You think the coronavirus is scary? Locusts are swarming!

Just in case you aren't freaked out enough by the coronavirus, consider this: Billions of locusts are eating their way across Africa and Asia.

Yes. Locusts. And India has a low-tech solution that is either crazy or brilliant.

First, though, the coronavirus. I'll grant you that it's scary. I've seen "Outbreak" and similar movies enough to know that we just a week away from an ominous map showing the explosive growth of a deadly, zombie-creating virus. I've seen the empty grocery-store shelves where hand sanitizer is supposed to be. This is scary.

But it could be worse.

In Africa and Asia, swarms of locusts have destroyed crops. In Africa, locusts descended on Kenya and are moving toward Uganda. In Asia, locusts infested Pakistan and are moving toward China and India.

It's the worst swarms of locusts in 70 years, meaning . . . (checks statistics) all of our remaining presidential candidates were already alive the last time this happened. So maybe it wasn't that long ago?

Anyway, the swarms of locusts are hitting the most vulnerable parts of the world. In Africa, for instance, locusts are threatening South Sudan, where people don't have enough to eat due to crop failures and a brutal civil war.

Keith Cressman is the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organizations' senior locust forecasting officer (talk about a specific job. Seems like he might not be busy for months at a time, then he's incredibly busy. But I digress). Cressman says that a medium-sized swarm of locusts can eat the same amount  of food as everyone in New Jersey, Pennsylvania and New York.

That's a lot of cheese steaks and pizza slices, am I right?

We can joke about it (OK, I can joke about it), but this is horrifying. Imagine living somewhere and suddenly the sky is blackened and billions of locusts swarm in and eat everything.

The swarms have come because of unusually heavy rains and a December cyclone, which carried the locusts from the Arabian Peninsula to Africa. More rains are coming and experts say there could be 500 times more locusts by summer.

Five hundred times the billions of locusts. I'm no math expert, but that's a lot.

I've seen enough end-of-days movies to know that this doesn't end here. The locusts will somehow (airplanes? boats? wind storms?) make it around the world and attack us.

This happened before. In America.

In 1874, locusts swarmed in Kansas, blocking the sun for as long as six hours and covering every plant in site. After eating all the crops, locusts invaded farmers' houses, devouring everything they could find. The infestation covered Kansas, Iowa, Minnesota, the Dakotas and Missouri.

In Pakistan, though, they have a plan. They plan to import 100,000 Chinese ducks (I presume the ducks just come from China. I don't think they're ethnically Chinese) to eat the locusts. A duck can apparently eat 200 locusts a day (my math says that 100,000 ducks would then be able to eat 20 million locusts a day, meaning it would take them 50 days to eat a billion locusts), so it's a long-term job.

While we fight the coronavirus by washing our hands frequently and stocking up on supplies, people in other parts of the world are combating billions of locusts. The chief weapon is a bunch of  hungry ducks.

If anyone needs me, you can find me hiding in my bomb shelter, trying not to hyperventilate.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

Solano County urban legends? Here are three I've 'heard'

Nobody knows more about Solano County than Tony Wade. But in his recent column about an appearance on a TV show about local legends, Tony admitted that he was asked about local urban legends and had no answer.

What?

Tony – who can talk about everything from what stores were in downtown Fairfield in the 1960s and the history of the marching bands at Fairfield and Armijo high schools to Wonder World and Sambo's restaurant – didn't have any urban legends to share?

I do.

I know urban legends. I might make up urban legends.

I've previously written about the possibility of Kim Kardashian attending Vanden High School and Jimmy Carter owning land near Bird's Landing. I've shared the legend of John F. Kennedy water skiing in Suisun City and the possibility that the song "Hotel California" is about a Vacaville motel.

Those urban legends were shared in 2014 and 2017. Now it's 2020. A new decade, a new opportunity for urban legends.

I'm not saying the following stories are true. In fact, I'm saying they're probably not true – or at least impossible to prove. But let's spread the word and create urban legends so that the next time Tony is asked about urban legends on TV, he has an answer.

Here are three urban legends you may not know:

Suisun Slough Creature. There's (allegedly) a reason the Suisun Slough is dredged only every decade or so: A huge creature lives there.

