Discover of more moons makes Saturn the Rickey Henderson of planets

Underpromise and overdeliver.

As always, Saturn is living up to its motto. And by "Saturn," I mean the planet, not the former car company from which I purchased a 1994 vehicle that I drove until it went to the junkyard. That included an incident where I thought bungee cords would hold down the hood after the latch was broken, leading to a wild few moments on Interstate 80 between Fairfield and Vacaville when the hood popped open, shattered my windshield and blocked my view at 60 mph.

But enough about that (also: That's a future column topic). This is about the planet.

A team of astronomers at Mauna Kea in Hawaii recently discovered 128 additional moons for Saturn, extending its hold on the record for most moons in the solar system. One hundred twenty-eight. That's not a small increase, like finding out that what we thought was one moon was actually two, or that four moons were in the bathroom when the moon picture was taken.

This is a huge increase. Saturn now has 274 moons.

Of course, as all Saturn fans are aware, Saturn was previously credited with 146 moons (official motto of the Saturn Fan Club: "If you're not a fan of Saturn, you've obviously got your head up Uranus." It's a motto that's hilarious if you're a 13-year-old boy. Or any male, I guess). 

Saturn surpassed Jupiter's 95 moons long ago (really long ago, I guess. Having undiscovered moons means they were there, we just didn't know about them. Kind of like North America to the 14th-century Europeans or Peter Frampton to my friends before the "Frampton Comes Alive" album). 

This discovery makes Saturn the undisputed king of moons in our solar system. Saturn has more moons than all the other planets combined and if my math is correct, the fact that Saturn has 274 moons means it has (let me get my calculator and punch in some numbers . . . OK, hold on . . .) 274 times as many moons as Earth.

Saturn has more moons than the Unification Church (hey! Another 1970s joke!).

To be fair to other planets, some of Saturn's moons are rather unimpressive. They are blurry chunks of rocks, seen only in photos. They're likely the result of comets colliding with existing moons, breaking them into smaller bits, like how the Beatles breaking up meant four solo careers (but in this case, none of the moons are John Lennon or Paul McCartney. However, Saturn does have ring(o)s, get it?).

Anyway, there remains debate about this subject because there's no agreed-upon definition of when a rock becomes a moon, just like there's some dispute about what constitutes a planet (Pluto, of course, lost planethood when it was declared a "dwarf planet," which seems like a slur. "Little planet" seems more appropriate, but I can't make that point to experts because I've been banned from astronomy conferences due to my steady stream of "Uranus" jokes).

Scientists think there may be more Saturn moons to be discovered, so it's highly likely that the planet will remain the king of moons in our solar system. Jupiter remains a distant second, like Lou Brock (938) to Rickey Henderson (1,406) in baseball's list of stolen base leaders.

Saturn is way above Jupiter in moons, which is why we in the Saturn Fan Club always say, "If you really love Jupiter, you couldn't be stupider." And then someone mentions something about Uranus and we all laugh.

Astronomy can be fun.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Why superhero movies don't seem interesting to me

It happens every couple of months.

Someone at my office or at church or online will be excited. Perhaps I'll see a news item about it. Or will overhear someone else talking about it in the grocery store.

"I can't wait! The new Green Salamander movie is coming out next month!"

Or, "Finally, they're making a 'Fishman' movie. I hope it's true to the real story."

People love superhero movies from Marvel or DC. (I think. Other superhero comic companies may exist, and Marvel and DC may be the names of insurance companies.)

People love superheroes. They love the comic books and they especially love the movies. Superhero movies (by this, I include fantasy movies that seem superheroish to me) dominate the box office every summer. Black Panther. Spider-Man (why the hyphen?). Deadpool. Wolverine. Batman. Dr. Strange. (Superhero? Seems superheroish to me).

Here's where I'm an outlier. I don't love superheroes, I don't care about them, I've never read superhero comic books and I haven't seen a superhero movie since the 1978 Superman with Christopher Reeve (which I didn't like and contributed to my not returning to the genre).

This makes me strange, the same way not liking Star Wars does. (I don't hate Star Wars, I just don't care about it. I think of Star Wars in the same way I think of the Orlando Magic or raisins or AC-DC. I don't have strong feelings one way or the other.)

But superheroes. People love superheroes and I remain slightly baffled.

Perhaps it comes from my childhood, which didn't include superheroes. Oh, I read comic books. But the comic books I read were Archie or Richie Rich or Sad Sack or Donald Duck.

Superheroes seemed like something little boys should like, although it's not true. There's an entire genre of literature devoted to such things: The graphic novel (confession: The first several times I heard the term "graphic novel," I presumed it applied to novels that were explicitly sexual in nature. You know, graphic).

Adults buy and read graphic novels. They like the superheroes.

The same thing is true with manga, the Japanese graphic novel genre (another confession: I presumed manga was a fruit since I never heard anyone say manga and mango in the same sentence).

There are plenty of reasons people like superhero movies. There's long-form storytelling (people follow characters through development). There's a sense of justice or injustice. There's the opportunity for extensive backstories on secondary characters.

