How watching TV prepared me for life

As a child, I was often told watching TV was a waste of time. It was the "idiot box." My dad said that our eyes would become rectangles if we watched too much, something a little scary when you're 5 or 6 and watching "The Merv Griffin Show" after school.

Adults told me that you don't learn anything from TV.

Oh yeah? I beg to differ. I can make the case that TV shaped my life. Sitcoms like "Happy Days," "Sanford and Son," "Bewitched" and "Hogan's Heroes" taught me about conflict resolution. I learned how to be a man by watching "Rockford Files" and I learned how to gamble by watching "Let's Make a Deal."

Decades later, I still profit. The lessons I learned watching TV have guided me through life, as reliable as the applause that greeted Fonzie when he walked into a scene and say "ayyyyyyyyyyy."

Don't believe me? Check out these lessons:

Double-takes work. The correct way to express surprise is the double-take. Probably the best at this was Barney Fife on "The Andy Griffith Show" – he mastered the google-eyed double-take anytime something weird happened. I still use that when someone catches me off guard. Sometimes, I go triple-take. Hilarious.

Problems generally solve themselves in less than an hour. No matter the problem, television difficulties got settled in one episode. The same thing is true in life. Most of my life issues have concluded in time for the final commercial break – except for a few times when a day ends with ". . . to be continued."

Most things are special. From the time I saw my first "ABC Afterschool Special," I was aware that in life and on TV, there are times that you encounter unusual circumstances to the point that it become "special." That's why, for instance, I said recently, "Today, on a very special 'Brad,' the lawn gets mowed," and Mrs. Brad wasn't bothered. She'd seen specials, such as the very special episode when I got sick and the episode when I got in a car wreck. The last one included a special guest star, our insurance agent.

Catch phrases are key. We all need catch phrases, something I learned from Jimmy Walker, Henry Winkler, Redd Foxx and even Jackie Gleason. I spent much of my life developing catch phrases. They change now from time to time, but my current catch phrase is "Brad says that won't work," followed by a glance at the "camera" (or whomever is near), with my eyebrows raised. Always gets a laugh.

Be suspicious of new people. On pretty much every show, the special guest star brought problems (see the mention of the special episode with the insurance agent, earlier). Because of that, I don't warm up to people much. I figure anyone who isn't a regular "cast member" of my life probably is just there to create tension for the "episode" that I'm living.

Foreign languages are easy. German isn't a different language, it's just English with a harsh accent. On "Hogan's Heroes," the characters  spoke harsh, German-accented English and the German people understood them. Same with French and Italian. Foreign languages are really just accented English.

Spinoffs are OK. Sure, my kids will move out and start their own lives. That's fine – it's like "Laverne and Shirley" or "Maude" or "Rhoda." It's not the end of anything, it's a spinoff and I'm glad I could help launch their "shows." But I still get the 8 p.m. time slot.

I am still "Dragnet" to their "Adam-12."

Could it go differently? Brad says that won't work. DOUBLE-TAKE!

Brad Stanhope is the star of "The Brad Stanhope Show." Reach him at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

Password quandary is . . . confusing

Of all the things required in a digital world, there's nothing as difficult as passwords.

Not that it's hard to come up with them – that's easy. We use our kids' names. Our pets. A favorite year. A band or team. A nickname. A combination.

The difficult thing is mixing them up and remembering what password goes with what website.

How many times have you gone to a website and been asked to put in a user name/password combination that you created months ago? You might be able to figure out the user name, but maybe not.

And what was the password?

Did they require a certain number of characters? Did they require you to mix numbers and letters? Use at least one alternate character? Did capital letters matter?

Unfortunately, we're not always smart. I know that because I read SplashData's annual list of most popular passwords. The conclusion was based on leaked data (which might explain why "Target" was a popular password).

The top choices? You can probably guess. They might be yours!

But first, do you think the creators of the TV game show "Password" are angry that their show title has become a tech term?

You remember "Password." It was on both ABC and CBS and the host on both networks was Allen Ludden, who was married to the ageless Betty White. It involved celebrities and civilians on teams, which alternated efforts to guess the "password." If, for instance, the password was "mountain," the clue-giver might say "Rocky," "hill" and "big" in an effort to help their teammate. The point values dropped as more clues were given.

