Some scary opinions about Halloween

 Friday is Halloween, which means one thing: You need to remember to buy candy – and get something you enjoy, because there aren't nearly as many kids who come to your house as used to, right?

But there are two other things you need to decide – the two burning questions of the holiday.

• Should you dress up?
• At what age should kids stop trick-or-treating?

First things first: On Friday, plenty of people will dress up for the big day – in nearly every workplace, there will be witches, baseball players, Maleficent, characters from "Frozen," and human bananas . . . and some of them won't even know it's Halloween! They're just people who dress strangely.

Seriously, some of us face a question of whether we should dress up for work.

My favorite dressing-up-at-Halloween story involves a former Daily Republic sports writer who, while working at another paper before coming to Fairfield, covered a high school football game for both the local newspaper and a radio station on a Halloween Friday night. He dressed as Aladdin, with the billowy pants, sleeveless shirt and pointy shoes – running up and down the stairs between the field and the press box.

The unfortunate thing? He was, by his account, the only person in the entire stadium dressed up for Halloween. So he was the target of smart-aleck high schoolers the whole night as he ran up and down the stairs in his costume. It makes me laugh to just think about it.

That's a funny story, but it also illustrates an issue for whether you should dress up Friday. You should wear a costume only if you're prepared for the worst-case scenario. Will it ruin your day if you're the only person dressed as Bruce Bochy or Wonder Woman in a workplace filled with people who are otherwise experiencing "casual Friday?" If not, go ahead.

Just be ready for eye rolling from those who ignore the holiday.

That's answer No. 1.

The other question has roiled society the past few years: When should kids stop trick-or-treating?

Is it when they reach a certain size or grade in school? When they get a driver's license? When they start voting? When they qualify for Social Security?

Many of us have answered the door, expecting to see a little bug or fairy costume, to be greeted by a horde of teenagers who look like they're heading to the club. The deep-voiced man-boys say "trick or treat" with an implied threat: We wouldn't like the "trick."

We have two choices: Pretend there's nothing wrong and give them candy or call them out for being too old. Most of us simply give in to the implied threat to avoid them coming back to vandalize our house and perhaps setting it afire in some horrible Halloween ritual.

So what's the answer?

You may not have a choice of who comes to your house, but here's some unsolicited advice for parents: When your kid leaves sixth grade, he or she should stop trick-or-treating. Let them dress up. Let them go to a party or help you hand out candy.

But no trick-or-treating. Your neighbors will thank you.

Although if your kids want to go to a high school game dressed as Aladdin, they may have a great story to tell co-workers in a few years.

Brad Stanhope is a former Daily Republic editor. Reach him at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

How to write a killer obituary for yourself

 You probably know about funeral planning.

It’s a good idea for you to determine your final arrangements, rather than leaving it to your grief-stricken family member. Or to that nephew who they had to track down to identify your body among all those boxes and old magazines in an apartment where neighbors only knew you as “that old guy who listened to the TV really loud."

Whatever.

Funeral planning is a good idea. So is obituary planning, its oft-ignored cousin.

I spent a good chunk of my journalism career reading obituaries. I recognize great ones from those that aren’t. You want a great obituary.

Don’t you want a great obituary? If someone does a Google search of your name 20 years from now, don’t you want it to be interesting? Don't you want it to make you look accomplished, likeable and worth mourning?

I do.

Obituaries are important – even if we don't combine them with apartment-for-rent notices, as suggested by Billy Crystal's character in "When Harry Met Sally" – so as a free service with your Sunday paper or website, I will provide some instruction on writing a really good obituary:

1. Tie your birth date or death date to a famous event. I’m a fan of obits that say “Larry was born Feb. 5, 1964 – four days before the Beatles' first appearance on the 'Ed Sullivan Show' " Everyone will marvel at it and you will become linked to it. I was born during the Cuban Missile Crisis, by the way.

See? You just linked JFK and me.

2. Include more than just jobs. Many obituaries have something like this: “Joan graduated from Armijo High School, worked at the Fairfield-Suisun School District for 25 years, then for Solano County for 15 years as a mosquito abatement investigator.” I’d much rather read, “Joan worked for the Fairfield-Suisun School District and Solano County, but was best known for her ability to juggle three lemons. She knew all the words to 'Love Will Keep Us Together' and cried every time she watched 'Beaches.' ” See? That’s a much fuller description. I can juggle lemons, know the words to every Captain and Tennille song and cry during "Beaches," too.

See? I've intrigued you.

3. Think about your surviving relatives. I’ve seen lists where someone is survived by “their favorite grandchild, Henry, and five others” or that sort of thing – and presumed that Henry’s mother or father wrote the obituary. I don’t need my family fighting after I’m dead (I want them to talk about how great I was, with Mrs. Brad wearing a mourning veil for the rest of her life), so I will list everyone equally.

See? I'll be fair, even in death.

4. Go ahead and be creative, adding flavor to the "facts." (Editor's note: This suggestion is not approved by the Daily Republic.) If your pre-written obituary claims you were an original member of Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes or that you had a walk-on role in "General Hospital" in 1973, who will check it? If you say that you were the Wyoming state champion in "rock-paper-scissors" or were on a team that field tested the first cassette tapes, who cares? It just makes you more interesting. I, by the way, helped invent the Slinky. Don't check, just believe me.

See? I'm more interesting.

So get busy – write an obituary and tell someone where to find it. That's what I did, back when I worked on the Slinky while singing along to "Love Will Keep Us Together."

Brad Stanhope is a former Daily Republic editor. Reach him at bradstanhope@hotmail.com. See?

Giants success would surprise 12-year-old me

 They were one of the worst organizations in sports, a terrible team with awful management, playing in the worst stadium in America in front of an indifferent fan base.

Losing. Always losing.

