Speaking up for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches

Peanut butter and jelly deserves better.

In a recent poll, Americans were asked their opinions about a variety of sandwiches, which were then ranked based on the responses. The peanut butter and jelly sandwich, the George Washington/Babe Ruth/Jimmy Stewart of sandwiches, came in . . . ninth.

Ninth! Behind even the club sandwich, for crying out loud. Who eats club sandwiches? Clubs taste terrible between two slices of bread!

Anyhow, a quick review of the survey reveals that the secret to being a favorite among Americans is to be bland.

Just ask a grilled cheese sandwich.

Yes, the grilled cheese sandwich, which ranks as the favorite sandwich in America, based on the survey by data company YouGov.

Grilled cheese. More beloved than a ham sandwich or a tuna sandwich (not "tuna fish" sandwich, since we don't say we're having a "ham pig" sandwich). Eight spots ahead of peanut butter and jelly.

Grilled cheese.

I have no gripe with grilled cheese sandwiches. They're good. Acceptable. Grilled cheese is a nice emergency dinner when needed. But America's favorite sandwich? Please.

This is like when "Little House on the Prairie" was voted the favorite dramatic TV program and Burt Reynolds was chosen the favorite all-around male entertainer at the 1979 People's Choice Awards. I mean they're fine, but really?

(That was the first reference to the 1979 People's Choice Awards since March 8, 1979, the the day after the show aired.)

First, some details. The YouGov people gave a sandwich credit for the list based on the percentage of people who said they "really like" or "somewhat like" the food. In order, the top five were grilled cheese (79 percent), grilled chicken (75 percent), turkey (75 percent) roast beef (71 percent), ham (69 percent).

For clarity, if you ranked sandwiches by how many people said they "really liked" them, the list would be slightly different: Grilled cheese still would rank first, but BLT would leap all the way from No. 6 to No. 2. Very few people "somewhat like" BLT sandwiches.

The eighth-ranked sandwich–just ahead of PB&J–was a bacon sandwich. Bacon sandwich? Really? How about pizza sandwich? Or chocolate-pie sandwich? A bacon sandwich sounds delicious, but it's not a real thing.

A closer look at the results reveals that those who love PB&J sandwiches tend to be members of Generation X and older (about 35 and older), less-educated and live in rural areas. You know, the salt of the earth people, not those city slickers who like fancy sandwiches.

I have no objection to grilled cheese sandwiches or turkey sandwiches or grilled chicken sandwiches. But peanut butter and jelly sandwiches contain a lot of protein and a lot of fruit (allegedly). Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are easy to make: all you need is bread and two ingredients that come in jars. You can make them in the morning and they're still good in the afternoon.

They were good when you were 3. They are good when you're a teenager. They're good when you're an adult.

The fact that peanut butter and jelly sandwiches ranked ninth among Americans just shows that most people who took the survey are full of bologna.

The survey, however, wasn't. Because bologna sandwiches didn't make the list.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

Did you know tomatoes are really fruit? Of course you did

We're almost to the point of the year when people consistently say a thing that everyone knows, but the person saying it acts as if they're the keeper of the truth: "Well, September and October are the nicest months of the year here."

I think the same thing every time: Of course they are. Because September and October are the nicest month everywhere in the northern hemisphere.

Does hearing something I already know irritate me? No. It amuses me because it's one of several things that people frequently say as if they are the only ones who know it when in fact, everyone knows these things.

Want examples? Good, because I've got them.

With the acknowledgement that I may be leaving some out, here are eight more things that people say, ignoring the fact that everybody already knows them.

• "We only use 10 percent of our brain." We've all heard this and we all believe it, even though it's not true. According to scientists, the amount of our brain that we use varies. It's obviously not 100 percent, but who thinks we use 100 percent? We all think we use 10 percent, although we apparently think others don't use their 10 percent to "know" this.

