T. Buckingham Thomas

JANUARY 11, 2025
ADDING 13 SNOWBALLS TO OUR HELL

Incoming President Donald Trump has threatened to make the neighboring nation of Canada our 51st state. Would it fit? By area, Canada's 3.9 million square miles surpasses even the 3.8 million of the entire existing United States. And by population, Canada would become our largest single state, slightly bigger than California (41 million people versus 39 million).

But wait a minute. Let's cut Canada down to size. It's already divided into 13 states, although up there they don't call them “states” but rather provinces and territories. Nevertheless, those areas would undoubtedly want to retain their traditional identities.

Let's invite each of them individually into the United States, with two United States Senators of their very own.

Each would also have at least one Congressperson in the House of Representatives; the largest, Ontario, would claim about 18 of the 435 existing House seats. It's believed that the majority of these new legislators would be Democrats.

By descending order of population:
                        Ontario
                      Quebec
                    British Columbia
                  Alberta
                Manitoba
              Saskatchewan
            Nova Scotia
          New Brunswick
        Newfoundland and Labrador
      Prince Edward Island
    Yukon
Northwest Territories
Nunavut

Of course, this isn't going to happen. “Workers and communities in both our countries,” Canada's Justin Trudeau has tweeted, “benefit from being each other's biggest trading and security partner. There isn't a snowball's chance in hell that Canada would become part of the United States.”

I bought quilts yesterday in the mega 72" regular size. Consisting of three cozy and warm “ultra plush premium comfort” layers, they appeared to be just what I need, specially adapted for chilly Northern winters. (This morning, the feels-like temperature outside was 11° above.)

True, I was curious about why the package was labeled not simply QUILT but rather QUILTED, but I assumed it was for EDucated consumers.

Nowhere on the packaging did I see the product called anything else. But I soon discovered that the quilts were impractical for spreading upon my bed.

I'm noticing a shift in the way that football analysts describe what they've just seen. They used to make value judgments about a “good” defensive alignment or a “great” play call. Now they express their personal feelings: I “like” that alignment. I “love” that play call.

As I mentioned earlier, I “like” documentaries that answer questions scientifically. Specifically, documentaries that dramatize airplane crashes. What went wrong?

It's usually possible to sort out the evidence in 15 or 20 minutes and, in the final minute, describe what changes have been made to lessen the possibility of the same things going wrong in the future. A one-hour program can solve three such mysteries.

However, TV channels have lots of time on their hands, so usually a single case is stretched out to fill a full hour. That requires a lot of repetition. Several times we hear the co-pilot saying “V1; rotate.” Several times we hear an alarm sounding. Several times we see an animation of the plane smashing into the ground. Yes, we know, it was a major disaster, but let's find the black boxes and get on with the investigation.

Lately I watched two extreme examples of this sort of stretching, one about Amelia Earhart and the other about D.B. Cooper.

• While attempting to fly around the world in a Lockheed Electra in 1937, Earhart planned to refuel at tiny Howland Island in the south Pacific. But she radioed, “We must be on you, but we cannot see you. Fuel is running low. Been unable to reach you by radio. We are flying at 1,000 feet.” The plane presumably crashed, but the wreckage has never been found.

Military historian Michael Carra became intrigued with the story of an Australian patrol that encountered airplane wreckage in the jungles of Papua New Guinea during World War II. Could that be the remains of Earhart's Electra? Of course not; PNG is 2,500 miles west of Howland, so it would be unreachable if “fuel is running low.” But we're only asking questions. Folks still wonder about Amelia, so such speculation can still draw interest.

Carra filmed a two-week expedition to PNG which did uncover some scattered aircraft wreckage from the war, but not the Electra. He also painstakingly authenticated the Australian patrol's map, down to an analysis of the graphite in its pencil notations. Though interesting, that proves nothing. But now we have a two-hour documentary of his ultimately meaningless project.

• In 1971, an airline passenger calling himself Dan Cooper hijacked a 727, demanded money and parachutes, jumped out the rear door, and vanished. Who was he, really? The FBI processed more than a thousand “serious suspects.”