I heard that a guy who saw it between downtown Suisun City and Grizzly Island a few years ago claims the creature is at least 80 feet long. The creature is shy (which is why so few people have seen it), but the Department of Fish and Game presumably know about it. They won't confirm it because it would create chaos in the slough.

Maybe it's true. Maybe not. But I'm not taking any chances.

"Harper Valley" is really Vacaville. "Harper Valley PTA," won the 1968 Grammy for Song of the Year by telling the story of a small-town parent-teacher association's criticism of a student's mother, followed by her harsh critique of their hypocrisy. Songwriter Tom T. Hall might deny it, but I've heard that similarities to a 1965 situation in Vacaville are too striking to ignore–including  the protagonist being "Mrs. Johnson."

A guy I used to play basketball with said his aunt is sure the song is about Vacaville. Might be true.

Amelia Earhart's airplane is at Travis Air Force Base. The famed aviation pioneer went missing in 1937 on a flight across the Pacific Ocean. Her body and her plane was never recovered. Allegedly.

A friend of a former co-worker had a civilian job at Travis and said that pilots discovered Earhart's Lockheed plane in the 1970s while doing practice flights from Honolulu to Australia. A top-secret mission recovered it and the plane was sent back to Travis, where it sits in an otherwise-vacant warehouse. It's not clear why the Air Force would keep the plane secret, but some people say it's due to a 100-year order issued a year after Earhart disappeared to keep the government's role secret.

I guess we'll find out in 2038. If it's true. Which it might be.

Solano County is an interesting place to live. But a giant water creature, a famed aviator's plane being stored here and a Grammy Award-winning song possibly being inspired by a local city?  Those legends would be legendary.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

A creative way to solve baseball's unprecedented cheating scandal

The Houston Astros cheating scandal in baseball is unprecedented – and calls for unprecedented punishment.

If you don't know about the scandal, it's a doozy: Baseball Commissioner Rob Manfred early this winter confirmed long-held suspicions that the Astros used technology to steal signs from opposing catchers to pitchers in order to give their hitters an advantage during the 2017 and 2018 seasons. The technology was reasonably high-tech (hidden cameras, spreadsheets), the communication was primitive (banging on garbage cans with a bat to signal that an off-speed pitch was coming). The big problem? The Astros won the World Series in 2017, one of the years baseball says they cheated.

The Astros cheated and won the World Series. Who do they think they are, Lance Armstrong?

The 2017 cheating-championship combination brought a torrent of criticism and worse, including opposing pitchers threatening to throw at Houston hitters this year.

Manfred suspended the team's manager and general manager, who were both subsequently fired. Two other managers affiliated with the scandal also lost their jobs. But that was it.

No players were punished, the World Series trophy stayed in Houston and anger against the Astros multiplied after the team owner and players downplayed the impact of their duplicity.

There is more anger toward the Astros than against any team in any sport during my lifetime – and the Astros players largely escaped punishment, although their championship is tainted and the players now have this as part of their legacy.

Despite inaction, this is the time to institute specific punishment. Manfred figures he can't take away the World Series title (although he could–just declare it vacant for 2017. However, there's no way he can award the title to the team the Astros beat, because that's the Dodgers), but he can do something.

The best way to punish the Astros? Do to them what they did to the rest of baseball in 2017 (and maybe 2018 and maybe 2019 and maybe 2020): Put them at a disadvantage. And embarrass them.

Here's how to punish the Astros and make the 2020 baseball season more fun:

• Require the Astros to put quotation marks around any words that refer to excellence in their 2017 season. (Such as: When the Astros "won" the 2017 World Series "title," it was the first "championship" in franchise history.)
• Make the Astros choose between giving their opponents and extra out each inning or losing an offensive out each inning. It's their choice: Nine innings of batting with only two outs per inning or nine innings of pitching to a team that gets four outs per inning.
• Allow the opponents to pick out five bats for each game that the Astros must use. Maybe a kids' bat. Maybe a fungo bat, used to hit fly balls. Maybe a wiffle-ball bat. Maybe a broomstick. The game is regular, just a slight adjustment in their odds to win. Like in 2017.
• Force Astros pitchers to declare what pitch they will throw ahead of time. Let those pitchers determine whether it is a distinct advantage for the hitter to know what's coming.
• Force the players to live in Houston for nine months per year. No, wait. They already do.