The best part was the voice-over when the password was revealed. It was a whisper, despite the fact that they added it in post-production and the competitors couldn't hear it if it were yelled.

"The password is . . . mountain," the voice-over man would say.

It led to a generation of people using that as a catchphrase. "The password is . . . dork," they would say when someone embarrassed themselves. (I know. I heard it plenty.)

Then came the age of technology and the need for user names and passwords. For some of us, the game show legacy lives on . . . every time I sign into a website, I whisper "the password is . . . " and then say my password (and hear Mrs. Brad say "dork.")

But anyway, back to the most popular passwords. What would you think are the top two choices?

They are "123456" and "password." Clever, right?

Based on that, we can presume that the most popular user names are "123456" and "user name."

So what should we do? Password experts remind us that we should change our passwords frequently (my alternate choice is "Match Game," which is ironic). They tell us we should have a combination of characters. There should be a nonsensical nature to them.

Of course, they don't tell us how we're supposed to remember them.

For me, it's simple. I've kept the same password for years – and it's easy to remember. And it certainly isn't "123456" or "password."

Promise not to tell anyone?

The password is . . . AllenLudden.

Now you know, so it's time to go change all of them to "MatchGame!"

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

Daylight saving time, Rubio, Oreos and more

Time for me to clean out my notebook on the shortest day of the year. Literally. Today is a 23-hour day, since daylight saving time starts.

This is the best of all days, including Christmas, baseball opening day and the day the new phone books arrive on my doorstep, confirming that I am still alive.

It's the perfect combination of anticipation and a dramatic change in rhythm. The start of daylight saving time (and once again, why not call it "standard time," since it covers nearly eight months of the year) makes it still sunny at 6:30 p.m. When the 8-to-5 workers of the world come home, we have a few extra hours of daylight every day.

It's also the start of the ramp up for summer. With daylight saving time comes warmer weather, baseball spring training, car windows rolled down and barbecues. And summer re-runs, like "The Mac Davis Show."

Daylight saving time. The best day of the year.

On to the topics du jour . . .

• In case you're wondering, the other top days of the year include baseball opening day, the Friday of Memorial Day weekend, Thanksgiving, Mrs. Brad's birthday and that day every other year when the Giants win the World Series.
• Who will win "The Bachelor?" I say Lauren, but that's just a guess.
• More TV: I get reminded of how old I am every time I watch an episode of "House Hunters" and am impressed by a home – only to hear the people on the show talk about how old it looks. For instance, when did ceiling fans go out of style? And why?
• If you want to be confused, go to the store to buy Oreos. There are 50 different flavors. How did that happen?
• More Oreos: What happened to Hydrox, the old-school, low-budget alternative?
• If Marco Rubio drops out of the Republican presidential race, I'll be OK. Not because of his politics, but because I have repeatedly called him Ricky Rubio, the name of the Minnesota Timberwolves point guard.
• More NBA: If Stephen Curry retired today, he'd do it as the greatest shooter in NBA history. But a Curry retirement would also surprise his teammates and his fans, since there is another month left in the regular season.
• If you told the teenage Brad that a long beard, skinny jeans and shiny shoes would be stylish, I would have laughed so hard that I might have split my leisure suit.
• Mrs. Brad had left-shoulder surgery recently, which means one thing: There's a new southpaw arm-wrestling champion in our house!
• No one asked, but I consider people who named directional states lazy. North Dakota? South Dakota? West Virginia? North Carolina? South Carolina? There's no reason that they couldn't come up with a new name, is there?
• Along the same lines, is  York, Pennsylvania, the "old" version compared to New York?
• Why didn't Liza Minnelli star in a remake of "The Wizard of Oz?" It would have been much more dramatic, if that's possible.
• I can't formulate a great answer if someone asks me why it's OK to eat beef, but not to eat horse or dog meat. But please don't tell my dog.

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

Dogs, mankind: 40,000 years of love

I thought I had an "old dog" story from my childhood: Calico, the leg-humping beagle who would have turned 50 last spring had she not been taken too soon.

