Daylight saving time, best sidekicks, drug side effects

It's the first Tuesday in November, which means it's time to empty out my notebook with thoughts, lists and rants that aren't long enough for an entire column, but make up a mishmash of late-autumn observations.

That I'm making up the part that this is some sort of tradition is my first observation.

• • •

A perpetual opinion: Daylight saving time, which ended Sunday, is a bad deal.

In exchange for an extra hour of sleep (for one day), we get dark nights for four months. From now until March 10, when we get back the hour of daylight that was stolen Saturday night, we must endure driving home from work in the dark, in the rain, in the cold. I'm not sure rain and cold are directly attributable to the end of daylight saving time, but it sure seems like it. We get 126 days (18 weeks!) of gloom for one hour of sleep.

I wonder if winter will go away if we choose year-round daylight saving time.

• • •

Today's list: Five greatest sidekicks in TV history:

5. Bert. Ernie gets all the love for his role on "Sesame Street," but that puppet's sunny disposition is welcome only because of his longtime partnership with the curmudgeonly Bert.

4. Jesse Pinkman. "Breaking Bad" might be the most surprising great TV show in history and a major factor was the chemistry – no pun intended – between Aaron Paul's Pinkman and Bryan Cranston's Walter White.

3. Pat Summerall. Even though he was the play-by-play man with John Madden, which should make him the lead, Summerall was Madden's sidekick. One of the great announcers, he knew when to step aside.

2. Ed McMahon. He introduced Johnny Carson and laughed as his jokes ... and was still a star.

1. Barney Fife. Greatest sidekick ever. While never the star on the "Andy Griffith Show," he was the most memorable character.

• • •

I presume it's at the behest of the Food and Drug Administration or something, but I'm amused every time there's a new drug advertised on TV. Invariably, they list the reasons you shouldn't take it and include one great one.

"Don't take Zaxapraxal if you are pregnant or could get pregnant, have COPD, have narrow-angle glaucoma, are allergic to Zaxapraxal ..."

Every time: Don't take the drug if you're allergic to the drug.

Great advice, so please tell me how to find out I'm allergic to a drug without taking it!

• • •

The Oakland Raiders' 10-year, $100 million contract for coach Jon Gruden could be among the worst deals in sports history.

Sure, it's easy to jump on the Raiders after seeing them implode against the 49ers on Thursday. But this goes way beyond one game.

Gruden has coached a half-season and has already traded away the team's two best players, shown no ability to work with younger players and turned a potential playoff team into a laughingstock.

This could be 10 years of disaster.

Most bad sports contracts just tie up a team's finances with an underperforming athlete, but this deal turned a decade's worth of decision-making over to someone who shows no aptitude for building a team.

It's catastrophic.

The good news? Most of Gruden's 10-year stint will be in Las Vegas.

• • •

Final warning: Don't read this column if you're allergic to reading this column.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

If DNA determines our musical tastes, I’m . . . oh, nevermind

This seems a lot like racial profiling.

Ancestry, the world’s largest for-profit genealogy company (previous leader: Nazi Germany) announced recently a partnership with music service Spotify to determine your “musical DNA” based on actual DNA tests.

Yes, that’s right.

This will “encourage [Ancestry’s] audience to explore the soundtrack of their heritage,” said Danielle Lee, global head of partner solutions at Spotify, in an interview with the digital site Quartz.

Thousands of people have already opted in for the service, which – to the credit of Ancestry and Spotify – is voluntary and requires you to input your own DNA. So far, since our experience tells us that large companies are wildly reckless with our information. Do you really think your DNA information is secret? Or music playlists are secret?

An aside: My musical tastes would be humiliating if I didn’t revel in them. No one would mistake my Spotify lists of teen pop music (David Cassidy to Brittney Spears to the Jackson 5) or even hip-hop (harmless 1980s rappers) with that of a respectable music fan. And don't get me started on my “cocktail party” list that includes Glen Campbell, Herb Alpert, Andy Williams and the Carpenters.