There's nothing wrong with superheroes. In fact, I kind of like the fact that people get so excited about the new movie about the Grape Bucket or Fat Cat (not real characters. I think.). But it's a culture in which I'm an outsider.

In fact, when the first Black Panther movie came out, I expected it to be about Huey Newton and Bobby Seale and the late 1960s political movement. Nope.

So keep watching the superhero movies (and manga and Star Wars). Just realize that some of us (I presume I'm not alone) don't know the Green Salamander or Grape Bucket. We're waiting for the next (first?) movie about Jughead, Archie's goofball friend.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Marching into the bronze medal spot among month rankings

The old proverb says March comes "in like a lion, out like a lamb," which suggests it's an interesting month. It is. There's a lot happening in March. There's wild weather, significant sports events and one of our last remaining ethnic-focused holidays.

Yet March ranks third out of the months – in quality, as well as where it falls on our calendar.

My mildly scientific, extremely subjective ranking of our 12 months lists the third month in the bronze medal position among its cohort. How? Well, based on weather, attitude, sports and culture, here are the months, ranked from last to first. I don't hate any month. I just like some months more.

12. January: It starts with a bang as New Year's Day ends the "holiday season." January includes most of the college football and NFL playoff games and network TV series (remember them?) restart. But it's dark and cold and long and dark and cold and long and . . . the 31 days of January take about three months.

11. February: The shortest month, thank goodness. There are some good things – the Super Bowl, the Grammys, Valentine's Day (questionable whether it's good), Presidents' Day. But after enduring January, the dreary February days are a test of patience. There's a glimpse of spring, but it's still far off.

10. November: The end of daylight-saving time, the beginning of rainy days and cold mornings. The NBA season gets in full swing, although most people are watching football. The highlight? Thanksgiving is in November and it's arguably our best holiday. But there's definitely a sense of foreboding. Winter is coming.

9. December: It's the holiday month, which rescues it from the bottom three. However, the weather and the length of time until spring brings it down. Winter doesn't officially begin until Dec. 21, but the whole month feels wintery, with intermittent holiday cheer. December is fun with a sense of pending January.

8. August: Summer starts to drag out a bit. You're two months into hot weather (which is fine by me, but I understand if you don't like it) and still nowhere near autumn. School starts and the last half of the month is a weird mix of summer with kids going to school. And NFL training camps are rolling, a further hint that fall is coming. Eventually.

7. April: After March provides a hint of spring, April is often a month in purgatory, waiting for the promised nice weather. However, it really is getting warmer, the is more daylight and it's usually the month of Easter.

6. October: Early in the month feels like summer and the end is Halloween, with cold weather and possible rain. This is the transition month, moving from warmth and light to cold and darkness. But the darkness is not here yet, so it holds up.

5. September: Mrs. Brad and I have a longstanding joke that people say, "you know, the best weather of the year here is in September and October," as if that's unique to their location. That's true everywhere. September is a great mix of heat waves and cooling nights. It's baseball pennant races, the start of the football season, the launch of fall TV (remember network TV?).

4. July: Midsummer. The Fourth of July and fireworks. The Fairfield parade. Waterfront in Suisun City. This is the month you go camping or go to a baseball game or take a vacation. It's also a month that might have a few 100-plus-degree days. If you're a kid, it's a full month off school.

3. March: The first hint of life returning. A few sunny days and the calendar tells us April . . . and May! . . . are coming! Baseball spring training is in full swing, a further suggestion of nice weather. College basketball's March Madness makes it fun. And . . . daylight-saving time returns. A really solid month.

2. May: A month of anticipation. School is almost out. Summer is almost here. The weather is almost great. If May were a condiment, it would be thick catsup: A wait that you're confident is worth it, but one that takes a long time.

1. June: School's out, the NBA Finals and Stanley Cup Final (weird that the NBA puts an "s" at the end of final and the NHL doesn't) are held, baseball is in full swing. The weather is warmer, but usually not super hot yet. It has the day with the most daylight of the year!

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Technology ruins another treasured tradition: Changing clocks for DST

Technology has ruined another great day. At least for me.

For decades, I've been a leading advocate for daylight saving time, which begins today ("leading advocate" means I've written more than 10 columns in which I describe my love for DST).

I love sunlight into the evening. I love how DST makes it feel like summer is near. The dark mornings are worth it.

I love – or I loved – having a skill that seemed special.

Mrs. Brad is the handy person at our house. By that, I mean she does approximately 105% of all repairs. She's the person who speaks to anyone who does work at our house. The toolbox is hers and nearly every "handyman" duty I do (primarily demolition) is done under her supervision.

She's an engineer who is fascinated with how things work, who loves construction and who is always figuring how to make things better. I'm a writer who wishes things would never break and then figures it's easier to work around them than to fix them.

Anyway, in a nearly 40-year marriage that included raising two sons, she's done the handyman work except one duty that I generously include in that category: Changing the clocks when daylight saving time begins and ends.

In that, I'm the king!