Baseball has a terrible scandal. The best way to get past it is for a public punishment that gives the Astros a chance to win, but dramatically swings the odds.

You know, like the Astros did in 2017 and 2018.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

Approaching our upcoming cruise without fear

In a few weeks, Mrs. Brad and I will depart from Long Beach on a one-week cruise to Mexico.

Everyone acts like we're crazy, because of the coronavirus.

The coronavirus has not only terrified anyone who has seen "Outbreak," it famously stranded hundreds of cruise ship passengers in Japan, with dozens and dozens of people contracting the virus and the Japanese government refusing to let people come ashore. Another cruise ship – despite reporting zero cases of coronavirus – went from port to port in Asia before being accepted in Cambodia.

For the cruise ship world, this is no carnival.

Get it? Carnival?

Anyway, our friends think  people on cruise ships risk being stranded like "Gilligan's Island." Except on a boat. And with the ability to see other people. And no hammocks, I presume. But otherwise, like Gilligan's Island. Oh, probably no Mr. and Mrs. Howell, either. But still, it's risky.

Nearly everyone who knows we're planning this vacation shudders at our plans.

Our friends have forgotten that there are plenty of other reasons to fear a cruise ship, including regular outbreaks of norovirus (Wait. That just made it seem worse).

We've gone on two previous cruises. Other than a few experiences with seasickness – one night hugging the toilet, another day getting queasy while on an outing on choppy water – our cruises have been surprisingly fun. I didn't expect that. I thought I wouldn't  like the cheesy entertainment and food. I thought I would see the same people over. I thought I'd get stir crazy. I expected to tolerate, but not enjoy, a cruise.

However, we enjoyed our cruises enough that we're going again.

I don't think we'll get sick. I think we'll have fun. I think we'll enjoy the cheesy entertainment. And here's three other things that I think – or know – will happen.

• At some point, Mrs. Brad and I will be near the front of the ship and one of us will do the "king of the world" scene from "Titanic," with arms outstretched, leaning forward. (It's far, far, far more likely that it will be me).
• At some point, I'll turn to Mrs. Brad and shout out a line from "The Poseidon Adventure": "You have to go down to go up! The ship is upside down!" Even though the ship will hopefully be right-side up. (Note: That may not be an accurate quote from the script.)
• I will at some point call it a "Pablo Cruise," referencing a band that was last popular 45 years ago.
• I will at some point highlight absurdity of people fearing the coronavirus. Then I'll feel slightly sick – and wonder if I jinxed myself.

Ultimately, fear won't stop us from having fun. We saved up for this and want to go. We want to relax on the sunny decks, eat when we want and watch a second-rate comedian make us laugh.

Mrs. Brad and I are not afraid of the coronavirus and will remain unafraid until the inevitable day when I feel slightly sick and panic. But then I'll shout, "You have to go down to go up! The ship is upside down!" at Mrs. Brad.

Everything will be fine.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

I want to send Hallmark a card about grief, but can't find one

I want to send a greeting card to Hallmark. Perhaps one that says, "May the memories of those we've lost continue to shine brightly," with a photo of a closed Hallmark store behind it.

This is a conundrum: Two leading greeting card companies are making major cuts, which makes it difficult to find the appropriate greeting card to send them. It's like trying to send a telegram to announce that it's hard to send telegrams.

Perhaps I'll send something that says, "Grief lives where love lived first," written over the top of a bunch of greeting cards.

Here's what's happening: Hallmark Cards Inc. is changing the way it's doing business, a detail revealed by the Wall Street Journal just days before one of the biggest greeting card days of the year, Valentine's Day. (Valentine's Day is Friday! So start looking now for that box of chocolates or box of conversation hearts or start preparing that social media post about how you hate Valentine's Day.)

The WSJ article was prompted by the announcement that Schurman Fine Papers, which operates Papyrus retail stores and other entities, declared bankruptcy. American Greetings Corp., the owner of the Papyrus brand, will continue to sell cards in stores all across America. Just not Papyrus stores. They are going away, thanks to a lack of demand.

