Nostalgia for past includes missing record players and more

They just don't make nostalgia like they used to.

Remember when old people talked about listening to "The Lone Ranger" on the radio? Or recalling when they paid 10 cents to go to the movies on Saturdays? How about when they romanticized played kick the can or stickball?

Ah, the good old days.

They're still here. If you talk to enough older people, you'll hear about playing outside until the street lights came on (not possible where I lived, since there were no streetlights. As far as I can tell, my fellow neighborhood kids are still out there playing, now in their 60s). You'll hear about black-and-white TVs and three TV networks. You'll hear about cars with manual transmissions and people smoking in movie theaters.

Those were the days, my friend.

But listen to people who aren't quite old (a generation younger than me) and you'll likely hear laments about bygone technologies, some of which they're fighting to bring back. Nostalgia now is for how the world operated around 1980 or 1990.

Example No. 1: People miss record players or stereo systems that play vinyl records (spelling challenge for me: I know there's a "y" in vinyl, but often try to put it after the "v." It might be vynil? Vynyl?). According to a recent survey by the YouGov folks, 42% of Americans miss vinyl records and want to use them again and another 27% miss them, but don't necessarily want to do them again. That's 69% of respondents!

Vinyl records are missed. However, they're still available for sale – not just at garage sales and used record stores (arguably the greatest stores of the 1980s). Many artists release new records on vinyl, too – hoping to catch the part of the market that thinks they sound better that way (do they? I have no idea. What I do know is that you can't leave a vinyl record in your car on a hot day without it warping. That's a lesson I learned after ruining three or four albums that cost $7.99 or $9.99 each).

Technology moves very fast: We went from vinyl records to cassettes to CDs to streaming back to vinyl in about 30 years. Other technologies (smartphones, cars) advance even faster. Nostalgia now comes quicker than it did for the kick-the-can generation (who would also tell you about carhops and ration books and World War II).

Life in the 21st century, as Ferris Bueller said 40 years ago (!), moves pretty fast.

Want more insight? YouGov's survey asked what we miss and what we don't. For simplicity sake, I'll combine the figures of the "I miss it and want to use it again" and "I miss it but don't want to use it again" into a catchall category I cleverly call . . . "I miss it."

Using that metric, 59% of us miss CD players (still available at second-hand stores!), 58% of us miss digital cameras, 57% of us miss DVD players and 57% of us miss film cameras.

They all seem great if you don't remember CD and DVD players skipping or when half of your photos were out of focus (in film cameras) or the extra work (carrying around a digital camera).

Some other technologies are missed by more than half of us. At least 50% of the population misses iPods/portable mp3 players (53%), handheld video game consoles (51%) and cassette tape players (51%).

The point isn't that all technology used to be better. It wasn't. Technology almost always advances because we find something better. That's true even if years or decades later, we consider the original better than the replacement.

However, there are some technologies that people are happy to leave behind. It's unsurprising that dial-up internet service, floppy disks and pagers are technologies we're most happy to be rid of, with 81% of us glad to be done with dial-up, 68% of us happy to not have to insert floppy disks or and the same number happy to see a number on a pager, have to find a pay phone and call the person to whom we're selling drugs (I'm guessing here. The only time we used a pager was to know when our first son's birthmother went into labor.).

At least half the population is also happy to be done with fax machines, rotary-dial telephones, non-smartphone cellphones and payphones – a category I call "dumbphones." We love the advance of the smartphone, which is also arguably an improvement over vinyl albums and record players for music. Modern smartphones also address the lack of CD players, DVD players, handheld video game consoles, cassette players, digital cameras and nearly everything else on this list.

I get the nostalgia. Record albums (and used record stores!) felt more real than a streaming device. Digital cameras felt like they gave us more control over our photos.

But when it comes down to it, I'll take my smartphone. To the others? As John Waite sang on a vinyl record that I had and ultimately used a special device to transform into an mp3 for my iPod, "I ain't missing you at all."

Then I left the record in my car and it got warped.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

We're on the brink of the world's most popular holiday

Labor Day is called a lot of things. The unofficial end of summer. The least patriotic of our three major summer holidays. An overlooked holiday and perhaps the most expendable of the "most people get a day off" holidays.

Here's what most people don't say about Labor Day: It's the most popular holiday in the world.

That's based on the number of people living in countries where variations of Labor Day are a federal holiday. In other words, the first Monday in September isn't the most popular holiday, Labor Day is.