On the second Sunday of March and the first Sunday of November (I have an unnecessary knowledge about the DST schedule), it's my job to change all the clocks: The clock on the stove. The clock on the microwave. The clock on the thermostat. The clocks hanging on the walls. The clocks in the cars.

After spending 363 days watching Mrs. Brad fix things (typical exchange for us: Mrs. Brad asks me to bring her an adjustable wrench. I bring her a tool and ask, "Is this a wrench?" She answers, "That's a screwdriver. Never mind, I'll get it."), the start and end of daylight saving time gives me a chance to shine.

On the day time changed through the 1980s, 1990s and 2000s, I would rub my hands together eagerly and bring an empty suitcase that I set down on a nearby counter (to look like a toolbox) while I did my work. "Let me see," I'd say, loud enough for my sons to hear me, "we've just got to move this clock forward an hour. Remember the old saying, "Lefty loosey, righty tighty, spring forward, fall back." Then I'd adjust the clock, announce it "fixed" and move on to the next clock. The clock on the wall in the living room. The alarm clock in our bedroom. On and on.

It was a tradition, but about 15 hours ago, it began to change. Smart technology allowed our principal timekeeping devices to update automatically. Suddenly, no one forgot that the time changed, because everything on which they kept time changed automatically. Worse yet, the number of clocks I needed to change plunged. And none of them are that important.

Our phones, watches and other key devices automatically update.

So today, I'll change some clocks. Our microwave and stove clocks are not smart, so I'll update them. The big clock on our living room wall needs my work.

Alas, the thrill of doing major changes is gone. The clocks I update are unimportant and my skill is no longer one that's really needed. Mrs. Brad generally changes the clock in her car now (I presume new cars update automatically. Our newest car – which still makes me feel like I'm driving the space shuttle – is 13 years old).

My main "handyman" skill (I realize most people wouldn't define this as a handyman skill. I don't care) is not needed.

Daylight saving time is still great. I still support it and I'll still get out a suitcase and pretend today.

The only remaining thrill is that we get daylight later in the day.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Asteroid could hit Solano County in 2032, but there's no reason to panic

There's no reason to panic. Barring something else happening, the odds are that you'll survive to see Christmas 2032.

Probably. Maybe. Or at least you probably won't die three days earlier when an asteroid hits Solano County. Probably won't.

In case you missed it, astronomers are now tracking a small asteroid (small = size of a strip mall) that could possibly hit the Earth Dec. 22, 2032.

Again, it seems unlikely. The latest odds are that it has a less than 1% chance of happening. Of course, previously, it was 2% and then 3% and now between 0% and 1%, so it's as unlikely as the U.S. men's hockey team beating the Soviet Union in the 1980 Olympics or someone winning $100 million in a lottery or maybe even someone having twins.

Wait a second! All of those things happened! I know multiple twins. Oh nooooooooooooooo.

Well, the asteroid, called 2024 YR4 (another reason to worry. The last time we named something after a year, it was COVID-19), is apparently going to come close to Earth in just under eight years.

That's the key. It's supposed to be close. Not to actually hit us.

History suggests that an asteroid colliding with Earth is unlikely. For instance, the most famous asteroid hit the Earth 66 million years ago. It crashed into the planet and caused a mass extinction that eliminated 75% of all species on Earth.

Scientists say something like that happens only every 50 million years or so, so . . . wait, it's been 66 million years since the last one, so we're 16 million years overdue? Oh nooooooooooo.

Well, never mind that. Let's look at more recent history. The most recent significant asteroid to hit Earth was 119 years ago, when one landed (landed = crashed into) a sparsely populated area of Russia, leveling more than 800 square miles of trees. Since Solano County is 900 square miles, that means . . . oh nooooooooooooooooooo.

The asteroid is estimated to be a few hundred feet wide, so it will just be like a gymnasium hitting the Earth. Or a small hospital (which would be convenient if it remained in service after the collision). Listen, it's unlikely this thing will hit the Earth and even more unlikely that it will hit Solano County. I'd say it's around the same odds as Buster Douglas knocking out heavyweight champion Mike Tyson in 1990.

Wait. That happened.

Well, consider this: The asteroid could be made out of rock, metal or some combination. Unfortunately, it's unlikely to be made out of Nerf, which would just make it fun. But metal is the biggest risk and what are the odds that it's made out of metal. Maybe 50%? Something like that?

So . . . 

Umm, there's some good news. Really. Scientists tell us that 2024 YR4 will again approach Earth in late 2028. Astronomers will be able to get a better estimate of whether it could hit, with the expectation that they can guess within 100 miles or so. I'm sure we're fine. And the fact that they've daily changed the odds of the asteroid striking us shouldn't shake our confidence in them, right?

Right?

After 2028, we'll have more certainty.

This is new territory. The asteroid collision 66 million years ago obviously came as a surprise to whatever was living then (Dick Van Dyke's grandfather?). The one in Russia in 1908 was a shocker.

This time, we could be ready.

I'm going to buy a helmet this year, just to be sure. And hope for a Nerf-filled asteroid in 2032.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.