The greeting card slump is another victim of technology. Instead of sending cards, we now send texts. Often with emojis, allowing us to communicate in a similar way to cavemen: A picture of a word!

Or we post our greetings on social media. Facebook users see this every year when people post on their wall to celebrate their birthday. If you have Facebook, consider this: How many people post for your birthday? How many give you cards?

The result is a 13 percent drop in greeting card sales in the U.S. over the past five years. The plunge would be worse if not for the dramatic increase in the cost of purchasing cards–it's a drop in money, not number of cards.

Anyone who's purchased a greeting card in the past decade knows the drill.  You get the card, go to the check stand and then are told that it cost $7.99. For a card that's neither unique nor clever.

The result of the technology revolution is a slide for the greeting card companies, including Hallmark (which is owned by the Hall family–who knew? They founded the company 110 years ago and the company now also runs the Hallmark Channel and Crayola, the crayon maker).

The WSJ article  said Hallmark will continue to have stores, but will also bulk up its online offerings, including through the Hallmark app. Hallmark has also opened branches in such places as hardware stores ("Sorry you got hammered") and hospitals ("Congratulations on surviving your surgery").

As we see the decline of an American giant and as we approach another Valentine's Day, let's give Hallmark, Papyrus and other greeting card companies a boost: let's buy some cards.

If nothing else, you can follow my practice while my sons were growing up by getting a child a profane greeting card for their birthday (despite the fact that they rarely heard me utter even mild cuss words). It was funny every year!

If you don't want to buy a Valentine's Day card or a profane birthday card to give to a 6-year-old, consider getting one for Hallmark.

Maybe one that says, "Those we love stay forever in our hearts," with a picture of someone in a hardware store buying a birthday card.

Or maybe just text them the same thing.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

Giving you plenty of reasons to dislike Kansas City

It's hard to hate Kansas City.

That's a problem for San Francisco 49ers fans today as their team prepares to meet the Kansas City Chiefs in Super Bowl LIV, in Miami. Because hatred is crucial in sports.

Sports fans are most comfortable when there's something to really dislike about the opponent. Sometimes, it's an opposing player (LeBron James is a prima donna! Tom Brady is a cheater! Bryce Harper is a pretty boy!), sometimes it's a history of a franchise (The Dodgers are too Hollywood! The Cowboys think they're "America's Team!" The Celtics are on TV too much!), sometimes it's the town (Miami fans are front-runners! New York fans think they live in the center of the universe! Utah Jazz fans live in Salt Lake City!).

We want something to root against a team as much as we want to support one.

It's hard to hate Kansas City.

The Chiefs biggest star is quarterback Patrick Mahomes, who is likable and fun to watch. The franchise is historically good, but hasn't won a championship in 50 years. Kansas City is perhaps America's most neutral big city (what do you think of when  you think of Kansas City: That big arch? It's in St. Louis).

There's not much to hate.

Perhaps 49ers fans could borrow some passion from Oakland Raiders fans, who consider Kansas City one of three cities (the other two being Denver and San Diego/Los Angeles) worthy of disdain, due to longtime rivalries. (Of course, they equally hate the 49ers, which means today is their worst nightmare.)

What should a self-respecting 49ers fan do today? Support the 49ers, of course, but what other fuel is there? Well, I have five things to motivate you. Here are five things to dislike about Kansas City.

5.  Kansas City is the old fling. OK, so this is a reach, but bear with me. The NBA's Cincinnati Royals moved to Kansas City and became the Kings in 1972, but lasted just 13 years before finally moving to Sacramento. If you like the Sacramento Kings, then Kansas City is your team's former boyfriend (or girlfriend). You shouldn't like Kansas City. The city treated your team poorly.

4. Kansas City is the new fling. The history of 49ers quarterbacks going to Kansas City is substantial. Joe Montana, Steve Bono and Alex Smith all turned to the Chiefs for comfort after the 49ers rejected them (this is a parallel to the Kings situation, but in reverse.

The list also includes Steve DeBerg and Elvis Grbac, by the way). Kansas City is the new boyfriend. Kansas City races in to get our former flames while they're on the rebound. Pathetic.