But getting back to the earlier point. There are three big questions here:

• Do you trust Ancestry and Spotify with your information?
• Does your DNA actually determine what kind of music you like?
• Is this a bad idea?

The first question has likely already been answered. You, like me, may not really care if anyone knows your DNA history and your musical tastes. But once you asked a website to find out your ancestry or start compiling online music lists, you ran that risk.

The second question strikes me as more significant. Does our DNA determine our musical tastes? If my presumably bland, western European DNA suggests I would prefer artists like Andy Williams, Herb Alpert, Glen Campbell and the Carpenters . . .  hey, wait a minute!

The opposite argument: Should someone with my DNA like Stevie Wonder, Ray Parker Jr. and Earth, Wind and Fire? Or Wham! and Hall and Oates? Is it possible that those preferences aren’t so much a result of my DNA as when and where I grew up?

The same is probably true for you, too. Your favorite type of music may be representative of your genetic background, but I’d guess that you were raised listening to that kind of music. Or (like me and country music) you were raised with a style of music that you completely rejected.

That’s part of the magic of music. We’re not limited in what we can like. We can be Cuban and like European classical music. We can be from Russia and like American rhythm-and-blues. We can be from Canada and . . . well, Canadians are so nice they like everything.

But this move seems like a stretch for Ancestry and Spotify, although it’s one that makes sense in a brand-promoting way (it got an article in Quartz and I’m writing about it), but still a stretch.

Is this a bad idea? I don’t know, but as the Carpenters (bland, suburban western Europeans like me) once sang, we should just “sing a song.”

Oh, hey, Earth, Wind and Fire had a song by that title, too!

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

Cars? Electricity? Telephones? What are the biggest modern inventions?

Consider an invention-based version of the Christmas classic "It's a Wonderful Life."

In the movie, character George Bailey gets to see what life in his town would be like had he never existed. In this column, I'm considering inventions and discoveries.

Simply put: What invention of the past 200 years (we'll make it 242 years, equaling the age of the Untied States) would affect you the most if it hadn't happened?

If, for instance, air conditioning was never invented, how big an impact would it have on your day-to-day life? In my scenario, it doesn't exist. The issue is how much worse would your life be?

Get the idea?

I asked a few colleagues and Mrs. Brad for their opinions, stole some of them and then made my own definitive list of the most important inventions of the past 242 years, based on how much they would affect our lives on a daily basis if they didn't exist.

10. The internet. This ranks high on lists of people younger than 40, obviously, while my generation remembers life without it. However, while the web has been around only since the 1990s, it's like the printing press: It changed communication and it gave a platform to those previously without one.

9. Telephones. Imagine a life where you had to see someone face to face to communicate. STOP. Or had to send a telegraph. STOP. That would be terrible. STOP.

8. Penicillin. This was discovered in 1928 and changed everything. Stuff that used to kill people – infections, pneumonia, riding BART, skydiving without a parachute – now are easily healed with penicillin. Usually.

7. Cars. This was originally higher on the list, but I realized that the biggest change is that I would just have to live closer to work and ride my bike, horse or pogo stick. However, cars made widespread travel possible and created a world of commuters – even if you live and work in the same city, imagine if you didn't have a vehicle. A hassle.

6. Chemical preservatives. Nearly everything in your cupboard and refrigerator has some sort of preservative. Without these, we would be forced to buy fresh foods every day – a development that may sound good until you realize the difficulty and expense of doing it, as well as the difficulty of getting any kind of variety of food. I don't want to live in that world.

5. Radio/TV. Radio changed the world and TV did it again. Without these inventions, we would have to see live entertainment (or movies, I guess) and would only know what we heard locally. Entertainment and information would be absolutely different. However, newspapers would thrive!

4. Refrigerator. If I had to choose between a world without chemical preservatives (No. 6) and without a refrigerator, I would go without preservatives (even though both are necessary). Being forced to either get ice for an icebox or to live without refrigerated food would be brutal. Where would you keep your ice cream?