Labor Day topping the widest-celebrated holiday list may come as a surprise in a world where Christmas dominates an entire month and Thanksgiving ushers in what we call "the holiday season." But Thanksgiving and Christmas aren't the most popular holidays in the world. That becomes obvious when you recognize the purpose of each of them.

Thanksgiving is a strange attempt to celebrate thankfulness (a noble cause) by pretending to imitate a meal eaten over a long weekend 405 years ago that was nothing like what we do now. I'm not sure what exactly happened on that first Thanksgiving, but I'm certain the Detroit Lions and Dallas Cowboys didn't have home games that day.

Christmas isn't the most popular holiday because so much of the world isn't culturally Christian. China isn't. Most Arab countries aren't. Just take China (population 1.4 billion) out and you eliminate 17% of the world's population. (Side note: Did you realize that India surpassed China as the world's most populous country? It has 1.5 billion people and moved into the top spot in 2023.)

Anyway, when considering the most popular holiday it's Labor Day. Which is Monday. Except . . .

Well, for most of the world, Labor Day isn't the first Monday in September. For most the world, Labor Day (or Labour Day in places where they spell things wrong) is May 1. May Day.

May Day is a holiday for 5.8 billion people across the globe, edging out Christmas, which is a holiday for 5.5 million people. Add our Labor Day to the May Day total and you're past 6 billion celebrants.

So Labor Day is the biggest holiday in the world. Here in the United States and in Canada, it's celebrated in September, while England doesn't celebrate it at all, apparently still in the clutches of the pre-conversion Ebeneezer Scrooge's business plan.

In case you're wondering, New Year's Day (4.3 billion people) is third and no other holiday is celebrated by more than 4 billion people. Not even Pi Day (March 14) and May the 4th (be with you!), which are celebrated by English-speaking nerds.

Another thing I learned in an article about holidays: Most countries have 12 to 14 public holidays and the United States has 11. We're in the middle.

Two nations – Somalia and Uruguay – have less than five and a few (including Japan) have 25 or more. The biggest holiday-granting government? Nepal, where I had several jokes available before the late-August floods. Trust me, they were funny, but not appropriate now. Suffice it to say, Nepal has 31 national days off.

So how will you mark the most popular holiday in the world? A barbecue? A picnic? 

Personally, I think the best way to celebrate the world's most popular holiday is to do what people in the rest of the world do.

Dance around a May pole. Crown a May queen. Hold a massive military parade to commemorate the power of the Soviet Army. We may celebrate Labor Day on the wrong day, but there's no reason we should ignore the traditions that make the holiday so popular.

I bet people in Nepal get a week off for Labor Day and workers in Uruguay and Somalia probably have to work double shifts.

We live in 11-holiday America, so be grateful for our final holiday of summer, even if we celebrate it four months late. And enjoy your May pole dance.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

 

Counting down the greatest mascots, including Crazy Crab and Mr. Met

Earlier this summer, Jimothy became an internet star. He is a short-bodied, hunchbacked raccoon filmed in a Seattle neighborhood by a woman whose video generated millions of views.

She named him Jimothy because "he looks like a Jimothy," which is as good a reason for a name as any.

Jimothy was a big thing, but I wasn't aware of him until the Seattle Mariners added "Jimothy" to the "salmon race" they hold at every home game and several of their players began wearing "Jimothy" T-shirts emblazoned with his image.

I thought Jimothy was a new mascot, but it turns out he isn't. However, he got me to thinking . . . even without Jimothy, what are the greatest mascots in sports history?

A local angle: When the Solano Steelheads minor league baseball team played in Vacaville, "Sammy the Steelhead" was a good mascot. Daily Republic writer Jess Sullivan donned the costume for reasons I don't remember (was it for an article? Probably, but knowing what newspaper reporters earned, it could have been a side gig). After the Steelheads folded, the Solano Thunderbirds collegiate team came to town and their mascot (Travis the Thunderbird? Something like that) was a step down – particularly because the kid in the uniform would walk around with the mascot head thrown back so he could breathe, leaving Travis looking like he'd been decapitated. I suspect there were children who were traumatized by Travis (if that was indeed his name).

However, this rabbit trail led me to this point: What are the greatest mascots in major league sports history? Here are my top eight:

8. The Coyote. Ever since I heard someone say that the San Antonio Spurs mascot looks like a guy who is paranoid because he's high on drugs, I've been amused by this mascot. His bug-eyed look draws you in and keeps you watching him, despite the action on the court.

7. King Cake Baby. The New Orleans Pelicans mascot is the stuff of nightmares, a baby that looks like it comes from a horror movie. He's based on the plastic "babies" found in king cakes during Mardi Gras. In a world filled with puppet-looking mascots, King Cake Baby looks more like an old-school baby doll: One that would threaten to kill you right after your parents went to sleep.

