Tomorrow night is Preview Night and then the full Comic-Con International erupts Thursday morning. If you won't be there, I hope you won't resent those of us who are. I look forward to this event every year and in four decades of so doing, I've yet to be disappointed.

Speaking of looking forward to it: If you're thinking of attending next year, take the following advice. Plan to go and don't start planning in the last few weeks before the show when you start hearing how wonderful it'll be. This is not something you can effectively decide to do next May. For one thing, memberships will sell out long before then. For another, your best shot at getting the hotel room you want will come from trying to book when they first become available. This year, as usually happens, I hear from people who've suddenly had the notion of attending and they want to know now about passes and lodging and transportation. Someone actually wrote me over the weekend to ask how they might go about adding a panel to the schedule. They're talking about the schedule that was finalized and sent to press weeks ago.

Those calls are one (small) thing that annoys me about the convention. Another is all the articles and TV stories that will talk about "geeks" and "nerds" getting together. When I see headlines that head in that direction, I instantly wonder what else they're not understanding about our annual gathering. You get a double-whammy when the title of the piece included "Pow!" and "Zap!", and a triple when it makes it look like everyone at the con is in costume instead of, oh, about 2%, many of whom are being paid to dress that way.

If you're at the con on Thursday morn, I would like to highly recommend you take in the Spotlight on Stan and Hunter Freberg that will be held at 11:45 in Room 6BCF. I'll be introducing them and I will say, because it's true, that it's a rare opportunity to see and hear two wonderful people, one of whom is well past the stage where "Living Legend" became applicable. Stan Freberg was a voice guy for cartoons in what they call the Golden Age of Animation. He was one of America's top recording artists with his brilliant comedy records. He later became the Michelangelo of the funny commercial, creating some of the wittiest, most memorable ad spots of all time. He's going to show some of them at the convention and I also have it on good authority that he's going to sing a number or two for those who have the smarts to attend the Freberg Spotlight.

For most of the con, he and Hunter will later be in the hall at Table II-15 and he'll have some great books, CDs and photos for sale. Drop by and say hello. This is one of the aspects of the convention that I really love…when people get to meet their heroes. I got Stan and Hunter to come to the con last year and to WonderCon in San Francisco earlier this year. You'd be amazed — or if you know Stan's history, maybe you wouldn't be amazed — how many people have since said to me or e-mailed, "Thank you for giving me the opportunity to meet one of my heroes and to tell him how much his work has meant to me." Don't miss your chance to hear them and meet them. Hunter is also a delight…

Hey, remember that group that's planning to stage a protest at the Comic-Con? That's right…the assholes, also known as the Westboro Baptist Church. Would you like to send a real statement about how you feel about them?

Go to this page. Pledge money…a charitable donation in response to them. You don't even have to attend the con to let them know what you think of their hateful campaign. Congrats to whoever organized this.

Matt Zoller Seitz writes about the pending disappearance of the Blockbuster chain.

I was only a Blockbuster customer for a brief time. The one near me (now extinct) never seemed to have the titles I wanted on hand…or if they did, they'd be well-worn, unplayable copies. There were times I'd feel silly renting one movie — making the trip there, making the trip back with one — so I'd find myself wandering aisles and browsing racks, looking desperately for something else I wanted to watch. It got to be more like a chore to go there than a pleasure.

I was mostly interested in older movies since the current releases were readily available on my satellite dish. But if Blockbuster even had some desired older film, they had one scuffed copy of its first DVD release, no copy of the more recent, deluxe DVD release. Netflix doesn't upgrade as swiftly as the sellers of DVDs either but it's not as bad. The only thing I liked about Blockbuster was the occasional comedic moment…like when I asked a teenaged employee about a certain film starring Buster Keaton and she went to the computer, looked it up and said, "We don't have that but we just got in a movie with someone named Diane Keaton." Yeah…Buster Keaton, Diane Keaton — what's the difference?

For the last few days, I've been hauling out one of my annual jokes, telling friends I'm arranging for the Comic-Con to be postponed a couple weeks. Not everyone laughs but absolutely everyone says something like, "Oh, if only you could." Everyone I know who's going has so much to do before then and no idea how they're going to get it all done. And of course, if I could get the folks who run Comic-Con to delay it for two weeks, then 14 days from now, friends would be calling to ask, "Any chance of two more weeks?"