3. Electricity. It was an absolute game-changer when we gained the ability to harness it so we could have lights and The Clapper. Electricity in homes changed sleep habits, health habits and entertainment. Imagine life without electricity. You don't want that.

2. Indoor plumbing. If I had to pick between having electricity and no indoor toilet or an indoor toilet without electricity, I'd take the toilet. But not by much. This, though, is the very definition of "your life would be different every day without it." Who would even want to live in that world?

1. Insulin. I'm a Type 1 diabetic who has used insulin since I was 14. Had I been born a century earlier – long before the 1920 discovery/invention of insulin – I would have wasted away and died at a young age, meaning the use of indoor plumbing, electricity, cars and the internet would be a moot point. This is a clear No. 1 for me (although I had to use the internet to find out when it was discovered).

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

Get ready to buy your own model of a flying car

The promise of every baby boomer's childhood is finally arriving.

The Transition, a two-seat flying car, is expected to go on sale this month. It's made by Terrafugia, which seems like a weird name until you think about the fact that Chevrolet, Hyundai and Jaguar are all car names.

The Transition, according to a report from the Chinese news agency Xinhua (company slogan: Communism dies in darkness), will start sales earlier than the previous reports, that the sales would begin in 2019.

A flying car!

Here are the important details: The Transition, according to the report, can switch between flying and driving modes in less than 60 seconds. It can go up to 100 mph. It has a hybrid motor while driving on roads (and a "high-brid" motor in the air, am I right?)

All of that seems great – you can fly and then land and drive The Transition. Unless you consider what happens if you land on Interstate 80 and then take a full minute for your vehicle to turn into a car. You would likely be told in no uncertain terms what a menace you are to the driving public as rush-hour cars swerve past you to take the North Texas Street exit.

Your presumed answer: I'm in a flying car!

Terrafugia is apparently ready to reveal a second flying car soon. This is unlikely, but what if it can go on water, too? A triple-threat!

For most of my generation, the flying car is one of two big ideas that have been around since childhood. The other, that we will see people on a screen while we talk to them on the phone, is a reality (Skype! Facetime!), but the flying car has floundered.

For a while, it seemed like Moller International in Dixon, led by flying car enthusiast Paul Moller, would deliver on the promise. But Moller's Skycar never really made it and the last I saw, a model was for sale on eBay with the condition that it not be flown, which is kind of like selling a TV with the condition that it not be watched.

A flying car that you can't fly is . . . what most of us already have.

Apparently other companies, such as Aston Martin, Airbus and Rolls Royce, are also working on flying cars.

The big question for most of us is what a flying car will cost. The announcement that The Transition is going to be sold didn't mention a price.

And while I now am much closer to my job and thus don't have the one-hour commute that I had for a few years, I'm fascinated by this option and have a significant question for Terrafugia: Can I trade my 2005 Prius with more than 200,000 miles on it for a new version of The Transition?

And would you teach me how to fly it?

This is going to be great!

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

Time to stop calling nondairy products 'milk'

My workplace features a stocked kitchen, which is a pretty nice fringe benefit, especially for all the 20-somethings who eat cereal there each morning and gobble up the bags of chips and guzzle free sodas.

I also use the kitchen, but the most frequent use for me is to get coffee. I fill my cup, add sweetener and then open the refrigerator and search for the half-gallon of half-and-half.

I have to move the almond milk. The soy milk. That gawdawful-flavored nondairy creamer. Finally, way in the back, unused by anyone younger than 40 since I last used it, is the actual half-and-half. Half heavy cream, half milk.

A dairy product!

I have no problem with the popularity of dairy alternatives nor does it bother me that my co-workers like other types of milk (actually, it does. But only in an old-man, back-in-my-day-we-drank-what-they-gave-us way). However, I have loved milk and milk products my entire life and stand with America’s dairy farmers on one issue.

Those other items should not be called milk. Because they’re not milk.

