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.

Bicentennial memories, next Bay Area champion and more notes

We just celebrated America's 250th birthday. At my house, we had a cake with 250 candles and sang "Happy Birthday" to a flag. I presume the same was true for you.

As I told the nation, "It's not every country that gets to celebrate the big 2-5-0." (Of course, Iran and Egypt are about 5,000 years old, but they're the Dick Van Dykes of nations. We're Macaulay Culkin or Tiger Woods – we became famous quickly and aren't as old as we feel.)

Anyway, I'm of the age to remember the bicentennial, which seemed like the biggest event in the history of America. In 1976, everyone had flags out. We had patriotic clothes. TV networks had things like "Bicentennial Minutes," where we were taught about Betsy Ross or Constitution Hall or Paul Revere by celebrities.

It was a different world in 1976. We were coming off a scandal-plagued presidential term, we had a confidence crisis as a nation, gas prices were unstable, the Giants were terrible.

Wait a second . . . that sounds familiar.

Things were different 50 years ago, though. We all watched three TV networks. We heard new music by listening to AM radio. We had tuna casserole for dinner at least once a week. We wore corduroy pants a lot.

Things are different now. On TV, instead of Love Boat, we have Love Island. Instead of The Carpenters, we have Sabrina Carpenter. Instead of playing Pong, we watch TikTok.

The lesson: The world changes a lot in 50 years and it also doesn't change a lot. But here's the thing for which I'm most grateful: I'm not spending the summer getting ready to be a high school freshman. So there's that.

On to today's topics du jour, a pocketful of notes  . . .

•••

A quick top five: The likely next Bay Area pro sports team to win a championship:

1. San Francisco 49ers. They're going for it in 2026, with players returning from injuries and a quarterback entering his prime. The odds are against them, but it's likely they'll be a contender for the next few years. They'll have multiple postseason chances in the next few years.

2. Golden State Valkyries. The WNBA's most successful expansion franchise is in its second year and the Valkyries are already a top-tier team. They seem unlikely to win it all this year, but all arrows are pointing up.

3. San Jose Sharks. They haven't even made the NHL playoffs since 2019, but they have a young superstar (Macklin Celebrini) and just drafted another potential star in Sweden's Ivar Stenberg. Note: NHL stars grow up fast.

4. San Francisco Giants. This has been a disastrous season and top executive Buster Posey hasn't proven that he knows what he's doing. However . . . the Giants' minor league system is in its best shape since right before winning three World Series. They might be a contender by the early 2030s.

5. Golden State Warriors. Steph Curry is still great, but fans are right when they call this team the "Olden State Warriors." The band isn't ready to break up, but it will take a complete refresh (and somehow landing another superstar) before they're contenders to win a championship.

•••

Nothing has shaken my confidence in my humanity more than those "prove you're human" tests on websites where you have to identify which of the nine (or 16 or 25) photos they show has a car or a bike or a bridge or something else.

I spend most of my time guessing. Is that a building or a bridge? Is construction equipment considered a car? Is that part of a bike or just a wheel? And if I'm looking for bikes, does a car with a bike rack count?

Mostly, I wonder why the ability to identify street signs makes us uniquely human. Maybe I'm not really human.

•••

It's not yet football season, but I have an idea for NFL broadcasters. In an era when we have network rules specialists who explain what the referees are looking for during a replay, important plays sometimes come down to determining whether the ref's whistle blew before a ball was fumbled or an interception was thrown.

The solution: A dog in the booth. Every NFL broadcasting booth should have a specially trained dog that would indicate during a replay when the whistle blew, allowing the announcers (and perhaps the referees) to know when the play was dead.

Networks (and NFL) you're welcome.

•••

As time passes, I find myself more frequently deciding whether it's worth it to spring from my chair when a vehicle passes with a siren blaring or a low-flying plane goes overhead.

I want to know, but due to slower reaction times and a lifetime of getting outside (or to a window) too late to see anything has taught me to weigh my options.

That means most often, I just ignore them. I feel like I miss out on some excitement because of that.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.