3. Needless confusion. Kansas City, Kansas, has nearly 150,000 residents. Kansas City, Missouri, has nearly 500,000 people and is east of Kansas City, Kansas. Seriously. Two cities with the same name next to each other. The Chiefs play in Missouri. It's Kansas City, but it's in Missouri. That's like having a Nevada City in California! (Tries to delete that last statement after remembering there is a Nevada City).

2. The dumb tomahawk chop. Remember the Atlanta Braves' tomahawk chop? Well, they do it in Kansas City, too. Enough said.

1. The Chiefs are from there. They are the 49ers opponent in the Super Bowl! They are the Raiders' rival! Of course you don't like Kansas City!

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

Bananageddon brings the Cavendish crisis home

Hurricane Maria devastated Puerto Rico in September 2017. It was the worst natural disaster to hit the island in recorded history, killing nearly 3,000 people and causing more than $90 billion in damage.

It was all over the news. Like many people, I felt badly about it and wondered about the response of our federal government.

Two months later, my insulin pump broke. I called the manufacturing company and asked how long it would be until I could get a replacement. I expected them to say a day or two.

"I don't know," the operator said. "Our pumps are manufactured in Puerto Rico, so they're all off-line."

What?

Suddenly, I cared deeply about Puerto Rico. We must save Puerto Rico! We must put as many boots on the ground to restore Puerto Rico! Puerto Rico's economy – especially the insulin-pump-manufacturing sector – must be allowed to recover! This is taking way too long!

I'm not proud of myself. It was selfish: When there was a disaster in Puerto Rico, it was sad. When it affected me, it became a crisis.

The same is true of  the strain of fungus called Tropical Race Four.

Oh, Tropical Race Four is a blight and it could affect crops in other parts of the world. That's terrible. I  hope they find a way to control it, like they always do. I hope nothing bad really happens.

It's bad news, but it's contained. It's Tropical Race Four (which I initially presumed was the fourth running of some marathon through the rain forest) and it's bad.

But then . . . Tropical Race Four has spread to China, the Philippines, Indonesia, Australia, Jordan, Mozambique, India and more. No big deal unless you like bananas.

Bananas?

Yes. Bananas.

This is a catastrophe! We must save the banana!

Tropical Race Four is causing a zombie apocalypse for Cavendish bananas –  the type of bananas that most of us have eaten all of our lives. When you read the word "banana," you picture a Cavendish, because that's all we've known.

Now it faces extinction.

Tropical Race Four was a distant agricultural problem for decades. Americans get 90 percent of our bananas from Latin America, which was free of Tropic Race Four, so it was sad but it affected other people.

Last summer, the fungus arrived in Columbia. It spreads fast and the results will be catastrophic. Bananas are crucial to the economy of Central America, but to most Americans, the bigger disaster will be an increase in price for bananas and the ultimate disappearance of "normal" bananas from our supermarkets.

We probably should have reacted sooner. When Big Banana (the banana industry) began to exclusively produce Cavendish bananas in the 1950s, we should have insisted on diversity. When Tropical Race Four hit China and the Philippines, we should have attacked it.

Instead, we waited. Like my insulin pump, we didn't react to the disaster until it directly affected us.

I didn't get a new insulin pump for a full month and I was aware of Puerto Rico's problems every day during that period. Two years have passed, the island is again struggling and my reaction is similar to what it was before my pump broke. It's sad. But it's not my focus. My pump works.

I recognize that it's selfish. But what am I supposed to do?

I'm using up my energy worrying about the Cavendish banana crisis!

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

Survey of men and makeup makes me uncomfortable

Live and let live, I say.

To each his own, I tell people.

Don't worry about what others think. You be you, I insist.

Then I read that a survey showed that one-third of young men would consider wearing makeup.

And I gasped.

A hypocrite? Probably. A victim of my time? Likely.

But . . .

What. The. Heck?

One-third of men would wear MAKEUP?

The study is real. Morning Consult, a market research company, conducted a study last fall of more than 2,000 men. Among those aged 18-29, 33 percent said they would consider wearing makeup. Among those aged 30-44, 30 percent said they would consider wearing makeup.

