T. Buckingham Thomas Archive 2025 February

The Cleveland Browns are being ridiculed again. This week, people have been joking about their announcement of a brand new logo (left) that’s only slightly different from their old one (right).

Notice the changes? The font is stronger, which is a definite improvement. Also, the helmet is a stronger color. It used to be orange. Now it’s red-orange, according to the Crayola terminology of my childhood box of 64 crayons. Or according to the red-green-blue terminology of my computer monitor, it used to be 244-101-35 and now it’s 255-61-0. That 255 is as high as the red component can get.

Another detail: Because the team’s name is not the Red-Oranges but the Browns, they’ve painted the face mask brown. As though anyone will notice.

I’m ancient enough to remember the days of black and white, when Cleveland’s games were televised across Ohio. The Browns had a “brownie” mascot, and in the late 1950s their telecasts began with a few seconds of a cartoon featuring this good-natured little elf with the pointed floppy sacks on his feet. Presumably the film played on a projector back at the originating station while an announcer proclaimed something like “The Cleveland Browns are on the air!” There may have been a mention of a sponsor such as a Cleveland-brewed Carling beer. “Hey, Mabel! Black Label! And now let’s kick off the action!”

The cute little animated brownie teed up his football, backed up a few steps, clenched his fists, stuck out his elbows, and came running towards us. Like Lou Groza, he kicked the football directly toward us, not soccer-style but a straight-ahead kick. The ball filled the screen, and at that moment the telecast cut to live video from the stadium. Ah, the good old days.

To return to 2015, the Browns have made another logo update. The old Dawg (far right) appeared annoyed and determined, but the new version is mean and vicious and snarling and red-orange and possibly rabid.

This illustrates a disturbing tendency to make sports logos as evil as possible.

While the long-established St. Louis baseball team's logo is a robust but peaceful vegetarian cardinal (lower right) with a bill adapted for eating seeds, the University of Louisville’s redder redbird somehow has been given a raptor’s sharp beak and an angry Dawg’s snarling teeth. (What birds have teeth?) Even its toes are twisted in rage. We seem to need our sporting symbols to display a killer instinct of unbridled aggressiveness.

Even before I retired from creating graphics for sports television, my interest in athletic competition began to wane.

For example, I didn't know which sport was being discussed in this note by Chris Branch for The Atlantic's “The Pulse”:

I confess I had no idea who Joel Embiid is, nor why his name is spelled that way (it turns out he's Cameroonian). The note mentions his “2024-25 season in Philly,” so he's probably not a college athlete. He must be a professional who plays for a men's team with a regular season that begins in one calendar year and ends in the next. That would rule out the Phillies and the Eagles, so he's probably a Sixer or a Flyer.

Research reveals that he's a member of the 76ers. He's a two-time NBA scoring champion! Two years ago, Joel was named the Most Valuable Player of the National Basketball Association.

So why am I not familiar with him? Well, I don't really follow the Association that much. After all, there's no NBA team in Pittsburgh.

Most Oscar acceptance speeches used to be cut off by wrap-it-up music, and I used to think the orchestra waited too long. We don’t need to hear thirty seconds of the winner's self-conscious giggling and false modesty and hurried personal thanks to everyone from hairdresser to high school drama teacher.

But at the Academy Awards last night, many of the speeches had actual content, such as Patricia Arquette’s call for “equal rights for women of the United States of America!”

Let me also comment on the music. I’ve been out of touch. I haven’t really paid that much attention to popular music since the last time I worked on MTV’s Spring Break telecast nearly 30 years ago.

Nowadays I hear celebrity news about female singers like Beyonce, Rihanna, Miley Cyrus, Taylor Swift, Jessica Simpson, or Lady Gaga. Usually the news is something outrageous. Also, I get the impression that their performances are typically loud and aggressive and aimed at energetic young folks who like to dance. That description doesn’t include me, so I don’t listen.

However, my cable system has forty audio-only Music Choice channels, and one night I happened to stop on channel 420, “Love Songs.” I heard all six of the previously mentioned artists singing melodic tunes that I didn’t mind listening to. It turns out that they all have talent!

This was demonstrated last night when Lady Gaga amazed all of us with a medley from The Sound of Music.

