Put on your tin foil hat

Conspiracy theories are just no fun anymore.

You hear about one today, and it involves some paramilitary cosplayer who believes the government has implanted a chip in his left nostril that tracks his Cheetos consumption. Not only that, the Deep State is plotting to take those Cheetos away.

Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl

He joins other paramilitary cosplayers, and the next thing you know you have people hoarding crunchy corn puff snacks and engaging in a violent uprising in the name of “freedom.”

It wasn’t always like this, though. There was a time when conspiracy theories were mostly harmless and, sometimes, even amusing.

The first one I remember vividly involved the moon landing, or rather the “faked” moon landing as the tin foil hat crowd would have you believe.

Yep … according to conspiracy theorists of the day, it was all just an elaborate ruse. There was no trip to the moon, just a trip to a movie studio in California where it was all staged.

It was one small step for man, one giant leap for Orion Pictures.

There was even a history teacher at my high school who was a moon landing denier.

Although it was fun to talk about and inspired a great movie, Capricorn One, I never believed the non-believers – not for a second. The fact that astronauts came back with rocks and not green cheese was proof enough for me. Plus, I watched Walter Cronkite cover the event. Uncle Walter would not lie to me.

And let’s face it – had the landing been faked, the production value would’ve been much better than that grainy, black-and-white stuff we had to look at. And James Arness would’ve played Neil Armstrong.

I guess since we had now traveled to another world it stood to reason that a conspiracy theory involving aliens would pop up. Thus, there were those who believed the government had already made contact with extraterrestrials.

Actually, this conspiracy theory is still very much alive and got a boost a few years back with the infamous “alien autopsy” footage. Supposedly shot at Roswell, New Mexico, in 1947, it was part of a TV special in 1995 hosted by Jonathan Frakes, who played Will Riker, or Number One, on Star Trek: The Next Generation.

Although I’m a Trekker and I want to believe (that’s a Fox Mulder/The X Files easter egg, by the way) this autopsy was basically just a big pile of Number Two. The filmmakers eventually admitted to “recreating” the actual footage, but I doubt seriously there was any actual footage to begin with.

Anybody with walking around sense knows that surgical instruments manufactured on earth cannot pierce the skin of alien life forms; only special alloys made by a race of robots hailing from the planet Vortek can do that.

And remember the discovery of mermaids? Not Daryl Hannah, who played a mermaid in Splash, or the Little Mermaid, who played a mermaid in, well, The Little Mermaid, but that weird looking thing shown in Mermaids: The Body Found. It was a mockumentary, but presented in such a way that it was easy to think the filmmakers were serious.

And let’s face it … millions of people are – how can I put this delicately – stupid, so it doesn’t take much to make imbeciles buy into nonsense.

Frankly, I was never one to believe mermaids roamed the sea. The bottom half of the body being fish-like and the top half being humanoid makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. A real mermaid would have a fish-like top half and humanoid bottom half. Otherwise, how could they breathe underwater?

Myth-makers need to do a better job of thinking these things through.

Of course, there have been all sorts of conspiracy theories over the years, ranging from Bigfoot to Elvis Presley faking his death to chemtrails to Batman and Robin being a good movie.

All enjoyable to talk about, but all completely absurd.

Regardless, I miss the days when we could yuk it up over silly speculation. After all, idiocy can be amusing – right up until people start believing the government is after their Cheetos.

Championship memories

Seeing a final score that reads Birmingham Stallions 33, Philadelphia Stars 30, brings a smile to my face.

I mean sure, I’m glad Birmingham won the United States Football League Championship Game; I live here and the team reps the city, so it’s a result certainly worthy of a smile. But the grin is triggered more by an old memory than an instant one.

Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl

My dad and I watched the 1974 World Bowl at my brother’s house, and after the Birmingham Americans clinched the WFL title with a 22-21 victory over the Florida Blazers, we made the short drive back home.

I spent the 10-minute trip reveling in the glory of it all – it was exciting to think a team from my hometown had just claimed a “world” championship in football – and fought off sleep when I crawled into bed so I could replay the game in my head.

Then came the next morning.

The good news of Birmingham’s victory was splashed across the newspaper, but it came with the bad news that sheriff’s deputies had seized the winners’ jerseys and equipment to help pay off $700,000 in debts.

It was a school day (the game was played on Thursday, December 5) and while Pop drank his coffee and I wolfed down toast, my joy was replaced by worry and I felt the need to share my angst.

“I’m glad the Americans are champions, but I wonder if I’ll ever get to see them play again,” I said. “It’s gonna be sad if this was it.”

(For reference purposes, the WFL limped to the finish line in an unstable inaugural 1974 season. Birmingham and Florida players hadn’t been paid in weeks; the Detroit and Jacksonville franchises folded; and the New York Stars relocated to Charlotte and the Houston Texans moved to Shreveport. The WFL was, at the time, considered one of the greatest financial disasters in sports history, so coming back for a second year appeared to be a longshot).

Pop and I talked a lot, and many of our conversations were focused on football. When it came to the pro game, he was a Green Bay Packers fan and I cheered for the New York Jets, but we bonded over the Americans. And considering how much I valued his opinion, I wanted him to weigh in on the chances of our WFL champs playing on past a cold December night.