In other words, about one-third of adult men 44 and younger would consider wearing makeup.

Among the men who live at my house (me), zero percent would consider wearing makeup. At least in the way I think of makeup.

When I see "33 percent of young men would consider wearing makeup," I think of a 25-year-old wearing rouge, eyeliner and lipstick. You know, Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon in "Some Like it Hot." You know, Tom Hanks in "Bosom Buddies."

You know, ancient pop culture references that are probably offensive in 2020.

A couple of thoughts on my first reaction.

First of all, if that's what you want to do, more power to you. (See first paragraph of this column.)

Secondly, I have a hard time thinking one-third of men in that age group want to look like that, especially since my studies indicate that about 80 percent of them have stubbly five-o'clock-shadow beards, which would pretty much make the rouge not work.

I know – or presume – that this statistic isn't about wearing flashy makeup. When a 25-year-old who works at a startup while driving an Uber to help pay for his expensive coffee and super-modern apartment (my stereotype of who answered this survey) says he would consider wearing makeup, he's probably talking about some product that I don't know exists. Something to make his beard stand out or to hide that untimely pimple.

Or something I already use, but don't consider makeup.

Right? Because when I think about my view of what types of products young men should wear, I realize some of my choices probably stunned my dad.

Hair products (mousse, in my case)? Why not just use some Brylcreem?

Shaving and not splashing on a generous amount of Old Spice? Ridiculous. Your skin will fall off!

So recognize this: My reaction to the statistics (again: About one-third of men 44 and younger say they'd consider wearing makeup) is made out of emotion, not logic.

Live and let live.

Do what you want to do.

Be you.

If you want to wear a skin moisturizing product or something to cover up blemishes (which actually is part of what this survey asked), go ahead.

BUT FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, WHEN A SURVEY-TAKER ASKS IF YOU'D CONSIDER WEARING MAKEUP, SAY NO.

There.

I'm not so uncomfortable with someone wearing makeup as I am with them saying they will wear makeup, which I realize is part of the problem with a society that makes people hide who they are.

If it makes you uncomfortable that someone doesn't like young men talking about wearing makeup, you've got company: Me. And I'm the one saying it.

Humans are complex. A generation from now, no one will believe that someone felt the way I feel. People will dig up the Daily Republic archive and use this column as representative of how people born in the mid-20th century were dinosaurs.

They're right.

But we're dinosaurs who didn't admit we would wear makeup.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

My four options to rescue the Super Bowl halftime show

Super Bowl Sunday is just three weeks away, but it's not too late to make a change.

Not in the date or teams.

Not in the television network or that clever themed party you planned.

What needs a change is the halftime show. Not just for this year, but forever.

The Super Bowl halftime show is a tired act and even worse, it's a tired joke: What geriatric act will they trot out this year?

In 2020, by the way, that "geriatric act" is 50-year-old Jennifer Lopez and 43-year-old Shakira (Super Bowl Sunday is her birthday!). Neither is as old as The Who (2010 Super Bowl) or The Rolling Stones (2006), but still.

There's been an effort in recent years to make the halftime show less senior-focused–Lady Gaga, Justin Timberlake and Maroon 5 headlined the past three Super Bowls–but then another problem arises: The performance is less than 15 minutes, so it's not really even a concert. It's a medley. Nobody is really happy with it.

It's time to make a change.

I know what you're thinking: What could the NFL possibly do at halftime to keep the audience entertained – and bring in non-football fans – beyond music?

I have four suggestions.

Jump. Fifty years ago, Evel Knievel was one of the most famous people in America, because he routinely jumped his motorcycle over 25 cars or 18 buses or 12 RVs. He did it in stadiums (or at Caesar's Palace), which suggests the same could be done at halftime–the game is played in a stadium. Would you watch the Super Bowl halftime show if you knew someone would try to jump their motorcycle (or scooter or car) over a random number of items in a way that could result in glory or catastrophe? I would.

Tightrope. If watching a motorcycle jump isn't your thing, what if someone (perhaps whatever member of the Wallenda family is still alive) walked a tightrope from one side of the stadium to the other? Seriously. Have them walk the tightrope, hundreds of feet above the field. I would 100 percent watch that.

