It was one of the great ironies in my little world that the host of WNYC’s Morning Show was Steve Post, alav hashalom. He was the quintessential “not a morning person.” If you made the mistake of wishing him “good morning,” he would bite your head off. “The world is falling part. We had Nixon in it. I had to get out of bed at 5 am to get here. What the hell is good about it!!??” A woman who was a guest on the show once automatically said “Good morning,” realized her mistake immediately, and quickly said: “Oh, no! I’m sorry.” Post chuckled.
He was so closely associated with crabbiness that he ran a “crabbiest New Yorker” contest from time to time. Listeners would send in stories nominating crabby people they knew and a winner was selected. Of course, we all knew it was a contest for second place, because he was clearly the crabbiest.
He was acerbically funny. After playing something by Mozart once, he said: “As you know, Mozart was very precocious. He composed that piece as he was being born.” He had to be off the air for a long stretch to fight the stomach cancer that later killed him, and before he came back the promos he ran for his return said “This is Steve Post. Forgotten but not gone.”
Anyway. All of that is just to explain why I am dedicating this paean to morning joy to him. It’s by Anne Sexton and it’s called “Welcome Morning.” It’s from yesterday’s Writer’s Almanac. (Just kidding, Post. We miss you! Go back to sleep.)
There is joy
in all:
in the hair I brush each morning,
in the Cannon towel, newly washed,
that I rub my body with each morning,
in the chapel of eggs I cook
each morning,
in the outcry from the kettle
that heats my coffee
each morning,
in the spoon and the chair
that cry “hello there, Anne”
each morning,
in the godhead of the table
that I set my silver, plate, cup upon
each morning.
All this is God,
right here in my pea-green house
each morning
and I mean,
though often forget,
to give thanks,
to faint down by the kitchen table
in a prayer of rejoicing
as the holy birds at the kitchen window
peck into their marriage of seeds.
So while I think of it,
let me paint a thank-you on my palm
for this God, this laughter of the morning,
lest it go unspoken.
The Joy that isn’t shared, I’ve heard,
dies young.
We’ve gotten some shots back from Phil who’s over in England following Taylor around. Travis, Prince William, and his kids George and Charlotte, popped in on them. Nice shot Philly! Happy Birthday Bill — 42!
The puzzle yesterday worked me over like a rented mule. I could get nothing going for the longest time, and when I finally inched my way through it, I failed at 37D: “Celebrity gossip site.” Answer EONLINE. Just couldn’t see it and the crosses didn’t help enough. Oh, well.
But we had some pleasant ballet exercises along the way. 36D: “Ballet exercises done at a barre.” FRAPPES.
At 51A, “Temporary water provider,” had me thinking of aqueducts and rain dances and who-knows-what. Turned out to be PLANT SITTER.
All in all, 20A was summing up the experience: “Worsening situation from which there is no escape.” DEATH SPIRAL
There was a nice pair at 10A and 18A. One was “Locale named in the Beach Boys’ ‘Kokomo’” (ARUBA), and the other was Emmy winner Uzo (ADUBA).
3D was “Bung, e.g.” No idea. Turns out it’s a STOPPER like in a sink. Some words, your whole life, they just never come up.
Rex rated it Medium and, for a change, loved it. Here he is:
A textbook Saturday, by which I mean something close to a perfect Saturday. Felt very hard, and yet after the typical early flailing, once I got a toehold, I kept making steady progress and never got what you’d call Stuck-stuck. Even places that initially felt intractable eventually opened up once I was able to give them a proper shove, coming at them from a different angle.
He loved DEATH SPIRAL and PLANT SITTER. And his riff on ARUBA is Rex at his best. To wit,
From the gods of cheesy late-80s pop music came a golden life preserver, thrown just for me, a cheesy late-80s pop connoisseur. I cannot believe that, after 35 years, having the lyrics to “Kokomo” permanently embedded in my head finally paid off. But if you know the song then ARUBA is probably the very first thing that popped into your head at 10A: Locale named in the Beach Boys’ “Kokomo.” I would sing the chorus for you, but it has the phrase “come on, pretty mama” in it, and so I just can’t. Too unbecoming. Oh, what the hell. ARUBA, Jamaica, oooh I’m gonna take ya / Bermuda, Bahama, [whispers] comeonprettymama / Key Largo, Montego, baby why don’t we go etc.” My wife and I (and maybe our friend Lena) once made up a version of this chorus, but with central New York cities instead of tropical islands. “Elmira, Owego, don’t forget Oswego / Deposit, and Conklin, come on Oneonta” etc. Try it with the towns in your area! Anyway, how do you not love a corner that’s giving you ARUBA ADUBA (18A: Emmy winner Uzo). Shooby dooby doo.