We'll get there. Most of us do…and there's a certain sense of achievement you feel when you're checked into your hotel or walking into the convention center: I'm here. I made it. Remember that feeling and measure it against the one you'll have when it's time to go: So soon? But it just started.

As I've told three different reporters in the last two days, I attended my first Comic-Con in San Diego in August of 1970. It was the first convention there if you don't count a little "warm-up" one-day affair they had earlier that year. There were maybe 300 people there and the big guest was Jack Kirby. I still remember what a grand, exciting time everyone had. That kind of time is still being had by attendees, only more of them.

I don't recall if I've mentioned it this year but here's a tip I often offer: Go outside. Don't spend all four days in that convention hall subjecting yourself to that noise level and that pace and that air-conditioning. There's a lovely marina out back, especially accessible from the second level. Go out there once or twice a day. Inhale. Exhale. Watch some ships for a little while. It makes the energy of the convention much easier to accept…plus, they have air out there that's never been breathed by a guy dressed as Darth Vader.

I don't have a lot more wisdom to impart that isn't on my list of convention tips…or better still, on Tom Spurgeon's. If I think of something, I'll get back to you.

The L.A. Times has a blog which resurrects only articles from that newspaper, providing a nice perspective on how some looked at the world in earlier times. They've just run a series of clippings that cover the 1960 Democratic National Convention in Los Angeles, including the progression of the story as John F. Kennedy snatched the presidential nomination away from the man Lyndon Johnson thought deserved it…Lyndon Johnson.

Start reading with this page, then use the link above each entry's headline that says "Next Post" to go forward. You'll have to skip over a few pages that talk about things other than the convention but there's really a nice history lesson there. Pay special attention to an article on this page headlined, "Nominee to Run on Ultra-Liberal Platform." In 1960, equal rights for minorities were an Ultra-Liberal idea.

Say…do you have any idea where currency symbols — things like $ and ¥ and £ — come from? Here's an article about that.

Last Thursday, I went to lunch with a wonderful, witty lady named Laraine Newman who has done many things above and beyond being part of the original cast of Saturday Night Live. I mean, that alone would be enough but there's been so much more.

We talked about mutual friends and our mutual birthday and we marvelled at how though it was a hundred-and-something degrees in Beverly Hills, Sylvester Stallone was dining at a nearby table wearing an apricot-colored three-piece suit. I've just completed my end of the second season of The Garfield Show, which includes the voice-directing, and I was fortunate to get Laraine to appear several times as a guest voice. What's fortunate about this is, of course, that I don't have to do any actual directing when I get someone like that. I just hand Laraine a script, point her at a microphone and tell her to be funny. She always is.

After we'd finished our meals, the check arrived in one of those little leatherette folders. We fought over it, I triumphed and I tossed my American Express card into the folder and a waiter took it away. Laraine and I talked for another hour or so…long enough that when we got up to go, neither of us noticed that our server had not brought it back to me for tip, total and signature.

Friday morning, I took my car in for routine servicing…and this dealership always makes me nervous because they always give me a "loaner" with, like, twelve miles on it. I don't like driving someone else's utterly pristine car and not just because I fear I'll scratch it, thereby taking its automotive virginity. I'm also afraid I'll enjoy the new car so much I'll want to buy one…which I guess is why they only assign out new loaners. Anyway, when I went to give the cashier my AmEx card to imprint for the security deposit, I discovered it was in absentia. It took about a minute to figure out I'd left it in that restaurant.

I cell-phoned them and a nice lady went away for what seemed like about six hours. Eventually, she returned to report that they'd searched the restaurant, high, low and in-between and they definitely did not have my American Express card. Sorry.

I waited fifteen minutes, called again and got someone else. This person went off, did a little search and came back in about two minutes to inform me that, yes, they had my American Express card. "I'll come by and get it later," I told her.

Later that afternoon, I drove the loaner (cautiously) to the restaurant. You may be interested to know that Sylvester Stallone wasn't there but Fabio was and I had to wait while they seated him. I don't know why he's more important than I am. Of the two of us, I'm the one who has a job.

