Is Toy Hall of Fame Dream a sandcastle in the sky?

Is this finally sand's year?

That's the biggest question to be answered Nov. 4 when the National Toy Hall of Fame announces the three new members of the most important hall of fame in the world.

Sand is among 12 finalists for induction into the National Toy Hall of Fame, where it hopes to join the similarly overlooked stick, which was inducted in 2008. Other simple toys include blanket (2011), cardboard box (2005), ball (2009)  and paper airplane (2017).

Sand, of course, is a longshot for the Class of 2021. There are just three spots available and most observers expect Cabbage Patch Kids to get one. With American Girl Dolls and Battleship among the other nominees, sand will need to pick up a gritty win to advance, if you get my joke.

The Toy Hall of Fame, for the unfamiliar, is based in Rochester, New York. The Hall of Fame began inducting toys in 1998 with the legendary class that included Barbie, Lego, marbles, Hula Hoop, Lincoln Logs and 12 others. Since that, the greatest class is generally considered to be 2004, when G.I Joe, rocking horse and Scrabble were inducted.

Last year saw Baby Nancy, sidewalk chalk and Jenga qualify. (If only there were a metaphor for the possibility of Jenga's induction collapsing.)

This year's nominees include the aforementioned sand, Cabbage Patch Kids, American Girl Dolls and Battleship. The other eight nominees are billiards, Fisher-Price Corn Popper, Mahjong, Masters of the Universe action figures, piñata, Risk, The Settlers of Catan board game and toy fire engine.

As with every Hall of Fame (baseball, football, basketball,  hockey, rock and roll, inventor, etc.), there is harsh debate over the nominees. You may play Mahjong and think it should be a slam-dunk inductee and I may think it's an adult gambling game, nowhere near the level of the Big Wheel (inducted in 2009) and Silly Putty (2001).

You may consider the Masters of the Universe action figures the epitome of cool toys and I may think they're some dumb toy that arrived, thrived and disappeared between my childhood and that of my kids.

You may think the piñata is a novelty birthday event and I may know you're wrong and it's a brilliant combination of violence, competition and free candy.

You may think that sand is just an irritant that gets on your blanket at the beach and I may think "Oh, it's Mrs. Brad weighing in," but I would still think you're off base.

This should be sand's year. Just read the description of sand as a toy that was included in the Toy Hall of Fame's nomination announcement:  "Sand may be the most universal and oldest toy in the world. Educator Maria Montessori has argued that sand 'is one substance that the modern child is allowed to handle quite freely.' Children recognize sand as a creative material suitable for pouring, scooping, sieving, raking and measuring. Wet sand is even better, ready for kids to construct, shape and sculpt. Sand provides unique opportunities for tactical, physical, cooperative, creative and independent free play."

It's sand's time. Piñata, too, frankly. If they both make it, I'm willing to look past the inevitable Cabbage Patch Kids induction and consider the 2021 class the best in years.

If it's Mahjong and the Masters of the Universe? I'll find you and kick sand in your face. If sand is not a Hall of Fame toy, it's at least an elite-level way to express anger.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Cryptocurrency hamster shows the market is a little bit(coin) crazy

Does anyone really understand cryptocurrencies? Not me.

I don't get Bitcoin, Ethereum, Tether, Cardano and Solana.

(The previous paragraph may be a list of cryptocurrencies or a San Francisco-based international law firm. You make the call.)

I'm lost and, frankly, angry. These discussions confuse me and when I'm confused, I get angry.

See what you've done?

Here's all I know: People who are fully into cryptocurrencies – those who say it's the wave of the future and you'll be sorry you sat this one out – will say the same thing about something else in 10 years as they stack their cryptocurrency next to their beanie babies. They're the spiritual descendants of people who insist you should buy gold because the stock market is going to crash. Or those who plan to live off the grid. Or those who say the Sacramento Kings will make the playoffs.

Maybe they'll be right. History says they won't be.

Unless they are.

The real problem for me is that people who trade in cryptocurrencies are sure they're smarter than you and me, because they've seen the future and it's . . . umm . . . well, never mind. Because describing how the future looks to them would require me to describe cryptocurrencies, which I can't.

Back to the problem: Cryptocurrency investors are so sure they're right that they're smarmy about it. Which is why I'm a fan of Mr. Goxx.

Yes. Mr. Goxx.

Mr. Goxx is a hamster who has been "trading" cryptocurrencies since the start of the summer, with the help of two German guys in their 30s. Mr. Goxx lives in a cage and makes a daily decision on which cryptocurrency to invest in by a simple method: He runs on a hamster wheel until he stops and an arrow on the wheel points at a certain cryptocurrency – like on "Wheel of Fortune." Then Mr. Goxx goes into one of two tunnels. One indicates he wants to buy, the other to sell. (His desires may have nothing to do with economics.)

From the time he began investing in June through early this past week, Mr. Goxx's investments had grown nearly 20% – better than the general market, better than most other platforms.

Oh, there are plenty of reasons to dismiss his success: Small sample size. Luck. The vagaries of the market. The inherent ability of hamsters to understand cryptocurrencies.

But here's what I really know: Mr. Goxx's success takes people like me off the hook, because he lets us sneer at slicksters who tell us the world will soon be run on cryptocurrencies.

Cryptocurrencies are ridiculous. They're a scam. And I'll believe that until the day I'm standing outside a grocery store, asking if I can trade all my dollars for one freakacoin, only to discover that the freakacoin lost half its value in the previous day and that I still paid 10 times what it was worth. Then I'll use my money to start a fire to cook a hot dog I found in the gutter.

At that point, I'll regret failing to have Mr. Goxx handle my finances.