Fortunately, the Food and Drug Administration may feel the same way. The FDA recently said it’s considering instituting federal standards that define milk as coming from the “milking of one or more healthy cows.”

Now I’m not sure the definition needs to include “one or more healthy cows,” because even “coming from a cow” would suffice. Because in a world where we embrace “alternative facts” and label anything that doesn't fit our narrative as “fake news,” there should still be some standards.

Peanut butter should come from peanuts. Coffee should come from coffee beans. Pickles should come from pickle trees. Pancakes should be cakes baked in pans.

Milk should be . . . milk.

Instead, we have soy milk, almond milk, cashew milk, coconut milk, rice milk, oak milk, hemp milk (Hemp milk? Hemp milk.), flax milk. Everything but Harvey Milk . . . and that's only because he was assassinated before he could market himself as a dairy product.

Here’s what all those items have in common: They are liquid and they are not milk.

They’re nice substitutes for milk for those who can’t or don’t want to drink milk. But they're not milk.

Listen, I put artificial sweetener in my coffee and the folks who make Sweet-N-Low, Equal and Stevia don’t claim to be sugar. Because they’re not. They’re artificial sweeteners or sugar substitutes.

Milk is milk and we’re heading down a slippery slope when we label any willy-nilly product milk. Milk comes from a lactating mammal.

“There’s no way for a nut to be lactating and giving natural milk; you can’t milk a nut,” said a farmer quoted in an article about the issue in the Lubbock, Texas, Avalanche-Journal. (A quote brings to mind a famous exchange about cats in the first “Meet the Parents” movie.)

Here’s what makes it really unfair: According to current FDA rules, if a dairy farmer adds a vitamin enhancement to milk, they can’t call it milk. It has to be a dairy drink or something similar. But a rice farmer or a hemp farmer can call a drink “milk."

I say we keep those items in the refrigerators of America’s offices. But call them “soy drink” and “almond drink” and whatever other noun you want to put before the word “drink.”

Because if they’re milk, I’m going to start calling water “hydrogen and oxygen milk” and I’m going to call orange juice “orange milk” and I’m going to call my coffee “coffee bean milk.”

Stop the madness.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

Two local towns top 'most livable cities' list

According to a recent survey I conducted, Fairfield and Suisun City are the most livable cities in America, just ahead of Vacaville and Rio Vista.

Miami and New York City were well down on the list as was Paris, France; Paris, Texas, and Paris Hilton.

The survey uses a variety of data to determine livability.

(Parenthetical note: My "study" is based on emails I routinely get and read that rank cities. The kingpin of this type of "study" is WalletHub, which uses data to determine the best cities in which to raise children, the best cities in which to work, the best live-work balance cities, etc. They crunch data and come to a conclusion, then release a list of (for instance) 150 California cities, ranked.

(Part of my problem with them is that they selectively choose the data for the measurements. Does having more parents with college education make it a better place to raise children? I don't know, but they seemingly choose things like that at random.

(The other problem I have is that the cities I love the most – Fairfield, Suisun City, Eureka – invariably rank low.)

My study based conclusions on five factors to determine the most livable cities:

• Distance from Travis Air Force Base.
• Distance from the Suisun Marina.
• Amount of time I've lived there.
• How close it comes to rhyming with "Barefield" or "Fa-foon Gritty."
• How many people I know who live there.

Fairfield and Suisun City tied for first. The tie-breaker was whether you could subscribe to the Daily Republic newspaper's home delivery in the city, so the cities remained tied.

"These cities tested off the charts," I said in a press release after reviewing the list. "They are clearly the most livable cities in America. The fact that they each scored 10 out of 10 on four factors and 9 out of 10 on another is amazing. Bravo to both cities. If more cities were like Fairfield and Suisun City, the world would be a better place."

Vacaville earned a spot as the third-most-livable city in the world. The gap between the top two and Vacaville was large, but Vacaville still placed well above such popular cities as Austin, Texas; New Orleans; Moscow; Luckenbach, Texas; and whatever Springfield is the one where "The Simpsons" live.