Calico was old. She lived to be 15, despite being obese and hideously out of shape.

But it turns out that Calico was far from an old dog. So was George Washington's dog. Or any dog from the time of Jesus (think there was a generation of dogs named "Judas" in the late first century?).

Heck, a dog in ancient Greece can't be considered an old dog.

That's because research published in the journal Current Biology suggests that dogs were "man's best friend" as far back as 40,000 years ago.

Our relationship with dogs goes back 400 centuries! That goes back to when (according to my estimate) your great-great-great-great grandparents were alive.

The old-dog theory comes from science: An ancient bone discovered in Siberia.

Without getting too scientific (which would require me to learn), researchers say the Siberian bone shows that dogs and wolves split long before originally thought – with dogs becoming pets.

In that way, the dog-wolf split is like your aunt and uncle, who have been living apart for a decade, but still came to family events together, acting like they were a couple. Finally, they admitted that they lived in different places.

Dogs and wolves now admit they split up.

There was no real reason given for the dog-wolf split, but one scientist said it was because of creative differences. A rival group of scientists insist that it was due to Yoko Ono.

I think that's just unfair. I suspect dogs and wolves were simply forerunners to Sammy Hagar and David Lee Roth. Or Jim Harbaugh and the 49ers. They just had to go different directions.

But that doesn't really matter. This does: Dogs appear to have been close to mankind 40,000 years ago, which goes back to the year 37,885 B.C., three years before Betty White was born.

A young Betty White may have had a dog!

Like many scientific discoveries, this timeline is an estimate. Scientists can't say for sure when humans began domesticating dogs, but sources say that further evidence suggests that an ancient man named "Grog" had a dog – there are drawings on a cave wall of a stick figure with a sad face picking up dog poop. "Grog hate poop" is written in ancient text.

Is that true? I'm not sure. But I'm not not sure, either. It's possible.

If you love your dog, take heart. Humans have loved dogs for a long time.

We have 40,000 years of telling them to stop barking, 40,000 years of arranging for someone to watch them while we vacation (or hunt/gather), 40,000 years of taking them for walks, 40,000 years of saying (in a variety of languages) "who's a good dog?"

If that seems like a long time, consider what it seems like to dogs.

Since they age seven years for every year we do, it is 280,000 years to them.

Or, in dog terms, "more than two."

They still haven't learned how to count beyond that after 40,000 years. That's because you can't teach old dogs . . . . Well, you know.

So did Grog.

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

Some templates to help you communicate better

We live in a world of templates and shortcuts. We send emails instead of letters. We send text messages instead of emails. We abbreviate "laugh out loud," because we can (and despite the fact that it should be "laugh aloud").

We had Facebook, then dumped it for Twitter, which reduced messages to 140 characters or less. Then we dumped Twitter for Instagram, which is photographs for people who don't want to have to read 140 characters. Then we dumped Instagram for Snapchat, which makes photos disappear quickly (by "we," of course, I mean "you").

Similarly, we like templates. Give me a template for a cover letter. Give me a template for an email. Give me talking points. Don't make me think.

The reason for shortcuts and templates? It takes too much time to figure out how to communicate, which is why I have a suggestion for the next step in templates: Speaking templates.

Brilliant?

Brilliant!

They're vague, yet applicable. They give us an idea of what to say and our listener can fill in the blanks with their own experience. The result? We save time and our "audience" gets something interesting. It's the ultimately 21st-century experience: simple, short and personally satisfying.

From a template.

You may not understand, so let me give you some examples.

For instance, someone brings up a subject at the workplace and you want to get a few laughs – by topping it with your own similar story. Under my plan, you would say this (Template 1):

"You think that's funny? Well I once did a similar thing but in a way that was much worse and had a hilarious result!"

People will fill in the blanks. They'll laugh. Each person will feel like it's personalized and you'll be the winner.

