This runner brings new meaning to having “the trots.”

Here are some fine examples of logo design gone very wrong. Given that we’re biologically programmed to see sex everywhere, and that that’s reinforced by advertising, you’d think someone would have noticed that most of these don’t stand up to, um, penetrating examination.

Sure, somebody else gets accidentally credited $92 quadrillion by PayPal. Why not me? I could certainly use that money, heading off to Comic Con as I am.

In which a policewoman in Long Branch, NJ responds to a call from residents complaining about “an old scruffy man acting suspiciously” — and winds up booking Bob Dylan on a stroll before his concert.

Favorite part: Even after he gave his name, she didn’t know who he was. Those kids today.

Here’s a joke I’ve shared with friends for years: When I die, I’ll know I’ve made it to Heaven if someone there says, “You’re just in time. We’re screening the new Buster Keaton film.”

Today, I almost got that wish. (Except without the dying part.) Someone has unearthed a different version of Keaton’s 1922 short, “The Blacksmith,” that’s a European version — one that is substantially different, with different scenes, than the ones we’ve seen.

Read the story.

Then imagine my jubilation. I can’t wait to see this restored.

Check them out here.

This week is Comic-Con. But before I get fully immersed in comic books, I thought I’d share this profile of comic writer Jack Handey (he of “Deep Thoughts”). Handey has a comic novel coming out, of which the title alone compels me (“The Stench of Honolulu”). I think I’m going to read that, and suspect at least a few of my friends might want to too. (RCR, are you listening?)

So, I own a marketing firm. One of the things we do when you’re a new client is this: We perform a search on you. Find out what we can, and how to improve it. In fact, when you call us up or email us to see about becoming a new client, in other words, even when you’re just a prospect, we do this. It just makes sense.

Which leaves me wondering why whoever it was who rebranded the professional services firm Ernst and Young didn’t do even the smallest search — even using this thing called “Google” — to see what “EY” might turn up, before they branded their client as “EY.”

What they might have found is that “EY” brings up a site for “sexy boys.”

An actor friend from New York was in town Monday night, so another theatre friend and I joined her for drinks. I proposed the Dresden Room, a favorite old haunt of mine, because it’s classic Hollywood, because neither of them had been there before, and because I thought the one friend might enjoy saying she’d had a drink where they shot so much of “Swingers” and so many other movies. Plus, I just like the joint. I only wish Marty and Elayne had been on that night, but they don’t play Mondays. (The guys who do Monday nights were pretty good, but completely lacked the wonderful kitsch and showmanship brought to the Dresden Room by Marty and Elayne for 31 years now).

Anyway, we had some drinks and a very nice time. My friend who’s local I get to see all the time, but the other one I get to see only once a year. Thoroughly enjoying myself, when the tab came, I decided just to pick it up. The drinks, plus tax and tip, ran $53.

Late this afternoon I had a drinks meeting at a lounge in Burbank. This was a business meeting, and also a friend meeting (as in, my one companion said, “Why do we always have to wait for business to socialize?” Precisely.). I ordered some appetizers, and then we ordered more appetizers, and we each had some drinks, all of it, it turned out, at happy hour prices. And it was a pretty happy hour — the end of a day successful in many ways (a good prognosis for my friend in the hospital who got released; a good bill of health on my dog, recovering from surgery; financially a good day; and more) that I was now celebrating while having this meeting, in preparation for something I’m starting in two weeks. That project is through my company, so I rightly figured I’d be picking up the tab. When I turned away, it turned out that one of my companions had already asked for the check and slipped the server his credit card. So he picked it all up. I watched as he signed it. The total: $53.

While I don’t believe in karma per se, I do believe that when you do something nice for no good reason, the next time someone does something nice for you, you tend to notice it better. And, hey, the coincidence of the dollar amount was certainly eye-catching.

Here’s something nice I’m going to do for you. Here’s Marty and Elayne. Next time you’re in town, you should check them out.