Rio Vista was fourth and Vallejo rounded out the top five.

Most of the other cities in the top 100 were in California, with the notable exception of Grarefield Baboon-Witty, France, a small town near the German border that scored very high in one unspecified category.

"This list is based on data, so don't argue with it," I said. "The nice thing is that it gives a template for what makes a place livable. We have high hopes that other cities will follow the lead of those that topped our list and move to Fairfield and Suisun City."

The mayor of Grarefield Baboon-Witty was pleased with his city's placement on the list.

"Je souhaite seulement que je vivais plus près de la marina de Suisun, (I only wish I lived closer to the Suisun Marina)," he said.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

Exclusive interview with dethroned king of apples

The Red Delicious apple was sad. With good reason.

In August, the U.S. Apple Association announced what had been clear for a long time: Red Delicious is fading. Gala is growing.

For the first time in “at least five decades,” the Red Delicious apple isn’t the best-selling apple in the world. Years of being popular in lunch boxes, pies and fruit salads aren’t over, but Red is moving into the shadows.

“This isn’t how I expected it to end,” Red told the Daily Republic in an exclusive interview. “This shakes me to the core . . . get it?”

Red sighed. Being the Tom Brady of the apple world is great, until you suddenly are watching another apple move into the spotlight.

Red Delicious dropped to No. 2. According to the aforementioned Apple Association report, U.S. growers will produce 52.4 million 42-pound boxes of Gala apples this year, compared to 51.7 million boxes of Red Delicious.

People at the Apple Association said this ends a run of at least 50 years at the top for Red, but couldn’t be more specific.

Red could.

“I remember exactly when I became No. 1. It was 1967,” Red said. “I was on top of the world. The next year, the song 'Little Green Apples' came out and didn’t faze me. Then the Beatles formed Apple records and that didn’t faze me. Those were the days. It was the first time I shouted, 'How you like them apples?' Those were my salad days . . . no pun intended.”

The rest of the top five apples, by the way, include Granny Smith, Fuji and Honeycrisp.

“Honeycrisp? That'’s crazy,” Red said. “That’s not an apple. That’s a science experiment.”

Red said he was particularly hurt by the fact that the Honeycrisp (which is genetically engineered) edged out the Golden Delicious for the fifth spot on this year’s list.

“Golden is my brother. We’re the Delicious brothers,” Red said. “We’re like Steph and Seth Curry. Or Alec and one of those other Baldwin brothers. And comparing Golden and the Honeycrisp is like comparing us to oranges, right? Totally different things.”

The rise of new varieties is the main reason for Red’s decline, according to Darren Seifer, a food and beverage industry analyst who was quoted by Bloomberg in an article on Gala's ascension.

“Today’s health trend for consumers is proving you’re authentic and wholesome,” Seifer said. “It’s more about individualism. Brands must find a way to appeal to that individualism.”

When I read that quote to Red, he scoffed.

“I’m not saying that guy is a bad apple – no pun intended – but he’s overthinking it,” Red said. “I was good enough to last through Woodstock, Watergate, disco, all of the Jurassic Park movies, the Macarena craze, the dot-com bubble and Sarah Palin’s vice-presidential candidacy. And what’s more wholesome than a Red Delicious apple? I mean think of the name. I’m Red. I’m Delicious. I’m an apple. What the heck does Gala even mean?”

Red said consumers’ attraction to what he called “new, unproven” fruit could be problematic.

“It only takes one bad apple to spoil the whole bunch,” Red said.

Then he hung up from his iPhone.

Made, of course, by Apple.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

Follow AP style when you complain about this column

There are two books that guide the way I live: The Bible and The Associated Press Stylebook.

I won't discuss the former here (and yes, capitalize the Bible as a title when you refer to the Scriptures in the Old and New Testament, according to the AP Stylebook).

I was reminded of the value I attribute to the AP Stylebook when I saw a tweet by someone demanding that the headstone on their grave be reviewed by someone who knows AP style. I realized how important it was to me (my birthday, in October, better have the month abbreviated).