A couple of researchers decided that Cooper must have been one Robert Wesley Rackstraw. They spent five years compiling a list of 93 circumstantial reasons. Those don't prove anything, said the FBI. Rackstraw's attorney called the allegation “the stupidest thing I've ever heard.” In 2016 the FBI suspended active investigation of the case because the Bureau had more important things to worry about.

Nevertheless, documentarians put together a TV program fingering Rackstraw. It was two hours long and included a lot of repeated interviews. No, wait, that was only Part One; a similar Part Two followed. Four hours of television. A tale told by idiots, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

A sports headline told me the “Panthers” are playing the “Cardinals” today.

Are the Pitt Panthers kicking off against the Louisville Cardinals in another of those bowls? Or are the Florida Panthers skating into the St. Louis Cardinals ballpark for another of those outdoor hockey games? No, this is the National Football League, so it’s the Carolina Panthers against the Arizona Cardinals.

As a landlubber, I've always had trouble remembering which side of a boat is port and which is starboard. And which side is marked by a red light and which by green? A little research, and the fact that Portugal produces a red wine called “port,” led to this suggestion.

Simply group together the four-letter words
“left: port wine.”

Contrast them with the longer words
“right: starboard Gatorade.”

I'm watching a one-hour murder mystery on TV, and a new character seems to appear every few minutes. Later, when a character says “I suspect that Edith had a hand in this,” I'm at a loss. Who's Edith? Is that the mayor's secretary or the elderly housekeeper? I here highly resolve that in the future, whenever someone new is introduced I'll write down a name and description for future reference.

In preparing episode 14 of season 17 of the Canadian series Murdoch Mysteries, scriptwriter Keri Ferencz tried to make things easier for me. The surnames she gave many of the characters provide hints.

The story revolves around bees, which are wingéd and shiny. They're the villains in a horror novel by an author with the unlikely name of Anthony Winghed-Sheen.

Anthony is the first suspect when a university dean is stung to death by bees and then burned in a fire. The police talk to a melittologist (a bee expert), Leonard Beezbruch. (The former hockey goalie spelled it the Belgian way, Vanbiesbrouck.)

Then they question a fire expert, Demetre LaFlamme, and finally a pretty student, Cornelia Sweet. The latter turns out to be the real culprit, and the scriptwriter makes it clear that Miss Sweet has been overlooked because she's a sweet young girl.

When she tries to pedal away, the police inspector comically chases her on a bicycle, accompanied by the music of Rimsky-Korsakov's “The Flight of the Bumblebee.”

This is not a bumblebee. It's a carpenter bee. You can tell by the sheen. Bumblebee abdomens are not shiny, they're fuzzy.

How do I know that? One of my earliest childhood memories was of a moment at a picnic. Some ice had been discarded and a fuzzy bumblebee had landed on it. I tried to pet it.

In televising college sports, I often encounter first names, or spellings of first names, that I’ve never seen before.

For example, on women’s basketball teams in the Atlantic Coast Conference, there are players named Aaliyah, Arica, Ataijah, Ayisa, Brielle, Cha’nelle, Chania, Cortnee, Daneesha, De’Ashia, Emiah, Emilee, Emmonnie, Erykah, Jae’Lisa, Jassany, J’Kyra, Kaela, Ka’lia, Karima, Kelila, Keyanna, Keyona, Khadedra, Len’Nique, Lyneé, MaKayla, Markisha, Millesa, Myisha, Mykia, Necole, Nigia, Nylah, Oderah, Roddreka, Shakayla, Shakena, Shawnta’, Shayra, and Xylina — among others.

Their parents gave them their unusual monikers. When you have several kids and every other family on your block has several kids, you don’t want them to bear tired old names like Erica. You need to invent something distinctive like Arica or Erykah.

I think sometimes parents, particularly African-American parents, choose random euphonic syllables and then concatenate them to form a musically pleasing combination. Or they use existing names that fit that pattern. In many cases, it’s the middle syllable that’s accented, as in Natasha and Malia Obama.