Similarly, consider the next time you are called upon to make a public speech. It's crucial to have something at the start that relaxes the audience and gets them on your side. Here's my suggestion (Template 2):

"I'm glad you're here. This morning when I was thinking about coming here, I had this outrageous, but believable experience that ended with something that you wouldn't expect, but when I explain it, you realize the whole story made sense and then you laugh with me and like me!"

People will laugh. And like you.

Another template: The idea of how to express empathy to someone going through a difficult time, since we recognize the difficulty of knowing the right balance of giving comfort and not minimizing another person's pain. So you can say this (Template 3):

"I feel appropriately sad for you in a way that makes you feel like I understand. But not so much that it makes you feel like I am making this about me. I'm really making it about you thinking that I'm nice because I comforted you."

They'll feel better. And so will you.

This comes from my experience of relating with Mrs. Brad. After three decades of marriage, I've learned how to listen to her talk about her feelings. In fact, I recently said this (Template 3a):

"Wow. That must be important. I hope you see in my expression that I am empathizing with you and saying the appropriate, short answer that meets your needs and then makes you smile. I also hope you feel better so we don't have to talk about this again."

It must have worked. She hasn't tried to talk about her feelings since.

There's more to come: How to communicate with someone you just met. How to engage with someone on a first date. How to respond to criticism well.

Templates are great (Except 3a, which didn't work well with Mrs. Brad)!

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

How to pick best Supreme Court nominee

There's nothing like a Supreme Court justice (actually, there's nothing like a dame, but that line was taken for "South Pacific," so I'm going with Choice No. 2: Supreme Court justice.)

That became more obvious last weekend when longtime Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia died, leaving a vacancy in America's highest court. (Technically, the Denver City Court is the highest court, both by virtue of being in the Mile High City and because marijuana is legal there, but we'll go with the Supreme Court for purposes of this column.)

President Barack Obama began to consider whom to nominate for what will undoubtedly be a long, arduous fight in the Senate.

The previous longest fight in the Senate was the great Lincoln-Douglas primary election bout of 1858, which went 87 rounds before Lincoln won on a knockout. When Lincoln was staggered early in the fight, the ring doctor asked him for his address and he said "Gettysburg," which led to laughter all around, despite it being five years before he delivered the Gettysburg Address.

Anyway, back to the Supreme Court.

As the ultimate seat for one of America's three branches of government, a nominee for the Supreme Court always brings plenty of scrutiny. Whether it's an examination of previous rulings, any political history or one of the famed "litmus tests" that candidates often face (abortion, gay marriage, the designated hitter rule, the Dick York-Dick Sargent debate as best Darren on "Bewitched"), everything's on the table.

It's messy, but I have a plan.

We want the best person possible on the Supreme Court, so I say let's look at what's needed to be on the court, then find the best person – whether they're a "judge" or a "lawyer" or a "newspaper columnist who overuses quotation marks."

The Constitution, by the way, agrees with me.

You may be surprised, but our Constitution doesn't lay out any requirements for the Supreme Court. There are no age specifications. No need for a law degree. Not even the ability to eat with your mouth closed, which has led to some awkward moments in the Supreme Court kitchen.

Traditionally, of course, presidents turned to judges as their nominees. Seven of the eight current members were judges immediately before their appointment and Elena Kagan was the solicitor general of the United States, a judgy kind of gig.

But many previous members of the court weren't judges, including a former secretary of state (John Marshall), treasury secretary (Samuel Chase), senator (Harold Burton) and inventor of the hot dog (Felix Frankfurter).

So let's look at what's needed. There are four major qualities needed to decide cases that will set law for the entire nation: Sound judgment, the ability to articulate the reasons, the ability to get along with others and the ability to look good in one of those robes.

I'd be willing to compromise on one of those, but no more.

The solution is obvious. Who has to make decisions that affect many people after listening to impassioned appeals from those involved? Who must deal with making a tough call in the spotlight, based on what's fair to others? Who is best suited for the demands of this job?

The answer is simple. President Obama should throw out tradition and embrace practicality. He should spurn a sitting judge and nominate a veteran elementary school teacher to the Supreme Court.

A recently retired teacher might be a good choice (Fairfield-Suisun School District's Judy Engell?).

Problem solved. Oh, the other important answer is Dick Sargent.

