lady, CORRAL YOUR KIDS. Why is that one running in the terminal?" When the train finally arrived, I was pleased. Everyone under the age of fourteen seemed to shuffle into the front car, and I felt like I had just broken back into normalcy. Ahhh, quiet. Crotchety, miserable quiet. 
But then! Just as the doors were getting ready to close, children began pouring into the car in droves. All the other passengers (possibly reliving the trauma they experienced at the terminal) promptly sandwiched themselves as far away from the chaos as possible. Never take the middle, I thought, but it was too late. I was now surrounded by screaming children and as I went to give the teenager that old, familiar look, I noticed she was already looking at me with eyes that screamed You deal with it. 
It's funny to realize this (at the age of 28) but kids just don't seem to have barriers. I realize this is not an epiphany; I'm not going to shed light on a new subject, but it had been so long since I spent time around anyone of their age. 'Off Guard' seems like a good term, so I'll just use that. They asked my name, how old I was, and then proceeded to tell me about their trip to the Zoo. I had a hard time deciphering what they were talking about because they were all trying to talk at once. A tornado of laughing and ''hey, misters.'' It was like a game, and when I finally went to ask them a question, they collectively answered me by moving their arms up and down like Go-Go dancers. 
I laughed at this. I know I did because I immediately looked around at all the other passengers for a sympathy giggle. What I got; however, were the most horrendous stares you've ever seen. I don't know what they were actually thinking (I probably don't want to know), but, judging from their squinty eyes and downturned lips, I'm sure they assumed I was a creeper and I'd just hit the jackpot. I was so upset.
And when you're upset (and you can't beat people's faces)....

YOU JUST GOTTA DANCE!

Monday was odd. If someone told me that I would be doing the Charleston on the Metro Rail with a bunch of 9 year olds, I would have assumed that this would be the day I developed a drinking problem. I went from being annoyed, to loathed, to loved, and possibly back again; I was cast out of adulthood for a few seconds and when I came back I just confused people. When I got off the train, I looked around again and noticed that my lack of rhythm had caused an attractive looking girl to smile uncontrollable. Which I KNOW destroyed any other guys chance of talking to her--even if just for the duration of that trip. How do you top that?

So what did I learn from all this? All cliches, I'm afraid. But maybe the next time one of my friends says, "Well, you just gotta dance like no one's watchin'" I'll find myself poised to say, "Or, dance like a whole train car full of jerks are watching you because they think you're a creep."

Nah.

Featuring the Hit Single "Better Watch Out (Where You're Going)"

I could discuss this woman at great lengths, but I wouldn't be able to do her any real justice. I suggest checking out this site for all things Ruth Etting. You'll get more out of it, and I won't have to make things up. Everybody wins!

     What I can talk to you about is where I found today's item. 

A gentleman came in a few days ago with a box of books that he simply did not want (and after looking through them I quickly discovered that I didn't want them either). Most of the books were heavily damaged, so I wrote 'garage sale' on the side of the box and took them to one of my various storage areas to await the days of jacket-free weather and outdoor browsing. Days pass, and I'm walking through that very same storage only to trip and send a few boxes tumbling over. That's when Miss Etting appeared. 

     I don't know which book it slid out of, but it may has well been titled: "This isn't Fate, you're just a Klutz." 

And while I spend the next few days getting acquainted with the Misses, I'll leave you a video so you can do the same. 

Review: Alas, Babylon by Pat Frank

I've been busy. I've been so busy, that I haven't been able to go through any books lately and, thus, haven't found anything interesting. No, no, I'm not ignoring you and to prove it, I'm going to leave you this book review.

Alas, Babylon by Pat Frank

If you're a fan of the Apocalypse/Doomsday Fiction/Nuclear Fallout, etc. then you may already be familiar with this book. Written in the late 50s, Alas Babylon was meant to serve not just as Frank's warning of both an upcoming nuclear war with Russia but also as a warning of where our pursuit into the nuclear arms race was going to lead us. The story takes place in a small town in Florida (Fort Repose) where the protagonist, Randy Bragg, has assembled a small group of friends and family after the Russian's have nuked most of America. Despite the odds, Bragg manages to bring everyone together and..blah, blah, blah...I would say spoiler alert, but this book is really so formulaic that I'm positive you can piece together the outcome: "The Good Guys Win!"