6. Gritty. The Philadelphia Flyers mascot looks like a crazed Muppet, one that might pull out a switchblade and stab, then mock you. Something about Philadelphia makes for great mascots and Gritty – who debuted in 2018 – is the best recent addition to the mascot world..

5. Crazy Crab. The anti-mascot, created for the San Francisco Giants, with the idea of him being terrible. It worked. Crazy Crab would come on the field in the mid-1980s and fans would boo and throw things at him. Kudos to the Giants for opting against mimicking what the Padres and Phillies had done (see below) and choosing a road less traveled. The Giants now have Lou Seal, who is a pretty good mascot, but a pretty average mascot.

4. Mr. Met. An original member of the organization, created shortly after the Mets joined the National League in 1962. Mr. Met is a large baseball with a cap on his head. The name is brilliant, as is the fact that there is also a Mrs. Met. Earlier this year, Mr. Met won my heart by doing goofy moves behind a sportscaster who was sharing somber news that the team fired manager Carlos Mendoza.

3. San Diego Chicken. The O.G. modern mascot. The chicken originally worked for San Diego radio station KGW, but soon was present at nearly every pro sports event in San Diego. The man in the suit (Ted Giannoulas) was fired by the radio station, lawsuits followed and the character (performed by Giannoulas) was reborn as "The Famous Chicken," appearing at games and on TV shows. The chicken was a master of physical humor and was the precursor for modern mascots.

2. Phillie Phanatic. He was San Diego Chicken 2.0, arriving two years after the chicken broke through. The difference? The Phanatic is still here, 50 years later. He's funny and likable and absurd. Also, it's not clear what he is. Well, maybe it is clear: He's a phanatic.

1. The Tree. Leave it to Stanford University to have the most nonsensical mascot of all – a tree. However, its googly eyes and the fact that it was involved in the greatest mascot brawl in history (in 1995, with Oski the Bear, the mascot for the University of California) gives it street cred. Stanford's team are called the Cardinal (after the color, not the bird) and the mascot is a tree. Of course it doesn't make sense.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

The secret way to bring joy to your job – at least for me

The old saying, "find a job you love and you'll never work a day in your life," was likely spoken by someone who never worked. However, if you can find a part of your job you love, that makes it seem less like work.

At least that's my philosophy. I've been fortunate enough to have jobs I've like since I landed my first newspaper job at age 21 – and really, I liked most of my jobs before that. But newspapers and writing (even for a non-newspaper) are fun to me.

But you know what's more fun? And you know what I've been doing since I landed my first newspaper job?

Pasting heads of people on other people's bodies in photos. Over and over and over.

If my LinkedIn profile was accurate, the first listed skill would be, "pasting co-workers or friends' heads on the bodies of people in photos." I'd have 40 years' experience, using scissors and tape; Photoshop; the Microsoft Paint app; Copilot and whatever else is needed.

Few things make me laugh more than a ridiculous image where a co-worker's head is pasted on the body of a 3-year-old blowing out candles to celebrate a birthday. Or pasting a friend's head on a body in the background of a crowd celebrating Richard Nixon's election. Or pasting a photo of my head as a child on the body of Black Panther Party member protesting in the late 1960s.

I was a sports writer for 20 years. I was a news writer for an additional six years. I've been a business writer for nearly 12 years. I've been a columnist for 40 years.

But ask people who work with me what I do and one of the first things they'll tell you is that I make ridiculous images by placing the heads of people I know on bodies in photos.

Find a job you love and you'll never work a day in your life.

I got my start doing this as a boy sports writer, with Ted and Mike – my first two professional co-workers and mentors, who were amused by the over-enthusiastic guy who added their heads to black-and-white photos that came off the printer from The Associated Press.

It continued at the Daily Republic. In the sports department, I hung a huge poster of the cover of The National, the short-lived national sports newspaper, with my head pasted over that of legendary auto racer A.J. Foyt. The reason? The headline said, "The toughest SOB in sports." It remains in my possession.

When my son Chad (who is now 35) was a baby, I'd routinely add his head to bodies of politicians – Jerry Brown, Bill Clinton and other 1990s figures. Lil' Chad would be speaking to Congress or shaking hands with the Senate Majority Leader.

I have no idea why this so amuses me. I know it also amuses my co-workers, but they get nowhere near the joy out of my shenanigans as I do. I suspect it sometimes irritates them.