"Wipeout." This is unlikely, since ABC doesn't broadcast Super Bowls (this year's game is on Fox), but I would definitely tune in for a reprise of the silly game show that aired on ABC until 2014. "Wipeout" featured regular people navigating crazy obstacle courses that resulted in violent crashes that were replayed in super slow motion. The target audience appeared was 8-year-old boys and me, so I'd definitely tune in for an annual "Wipeout" reprise–maybe involving players whose teams lost in the conference championship games.

Random competition. If "Wipeout" can't be brought back, how about a high-stakes carnival-game competition? Periodically, there have been competitions (throw a football at a target! Run an obstacle course! Find a hidden diamond!) during sports events, with a big payoff for the winner–often a scholarship to a college student. What if the NFL promised $5 million to the first person to kick a 40-yard field goal, with the competitors drawn from the Super Bowl audience? I'd watch.

The Super Bowl will again be the most-watched program of the year. It's not too late to change the halftime show and prevent more disappointment. Heck, if it makes it easier, I'm OK with Jennifer Lopez and Shakira being contestants in "Wipeout."

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.

Ancient chewing gum gives glimpse of early life, Gladys

One thing we know for sure: Gladys chewed gum.

My guess is that she chewed it aggressively, giving side-eye glances and issuing insults to the hapless man who was supposed to hunt while she was gathering. Thor always let her down and she was sassy enough to insult him about it.

True? We're not sure, but that's one possible outcome after archaeologists extracted a human genome out of 5,700-year-old chewing gum found in Denmark.

Yes. The chewing gum was 5,700 years old, which means the person chewing it was around even before Tom Brady began his NFL career.

The results of the DNA tests were published in Nature Communications and revealed a lot more about the woman (I call her Gladys) chewing it than you would expect from a single piece of gum. In fact, researchers constructed an entire human genome, the first genome to come out of something other than bones or teeth. (In the interest of transparency, I considered buying a Hyundai Genome in 1988 before settling on another model.)

The research team, led by Hannes Schroeder, a paleogeneticist at the University of Copenhagen, concluded that the woman (Gladys) had dark hair, dark skin and blue eyes. The fact that she was chewing gum also suggests (my opinion) that she was spunky, like Flo in the 1970s sitcom "Alice" (or myriad other spunky TV and movie characters who chew gum aggressively).

Researches found traces of what may have been Gladys' last meal (duck and hazelnuts) as well as discovering that she had traces of Epstein-Barr virus, which can cause malaria and probably contributed to the exasperation she must have felt when her man, who I'll call Thor, returned empty-handed after a day of hunting in my imagined scenario.

"I've been gathering all day," she presumably said, perhaps using a series of hand gestures and grunts while chomping her gum. "You and your pals were just out screwing around. Again."

"Oh yeah?" Thor would say. "We invented this." And then he held up the very first pair of scissors.

"Oh, real cutting-edge technology," Gladys presumably said, chomping the gum and looking at a prehistoric studio audience, who roared with laughter.

"Sorry for the low-brow humor," she'd add, raising her sunken eyebrows at the audience, who adored her spunk.

Of course, that's all speculation, not included in the report. But Gladys was chewing gum, so it's logical, right?

The biggest question about this discovery is this: Ancient people had chewing gum?

According to an article about the discovery by NPR, Schroeder said the gum was a black-brown substance, known as birch pitch, which "was obtained by heating birch bark." NPR quoted Schroeder as saying it wasn't clear why the ancients chewed the pitch, but it was likely to soften it up before using it as a kind of glue to stick sharp points onto weapons or tools. Schroeder said the people may have even used it for medicinal purposes, such as a pain remedy for toothaches, because it is a mild antiseptic.

The more likely reason, though, is that Gladys was a spunky, opinionated woman who didn't really care what Thor and the others thought of her. She voiced her opinions while chomping the gum. People loved her!

Isn't science amazing? Because of this discovery – and my groundless speculation – we know that ancient people were just like characters on situation comedies.

Science again shows that we haven't really changed.

Thank goodness for spunky Gladys!

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.