Now they’re one of the best organizations in sports, with a spectacular stadium and a devoted, loving group of fans who expect the best while selling out every game.

Had you told the 12-year-old version of me that the San Francisco Giants would be anything like they are now, he would have considered you as dumb as John Travolta’s character, Vinnie Barbarino, on his favorite TV show, “Welcome Back, Kotter."

But here we are.

If you’re following the San Francisco Giants – and this time of year, after their championships in 2010 and 2012, who in Northern California isn’t? – realize this: You are living in the golden era. Enjoy it, because it won’t likely last, although stranger things have happened.

Stranger things? How about this: Having the team sold to owners who planned to move it thousands of miles away (to Toronto in 1976, to Tampa, Florida, in 1992), only to be saved at the last minute by civic-minded businessmen willing to lose money.

Or this: Being unpopular enough that the radio station in my hometown dropped them in favor of the Oakland A’s, leaving the Giants on a station that went off the air when the sun set.

Or even this: Going from when I was 8 years old and discovered that I liked baseball until I was 25 and the sports editor of the Daily Republic without making the postseason. Ever. While having a winning record in just four of those 17 years.

That the San Francisco Giants are now a prime franchise in sports, with a beautiful waterfront ballpark filled with 40,000-plus devoted fans every game while the nation’s fans watch every game on TV is beyond what anyone could have expected in 1975. Or 1985. Or even 1995. This is the equivalent of waking up one day and seeing President Kardashian and finding that Yugos are the most popular luxury car in America.

When I became a Giants fan – around the time I lost my first bet, a $1 wager with my dad that they would win their division (he got the other five teams) – the idea that someday the team would have a group of likeable star players and that Giants T-shirts and caps would be evident all over Northern California was unthinkable. That baseball experts would shake their heads in wonder at how they always shine when the pressure is the biggest was beyond possible.

As the Giants play the St. Louis Cardinals in the National League Championship Series, much of the region will nervously sit in front of TVs, hoping that Buster Posey, Madison Bumgarner, Hunter Pence and Pablo Sandoval can do it again. Fans will trust that the team is destined to win a championship every other year. Games at AT&T Park will present a thrilling postcard to the rest of the country of a city that loves its team.

I’ll enjoy it all. And shake my head that the team I saw with 1,500 other fans in miserable Candlestick Park several times in the 1970s is now the gold standard in baseball.

I still quote their team motto in 1984, when they lost 96 games with a roster that included  journeyman players Mike Krukow and Duane Kuiper: "C’mon, Giants, hang in there!"

Brad Stanhope is a former Daily Republic editor. Reach him at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

Greatest dinosaur ever found in Argentina

 The most awesome creature in world history was uncovered recently in Argentina.

"Most awesome” after David Hasselhoff, that is.

The new discovery is an 85-foot-long, 65-ton dinosaur that is one of the biggest – probably the biggest – land animal in history, surpassing former Chicago Bears defensive lineman William “Refrigerator” Perry. Its weight equaled that of about a dozen African elephants and it had a 30-foot tail.

All those are great. But here’s what’s really great: The name.

Dreadnoughtus.

Perfect.

Is there a better name for an intimidating beast as long as two tractor trailers and that had a tail that could knock over your fence without knowing it (presuming it wandered your neighborhood)?

Dreadnoughtus!

I love the name.

It brings to mind the massive battleships of the early 20th century: Dreadnoughts, the massive vessels that all sides tried to rapidly build and deploy during World War I, partly to instill fear in the opposition, but mostly because military leaders liked saying the word “dreadnaught.” If you ever had the opportunity to listen to a discussion involving Marshall Philippe Petain, Gen. Black Jack Pershing and Gen. Erich Ludendorff, you would have heard the word “dreadnought” at least two or three times, followed by knowing chuckles. Because the word sounds so cool.

Dreadnought.

Now we have a massive dinosaur named dreadnoughtus – and scientists say they’ve located more than 70 percent of one animal’s bones (meaning it retains more of its original bone structure than Tom Jones or Kenny Rogers), which is more than most dinosaurs.

It’s huge and scientists say it was still growing when it died – kind of like James Dean. This dreadnoughtus was a teenager!

They also realized it was a teenager because it had acne, slouched a lot and spent far too much time texting and playing video games on his prehistoric cellphone (since the dinosaur was found in South America, we presume he used an Amazon phone).

Here’s what we know about dreadnoughtus, other than his teenager attitude problems and massive tail: He most likely spent most of his life eating – and he was a vegetarian, although it was reportedly more of a moral choice than a health choice.

If there’s one problem with this dinosaur with the greatest name in dino history (previous top five: Fukuisarus, Irrator, Khaan, Pantydraco, Supersaurus), it’s that his full name is Dreadnoughtus schrani, with the second name honoring the benefactor Adam Schran. It’s bad enough that stadiums and arenas have sponsors’ names on them, now dinosaurs do.

Full disclosure: It all started with the DailyRepublicasaurus back in the late 1990s, but still . . .

So what’s the takeaway? What’s the local angle? It’s this:

Scientists now suspect that there are plenty of other places where dinosaurs could be discovered. They thought they’d found the largest dino ever, before the team found dreadnoughtus in Argentina – so who is to say that there isn’t an opportunity for a larger animal (Super-dreadnoughtus? Mega-dreadnoughtus?) to be discovered in say . . . Rio Vista or Suisun City.

If we can find one – or suggest that we may have found one – people will come.

As they said in “Field of Dreams,” “People will most definitely come.”

When it comes time to name our dino, I’ve got the only name that would be better than dreadnoughtus.

We could find the Hasselhoffasaurus!

Reach Brad Stanhope at 427-6958 or bstanhope@dailyrepublic.net. Follow him on Twitter at www.twitter.com/bradstanhope.