But . . . man, it's funny to put someone's head on a body that doesn't belong to them. AI makes it simpler, which somehow makes it less satisfying. Still, I've created images of co-workers that way (my favorites include one of a friend wearing a superhero cape and another with former Daily Republic writer and current co-worker Nick DeCicco hugging the American flag like Donald Trump did several years ago.)

For someone who is fortunate enough to spend more than 40 years doing something he likes and being paid, it's curious that pasting heads on bodies brings me so much joy. It wouldn't be enough to make an untenable job fun – something I know from experience – but in my 60s, I'm as amused by my own stupidity as I was in my 20s.

It just goes to show you: Things tangential to our jobs – relationships, problem-solving, moments of unexpected fun, organized non-work activities (early in my days as the DR sports editor, we would have nightly, wild chair races around the building after deadline, something that surely violated OSHA rules but hopefully is beyond the statute of limitations), pasting photos of people's heads on other photos – are often what we remember the most.

As we always say, find a job that lets you do something that regularly amuses you and you'll still work a lot, but you'll have more fun.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Wading into the food wars on whether hamburgers are sandwiches, other hot-button issues

It's perhaps the most divisive issue in modern America society, more so than whether we should defund ICE, whether Hermione Granger should have married Harry Potter or if there should be rule changes in baseball to re-emphasize starting pitchers.

The divisive issue, of course, is whether a hamburger is a sandwich. You've probably heard the arguments on each side. 

On one side, you have, "Of one side, of course it's a sandwich, since a 'sandwich' is portable food made up of two slices of bread with a filling between them. That describes a hamburger!"

On the other side, "It's not a sandwich, because it's a hamburger. They're different things, you nitwit."

The good news for the pro-sandwich group: A significant majority of Americans surveyed (73%) agree that a hamburger is a sandwich. The bad news? Only 40% of those surveyed say a hot dog is a sandwich –  and what is a hot dog if not a hamburger with a frankfurter substituted for a hamburger patty?

Great food debates are fun, because we often have strong feelings that are backed by such facts as "it has its own section in most menus," or "if you'd never heard of it before, you'd consider it a sandwich" or "they're different things, you nitwit!"

There are, of course, debates that go beyond the Great Sandwich Divide. And of course the people at yougov.com asked Americans about them. I'm here to settle these issues once and for all, regardless of whether my view is popular. Being right isn't always popular and being popular doesn't make you right. Remember that tanning beds were seen as healthy, that "Out of Africa" won the best picture Oscar the same year "The Color Purple" was nominated and that Jesse Ventura was elected governor of Minnesota. Temporary popularity does not translate to being correct.

Anyhoo, back to food. let's start with the first question: Are hamburgers and hot dogs sandwiches? The correct answer is no, you nitwit. See above.

Another issue is whether sandwiches should be cut diagonally, horizontally or neither (another argument against hamburgers as "sandwiches." Only a sociopath would cut a hamburger in two). A plurality of Americans choose diagonally, which makes sense if most Americans are 4 years old. (When my youngest son was 4, he cried when I gave him a sandwich cut horizontally and wanted me to cut it "like Connie," who watched him two days a week and apparently cut it diagonally. My stance may be rooted in the trauma of that event).

Another issue: Do you like ketchup on eggs? Ketchup is our greatest condiment, despite another survey in which deranged Americans picked peanut butter for that honor. However, ketchup is not appropriate on eggs, which don't need additional flavor. Fifty-seven percent of Americans agree with me (the first time that's been true since I argued in 1977 that "Happy Days" was the greatest-ever TV show) and only 32% like or love ketchup on eggs. Not coincidentally, that's roughly the same percentage of people who think the moon landing was staged (and it may be the same people. No offense, of course, you nitwits).

Whether leftover pizza needs to be reheated is another issue on which we lack unity. Should you eat leftover pizza cold, straight out of the refrigerator, or must you heat it up? This one has an easy answer: You can heat it up if you want, but it's fine (better) cold. I'm right on this for two reasons: I worked at a pizza parlor for nearly five years, making me an expert on the subject. Also, there was the old ESPN morning show, "Cold Pizza." The show wasn't great, but the name was a nod to the fact that leftover pizza can/should be eaten cold. My opinion is not mainstream – two-thirds of respondents have been influenced by Big Microwave and reheat their pizza, a gigantic waste of energy.

There are plenty of other issues discussed in the survey, including whether cilantro tastes like soap (correct answer. No. Soap tastes better). 