Local movie reviewer Sean Collier tweeted, “In her most shocking move yet, Lady Gaga wears a normal dress and sings regular-type.” Piers Morgan commented, “This is, to my utter astonishment, fabulous.” And Patton Oswalt said, “Um... Lady Gaga is completely, unarguably, nailing it. Sorry; I know I’m supposed to be snarky. But that's what's happening.”

Also, last night’s Best Original Song came from the movie Selma. I’d heard the name John Legend but had never listened to him or Common perform, until their powerful rendition of “Glory.”

And the previous Sunday, during the Saturday Night Live celebration, the usually controversial Miley Cyrus covered Paul Simon’s 1975 hit “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover” with a smoky countrified rendition that I for one enjoyed. I also like Miley’s performance of “Jolene,” a 1973 hit written by her godmother Dolly Parton.

Nearly a quarter-century ago I recalled an experience from my life a quarter-century before that. To memorialize that experience, I wrote a libretto for a micro-opera in the form of a Greek play.

There were two characters. There was also a chorus offering comments. In my lyrics I quoted some handwritten notes that I had retrieved from that time.

Setting my words to music was beyond me. However, for part of them, I borrowed the meter of a 13th-century Latin poem famously incorporated by 1930s composer Carl Orff in his cantata Carmina Burana. Unlike the pattern of a haiku (5 syllables, then 7, then 5), this meter goes 4-4-7.

     O Fortuna

     Awful Fortune!

     Velut luna

     Like the moon

Statu variabilis,

You are ever changeable,

     Semper crescis

     Always waxing,

     Aut decrescis;

     Always waning,

Vita detestabilis

Making life abom'nable!

     Nunc obdurat

     First you curse us,

     Et tunc curat

     Then you soothe us,

Ludo mentis aciem,

Playing with our sanity.

     Egestatem,

     Authority

     Potestatem

     And poverty

Dissolvit ut glaciem.

Melt like our humanity.

My song would be far less dramatic and intense. My title character was new to the television studio, so I showed her the ropes. I imagined her gently expressing gratitude before revealing her troubles.

     Thanks for your aid!

     I was afraid

My stage fright here might worsen.

     But now I see:

     I'm on TV,

Yet talking to one person.

     You've been so kind,

     And here I find

No reason to stay fearful.

     The lights are warm,

     And they transform

My mood from cold to cheerful.

And I ended with a benediction set to a hymn-like 6-7-6-7 meter:

Go henceforth in peace,

     Both now and evermore.

May you someday find

     The joy that was before.

When I saw the photo on the left above, it looked wrong, as though it had been flipped left to right. The car's logo, which apparently reads 3Y

, is obviously a mirror image of CYE. I've reflipped the right-hand picture to fix things.

But no. In 1995, when former academic Wang Chuanfu founded the company in China, he wanted to set it apart from other startups. Thus he chose a “rather strange” name, Bi ya di, a Chinese word that doesn't mean anything.

The abbreviation is BYD. His Shenzhen-based company later decided that's an acronym for the English phrase “Build Your Dreams.” (To me, the acronym somehow reminds me of underwear.)

The 2003 BYD Auto logo was criticized as looking too much like BMW's roundel, so its picture of sky and clouds was replaced by big bold initials. In 2022, the ellipse disappeared along with the vertical strokes on the left side of the B and the D.

Consumer Reports says that Chinese-made electric vehicles “are gaining in popularity globally for their cutting-edge technology and low prices.” By the end of 2023, BYD had overtaken Tesla as the world's top seller of EVs.

But you still can't buy a BYD in the United States, thanks to a 27.5% tariff imposed during Donald Trump's first term. The rate has since been quadrupled and now, at last report, stands at a prohibitive 110%.

When I was a child, I heard the word thermometer spoken. I learned it's pronounced ther-MOM-uh-ter, though it has nothing to do with mommy. (Nor do kilometers have anything to do with killing oms.)

Then later I saw the word in print. I realized that though it obviously means THER-mo ME-ter, or temperature measurer, it isn't pronounced that way. Whatever.

Later I saw the word circadian in print. I read that it describes bodily rhythms that tend to repeat every 24 hours. I also knew a little Latin, so the meaning was obvious: circa dian, “about a day.”

Then I heard circadian pronounced. Shouldn't it be cir-ca-DEE-un? How could it be cir-CAY-dee-un? I suppose that's because it's easier to say.

But every time I hear it, I first think of a noisy insect with a much different rhythm. A new generation of ci-CAY-das emerges in “about 17 years.”