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

How I avoid Valentine's Day hassle

Today, I'm standing up to The Man. Or being lazy. Or cutting corners.

Whatever.

Let's go with the idea that I'm sticking it to The Man. Valentine's Day? No thanks!

The pressure to participate in the annual celebration of love is strong. You're expected to do something romantic, so it's a lose-lose situation.

If you do something, it's because it was expected. If not, you're a jerk.

I'm (largely) not doing anything today. But I insist it's not because of my jerkiness, but because I'm standing up to Big Valentine, the candy-and-flowers lobby.

Who's with me?

Anyone?

OK, here's another reason I'm largely ignoring Valentine's Day: Mrs. Brad doesn't like the holiday. And in a topic that's either related or unrelated, she also loves cheap candy, which ironically makes Valentine's month one of the best times of the year.

More on that later. But first, this:

A close friend at work is getting married this summer and her fiancé is pulling off romantic moves that make it look like his life is being managed by the producers of "The Bachelor." Roses. Candles. Special dinners. Invitation to take my friend, her mom and sister to dinner. He is living like a character in a romance novel – I half expect him to arrive shirtless, on a horse at the office one of these days.

My reaction? Partly awe. Partly concern that he's setting an impossibly high standard.

I feel like the haggard war veteran seeing the new recruit running to battle while being concerned about his long-term safety. Save a little for the future, son!

When Mrs. Brad and I began dating, I did a lot of romantic things. I must have – I'm sure she remembers, but that part of my brain is taken up by the starting lineup of the 1982 Giants and the lyrics to the theme of "Laverne and Shirley."

But here's one of the best things about Mrs. Brad: Since I started dating her decades ago, she's had a thing for cheap seasonal candy. She likes those orange slices that come out at Halloween. She likes Christmas candy. If there was a July 4 candy, she'd like that, too, as a chaser to Peeps from Easter.

But most of all, she likes the "conversation hearts" candies that arrive in the grocery store every Jan. 2, replacing the New Year's Eve champagne and party favors. They're on sale for six weeks at really low prices.

Since we started dating, Mrs. Brad has lit up when I give her a box of the candy. And when she eats them, it's a production: She reads the heart to me, then eats it. "First kiss," she'll say, then eat the heart. "My love," she'll coo, then eat the heart. I nod while watching the game on TV.

It's an inexpensive way to celebrate Valentine's Day for weeks!

As we celebrate today, allow me to give a little relationship advice.

Be romantic, but pace yourself.

Treat your loved one with romance and respect every day.

Don't wait for an annual holiday to show your affection.

Put Jack Clark in right field and let him hit third (oops! The 1982 Giants got mixed in there!).

Most of all? Find someone who likes conversation hearts. And if you really want her to say loving things to her, just ask her to read the candy to you.

Hot stuff!

And pretend that you're really standing up to Big Valentine.

Brad Stanhope is a former Daily Republic editor who also hopes this column also substitutes as a Valentine's Day gift for Mrs. Brad. Reach him at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

16 facts to know for the Super Bowl

Today is the big day. After months of commercials, official reviews, helmet-to-helmet hits and more commercials, it's Super Bowl Sunday.

Peyton Manning will be on TV almost as much as he is in games when he doesn't play – on those omnipresent Nationwide Insurance commercials.

If you're a fan, you already know about the Broncos and Panthers, who play today. If you're not, you're in the right place.

This is where you can learn all you need to know about the event, teams and players in Super Bowl 50 in lovely Santa Clara.

Here are 16 facts, since the greatest player in Super Bowl history was No. 16: David Woodley of the 1982 Dolphins.

Hah hah, fooled you. It was Joe Montana. Not on the 1982 Dolphins, though. He was the greatest No. 16.