But we'll conclude with a question I've never considered and one that shows that there is a certain percentage of Americans whose brains are wired wrong. The survey-takers asked in what order you should fill a bowl while having cereal and milk. Shockingly, 4% of us put milk in the bowl, then add cereal. Do those same people put Parmesan cheese on a plate, then add spaghetti? Do they put salt in a bag, then add French fries? Do they put cookies on the counter and then pour milk over the top? Do they put ketchup on a plate and then dump scrambled eggs on top?

Perhaps most importantly, do they consider hamburgers sandwiches, cut them diagonally and then reheat them with their pizza?

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

 

(Irrational) confidence and the ability to escape a sinking car or score a World Cup goal

I first heard the phrase "irrational confidence" about 15 years ago, from famed sports writer Bill Simmons, who used it describe NBA players who assumed they could make any shot, often without solid supporting evidence.

J.R. Smith was irrationally confident. So was Nick Young. Trae Young remains irrationally confident.

Irrationally confident players have a swagger. They're charming because they're sure they're the best player on the court, regardless of evidence. One of my favorite all-time irrationally confident players was former Celtics forward Antoine Walker, whom a sports writer once asked, "Why do you shoot so many threes (three-point shots)?" to which Walker replied, "because there aren't fours."

There are many irrationally confident humans beyond the NBA. To no one's surprise, most of them are male.

A recent YouGov survey asked Americans how well they think they would do in various challenging situations: Could they pass the U.S. citizenship test, perform CPR on a person whose heart has stopped, survive a week alone in the wilderness or safely land a passenger airplane relying only on air traffic control assistance? You know, the type of situations that have been the plot for hundreds of movies and TV show episodes over the years and are ridiculous every time.

In virtually all those situations – particularly those that involve something that 12-year-old boys pretend to do – men were far more confident of their ability to succeed than women. Compared to women, men were 10% more confident that they could do a stranger's job for a day. They were 23% more confident (more than twice as much) that they could escape from an underwater, sinking car. They were 15% more confident that they could survive a week being lost at sea on a life raft.

Let's be clear: This is not suggesting that 41% of men could successfully escape a sinking car or that 46% of men could survive a week alone in the wilderness.

That's the percentage of men who think they could. Because most men (including me) have an unearned confidence in our ability to do hard things, mostly because we've watched someone do it on TV and have critiqued their performance from our couch. ("You have to give the plane plenty of runway to land, dummy!" we shout at an actor pretending to land a plane.)

I've broached this subject before and I don't know the correct takeaway. Are men are absurdly self-confident? Should women should be more brash in their assessment of their abilities?

In the survey, there were a few situations where women were more confident than men. More women thought they could perform CPR on a person whose heart stopped. More women thought they could deliver a baby in an emergency (still, 27% of men said they could, which seems absurd).

Some of the options seemed like they were dreamed up by a 12-year-old boy (or me): Could you hotwire a car in under a minute? Could you beat a chimpanzee in a fight if you were unarmed? Could you successfully navigate to a destination using only the stars?

Of course, more men than women thought they could do each of those. (I'm not sure I even want to talk to the 12% of men who thought they could win a fight against a chimpanzee.)

The YouGov people also broke down the information by different demographics. Unsurprisingly, Republicans were more confident that they could perform most challenging tasks (MAOA: Make America Overconfident Again). Older people are more confident that they could perform emergency medical tasks (a Heimlich maneuver or perform CPR), likely because we were trained on how to do that 40 years ago and still think we could do it.

Confidence is a strange trait. It's painful to watch someone who lacks confidence, but it's irritating to watch someone who is overconfident. I love watching irrationally confident athletes or kids (I'm forever amused by 10-year-olds who think they can do things that they clearly are incapable of doing), but am bugged by overconfident regular adults.

While my confidence level is admittedly closer to irrational than underconfident, when I look at the list of options provided in the survey, I suspect the only ones in which I could succeed are doing a random person's job for a day (presuming it was something easy) and beat a chess grandmaster in a single game.

Explanation of the second point: I don't play chess, but that question doesn't say the "game" is chess. I think I could beat a chess grandmaster in a single game of Uno or Trouble, if we played enough times. (An area in which I have supreme confidence: The ability to find loopholes in phrases that allow me to succeed.)

Oh, and a few weeks after the first survey, YouGov released another survey at the end of the World Cup, asking whether people thought they could score on a penalty kick in a World Cup match. The survey revealed that 24% of men believe they could accomplish that ridiculous feat, while 15% of women thought they could.