Having been released in 1959, this book has already been reviewed. Many, many times. After I finished,  I spent some time reading some of those reviews on Amazon and I've noted two things: Those who didn't like it found it boring and unrealistic & Those who loved it found it very realistic largely thanks to unnerving, personal experience with the threat of fallout. Very few people talked about why they felt it was boring. Which is what I will do right now.

It's predictable. And I don't mean the subject matter has been done over and over so it became predictable, I mean it was at first and remains predictable. Frank explains all the motives of the tertiary characters in their introductory paragraphs, so when they 'get what's comin' to 'em' it's lackluster and expected. Even the main character (the incredibly likable) Randy Bragg's fate is laid out immediately. Everything that Randy has lost pre-Nuclear war will surely one day be returned to him. When could that day be, you ask? Probably post-Nuclear war. Duh.

There are some great observations in the book. Not enough that I recommend it, but, they're there. My best advice to you is this: If you are ever in a situation where a potential love interest or someone you respect asks you to read this, read the first two paragraphs and then skip to the end. Your Time will thank you.

Oh, yeah. And if anyone wants to buy a copy of this, there's one available at the shop. Ha.

It's not me, it's you.

He pays attention to other ladies when they're out. He doesn't kiss her goodbye. He doesn't come home for dinner. He forgot her birthday.

It's easy just to write him off. What a jerk, you might think. Well, friend, all the facts aren't on the table. Did you ever think that the reason he seems distant and thoughtless is because...

...She neglects proper hygiene.

What? Did you honestly think it was the man's fault? It's 1939, children, and that means 'Don Draper' doesn't have to answer for anything yet--just his lady--and if his lady doesn't 'clean up her act,' well, see that raven-haired beauty at the top of the page? That's going to be the new Misses.

But don't thank me, Thank Lysol. Because, in 1939, they were keeping all you girls in check.





Ad is from the November 1939 issue of Silver Screen. Not to worry, no collectible copy was harmed in the clipping of this ad. The cover had fallen completely off, and several pages were missing.

Behold! The Gold of El Dorado!

Someone was excited about this calendar. Someone was sooooo excited about it, they clipped the ad for it and inserted it into a copy of Dianetics and Scientology by Clown Clownshoes. This beautiful calendar showcased items found buried in remote locations of the Andes, hidden by blah, blah, and their cousin, blah.

And it was yours free when you became a subscriber to Natural History.

Party Like It's 1856

Imagine: You're standing beside the water-cooler, telling your friends about all the crazy stuff you did over the weekend, and in walks Fred*. Fred is the guy that always invites you over to his house (usually around a holiday) for mingling and drinks and does so  by way of folded, paper invitation. Fred gives you the details while you nod and smile, your eyes already canvasing for a trash can. As soon as he walks, that invite is going in the waste-
basket.

But wait.







The cream colored paper, the orate lettering, embossed illustrations...this is no ordinary invitation. This is the:

Anniversary of Washington's Birth-day, First Annual Ball!

What the what?!?

That's right. Yours truly has just found a invitation to the Company A, 68th Regiment's first annual ball in honor of the United States first President, Mr. George Primrose** Washington.

The date? February 22, 1856.

The place? The Fredonia Concert Hall.

What should I wear? If military, then the request has been made to come in full uniform.

What about my lady? "Carriages will call for Ladies at 6 'o' Clock."

Egad! I must get ready! I'm already 155 years, 10 months, and 13 days late!

(Invitation was found in a Bible. An old Bible.)

Disclaimer:
* I do not work with a Fred, nor should any Freds worry that someone is exploiting them or there love of parties/making party invitations with Microsoft Word.
** Washington's middle name is not Primrose. He had no middle name. So feel free to make one up!