“Well, bud,” he said, looking down at his pocket and reaching for a Lucky Strike, “nobody can predict the future.”

“I know,” I said, “But still … what do you think?”

Pop shot a quick glance in my direction.

“I think that’s not something you should worry about today,” he said. “Birmingham won a championship. If you win a championship, that’s a big deal. Just enjoy it.”

That was exactly what I needed to hear. And he was absolutely right – it was such a big deal that nearly a half century later I not only haven’t forgotten it, but still talk (and write) about it.

The Americans were the first pro team I ever saw in person, and the Stallions hold that distinction for young ‘uns who made their way to Protective Stadium or Legion Field this year.

Such occasions are ones that stick … mental souvenirs that represent a moment in time you find yourself going back to over and over throughout the years.

Perhaps a kid got a smile from J’Mar Smith or Alex McGough, a high-five from Bo Scarbrough, or simply sat in front of a TV and cheered a Victor Bolden catch or Scooby Wright pick-six.

Doesn’t matter the player, doesn’t matter the reason … if you watched the games and made these guys your hometown heroes, you made an investment.

And while an adult investment often comes from a wallet, a kids’ investment almost always comes from the heart.

Certainly, it’s a proud moment for any football fan who calls Birmingham home. There’s no age limit on supporting your town and your team.

But I’m especially happy for the young fans tonight.

Some celebrated with their mother or father or sister or brother, making it a family affair.

Others got together with friends to watch the Stallions make some fresh gridiron history.

And they might already have started dreaming about a repeat; while I never saw the Americans again (World Bowl One was World Bowl Only, and the Birmingham Americans were replaced by the Birmingham Vulcans in 1975), this version of the USFL – and Stallions – seems stable enough to make it through next year and possibly beyond.

Yet regardless of whether or not the league is built to last, it provided a lasting memory for kids who got their first taste of a homegrown title.

“Birmingham won a championship. If you win a championship, that’s a big deal. Just enjoy it.”

It’s been almost 48 years since Pop told me that.

I’m sad I can’t hear him say it anymore, but I’m happy I remember what it felt like when he did.

Trying to look my best

This might come as a bit of a shock, but I was never what you’d call an “Adonis.” Short, bespectacled and built like a chimpanzee with truncated arms, I had to rely on my sense of humor and extensive knowledge of Batman mythology to get dates.

Still, I always tried to look my best.

Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl

For a time, I attempted to wear contact lenses, but even the soft ones irritated my eyes. I had trouble focusing and blinked like Joel Osteen watching the collection plates being passed around.

Then I settled on cool eyeglasses. Not Elton John cool, but specs that tended to highlight my big brown eyes and chipmunk cheeks and distract from my ape-like physique. I looked a bit like the dude who fronted the Buggles.

And of course, my hairstyles have been all over the map.

There was the Keith Partridge look, the butt-cut – even a modified mullet at one point in the 1980s. I didn’t adopt a short style until I went through a two decades-long Clark Kent phase.

But now that I’ve reached the age where the only dates I’m interested in getting are the ones high in fiber, vanity shouldn’t be that big a deal.

But it still kind of is.

For example, I went years without paying much attention to my eyebrows, and then one morning I woke up and looked like Mr. McBeevee. If you don’t know who Mr. McBeevee is, he was a character played by Karl Swenson on an episode of “The Andy Griffith Show.” Dude had some wild-ass brows that seemed to take off in several different directions. They were like tiny Medusa snakes.

Anyway, I now find myself having to trim my brows at least twice a week because if not, it looks like a pair of caterpillars are taking naps above my eyes.

And as for hair, I prefer wearing it kinda long but it’s thinning on my crown. I’m afraid if I don’t so something soon, I’ll look like the monks of old – or even the Monks of the 1960s (their song Monk Time is way ahead of it’s time, by the way).

A quick fix would be to shave my noggin, but that’s not a real option for me. A lot of people look really good bald, but you have to have the right head shape.

I do not have the right head shape.

If I opted to shear off my locks I’d look like Lex Luthor. Well, maybe not so much Lex Luthor as his less attractive brother, Lenny Luthor, who runs a small booth at the outlet mall where he sells cubic zirconia Kryptonite.

So, I’ve decided to try a topical hair growth treatment. It’s actually working because one of the early signs of regrowth is what appears to be peach fuzz, and it’s popping up on and around the crown.

If leaves appear I’ll probably discontinue use of the product, but I might see how they look first.

Finally, staying in shape is a chore when you get older.

I’m happy that my weight is basically where it’s supposed to be compared to my height, but under no circumstance would I go shirtless – even at the beach.

I never was one to show off my pecs (or even my bushels), but unless you have personal trainers and really good genes, time has a way of making your chest and torso look weird. I give myself the once-over in a mirror and just seem formless and uncooked.

And in my case, there’s that whole ape shape I have to deal with.

If I was running shirtless in a park, the first kid who saw me would shout, “Mama … look at the pink monkey. Can I feed it?”

Fortunately, my darling person loves me the way I am, which is a good thing because I can only do so much about the way I look. So even if I have bushy eyebrows, a bare crown and a chest and stomach that looks like it has just been poured out of a can, it really wouldn’t matter.

Besides, I think she truly enjoys watching me peel bananas and pick things off her head.