The most confident group? Fifty-eight percent of Republican men under 45 said they could score in that scenario. I can only assume they would do so after landing a passenger airplane with air traffic control help, then escaping a sinking car on the way to the World Cup match.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

In an era of social isolation, board games are still popular

I've never finished a game of Monopoly. Maybe I'm impatient. Maybe I'm a bad landlord. Maybe I'm opposed to evaluating property based on its cash value.

Maybe I don't really understand the rules and can't strategize properly. But across decades of life, I've never fully finished America's most popular board game. Like Teddy Roosevelt (I'm interpreting history loosely here), I just want to break up monopolies, not try to build one.

Fortunately, I'm not as strident about other board games. Trouble? Sure, I'll play it. Scrabble? I'll try (and lose to Mrs. Brad). Checkers? Of course. Yahtzee? Absolutely, so I can yell "Yahtzee!" even if I don't get one. Sorry? I would if I ever had the game, just to say "Sorr-rry" to my opponent.

It turns out that most Americans enjoy board games. Or tolerate them, with 21% saying they love board games and 44% liking them. That's according to the folks at YouGov, who should get paid for being sources of numerous columns for me each year.

For those of us who think of "board games" as an old-fashioned form of entertainment, there's a counterintuitive result: The older you get, the less likely you are to say you love board games. The people who love them the most are those under 30, the people who love them the least are 65 and older.

Of course, the survey also asked about other ways to play games, including on their phones or video games (either on a computer or a console). All of those were more popular than board games, which are, of course, played on a 2-by-4 piece of wood if I understand correctly correct. That's why checkers is so hard: Balancing the game board on a 2-by-4 is a challenge!

Anyhoo, far more Americans say that winning board games is "somewhat important" than those who say it's "very important." That's a distinction that might be handy to know before you play Candy Land or Battleship with someone, right?

(Side note: While I'm not super competitive–which is what super competitive people always say, I guess–I tend to subscribe to the philosophy that President Obama shared with NBA star Anthony Edwards on a video promoting his new library: "What do you call someone who doesn't mind losing? A loser.")

When it comes to what board games Americans play, it's good to see that the traditional games remain the most played. Among those that have been played "many times" by people, the leaders are Monopoly (again, I've never finished a game), checkers, Scrabble, Connect Four and Yahtzee. Also in the top 10 are Battleship and The Game of Life, both of which have tiny plastic pieces that are easily dropped and lost forever to the vacuum.

A few games have big differences in how popular they are with older and younger people. The games that are much more popular with older Americans include Yahtzee, Trivial Pursuit and Backgammon. Games that are much more popular with younger Americans include Snakes and Ladders, Mancala and Codenames, none of which I know (although I'm now learning that Snakes and Ladders is a more lethal version of Chutes and Ladders).

In many ways, the survey results should be good news. During an era when we're constantly told that people are becoming more isolated and there is less social interaction, a majority of Americans like playing games that require you to sit with someone for a while, talk and consider strategy.

Of course, some are really a waste of time as you roll dice and keep landing on some old-timey property name that your cousin knew to buy and has built a bunch of homes (hotels? Something), making it cost more to stay there than you have left in your bank account.

I presume. I've never played long enough to get to that point, because Monopoly is stupid.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Colons: A useful tool in writing or a canary in the AI coal mine?

 

Artificial intelligence may need a colonoscopy.

Not the kind you think of that involves the nasty preparation. I'm speaking about the punctuation mark: Two periods, stacked on top of each other to indicate that you're introducing a list, an explanation, a quotation or are giving examples.

Let me talk out of school (a saying I've never fully understood: I know what it means, but I don't know why "talking out of school" would mean sharing insider information. Were we supposed to never talk about school subjects when we were outside of the school walls? Was learning about the 50 states or how to determine the area of a triangle or how to conjugate verbs some secret that we were supposed to keep from our parents? "Talking out of school": Weird saying).

Anyway, let me get to the point on colons: At my workplace, I often review work done by others (not professional writers) and I can tell when they used the company-approved AI tool. People smarter than me (definition of "people smarter than me": Nearly everyone) probably have other examples of how AI writes, but the most obvious to me is the love of colons in writing headlines or subject lines (one possibility: It's informed by the other work done within our company, so colons are already prevalent).

The AI tendency echoes the growing trend among media companies, who have learned that colons can save space in headlines – or make something seem more dramatic. If the president says the economy is doing well, one headline could be "President says economy is doing well," while another seems more dramatic: "President: Economy doing well."

At newspapers, colons are handy because you limited space (measured by columns) to write headlines (A favorite headline as a sports editor: "A's/tip/M's." You could use large type for that one, even over one column!) But more and more media sites are online only and they have more room for headlines (or "titles" as nonjournalists will often call them. When that happens, journalists snicker and mock you. Journalists: Snarky jerks).