First an explanation: The AP Stylebook is published annually as a guide for how newspapers (and other media) should use the language. It's pretty complex (my version, the 2013 edition, has 484 pages) and covers everything from which American cities require state names with them to the difference between an engine and a motor to the fact that Polaroid is capitalized to the definition of "heavy snow."

There are many style guides, such as those to help with college writing, medicine and law. But AP style is the best.

I left the Daily Republic as an everyday writer four years ago, but am still a writer and editor. And still insist that we follow the AP Stylebook at my workplace. Obsessively.

Which is why I'm irritated when I see people ignore AP style (even though those people may not know AP style exists. Ignorance is no excuse for breaking writing rules!).

For instance:

There is no comma between a person's last name and the abbreviation for junior or senior. In other words, the Hall of Fame outfielder is Ken Griffey Jr. (no comma). And, by the way, his last name is Griffey. Not Griffey Jr.

While including a date, you abbreviate all months with more than five letters. In a nice coincidence, those months are consecutive. The only months you spell out while using a date are March, April, May, June and July.

In a related note, you spell out the whole month if there's not date involved. It's "he was born in October," but "he was born Oct. 15, 1991." Got it?

I'm a violent opponent of the serial comma, but I've addressed that previously. I confess that proponents of the serial comma (most frequently when you use a comma before "and") have a point. So on this, I'm not an AP style Nazi (the German political party was founded in 1919 and abolished in 1945, according to the AP Stylebook).

A job title is only capitalized before a name. The correct style is Fairfield Mayor Harry Price or Harry Price, Fairfield's mayor. Got it? Even the president and a senator don't get their job title capitalized unless it immediately precedes their name.

There are numerous other issues, but I won't bore you with details (too late?).

By the way, my stance on AP style comes with an expiration date. In the years since I left daily newspaper work, the stylebook changed the rules for cities and states (spelling the full state name, rather than abbreviating it) and softening its stance on over/under (now you can write "it cost over $1 million," even though it historically has been "more than.").

I disagree with both, which I guess makes me kind of a hypocrite (no mention of hypocrite in the AP Stylebook, which ends its "H" section with "hyphen."

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

Protect language, beliefs of baby boomers

The culture and beliefs held during the childhood of baby boomers must be saved.

As a parent of two adult children, I've known for decades that many phrases and common cultural beliefs from my childhood were lost. Some are culturally insensitive, so farewell. Others are just gone.

I'm a (fake) historian and in the interest of preserving my culture, I hereby present a series of phrases and beliefs that were universally understood by children in my (semi-rural, largely white) youth, but create a blank stare from someone born in the 21st century.

Consider this a document to help people understand what my people once believed.

In alphabetical order:

Carrots. Help your eyesight. Everyone knew this, which is why it was funny if someone with glasses ate carrots.

Citizen's arrest. We all knew that you could do this if you saw someone doing something illegal. There's no evidence that it ever happened.

Crossing fingers. If you had your fingers crossed, a promise didn't count. There was some debate about whether having two sets of fingers crossed meant the promise stood.

Eenie, meenie, miney, moe. This is how you started the selection of who is "it" in any version of "tag" or while picking teams for anything. It eliminated one person at a time, so it took awhile, but we all understood it.

Eureka! It was my hometown, but more importantly, it was what you shouted when you found something. Because it means "I found it!" in French, apparently.

Farewell, cruel world. This was what people yelled before committing suicide by jumping off a building or cliff. Always.

For he's a jolly good fellow. This is what you sang when someone does something well. Often paired with three cheers: Hip hip hooray!

Geronimo! What you yelled while jumping out of an airplane, presumably with a parachute. However, you could yell it if you were vaulting from a tree or window.

Hiccups. This is what "drunks" did. They slurred their words, they hiccuped and we laughed, because it's funny to be drunk.

Hi-ho Silver! This was what the Lone Ranger (before our time) yelled, but everyone knew that's what you shouted when you got on a horse. Research reveals that it was really "Hi-yo Silver!" so I apologize to all my pretend horses.