Mormons from Utah, on the other hand, don't go for poetic-sounding neologisms. They prefer to show how orthographically unconventional they can be. They're too clever, say I. We almost had a President named for a baseball glove.

I wrote a little poem imagining what Utah fatherhood might be like, using actual names from a couple of videos (for girls and for boys) that demonstrate LDS nomenclature.

A peek behind the curtain: Sometimes I draft little essays and file them away for future use. When I need an article for this website, I can pull an item from that file and polish it a bit. But sometimes I fail to remember that I have actually done so and that I have neglected to erase the original item from the file.

During 2024, I posted one item about automated customer service on February 28 and again on October 29, and I posted a different item about the dangers of drinking on August 26 and again on November 13. Sorry!

Another observation of excess: TV live studio audiences have become unnecessarily rowdy.

On December 19, comedian Nate Bargatze hosted a CBS variety hour from the Grand Ole Opry in Nashville.

One expects musical numbers to be followed by warm applause, but the Tennessee fans repeatedly leaped to their feet, even rising for a standing ovation during a song. I thought the performances were fine but hardly worthy of such unrestrained celebration, which I find distracting.

Seated in a leather chair, Tom Hanks began the cold open with the word “Hello.” As soon as his image appeared on the monitors, rapturous screaming and hollering began. It persisted for 22 seconds, and he had to raise a hand for silence twice before he was able to continue. More former hosts came to the stage and were greeted with the same enthusiasm. The constant interruptions disrupted the pace, stretching what I'm guessing was a six-minute script into more than nine minutes. Eventually there were 11 folks on stage to proclaim, “Live from New York, it's Saturday Night!”

Later, when Weekend Update mentioned popular murderer Luigi Mangione, there was similar loud cheering and clapping.

I was brought up to keep respectful silence even between movements of a symphony.

DECEMBER 21, 2024 COME BACK SOON, SOL!

Today marks the Winter Solstice, when the sun (“Sol”) stands still (“stice”) at the farthest southward point in its annual migration to the other side of the equator. Here in the frozen north, we've been left behind. Above the Arctic Circle (66° north latitude) the sun will never make it above the horizon.

The situation is slightly better in Fairbanks, Alaska, less than 65° north. The sun does rise, although you'll need to wait until nearly noon to see it. And if there's any kind of hill to your south, you'll never see old Sol at all.

But imagine you're in a prison camp in Kharp, Russia, almost 67° north. You're there because you're a dissident who calls your country's leaders a “party of crooks and thieves.”

You need to cover yourself with a newspaper to avoid freezing.

“When I look outside the window, first it's night, then evening, then it's night again.” That's what Aleksei Navalny wrote last year.

So do their modern counterparts: astronomers. This fall, the latter predicted a 95% chance that a faint star called T Coronae Borealis, normally too faint to see with the naked eye, could “go nova” before the end of the year. (It hasn't happened yet.) The explosion should be the brightest nova, or “new star,” since 1975. It will shine for about a week, glowing as brightly as the north star Polaris.

Do changes in the night sky somehow predict events that will happen here on earth?

This month's 100 Moons article recalls two minor incidents, each involving a high school basketball game between a small public school and a small parochial school. Public-school parents thought the broadcaster was implying that their kids had bad manners. The supposed infractions were not nearly as dramatic as hanging on the rim, but one of them led to an exchange of letters.

The ancient custom of dividing a day into 24 hours is too coarse for modern scheduling purposes. We've decided that we prefer 48 half-hours, which perhaps should be called “hafors.” Everything starts either on the hour or on the hafor.

I glanced at a newspaper article that said a symphony orchestra concert would begin at 2:50 PM. No, that couldn't be right. Look again. Oh, it's really 2:30.

If 2:00 would be too early for the concert to start but 3:00 would be too late, the only logical compromise is 2:30.

There are exceptions, of course, mostly from the world of broadcasting.