Christian fundamentalists worship their “perfect and inerrant” Bible. In particular, they accept the word of the unchanging and eternal God that He personally created the world and everything in it, male and female, just as they exist today, and it took Him only one week. From Scripture, they've calculated that the Creation happened in 4004 BC.

Since Charles Darwin's day, scientists have worked out the real story. The world has formed and changed over billions of years, a process that still continues. In biology, these changes are called evolution.

The fundamentalists are outraged. They don't want their precious children's minds poisoned with the “lie” that some things in the Holy Bible are not literally true.

Also, they don't want their kids taught that they and their friends and families are to blame for climate change. On the contrary, we must obey our dear leader when he says it's time to drill, baby, drill.

In 2015, the Iowa Department of Education (DOE) adopted standards for science teaching in the state's middle and high schools. Those policies closely follow the Next Generation Science Standards currently used by 20 states and the District of Columbia. The standards are to be updated every ten years.

But now in 2025, because of hostile Christian opposition to the devil's word “evolution,” a DOE committee has recommended censoring the standards. Their proposal was released for public comment on January 14. It would weaken the science by replacing “evolution” with fuzzy pseudonyms and removing the mention of humans' impact on the environment by adding a sentence noting that the Earth has experienced natural warming and cooling throughout history.

ORIGINAL VERSION

DOE BOWDLERIZATION

biological evolution

biological change over time

evolutionary relationships

relationships

simultaneous coevolution

simultaneous change

climate change

climate trends

From Iowa City, University of Iowa education professor Jeff Nordine, a member of the standards team, reports that “there was language in that document that referred to the Earth's age as 4.6 billion years — that has been removed. I don't know how that happened. I don't remember being informed that was going to happen.”

From Cedar Rapids, KCRG News asked why the alterations were made. The DOE answered that “climate trends” is an appropriate term used by other government agencies. But that's not completely true. When KCRG checked with Iowa's neighbors, all mention “climate change” and only Nebraska mentions the term “climate trends.” And The Gazette reports that the team has now been discharged so a second team can review public feedback.

From Sioux City, retired teacher Bruce Lear calls the language an attempt “to trick students into believing a political opinion. Those on the right don't want to admit humans have any role in climate change. But refusing to acknowledge humans contribute to climate change is like pretending there's no correlation between smoking and lung cancer. And many fundamentalist Christians favor a literal Biblical creation story. But the Biblical creation story isn't science. It's a belief.”

The National Center for Science Education will be observing Darwin Day tomorrow.

NCSE Deputy Director Glenn Branch said the adoption of Iowa's revised standards wouldn't prevent teachers from discussing evolution and climate change, but it would make it harder, especially for “teachers who don't feel comfortable because they haven't had sufficient preparation for doing so or because they fear community backlash.”

However, he said, there are encouraging trends. “Surveys of public high school biology teachers reveal that more is being taught about evolution — and substantially more is being taught about human evolution. In 2007 a bare majority of these teachers reported that they emphasized the scientific credibility of evolution while not emphasizing creationism as a scientifically credible alternative, but in 2019 it was a commanding majority, 67 percent, who did so.

“What accounts for such a striking improvement? Partly the improved treatment of evolution in state science standards, which specify what knowledge and know-how students are expected to acquire in the course of their K-12 science education. Acceptance of evolution became a majority position among the American public more than a decade ago, according to multiple independent polls, and there are signs of a shift even among religious communities that have been traditionally hostile to evolution. There's now reason to hope that someday every student in the U.S.'s public schools will be in a position to appreciate that nothing in biology makes sense except in the light of evolution.”

If you're friends with a deer, be sure to remind her and all her cousins that if they ever hear someone lurking in the woods with his camera — even if it's kindly Jim “Stonekettle” Wright — they should prepare for the possibility of needing to get out of there in a hurry if a flash goes off. Each doe should freeze in the flight pose: front feet together, left rear hoof raised in readiness.

FEBRUARY 5, 2025
BILLBOARD CHASING

Overlooking downtown Pittsburgh on the cliff known as Mount Washington, a giant advertising sign appropriate to the hard-working Steel City was erected in 1938.

Later, the prominent space was used by other advertisers — Alcoa, Bayer, the National Flag Foundation, and even Iron City Beer again in 2020.

But the Pittsburgh Brewing Company is no longer making Iron City in Pittsburgh. Now their brewery is out here in the suburb of Creighton, just 2½ miles downstream from my apartment.

