Elliot S! Maggin, principal writer of Superman comics from 1971 to 1986, is running for Congress in California and I’m supporting him.

Mr. Maggin is running to dethrone Elton Gallegly, a proponent of much that I’m against, and opponent of much that I’m for.

I actually spoke with Mr. Maggin today when I called to invite him to be a featured speaker at this event that I’m emceeing on October 13th, which honors political comedienne and syndicated radio host Stephanie Miller. I told him that I live for the campaign that features the writer of “Superman” saying that the seeming-conservative is undermining “truth, justice, and the American way.” He is going to join us to do that, so mark your calendar.

In the meantime, here’s his campaign announcement. Please click and donate. We need more comic-book writers in Congress and fewer looney tunes.

Over on Mark Chaet’s blog, in his inimitably cranky style he takes on drivers who misuse the curb lane on Sunset. Which is pretty much what happened yesterday when I was a pedestrian in front of the Cinerama Dome and witness to an accident in the curb lane on Sunset — about four feet from me.

A few minutes ago I made a mistake typing in a URL, and so, instead of MSNBC.com, I wound up on msbc.com, the website of Morningstar Baptist Church. Here’s what I learned both from the home page and this podcast:

1. If Hillary Clinton becomes president, we’re going to Hell. (This seems to be meant literally.)
2. Hillary is “a jezebel.” (Although it isn’t made clear why.)
3. Obama is indeed kin to Osama in some way.
4. Giuliani is no better because he’s pro-homosexual.
5. Martin Luther King Jr. was “a nut. Check the FBI files.”
6. That it used to be a law, an actual law, that you had to bear arms and that maintain your arms in good working order. Evidently, this was a law in the 17th Century.  And for proof, we should read the book of Romans. (Which, if I recall, predates firearms.)
7. If Hillary gets in, “be prepared to die.”

This educational message brought to you at no charge.

Certainly, some exist. I haven’t seen too many characters in wheelchairs on stage, at least not a proportion equal to that in what I see in the wider world. Same with blind people.

But I have to disagree with the people who posted this listing seeking play submissions:

Submission Guidelines

* Only unproduced works will be accepted.
* Plays must have a female or other underrepresented minority as the
protagonist
* Plays that have had staged readings are eligible.
* No adaptations, musicals, or children’s plays.
* Cast size maximum: 5.
* Length: 25 minutes maximum, no minimum.
* Settings should be simple or suggested.
* Playwrights may make multiple submissions.
* Please do not submit works that have been previously submitted.
* Scripts must be postmarked by August 24, 2007.

By “minority,” are they referring to about 52% of the population (i.e., females)?

By “underrepresented,” do they mean people choosing plays, reading plays, writing plays, acting in plays, producing plays, attending plays, etc? Because the majority of them also seem to be female.

As this analysis of classic “Star Trek” proves, if you’re part of the engineering crew, you very much want Kirk to hook up with alien women. Your survival may be at stake.

Renegotiate.

In this case, I just got off the phone with Pitney Blowes, whose monthly fee to me for my postal meter had crept upward from someplace in the twenties to $32.46, and who now sent me a polite letter informing me that they were automatically signing me up for a $15.99 annual fee for the Postal Education Program.

The latter was the final straw. Automatically enrolling customers in programs they don’t ask for (let alone don’t need) is insulting. So, filled with brio and outrage, I called to cancel the entire program, knowing full well what they would do: seek to keep me by renegotiating.

So here was their offer:

1. They would cancel the offending program and remove the charge.
2. They would lower my monthly bill to $19.99.
3. They would waive the last month’s bill.

Tally the results for one year and you’ve got $198 plus change. For a 19 minute call.

Lessons in this:

1. Seemingly little charges and incremental increases add up.
2. Yes, it’s worth the phone call to protest.

Fishin’ for old comics, that is, as my comrades and I troop down to the San Diego Comic Con for five (!) glorious days. For the first time in, probably, 10 years, I’m not taking a laptop and not checking email, so what happens at Comic Con truly stays at Comic Con.

In the meantime, here’s a heads-up: For the first time in its history, Comic Con is sold out. (For Saturday, at least.) No four-day passes, no on-site registration. If you’re not preregistered, you can probably drop in on Thursday (if you don’t mind braving the line), and maybe Friday (we’ll see). Sunday? Probably not so much. And again, in the infamous words of my son, “You mean there are going to be more people there this year?” Yep — 150,000 or so.

If you can’t make it to Comic Con, then may I heartily recommend this show? I’ve seen 5 or 6 installments now and it is a hoot and a holler. Seriously, I’m trying to remember the last time I saw a live show this bulletproof — it is consistently entertaining. The guests change every week, and lately there have been rotating hostesses. But the show is always a bucket full of fun (and my guests have agreed). These guys have a lot of talent and, I guess, good karma. (And I got to meet Peter Falk, however fleetingly.)

I’ll check back in here next Monday.

DC Comics is launching Zuda, an outlet for fan-created web-based comic strips. A peer judging process results in a one-year contract.

They’ll also be promoting the heck out of it at this year’s San Diego Comic Con.

Terence, are you listening?

(And maybe you could please school my Uncle Rich. Forty years later, this is his big opportunity.)

When I was last in the market for a new convertible, why didn’t I lease a Sebring? Because the Mustang had more horsepower and the Sebring drove like a boat.

But if it had actually been a boat, I might have plowed ahead.

According to this article on ForbesAutos.com, the vehicle pictured here, an amphibious Aquada, will be docking on these shores in 2009.

Oh that I had had this car circa 1980, rather than my Renault Le Car. That was the car that I accidentally almost piloted into the bay in West Atlantic City, New Jersey. What had looked like a large puddle turned out to be high tide in storm season. Never will I forget the gentle lapping of waves against my doors and the lulling motion of my car moving out to sea, me in it, before finally I regained traction and inched back onto solid ground. Within months, everything metallic rusted and everything electrical shorted. So you can see my interest in the Aquada.

In fact, maybe I would just drive the car — via waterways — to my old hometown. It would have to be more convenient than flying, because I wouldn’t have to deal with lost luggage (as previously reported).

It’s a column about the demise of the comma, and whom to blame. (Evidently, the comma is following “whom” right into the dustbin of history. Just like the word “dustbin.”)

The columnist, who looks to be of a certain age, naturally blames technology and those damn kids who use it. (And please note my judicious use of commas to separate an exclusionary clause.) Some others among us might point out that the English language has been on the slide since Chaucer, was rudely fiddled with by Mr. Shakespeare among others, and has never had more vibrancy that it has today. If we need the comma, it will survive. If we don’t, it won’t.

One person the columnist doesn’t blame: Cormac McCarthy, who elides commas the way most of us reject anchovies. But I guess blaming literature isn’t as attractive as blaming kids and the overall culture.