The manager searched the restaurant like the first lady I'd called but eventually, he found the card, checked my i.d. and returned it to me. He thought I would take it and go but I said, "You know, I don't think I ever added a tip to the bill and signed it." This did not win me any points for honesty. It was more like, "You really are a troublemaker, aren't you?" Off he went to plow through all of the previous day's credit card slips. I waited there so long, I was sorry I'd said anything.

Finally, he came back with a slip and announced, "It's okay. You added a tip and signed the slip."

I looked at it and told him, "That's not my signature."

He gasped, "That is not your signature?"

I said, "That's not even my name." Someone else had added a tip (not a very good one) to the bill and signed their name to it. Fortunately, the confusion was only in the bills, not in the cards, and they hadn't given him my American Express card. Anyway, I added my endorsement and left.

On the way back, I stopped at the car dealership, turned in the unblemished loaner and went to pay for the work done on my auto. I opened my wallet, reached for the American Express card…

…and it wasn't there. Gone. Missing. Again. Second time in twenty-four hours.

My distress must have been pretty visible because the cashier asked me, "Something wrong, sir?"

"My American Express card," I said. "It's supposed to be here in my wallet but it has this habit of running off on its own. Excuse me, I have to call a restaurant and —"

She asked, "Have you looked in all your pockets?" I looked in my shirt pocket and there it was, hiding behind my iPhone. And I just went downstairs and looked and it's there in my wallet right this second. I've been checking every hour or so…

As you've probably heard, a group called the Westboro Baptist Church (or "assholes," for short) is going to picket Al Gore this Thursday when he speaks at the Manchester Hyatt in San Diego. Their press releases say it's to condemn him for his "adulterous" activities…but of course, this protest was scheduled before it came out that a masseuse was charging the former Veep with what she's charging him with. And it's also worth noting that the allegations have yet to be proven true…and given some of what reporters seem to be learning, may not be. Also, though what Gore is alleged to have done may be a sin in the eyes of the Westboro Baptist Church, I don't recall them protesting any of the sexual follies of elected officials who have opposed Gay Marriage. Apparently, having your mistress on the payroll or patronizing hookers or hitting on men in lavatories is fine with these people so long as you're sufficiently anti-gay in public.

After the Gore picket, they hike over to the Comic-Con…and let's get real here. They're not protesting anything. They're making noise to get on the news and spread their all-purpose hatred in all directions. I have a suspicion they'll achieve that even though they will be small in number. I also suspect that if there's any sort of physical altercation — say, if someone bumps into someone else, which does happen out there — it'll be on the news within moments. This is exactly the kind of story reporters love to cover and some are probably frothing to write that a brawl broke out involving Jedi Knights versus Religious Fanatics or whatever.

But though assholes they be, they have a right to protest. I'm not sure precisely where they have a right to protest. I can't think of anywhere around Comic-Con where they won't be impeding foot traffic and they have no right to do that. Still, people have a right to express the asshole point-of-view and I agree pretty much with this editorial that says as much. Where I think I might part company with the author is this: Nowhere does he underscore that there is no Constitutional right to protest anywhere you want or to force people to listen to you.

In just about every public protest I've ever been around, I see some protester take it too far, blocking pedestrians (or even vehicles) or blaring audio at deafening levels. And when they're told they can't do this…when some poor, badly-paid security person or cop has to go tell them to move along or keep it down…they scream Suppression and Gestapo Tactics and yell that their First Amendment Rights are being violated. In so doing, they do as much damage to real First Amendment Rights as the Westboro Baptists do to real Baptists and followers of Jesus.

I'm going to avoid this whole thing and so should you. Get to the con before Noon on Thursday. Don't leave 'til after 3. If you run into them, do not engage. There's no talking to these people. Just feel proud that you live in America — a nation that allows this kind of dissent…and which will soon legalize the rights of gays to serve in the military and to marry. And you know something? By putting a real ugly face on the opponents of such things, I think the Westboro Baptist Church is helping to make that happen.

San Diego has a great transit system. Their red trolleys will be operating on an enhanced schedule during the Comic-Con…and get this: There will be a costume contest at what their announcement describes as "the Klingon-themed Gaslamp Quarter Trolley Station." This is a contest which at least half the people I've seen on Los Angeles bus lines could win.

But never mind that. If you intend to use their Metropolitan Transit System during the con, then this is the page for you. Thanks to Scott Marinoff for alerting me to this.