• "Jesus wasn't born on Dec. 25." This is often an attempt to blow the minds of the faithful and convince them that Christianity is untrue. However, I don't know any Christians for whom Dec. 25 being Jesus' actual birth date is a deal-breaker.  Most know that Dec. 25 was a pagan holiday that Christians co-opted and most believe the actual date of Jesus' birth doesn't matter.

• "There's no Bible verse that says, 'God helps those who help themselves.'" Unlike the previous "fact," this is sometimes said by people of faith. If you've read the Bible you know this isn't in there. "God helps those who help themselves" was apparently first said by English political theorist Algernon Sidney (thanks, Google). There is no book of Algernon in the Bible.

• "The San Francisco earthquake killed fewer people than the fire after it." I knew this in third grade. Of course, the earthquake was the cause of the fire, but still . . . this gets said as if the person is breaking the Watergate story. We all already know this. If you didn't know this, you're using less than 10 percent of your brain.

• "Tomatoes are actually fruit." Really? Who knew this, other than everyone. Of course, I dispute this "fact" (my definition of "fruit" is "something that can go on a fruit salad"), but to act like it's new knowledge is funny.

• "Abraham Lincoln was actually a Republican." This not-so-mind-blowing fact is usually said to convince the listeners that the Republican Party hasn't embraced racism as a way to divide the country and win elections for the past 50 years. Maybe I should add the word "allegedly" to the previous sentence.

• "You know, the real nutrients in potatoes are in the skin." This was said to me so often during my childhood that I embraced it. I don't know that it's true, but I know that everyone in my generation thinks it's true and thinks they're the only ones who know it.

• "Muscle weighs more than fat." This one, like the brain statistic, is also untrue because a pound of muscle and a pound of fat both weigh exactly 1 pound. What people mean when they say this is that a weight increase is due to them adding muscle, not fat. Which, based on my history of observing people who say this, often seems untrue.

I could go on, but it's almost September. And around here, September and October are the nicest months of the year. If you don't believe me, ask Abraham Lincoln. He was a Republican, who ate tomatoes . . . a fruit!

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

Rules for sports fans on amnesty, favorite teams, more

Free agency is a staple of modern professional sports: Star players finish their contract and switch teams. Someone is on our favorite team and suddenly they're gone, off in pursuit of greener pastures.

Since players switch teams all the time, can fans do the same?

Good question. Fortunately, there are rules.

Do fan "rules" have legal power? No, but they should, because like other social contracts (don't talk with your mouth full, don't make eye contact in elevators, drive at least 70 mph in the fast lane), we rely on rules to keep things straight. If you violate fan rules, you're like the person driving 50 mph in the fast lane and you don't want that.

We'll address the issue using the Socratic method, in which we engage in a friendly back-and-forth, asking and answering questions. This style was made famous by Socrates, who used just one name, like Pele, LeBron, O.J. and Charo.

Here are the rules on picking a favorite team, "fan amnesty" and more.

Q: Are there rules about picking a favorite team?

No. Pick whatever team you want, although geography is a major consideration (pick a local team!). Still, picking any team is fine, if you acknowledge that choosing a team based on the fact that it was successful in your childhood (hello, Lakers and Cowboys fans of my age!), you are a front-runner.

Q: Is it acceptable to have a "second team"?

No. People who have "second teams" aren't committed to their first team, in the same way that you can't have a second spouse while you're married. If you are an Oakland A's fan, they're your team. No sneaking around on them. No cheating. You're committed. Just. One. Team. Per. Sport.

Q: Is it ever OK to change favorite teams? Do you believe in the concept of "fan amnesty?"

Fan amnesty (when you can freely switch allegiances) is acceptable, but only in extreme circumstances (this is beginning to read like a 1930s view of divorce). Here is a short list of when it's OK to abandon your favorite team: 1. When you relocate and were a fan of the local team but didn't care that deeply about it. 2. When your team has gone a minimum of 15 years without a serious championship run and management is terrible. 3. When your team is moving to Las Vegas after previously moving to Los Angeles, then returning to Oakland.

Those aren't reasons you have to change, they're just reasons you can. Warning: You are not allowed to return. In marriage terms,  you can't remarry the team you divorced.