I'm not opposed to colons, because they're handy. But when I look at an article with a series of subheads that all have colons, I suspect that person used AI to write the subheads.

When it comes down to it, colons are handy and are easy to rewrite. You can take the colon-filled title and just add a few words and make it work. Again, I'm not opposed to colons.

Now time for a side trip: I'm strongly opposed to semicolons, the shape-shifters of the punctuation world. There's an official purpose for semicolons: Linking two independent sentences that are closely related or to separate items in a list that already has commas.

The second one is obvious: "He eats peanut butter, banana and jelly sandwiches; jelly beans; pizza; cheese and crackers; and cold cereal." The first? Who determines whether the sentences are independent and closely related? Not me.

The official Stanhope System for Semicolons: Use semicolons on lists that already have commas. Use long dashes to set off independent sentences that are closely related.

Merriam-Webster gives an example that I can also use to support the Stanhope System. They provide an example: "Semicolons are useful; they show that clauses are related in meaning." I would rewrite that as "Semicolons are useful – they show that clauses are related in meaning." Stanhope System: Dashes are better than semicolons.

Back to AI in writing. I presume some AI writing is good (my guess is that I've read many things – not necessarily at work, but in the wild – that are well-written and by AI). Side note: I prefer dashes to parentheses, although I used both in the previous sentence. Anyway, to continue a paragraph that could be a longer sentence with the proper use of semicolons, colons are helpful, but also a signal that you may be relying on something else to do your work.

Colons: A possible canary in the coal (colon?) mine for headlines and titles for writers.

Colons: I've now used 20 in this column.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Changing American football's name, learning cultures and other World Cup lessons

The world's greatest sporting event concludes today with the finals of soccer's World Cup.

That's a major concession from someone who spent years mocking those who said soccer was becoming a major American sport. Sure. Just like tennis in the 1970s. Or pickleball. Or ultimate frisbee. Or cornhole.

Soccer, I insisted, would always have a place in our sports world – played primarily by children or by adults who grew up in a country where it was the main sport. But 99% of soccer players would turn to another sport (or quit) once they hit high school. It would perpetually be popular among elementary school kids and their parents, but that's it.

I was wrong.

I still don't fully understand soccer, but having watched yet another World Cup, I acknowledge its place among the world's (and America's) great sports. Further, I think the World Cup tops the Olympics as a worldwide sports spectacle.

Here are six truths that have been cemented during the past several weeks.

1. Doubters were wrong about soccer. See above. I'm not alone in thinking soccer was doomed to perpetually be a second-, third- or fourth-level sport in the United States. It's now in the top tier.

2. We should call soccer "fútbol" and "football" should be called something else. This contradicts the long-held belief of many Americans that "soccer" is the right name and football is played on a 100-yard field with two teams of 11 players (wait. That sounds suspiciously like soccer. Maybe "while wearing shoulder pads and helmets" should be added). But fútbol is a game where you play primarily with your feet. We call that "soccer," a name that doesn't make sense. Henceforth, we should call "soccer" fútbol and the sport previously called football should be . . . well, in baseball, the goal is to get on base; in basketball, the goal is to put the ball in the basket. So American football should be "endzoneball?" Maybe "touchdownball?" Let's workshop it with the understanding that the name will change.

3. This is a great way to learn about other cultures. The venues in which I've learned the most about other nations are the Olympics and the World Cup. That's where I learn where countries are (is Cabo Verde near South America or Africa? Where is Curacao? Is Bosnia and Herzegovina really a country and not two countries? Where in Africa is Tunisia?). It's where I learn what drives a nation's people (just watch how they dress and what they do while chanting). All cultures are deeper than the surface-level understanding I get from the World Cup, but a surface-level understanding is better than what we had before.

4. The rules are confusing to newcomers. One observer explained soccer's (fútbol's) offside rule thusly: "If something exciting happens, it's an offside." That is not really true, it just seemed that way for much of the World Cup. But isn't that true for other sports? What constitutes pass interference in American football (aka touchdownball)? What is a balk in baseball? What's the difference between a Flagrant 1 and Flagrant 2 foul in basketball? The best part of the rules is how quickly ignorant American observers (like me) become outraged over decisions concerning rules we don't understand. I don't understand red cards, but I know when one shouldn't be given, even if I'm wrong.