• My college radio station started its coverage of 8:00 PM games at ten minutes before the hour, in order that we announcers would have time to introduce ourselves and set the scene.

• Late-night TV network programs like the Tonight show used to start at 11:30, but if I remember correctly, that changed in 1979. During a 444-day crisis in Iran, the networks added a five-minute “America Held Hostage” update following your local news. Late night was delayed until 11:35.

Viewers got used to the new starting time, which became the standard. After the hostages were freed in 1981, stations were allowed to expand their local newscasts to 35 minutes.

• Later in 1981, “Superstation WTBS” operator Ted Turner moved to improve his channel's ratings by starting many entertainment programs five minutes later than the competition. If we couldn't find anything interesting on the other channels at 5:00, we could settle for Gilligan's Island at 5:05 without missing the first few minutes. While shows on other channels would end at 5:30, Gilligan would continue until 5:35. At that time, we wouldn't switch to Taxi on another channel because that show was already in progress. We'd stay with TBS for Rocky Road. (In theory, at least; I don't remember that ice-cream parlor sitcom, which ran for three seasons.)

Three years ago I mailed a personalized holiday card, describing the winter situation at our television production truck.

Despite the efforts of this snow removal technician / engineer in charge, not all of the internal environmental conditions had been properly adjusted to suit our individual preferences.

A reproduction of that message has now been inserted into this thread of correspondence. Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

But my village of Richwood will have carolers and carriage rides through the park this Thursday, made possible by Pat's Print Shop (above) and VFW Post 870. The Richwood Area Business Association promises, “It's going to be a truly magical night.”

DECEMBER 7, 2014 SNIDELY TWITLASH 3

Snidely’s back! Ho ho hee!

For more than a year, I’ve been monitoring Twitter for the comments of Eric D. Snider, humorist and film critic.

Now the holidays approach. Time for my third gift-wrapped box of tweets.

Is Eric a bearded piano player? Why, yes; yes, he is. But two months ago today, he revealed two other personal characteristics — both of which are “big parts of who I am,” he says. Neither is his Defining Characteristic, but they may be surprising to some of his readers.

UPDATE: Ten years later, Mr. Snider is no longer a movie reviewer. Some recent reports are archived for you at Snidely Skeeting 4.

Eric has lost his beard and moved from Portland to Provo. And this weekend he's in Kenya! (Beware of wild animals within the hotel precincts.)

I recall 30 years ago when my father and I visited the home of relatives who had a child. I was surprised to see their living-room floor covered in toys.

Back in my day, I think I had access to one toy at a time. After I tired of it, it went back into the toy chest and another plaything was selected.

On the radio this morning, the conversation was about toy overabundance. Anytime someone visits, they bring along something for the kid, who plays with it that day. Is it thrown away afterwards? No, it's left within easy reach on the floor. Eventually it finds its way into a leaf-bag of small objects out in the garage, to be discarded after the kid has grown up. (No wonder our oceans are becoming polluted with plastic.)

Last holiday season, NBC aired a live broadcast of The Sound of Music. This year they’re doing Peter Pan. It airs Thursday.

Of course, there have been many other versions of Pan over the 110 years since J.M Barrie first wrote a play about Peter’s adventures in Neverland. I remember especially the 1953 Walt Disney movie.

My parents took me to see it at the Palace Theater in Marion, Ohio.

They worried afterward that, with all the sword fighting and such, perhaps the movie had been too violent for their six-year-old son.

The parts that gave me nightmares involved the pirate crew.

I don't mean the jovial scenes where a piratical chorus line sang yo-ho-ho and waved Jolly Roger flags.

I mean the disturbing scenes where an uncontrollable mob of murderous outlaws came charging threateningly toward me, angrily brandishing their deadly steel.

Once can hope that NBC’s production will be a bit more friendly toward impressionable children than Disney’s was.

It was near the end of the last B1G Network football telecast of the regular season. According to the closed captioning, the announcers thanked their replay colleagues who were working in the tapeworm.