And back on Mount Washington, the message has been replaced by one promoting a kids' game: pond hockey.

Actually the billboard now advertises a nationwide law firm whose partners include Sam Pond and Jerry Lehocky. But those attorneys don't write wills, or handle divorces, or defend clients in criminal court, or draft legislation.

No, their specialty is what's pejoratively called “ambulance chasing.” The lawyers hurry to be the first to get in touch with injured victims and offer to sue on their behalf, with the law firm getting a percentage of any eventual award.

Personal injury law is one of the most competitive practice areas, which is why many lawyers in that field spend lavishly on advertising. Pond Lehocky Giordano is, according to their website, the largest workers' compensation and Social Security disability law firm in the country. They also handle long-term disability, short-term disability, personal injury, “and all other legal needs.”

Local author and historian Virginia Montanez writes, “I tend to hate when advertising mars our natural landforms and major infrastructure, especially when it's done by brands that don't have an iconic connection to the city. Looking at you, Acrisure [which purchased naming rights to the football stadium]. That said... man, Pittsburgh used to be awash in advertising. Even on our bridges! Look at the old Seventh Street bridge around 1915 (source: U.S. Army Corps of Engineers).”

I've highlighted a local factory's pier posters proclaiming “Walker's Soap is Good Soap.”

And below I've also highlighted Mr. S. Hamilton's longer ad for his Fifth Avenue factory and salesroom, where one might purchase “Pianos & Things Musical.” (The location is now a Goddard School daycare center).

At five o’clock the other afternoon, a waitress came up to me and began talking about an unfortunate incident involving a little boy. I couldn’t catch everything

she was saying, as she was speaking loudly and urgently and rapidly. Apparently this boy had become separated from his parents. Gesturing to the far side of the restaurant, she told me, “You can see the youngster sitting there,” or something like that. “Ironically, he lives only a few blocks away.”

“Okay,” I said, “I guess I can give him a ride home.” She explained me a few more details about what had happened. “That’s too bad,” I remarked. She kept on talking. “Fine,” I said, “I’ll go over and introduce myself. What’s the boy’s name?” But she didn’t answer me. She kept on talking. “What is his name?” I repeated. The waitress told me her name! And then she went away!

“What is the boy’s name?” I called after her. No response. “What is his name?” I shouted to no one in particular, and no one in particular responded. I had a powerless feeling, as though I didn’t exist. All the other restaurant patrons were staring numbly at a television set, from which I heard other voices speaking about other things.

I got up and walked over to the big table on the other side of the room. There sat several adults and at least two kids who could have been the little lost boy. I asked whether somebody needed a ride home. There was no reaction. They were all glued to the big screen, where a weather report was now in progress. We were warned of sub-zero wind chills overnight.

That was when I awoke from my nap. I had, of course, fallen asleep with the television on.

Media rights deals are the chief revenue generators for intercollegiate athletic conferences and their member schools ... until the rights deals no longer work.

This Groundhog Day marks the 40th anniversary of my visit to Evanston, Illinois, intending to help televise a Big Ten basketball game. Another crew member asked me, “What are you doing here?” The story is this month's 100 Moons article.

The epilogue, which is not in the story: 22½ years later the Big Ten launched their very own network, and I was honored to be part of their inaugural football telecast on September 1, 2007. In that game, Appalachian State upset Michigan.

This week there was a fatal midair collision near Washington D.C.'s Reagan National Airport. On this website I've recalled a personal encounter with the congested flight patterns there. In each incident, a regional airliner was flying from south to north (from right to left on this diagram) and planning to land on Runway 1 (green arrow).

based on a diagram by The New York Times

In 2025, because of the wind conditions, the control tower asked whether the pilot wanted to instead use Runway 33 (in blue) despite its being 2,000 feet shorter. The pilot agreed and swerved a bit to the right and then back to the left to head northwest (gold path) and line up with the runway. But half a mile before reaching it, his plane collided with a southbound military helicopter and plunged into the Potomac River with the tragic loss of 67 lives.

In 1994 or so, my plane approaching from the south also diverted to the blue runway but did so by swerving the opposite way. The pilot went first to the left and then back to the right before landing on Runway 15 (that's what it's called when heading southeast). Fortunately there was no helicopter in the way, though I did experience what I considered a close encounter with the Pentagon.