Q: If I really admire someone on another team, can I cheer for their team?

You can pick that admired player in a fantasy league, you can buy their jersey (although you shouldn't), you can follow them on Twitter or Instagram. But they're on another team, so you can't cheer for their team.

Q: If my team has terrible management, coaching or reprehensible players, can I switch to another team?

Only if  they haven't contended for a title in at least 15 years, as mentioned earlier.

Q: Who do I support if my team misses the playoffs?

This is the easiest and most obvious decision. If (or when, if you are a Sacramento Kings fan) your team misses the playoffs,  you root against your rival. In other words, when the Giants miss the baseball playoffs, Giants fans become fans of whomever the Dodgers play. Raiders fans root against the Chiefs, Chargers, Broncos, Steelers, Patriots or any other team.

Q: Did you really cite Charo as one-name star earlier?

Yes. I picked her as my favorite flamenco guitarist as a child, because I was a front-runner. But I'm loyal.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

Reality TV's next big thing is a combination of the hits

Three things are true about television programming.

1. Game shows and reality shows are profitable because there are no actors nor writers to pay.
2. Success breeds imitation.
3. The late-1970s is an embarrassment.

There's nothing we can do about the third point (other than time traveling and kidnapping the entire casts of "Happy Days," "Laverne and Shirley" and "Three's Company"), but the first two are the inspiration for my proposal to help save network television.

Well, maybe not save it. But I can create a sure-fire hit television show, which in the era of Netflix, Hulu, Spandex, Sling and Philo (one of those isn't a streaming service, the other four incredibly are!), TV networks desperately need.

TV network executives are like Milli Vanilli in 1990: Desperate for success, so people will quit questioning them (another reasonable simile: they're like Brad Stanhope in 2019, desperate for a cultural reference from the past 25 years).

So my idea is to (drum roll, please!) . . . combine popular reality shows into one big hybrid show!

You may laugh at that idea, in the same way people laughed at me in 2005, when I pitched a show that ended up being "Breaking Bad" (my proposed show was called "Baking Brad" and was focused on making cookies, but still).

I got the idea while watching "The Bachelorette," with Mrs. Brad. Even if you haven't seen the long-running ABC program, you probably know the premise: One woman dates a bunch of men (25 or 30) and gradually eliminates them until there's one left. He then proposes to her (spoiler alert: It didn't work this season!).

"The Bachelor" is the same premise in reverse.

In other words, the franchise is a dating show that is entirely unrealistic, involves only attractive and seemingly successful young adults and creates ridiculous drama. Kind of like the NBA playoffs, but without Kevin Durant (meaning there's less drama).

Anyway, while watching this season, I kept thinking of how the show could be more interesting. What if the contestants, for instance, faced harsh conditions like contestants on "Survivor"? In this case, the men would be forced to catch fish and forage for food between dates. The woman would arrive in an evening gown and a sweaty, stinky guy in shorts and a bandanna would take her out for dinner.

Would you watch? I would.

Further, what about if you added a talent competition, like on "American Idol" and "America's Got Talent"?

The men (hungry, cranky and stinky) would have to perform and gain approval from the viewing audience to remain in the game. You're telling me I might see a famished, staggering man singing "I will always love you" into the camera?

I'd watch.

Finally, what if we added an element of "Cops," where contestants who made morally questionable decisions (on a date with the bachelorette, by stealing food, with a bad song choice) get tackled, handcuffed and hauled away? And it would be photographed with hand-held cameras?

Would you watch it? I would.

Sometimes, the best idea isn't to come up with a new thing, it's to combine a series of old things. Just ask the Stars on 45, who put together a bunch of 1960s songs to create a No. 1 hit in 1981 (again: I'm desperate for current pop culture references).

If TV networks want the next big thing, they should turn to me: "The Bachelorette's Survivors Got Talent Until the Cops Come."

If the networks don't scoop it up, it will be available for streaming this fall on Spandex.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.