Anyway, here are the 16 facts, some of which might be true:

• Manning, Denver's quarterback, started his NFL career in 1998. That means he started his career in the same millennium as the American Revolution.
• The teams may experiment today with a rule that a failed replay challenge results in the responsible coach being punched in the stomach by the opposing coach while standing at the 50-yard line.
• Super Bowl IV was the first time with an individual performer at halftime. It was Carol Channing. Seriously. Carol Channing.
• Manning started his NFL career in 1998. That means he started his career a millennium when Carol Channing performed in a Super Bowl halftime show. Carol Channing!
• Carolina quarterback Cam Newton ranks fourth on the "Greatest Newtons" list, behind Sir Issac, Wayne and Fig.
• Denver, the hometown of the AFC Champion Broncos, is actually 5,280 feet above sea level, which is why it's nickname is "The 1.609-Kilometer-High City."
• Carol Channing. Seriously. And she was in the Super Bowl halftime show again two years later. Twice!
• The term "sack," which means tackling the quarterback behind the line of scrimmage, comes from the early practice of grabbing quarterbacks, stuffing them in burlap bags and keeping them there the rest of their natural lives. That practice ended in 1983.
• Broncos cornerback Aqib Talib is not only the greatest rhyming name in the NFL, it's a sure winner in "hangman."
• CBS will broadcast today's Super Bowl. Ironically, CBS is the network that broadcast "I Love Lucy" in the 1950s. It's also quite possible that I don't know what "ironically" means. Which might be ironic. But maybe not.
• Manning started his NFL career in 1998. That means he started his career in the millennium that "I Love Lucy" was on CBS.
• The NFL decided to call the game "Super Bowl 50" instead of using a Roman numeral because Roman numbers only go up to 49. In ancient Rome, anything greater than 49 was called "Magnum Numerus."
• Manning started his NFL career in 1998. That means he started his career just one millennium after the one that saw the height of the Roman Empire.
• Super Bowls are the 21 most-watched TV programs in American history. The 22nd-most-watched program was that "Gilligan's Island" episode where they almost got off the island, but Gilligan fouled it up. I think.
• The character of "Gilligan" was played by Bob Denver, who is the namesake of one of the NFL teams in today's game: Yes, Charlotte, North Carolina, is named after Bob Denver.
• Manning started his NFL career in 1998. That means he started his career in the same millennium as the invention of the printing press, which made the printed version of this column possible.

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

Interpreting lives from a refrigerator door

Perhaps there's nothing that better describes an American's life than our refrigerator doors. Even if the items don't fully explain us, the length of time they remain does.

I guess.

Although there was good reason that the 2007 doctor appointment card remained. Really.

Recently, Mrs. Brad cleaned off our refrigerator door, removing photos and magnets and pieces of paper taped to the gorgeous white door (I wish we had an avocado- or mustard-colored fridge, like we did back in the day, but you know, progress . . . .)

Anyway, in the spirit of self-revelation, here are some of the items that had taken up semi-permanent residence on the fridge at Casa de Stanhope:

Three magnets for the same appliance repair shop. The refrigerator has avoided problems, but our washer? Dishwasher? Dryer? Rarely has a year gone by without needing some sort or repair. Apparently I repeatedly thought "we should keep this number," without realizing it was already there.

Photos of a bunch of kids. Ours. Our friends'. Several of a boy from Ghana who we sponsored for several years through WorldVision. The most intriguing thing was that we had far more photos of Awudu (the Ghanaian boy) than we did of either of our sons. Because WorldVision sends photos annually and we don't print photos that often.

Death notices of dear friends. This is something that I doubt we had on our fridge in our 20s. And something I fear will increase as we get older.

Magnets from local Chinese food restaurants. Because you never know when you need to order pot stickers.

A list of meals that we prepare. This was very helpful when we meal-planned. Rather than only being able to think of the same five meals every week, we had a list. So we picked the same five items each week off the list.

Several magnets of church campaigns. They were really good reminders about the "40 Days of Prayer" and "40 Days of Community." Until they became part of the background and remained on the fridge for years. Maybe we need one for "40 Years of Campaigns."

"Save the date" magnets for the 2009 and 2010 annual meetings for the company where Mrs. Brad used to work. Because, you know, we needed to save the dates. Years ago.

A Barack Obama for president magnet from 2008. (Note: That item alone will prompt the most comments on this column.)

