An update...

Well, it's been week since I experimented with abandoning three books in various locations about town all with a note directing comments via email to me. No luck. They were all picked up quickly, but not a word. Oh well. In two of the cases I suspected older people in on a grab, but one of them was at a college. That one, at least, I anticipated a greater probability for. Not giving up...just going to think about it some more. I want a response so I'll probably try dropping them in the tech friendliest places I can find...in a farming/rural town...so college again.

44: The Bunnies

This one's a treasure. There's the gorgeously pulpy pilot drawing washed with single tone. There's the full color shot of a lady, bra only in defense of nudity, through a salacious keyhole. She's even black as a surprise; book is from 65; you just don't find black women as objects of white lust without the book turning on a racial premise. This one is just a straightforward adventure where the lady per book just happens to be black. Neat. The hero calls her his chocolate bunny, thus the title.

Then, oh my god there's a wet fountain of homoerotic going on all over the back blurb. My man Peter Trees has got those itchy fingers, you know. Not only is he a pilot, he's also a shiny missile whose eruptions affect women and nations alike. Oh shiny missile man...you're going to melt your chocolate bunny you know.

43: Another old magazine #3

Just the last of these before getting back to books. This from a 1981 car magazine--corvettes are cool! I feel like no more than dust in the wind. Ugh, I should be able to do better than that, but cars just ain't my forte.

This was also won for the sum total of a penny delivered from a different seller from the last.

42: Another old magazine #2

From 2006, a magazine dedicated to the fine and ancient art of hunting with sticks that are thrown ever so quickly. Here's a better view as to the value of magazines. Only 5 years out of date with whatever technological advances that may have occurred in bow hunting and this old issue was bought for the sum total (including delivery) of one cent on Ebay. That's a game I like to play with the world. Just how much can I get for a mere penny delivered. Turns out...a lot, like over 170 discrete items won a lot. People are kinda not good at figuring out the value of things.

Sure, you know what the guy was thinking. At subscription rate, this issue cost him something around $1.66 (according to card inside). Now five years later the information is still valid; caribou and deer have failed to adapt to our bowhunting strategies in the meanwhile. This lack of understanding cost him $2.41 in postage for a penny earned and not really even that minus the fees inherent. Magazines are just worthless in a connected world.

41: An old magazine #1

There's nothing better to make you feel like an intellectual giant than to read old magazines. Take this 1969 sports mag...Tony Conigliaro's comeback? Yeah, like that's going to work, what were you thinking 1969? Foolish past, don't you know that I know you already?

Why do you even still exist magazine...though at least you give me nostalgia that has some weight to it. What little does a similar sports magazine of the this very week give me? The happenings of a few days past--not even long enough to cause that fun spark of "oh yeah, that existed" but only "yeah, I remember that when it mattered." In this case, I spent $4 for that spark

40: Killing Yourself to Live

Now I've had the opportunity to meet all sorts of authors. The kind I tend to read especially. But I made no greater fool of myself than the time I forced my company on Chuck Klosterman. At a sales convention (for books), I was headed towards my room when I see no other than Klosterman attempting entry into his own room. As would be expected, I essentially rape his personal space forcing myself into an impromptu discussion of his oldest book at the time he was promoting his first entry into fiction--about which I admitted to him that I had not read nor purchased.

This trainwreck continued as he continued to try and unlock the door only to admit defeat and suggest that he had the wrong room. At the very least he escaped despite my dreams...he was supposed to recognize that I wasn't like the other fans. I'm a little unique sunflower that would totally buy him a drink just to espouse like on ideas for hours. Nope he rejected and escaped.

It didn't matter. The next day, during the conference proper, I still forced a book into his hands at a chance encounter demanding/asking for the signature bit. He obliged and walked away. Now, a few years later what I have left is a reminder of how awkward I was to him and a dream deferred in misery/eliminated.

39: Spiced (a third attempt at giving away books in what I call subtle, but that others would only call awkward)

Okay, this is the last one for a while. I want to see if anyone will actually respond to my requests for comments before I try some other tact to force people to react to books. Anyway, this one I left in the town square on a bench. There were what are the typical assortment of society in a small town's square in the middle of the day...you know--the elderly, the infirm (mentally?), the got too much sociology on the brain college student. I think it was one of the elderly who took it.

I think I may have actually tried to read this one only to become bored at another's attempt at cooking.