I have several friends waiting for the next generation of the iPhone. They’re waiting/hoping for a front-facing camera, longer battery life, 4G, and availability to Verizon as a carrier.

Now it looks like they’re going to get at least those first three wishes granted soon. (And a lot more, like a flash feature for the camera.) Someone “left” a prototype iPhone 4G in a bar in Redwood City, California — where it was discovered, disassembled, and analyzed by Gizmodo. Here’s that story, along with videos showing off the new features.

(Direct message to various Comic-Con friends: This should answer your question of “When should I buy an iPhone?” Answer: When this comes out.)

By the way:  The story of the prototype phone having gotten “accidentally” left behind sure sounds like a prototype of its own — for a marketing campaign. Note that Gizmodo, above,

The gentleman in this picture, Robert Kiprono Cheruiyot of Kenya, just finished the Boston Marathon in record time:  2 hours, 5 minutes and 52 seconds. He thereby shattered the previous record of 2:07:14 (“shattered” being a relative term here), set in 2006 by Robert Kipkoech Cheruiyot. The two Robert K. Cheruiyots are unrelated, which leaves me thinking that in Kenya the name Robert K. Cheruiyot is the equivalent of James Smith or Juan Garcia here. (And yes, I know a James Smith and a Juan Garcia.)

There’s no confusing either Robert K. Cheruiyot with me, though. I myself ran a marathon in late 2008. My time was closer to 2 days, 5 minutes, and 52 seconds.

As frequent readers of this blog may have noted, I’ve been traveling frequently since January. (I was in Irvine on Monday, San Francisco on Tuesday, Denver on Wednesday, and between now and next month I’ll be in Napa Valley, Philadelphia/NJ, Utah, Omaha, San Francisco again, and probably some other places.) The successful outcome of all of these trips to some degree require internet technology — the ability to access the web on location, and to project video and Powerpoint and audio. Past experience has taught me that it’s best to bring the tech with you. Dating back to my adolescence when I was a comic-book dealer exhibiting at one or two conventions a weekend, I learned the hard way that when you didn’t bring it with you, whatever was provided just wasn’t enough.

I saw that again in January when I attended Twiistup, a two-day confab in Los Angeles where tech startups make presents to venture capitalists and angel funders. The tech guys weren’t able to get WiFi to work for much of the conference, and the projector and screen rarely seemed to be in synch. I felt bad for the presenters, all of whom are timed, who complained that their time was cut in half because of faulty tech. And this was at a tech event.

That doesn’t top this story, though. This weekend I’m at the California Democratic Convention. A friend just sent me this text:

So, at the Computer and Internet caucus, they couldn’t get their Powerpoint to project properly, and they had no internet connection.

I’m sorry to hear that. But any more:  I’m not surprised. So if you see me in some airport around the country lugging around my laptop, and a projector, and even a small case of speakers, you’ll understand why.

What’s the one jury you definitely don’t want to serve on?

It’s not a homicide prosecution, or a lengthy federal trial.

No, it’s the drama jury for the Pulitzer Prize. At least as a member of the jury on a homicide or any other trial, you’d get listened to in the end. As a member of the drama jury for the Pulitzer, you’re likely to do your service and then get utterly ignored. That’s the ignominious pattern of the drama jury. Here’s Charles McNulty on how that feels.

 They’re all good, but I have a special fondness for:

• WeightNags, which sends dieters mildly abusive weekly messages to “encourage” them
• the company that offers testicular implants for dogs, to “allow your pet to retain his natural look [and] self esteem”
• and the drive-through strip joint in New Alexandria, Pennsylvania. Because, you know, men in New Alexandria, Pennsylvania are so busy they don’t know whether they’re coming or going.

Click here to see them all.

Next to my laptop here at home, my daughter just the agenda for my Saturday night meeting here;  “Agenda for Saturday Fringe Meeting.” She said, “You had a Fringe meeting?” and shuddered.

No, not that Fringe.  (Although I did tell her yes, we’re conducting radical experiments in the basement. When she noted that we don’t have a basement, I answered, “You haven’t seen it because we’re keeping it in the other dimension.”) This Fringe:  The Hollywood Fringe festival.

The festival is June something to something (click the link above to learn more). Consider this your advance notice to hang onto the evening of Saturday, June 17th. That’s when a bunch of us from Moving Arts are going to do some instant and impossible new plays all around the grounds of a noted landmark in Hollywood. More details to follow.

There’s a difference between horror and hilarity. Whoever is behind this movie doesn’t know what it is. Which means that if I were 20 years old and had a keg of beer, three pizzas, and a roomful of friends, this is the movie I would rent.

I’m tempted to say that this singing style must leave the singer feeling hoarse.

Werner Herzog has a new movie out, “My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done?” Here’s Roger Ebert’s review. He likes it enormously — and makes it sound similar in tone and style to Herzog’s smashing (to me!) film of last year, “Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans.” (Or however that’s punctuated.) Which means I’ll be seeing this movie too. Eagerly. Ebert’s lede about the new film provides a thrilling reminder of why I adored the previous one:

Werner Herzog’s “My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done” is a splendid example of a movie not on autopilot. I bore my readers by complaining about how bored I am by formula movies that recycle the same moronic elements. Now here is a film where Udo Kier’s eyeglasses are snatched from his pocket by an ostrich, has them yanked from the ostrich’s throat by a farmhand, gets them back all covered with ostrich mucus, and tells the ostrich, “Don’t you do that again!”

I too am tired of formula, and cheer Herzog for violating it. Or ignoring it. Or misunderstanding it. Or all three.

Earlier in the week, Ebert also supplied this sublime appreciation of Herzog and, specifically, “Aguirre, Wrath of God.” And it now occurs to me that it was watching Siskel & Ebert, 28 years ago, that turned me onto “Fitzcarraldo,” and therefore Werner Herzog. Siskel didn’t like it, but Ebert’s passion for it, accompanied by the sort of strange but compelling clip so typical of Herzog,  compelled me to see it. I owe Mr. Ebert a debt of gratitude.

Q: After learning of potentially deadly problems with their accelerator pedals, when should Toyota executives have disclosed them?

After Watergate, after Iran-contra, after the Roman Catholic sex abuse cases, after Monica Lewinsky, after Scooter Libby, after whatever John Edwards is up to this week, after all this and more, you would think that finally, finally, people would realize that the cover-up will always be uncovered and that they would just be better off to come clean immediately.

In the case of Toyota, we should herald company spokesman Irv Miller, who apparently pushed for full disclosure while others wanted to keep it quiet.