5. Visitors love our culture. One of the best outcomes for Americans hosting the 2026 World Cup is the number of visitors who created buzz with their love of under-the-radar American culture. People from other countries are amazed by our huge grocery stores, our gas stations, getting free chips at Mexican restaurants and perhaps most striking, by how fantastic ranch dressing tastes. They've shared how welcoming we are and how fun we are. That's been a refreshing change.

6. Games (and goals) matter immensely. Fútbol is like the NFL in that each game carries so much weight (baseball, hockey and basketball have long seasons where even the great teams lose 15% to 30% of their games). In the World Cup (and even in European and South American fútbol leagues), each game is huge. It matters. And goals are rare. If you're down 2-0 in the World Cup, it's like trailing 28-3 in the Super Bowl (sorry, Atlanta Falcons). 

The World Cup ends today and won't be back for four years (hosted by Morocco, Portugal and Spain – with Uruguay, Argentia and Paraguay each getting one game). But this year's tournament has reminded us how sports can teach us about each other and about the world. Even this year's National Touchdownball League season – where the 49ers will try to get back to the Super Bowl – won't change that.

Viva fútbol!

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

If you have a bad shoulder, don't feel bad. Everyone does

I was recently watching a senior citizen walk around while he was  hunched slightly forward, hands behind his back. (Do we use the term "senior citizen" anymore? This person was likely in his 80s, so he probably wouldn't be offended by the term since he was born around World War II, when we fought to preserve the right to use broad terms for people groups.)

Will I someday walk like that? I'll undoubtedly walk slower as I age and if I live long enough, I'll likely someday need a cane and then a walker and then an assistant to push me around in a wheelchair, like that used by Mr. Potter in "It's a Wonderful Life." But will I walk around with my hands behind my back, like Groucho Marx? (In case you're not keeping score, I've so far referenced World War II, "It's a Wonderful Life" and Groucho Marx. Modern culture!)

The answer (the question again: Will I walk around with my hands behind my back?) is an unconditional no.

Not because I'll be too spry to walk like that. Or because I'll feel like it looks old or anything like that. The reason I won't walk like that is that it would hurt my shoulders too much.

I don't have terrible shoulders in the way a former pitcher or painter or gymnast might have (do painters have bad shoulders? It seems like they should). But I've had my share of shoulder trouble (I had a "frozen shoulder" around the time the pandemic started, a common, a very uncomfortable thing where your shoulder really hurts and takes three years to gradually get better).

If you're over 40, you've likely had some shoulder problems, although it's possible that you haven't talked to a doctor about it (about one-third of humans admit to shoulder pain, making it one of the most common medical complaints). If you're over 40, you've almost assuredly had some sort of damage to your shoulder – an opinion based on science.

Earlier this year, a study published by JAMA Internal Medicine (not related to Carl Carlson's 1981 hit, "She's a Bad Mama Jama," a pop culture reference that's only 45 years old, so much newer than Groucho Marx) reported that 99% of adults over 40 have at least one abnormality in a rotator cuff, based on magnetic resonance imaging.

More than 99% of us have damaged shoulders!

The study concluded that not all rotator cuff injuries hurt. The authors suggested that doctors using MRIs to diagnose shoulder pain could leave to unnecessary treatment, since everyone has shoulder damage.

My conclusion was different: 99% of us have shoulder injuries!

So how can so many old people walk around hunched slightly forward with their hands clasped behind their backs? Doesn't it hurt? It hurts me!

First, some basics if you're not a doctor. Or if like me, your understanding of rotator cuffs ends with the knowledge that a torn rotator cuff leads to surgery for baseball pitchers.

The rotator cuff is not a single thing; it's a group of tendons and muscles that keep the upper arm bone in your shoulder socket. Damage to it can cause pain. Or not.

The study in question was based on information on patients in Finland (leading to colleagues of those who published the paper to continually ask, "Is it Finish(ed)?" and then laugh.) and included a variety of possible injuries to the rotator cuff, from degrees of tears to tendinopathy.

The study also showed that the older you got, the more likely you were to have more severe injuries to your rotator cuff, a finding that lines up with a recent conversation I had with a friend who is probably close to 70 and was coming off a torn rotator cuff that happened while he was opening a can of pickles.

He tore his rotator cuff taking the lid off a jar of pickles!

Alas, the study's findings didn't help me much. Although most older people don't walk around with hands behind their backs, enough do that it makes me think either they've somehow avoided hurting their shoulders or that they're tougher than me.

Or perhaps, as Groucho Marx once said, "Age is not a particularly interesting subject. Anyone can get old. All you have to do is live long enough."

And have some sort of rotator cuff injury.

Reach Brad Stanhope (but stretch before reaching) at bradstanhope@outlook.com.