Hunger strike. The most effective nonviolent way to get something done. Worth threatening, but no one I knew ever tried it.

Piranhas. The flesh-eating fish were present in every stream and river. Or at least you could yell that and scare your friends.

Popcorn. The seven digits (767-2676) that you dialed on your phone (yes, dialed) to find the exact time. You called "popcorn."

Quicksand. Nature's most dangerous substance was apparently widespread during cowboy days. Here's what we knew: It was dangerous and if you struggled, that only made it worse.

Rattlesnakes. The living companion to quicksand. They were present everywhere and often are encountered by the same people who dealt with quicksand.

You dirty rat. What gangsters say, it was also the standard impersonation of film legend Edward G. Robinson.

There are more – email me or leave comments of your favorites – which I'll address in a future column (he wrote, with two sets of crossed fingers).

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

Time for clarity on what makes a star, superstar

Is Aaron Paul a TV star? His Jesse Pinkman was a key character in "Breaking Bad," but is he a star?

Is Klay Thompson an NBA superstar? A star? What about Susan Boyle: A singing star? Is country music songstress Miranda Lambert a superstar or just a star?

It's time to settle these disputes. There has to be a way to measure this. We have to know what makes someone a star or a superstar.

For instance, does being on a prime-time TV show (or now, on a streaming TV show that many people watch) automatically make you a TV star? Do you need to have a lead role to be a star?

What about superstar? To be a superstar singer, do you need to have multiple No. 1 songs or multiple sold-out international concert series? Can you be a rock star if you're the bassist for a reasonably popular band?

Today, I define the terms: I propose that "star" means you're in the top 10 percent of your field.

Let's face it, playing major league baseball, getting a recording contract, landing a role in a TV show or a movie is impressive. Few of us get that far.

But doing so just makes you a major league player, a recording artist or a working actor. It doesn't make you a star at any of them. To be a star, you have to be better than 90 percent of your cohorts.

This obviously raises the bar in many fields, but what's wrong with that? As John F. Kennedy, star president, said: "We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things not because they are easy, but because they are hard." Same thing with calling someone a star: You don't get to be a star because it's easy. You become a star because it's hard.

Some stars: Alicia Keys, James Taylor, John Legend, Johnny Mathis, Aerosmith in music; Clint Eastwood, Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson, Emma Stone, Bette Davis in movies; Buster Posey, Troy Aikman, Venus Williams and Lennox Lewis in sports.

They're all great. They all are memorable and famous and beloved by their fans. But they're not 1 percenters.

That's the definition of superstar: The top 1 percent of a field.

If you're a "super" version of a star, you are extremely elite. That doesn't mean above average, it means better than 99 percent of people in the field.

In the NBA, where there are 450 players on rosters at any time, there are four or five superstars. In pop music, where there are (he makes a guess) 1,000 legitimate active recording artists at any time, there are 10 superstars.

In movies, where there are roughly (he's guessing again) 2,500 actors, there are 25 superstars. Half are men, half are women.

This is an exclusive club, get it?

Some superstars: The Beatles, Jay-Z, Whitney Houston, Wham! in music; Meryl Streep, Al Pacino, Leonardo DiCaprio, Katheryn Hepburn in movies; Tiger Woods, Tom Brady, LeBron James, Manny Pacquiao in sports.

I hope this makes it simpler.

Roseanne Barr isn't a superstar (she's a star). Brandon Belt isn't a star (he's a major league starter). Taylor Swift is a borderline superstar and Draymond Green is just a star.

Oh, to wrap things up: Aaron Paul is a TV star because his role was so great. Klay Thompson is a star. Susan Boyle isn't a music star. Miranda Lambert is on the fringe of superstardom, but I don't follow country music enough to know.

Feel free to debate me, but remember the rule: Top 10 percent makes you a star, top 1 percent makes you a superstar.

And to further wrap things up: Yes, Wham!

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.