The Gothamist reports today that Owl Chatter’s own George Santos is running for a seat in Congress again. Go get ’em Georgie! Unless he was kidding (and I wouldn’t put anything past our Georgie), his tweet during the SOTU address last night says he plans to challenge GOP Rep. Nick LaLota in NY’s 1st District, which covers the east end of Long Island. Knock ’em dead, big fella!
Our cup runneth over today (which explains how all this thlop wound up in our thauther). The Writer’s Almanac had so much interesting fare. First, this poem by Joyce Sutphen, called “Snow at the Farm.”
My father gets his tractor out.
It is winter, finally—the first
big snow of the year—and
he is eighty-four. He does not leap
into the seat the way that I
remember, but once he’s there
he pulls down the brim of his cap,
and all-in-one his legs and arms
work at clutches, throttles, and
levers as he pushes and loads
the snow into neat hills at
the edge of the yard. The sun
is a bright shield in the sky,
something I cannot bear to look at,
and the snow is so white that
it shows black where the plow
cuts in. From the kitchen window
I watch the red tractor moving
back and forth through the blue
and white world, my father’s
hands at the wheel.
My dad didn’t drive a tractor; he drove an Oldsmobile. He was a doctor with his office on the first floor of our Brooklyn home. Docs made house calls in those days and I have an early memory of going with him on one when I was a little boy. Sitting in a dark room as he introduced me to his patient and his patient’s wife. If I had to guess a year, I’d guess 1956 or 7. It’s a good memory.
Speaking of driving, 33D in the puzzle today was “Hot rods popular in the ’60s,” and the answer was GTOS. But Anoa Bob says GTOS aren’t really hot rods, as clued. They are more in the muscle car category. Hot rods are usually older cars that have been heavily modified, often without fenders over the wheels. Take a look:
It’s the anniversary of the publication of Thomas Wolfe’s Of Time and the River in 1935. Wolfe first brought it to editor Maxwell Perkins in December of ’33. It was over a million words long and the first installment, page-wise, stood two feet high. The two met almost every day (Sundays included), and Perkins read every word aloud to Wolfe with his red pencil in hand, sometimes deleting entire pages over Wolfe’s protestations. Wolfe would bring new material to Perkins for insertion, but Perkins refused it.
The final version was 912 pages long, and Wolfe dedicated it to Perkins. The dedication ran close to 100 words. The book was a success, but the few negative reviews tormented Wolfe and he was convinced Perkins ruined his book and fired him. Three years later, dying of tuberculosis at the age of 37, Wolfe sent Perkins an apology. We don’t know how long the apology was.
Picked nit of the week: At 53A the clue was “Flotsam once in Boston Harbor.” The answer was TEA CHESTS. But Conrad said that was jetsam, not flotsam. He wasn’t kidding. There is a difference (under maritime law). Flotsam is debris in the water that was not deliberately thrown overboard, often resulting from a shipwreck or accident. Jetsam is debris that was deliberately thrown overboard by the crew of a ship in distress, most often to lighten the ship’s load. Now, I ask you, where else can you get vital information like that?
Those of us who watched The Little Mermaid several thousand times know that Flotsam and Jetsam were also the eels who assisted Ursula the sea witch in her evil doings — her little “poopsies.”
Last, on the topic. By Ogden Nash:
Want some flotsam?
I got some.
Want some jetsam?
I’ll get some.
The puzzle had some good stuff in it today. At 13D, “Butt of a joke?” was WHOOPEE CUSHION.
What? You thought that was beneath me (so to speak)? Puh-leeeze. I’ve sunk much lower than that for a laugh.
More puzzle stuff:
At 10D, “Hunger hyperbole” was I COULD EAT A HORSE.
A lot of folks liked “Needle on a thread?” as the clue for TROLL. A TROLL is a person who tries to “needle” people in an internet “thread.”
And how about this clue for a four-letter answer: “That’s what I just said!” Answer: JINX. Remember that from when your kids were ten?
Rex dug this up from Reddit. Good to know the Hebrew equivalent for JINX is “Ain,” pronounced Aye-In, a reference to the Evil Eye.
According to the OED, the first documented use of jinxing as a children’s game is in 1973. The jinx game is described as “a sophisticated, stereotyped ritual.” “The word used to induce the spell varies widely in other languages, e.g., Israeli children shout, Ain, the Arabic word for ghost or evil eye”. There is also a French variant called Chips, although it’s unclear whether this is derivative of the English “jinx.”
What happens is both kids say the same thing simultaneously, just by coincidence. Then, the first one who says “Jinx” next “wins.” In some versions the loser must stay silent until released from the spell. In others, the loser may have to buy the winner a soda.
In the adult version, the loser has to [use your imagination]. You don’t want to lose in the adult version, especially in prison. [Shout out to all of our incarcerated OC readers: Hang in there guys! — the years fly by, believe me.]
Today’s WOE clue/answer (what on earth?) was at 42D: “World leader associated with the justicialism movement.” The answer was PERON. You ever hear of this? Me neither. It’s also called Peronism and is a form of populism that eschews both capitalism and communism. To hell with it, I say. Here’s Evita:
See you tomorrow!
The Wellington Files 