I will also regret not hiring Bitcoin, Ethereum, Tether, Cardano and Solana to represent me in court against a lawsuit from Big Cryptocurrency.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Period of trouble has created series of brilliant excuses

If the past 18 months have brought plenty of misery (hint: they have!), they also have brought to mind a saying credited to Winston Churchill: "Never let a good crisis go to waste."

That's not to suggest using a pandemic to make money or make political hay (although both have certainly happened). My suggestion is simpler.

The past year and a half has created three new outstanding excuses that we can use. These either didn't exist or weren't widely used before March 2020.

Now? We can use them all the time.

Example One: Covid.

This is the most obvious. You don't have to be at risk of getting Covid-19 to use it as an excuse. In the post-pandemic world (I don't mean the pandemic is over. I mean the start of the pandemic is over), you can opt-out of almost anything due to Covid.

For instance: You forget your sister's birthday and get called out about it. Those calling you out not only called on her birthday but also dropped off a present and hired a band to serenade her while keeping socially distant. Seems like you might be in trouble, right? How could you use Covid as an excuse?

Simple: "Sorry I missed your birthday. I just don't think it's appropriate to celebrate in the midst of a pandemic. Maybe later." Double points, since you made an excuse and you set yourself up as superior, despite forgetting your sister's birthday.

Example Two: HIPAA rights.

Many famous people – particularly athletes – have claimed that it would violate their HIPAA rights to talk about whether they are vaccinated against Covid. Of course, HIPAA's biggest benefit was the ability to continue health insurance after leaving a job, but we mostly associate it with privacy. Key note: HIPAA's privacy guidelines generally apply to medical care providers and insurance, with some extended protection (often to an employer, for instance). Still? A good excuse.

For instance: Your spouse is reviewing the monthly bills and wants to know why you spent $150 on an Amazon purchase that was delivered to your office. The two of you agreed to a budget and this wasn't included. She asks what you bought.

Simple: "I'd love to tell you, but that information would violate my HIPAA rights." When pressed, insist that even discussing it may be a HIPAA violation and you'd prefer to keep that private.

Example Three: Supply chain issue.

This is the issue du jour in American commerce, a combination of ports being backed up, supply shortages and dislocations (whatever that means). We're being told it will drive up prices and cause a crunch for the holidays. How do you use this as an excuse?

For instance: Let's say you've volunteered to do the laundry or mow the lawn or vacuum every week and your roommate wants to know when you're going to do so. You promised, after all.

Simple: "That's complicated, but essentially it's a supply chain issue. I'd love to vacuum, but you know . . . all the dislocations. Things are backed up." If pushed, you come back with the old double-whammy: "I don't feel like it's safe to vacuum, due to the pandemic. And to discuss it anymore would be a violation of my HIPAA rights."

By the way, if you don't like this column, sorry. There would have been a different one, but there were supply chain issues.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Visit to Hawaii teaches lesson on pandemic – and sports cars

Mrs. Brad and I took our first substantial vacation in mid-September since the start of the pandemic, spending 12 days in lovely Hawaii.

We learned two lessons:

• Things are very different after 18 months of Covid-19.
• Things are very different after 30 years of not driving sports cars.

First, the effect of Covid.

We visited Kauai, the northernmost of the Hawaiian islands. It wasn't our first visit, so we knew what to expect, but this was different.

Kauai was still beautiful. It was still a great place to hike and go to the beach and hang out at a condo. It was 85 degrees virtually every day and about 77 degrees every night. There was light rain every day. People still drove about 20 mph on the highway. There were still great sundowns.

But retail businesses and restaurants? Very different.

It was obvious the first time we went to a nearby outdoor mall. Masks were required, even outside. About one-third of the stores were closed. Few people were there.

This was significantly different from previous visits.

Restaurants were struggling: Some were closed, others were shut down two days a week, due to labor shortages. Others were understaffed, so it took a long time to get food. That wasn't terrible – we were in Hawaii, so we weren't rushed – but it was noticeable.

Same with retail. Most stores were understocked and many stores limited how many people could go inside, like early in the pandemic in California.

The conclusion: Kauai changed. Hawaii changed. I guess that's no surprise since life changed since March 2020 in Fairfield and Vacaville and Los Angeles and Reno and Cleveland and Buffalo. Why wouldn't it change in Hawaii?

The second lesson was more personal and came after we agreed to rent a convertible.

Seemed fun, right? It was a late-model Camaro (I'm not a car guy. Late-model means recent, right?) and looked cool. A Camaro convertible! Not exactly Tom Selleck's car in "Magnum P.I.," but still a convertible.

Getting into it, however? Not so easy.

Oh sure, it's easy when you're 20 or 30 and limber. But you have to get so low to get into that car – like doing squats and then moving laterally! And it was a two-door model with a backseat, so it had big, heavy doors.

Mrs. Brad and I spent the first few days shimmying to get into the car, only to find that one foot was stuck in the gap between the door and frame. Mrs. Brad got a bruise on her hip after repeatedly hitting the seatbelt holder while sliding in.

Worse yet, when we finally put the top down (Hey! We've got a convertible! Let's experience it!), we realized we lost most of our trunk space and put our beach chairs, backpack and towels in the backseat with the hope they wouldn't fly away.

The conclusion: There's a reason people our age drive sedans or SUVs. My Prius is easy to get in and out of, which makes it better than a convertible Camaro for me (you know you're old when you discuss how easy it is to get into a car).

This is no gripe. We're privileged that we could travel to Hawaii. We're lucky we could rent a car. Our vacation was a great experience after 18 months of a pandemic.

But things changed over the past 18 months.

My two travel tips for Hawaii:

• Expect things to be different.
• Rent a sensible car!

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.