Had we not cleaned the outside of the fridge (and the inside could conceivably contain some items of equal vintage – after all, when my sisters helped clean out my parents' fridge recently, they found hidden in the back some medicine with an expiration date in the 1980s!), you wonder what a future archaeologist would have concluded about us when she found the fridge during an excavation.

Likely that we were Christians who liked Chinese food when we weren't having spaghetti, tacos, chicken fettuccine or pizza; who owned failing appliances; who knew a lot of kids and who supported Barack Obama in 2008.

But mostly this: That we were obsessive magnet collectors.

I swear it's not true. To prove it, we only kept three magnets as we start the next generation of refrigerator cover.

One of them is about the president. Let the comments begin!

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

Sneak preview of genre-bending novel

Today I debut the first chapter of my proposed new novel, which combines several popular genres in an attempt to capture a huge audience and make me rich and famous.

And to help the world, of course.

As a reader of the Daily Republic, you benefit by seeing my first draft. It follows.

• • •

CHAPTER ONE

Amanda knew it was dangerous, but she wanted to be with Jedediah.

"Oh my gosh, this is so exciting!" she shouted as he put the horses in the harnesses. Jedediah nodded back, stroking his long beard.

This wasn't how Amanda planned it. When she told her parents she was going to the homecoming football game for Central High, she meant it.

Of course, the fact that a massive war a few years ago killed much of the world's population and wiped out most technology meant that she couldn't call home. Mobile phones still existed, but there weren't any affordable plans.

Amanda fully intended to go to the football game until she saw Jedediah, silently walking down Main Street with two horses following.

"Are these your horses?" she asked Jedediah.

He nodded.

"They're so cute. They remind me of my stuffed ponies at home."

Jedediah nodded again, then started harnessing the horses. His spirit double was next to him, although Amanda couldn't see it because she was unable to see spirits. Yet. (Spoiler alert!)

Jedediah didn't say anything about her stuffed ponies or the spirit double. Maybe because he didn't know what she meant about the stuffed ponies or maybe because he was busy harnessing the horses. Or because he was Amish.

Anyway, it suddenly, shockingly became dark. Darker than the darkest night. Darker than really dark pants or a dark shirt. Darker than an olive – the black kind, not the green kind with that red pimento in it. And despite the fact that it was still in the middle of the afternoon.

Jedediah was still harnessing the horses – which seemed weird because it was dark and because he was an Amish guy who probably harnessed horses often and should be pretty good at it.

Amanda heard sounds: Rustling leaves. Footsteps. The squeak of a basketball shoe on a gym floor. Someone doing a Jackie Mason impersonation. Yodeling. An AM radio station playing "Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves." A Styrofoam ice chest squeaking in the back of your grandma's station wagon.

"Jeremiah? Do you hear that?" Amanda said.

He didn't answer, because his name was Jedediah, not Jeremiah. But he knew she was talking to him, so he nodded.

Jedediah particularly heard the Jackie Mason impersonation, which reminded him of "Chicken Soup," Mason's 1989 TV series that lasted only 12 episodes. Jedediah and his family had watched it on their wood-powered TV.

The sounds got louder and Amanda moved closer to Jedediah.

She was so close that she could smell his Amish cologne: Eau de Rural Pennsylvania.

Suddenly Amanda realized he was holding her. Or someone was. She presumed it was Jedediah, but it was so dark she couldn't tell.

For the second time in 20 paragraphs, Amanda knew it was dangerous, but she wanted to be with Jedediah. Then . . .

Someone bit her neck and Amanda began to lose her sense of place. And her sense of time. She also lost her mobile phone, but that didn't matter much since as we established earlier that there were few affordable plans.

As the post-apocalyptic world spun, Amanda saw her mistakes. Her past. She saw Jedediah's spirit double, which was trying to act casual although it clearly knew she was watching. She also saw Bigfoot.

Amanda realized Jedediah wasn't just Amish. He was a vampire! A post-apocalyptic, Amish vampire character in a best-selling novel!

She had no idea that her adventure was just beginning . . .

• • •

There you have it. The start of a groundbreaking novel that combines all the hottest genres. I just need to add a little romance-novel spice, I think. Maybe Jedediah should be shirtless.

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