Now, turn it up, readers!
Have you noticed avocado prices inching up? We don’t make guacamole, but avocados are an important part of our salads. We buy six at a time from Costco. They come rock hard and we wait several days till they are ripe and ready for use. I saw a cartoon once in which a fellow had a time machine and used it to go three or four days into the future to bring a ripe avocado back to the present.
Anyway, a story in today’s NYT explains that the U.S. suspended its inspections of avocados (and mangos, but who cares?) because two U.S. inspectors were assaulted and detained while performing their duties. (They were later released.) Without the inspections, avocados cannot cross over the border. Mexico provides roughly 90% of the avocados we use, so it’s no surprise the halt has caused prices to soar. The two countries are trying to work things out. But criminal cartels are moving into the avocado business, so there are problems.
Avocados are essential in many medical procedures. The first woman, below, needs avocados to see. The second, whose lips are already turning blue, needs them to hear. And I can’t even imagine what will happen to the poor third woman if her supply is cut off. But do these ruthless cartels even care? Seriously.
Derek Jeter’s 100-year-old castle fifty miles north of NYC finally sold after years on the market but for only around $6 million, less than half the $14.25 million original asking price. It has five kitchens (one outdoor), a lagoon, an infinity pool shaped like a baseball diamond, a game room, and turrets. It has six bedrooms and 13 bathrooms.
Jeter was raised in Kalamazoo, MI, and planned to go to UMich had the pros not beckoned. But I only just now learned that he was born in Pequannock Township, NJ. His grandfather, William “Sonny” Connors, was the adopted son of John and Julia Tiedemann, who previously owned the castle/home, and Derek spent summers there as a kid. So it held sentimental as well as monetary value for him.
With his baseball playing days behind him, Jeter married model Hannah Davis (Victoria’s Secret, SI Swimsuit edition, etc.) and they have four kids: three girls, pictured below, and a boy born in May of 2023, who was already offered a $15 million signing bonus by the Dodgers. (No he wasn’t.) That’s him sleeping below, no doubt dreaming of the perfect double-play ball. Awwwwwww.
Rob Taylor of the DMC (UK) says: “Brad Pitt is seen eating in every film he’s done as he sometimes doesn’t get the chance to eat in between takes. So they write it into a scene.”
According to a story in Movieweb, it’s true that Pitt eats a lot in movies. In Troy, his character is seen devouring a giant turkey leg. In Mr. and Mrs. Smith, he consumes a pot roast, an olive stick, pancakes, and a Martini. In The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, he has beef stew; in Fury, some ham and eggs; and in Inglourious Basterds, a baguette. But it’s not because he’s hungry.
Because actors don’t actually eat the food during their takes, there is a specific methodology known as “eat acting.” Some eating scenes may require multiple takes, and for this reason, eating acting is required. It entails the performers biting the food, chewing, and spitting out while the camera is away or a take is wrapped. Interestingly, this is a craft Pitt has perfected. In a story in WAPO, he was called the Laurence Olivier of eating.
When Pitt is “eating” in a scene, it keeps the audience focused on him and makes him more relatable. Here are 23 seconds of Brad Pitt eating.
Hold on a sec. I’m going to go grab a sandwich.
There were some unusual words in the puzzle today. I learned them but they seem useless — perfect!! One was PAWL. It’s a “Mechanical catch,” i.e., a part of one machine that latches on to, or “catches,” part of something else. Another was GREAVES — armor that protects your shins. A post by Anony Mouse said:
I’ve always liked the moment in Gilbert and Sullivan’s “Princess Ida” where Arac can’t remember what shin armor is called:
These things I treat the same
I quite forget their name
They turn one’s legs
To cribbage pegs
Their aid I thus disclaim
…apparently because Gilbert couldn’t think of a good rhyme for “greaves.”
There was also AMBIVERTS. The clue was “They’re comfortable alone or in a crowd.” It’s someone who combines the traits of both introverts and extroverts.
Ted Lasso fans should be pleased to see Jamie TARTT visit the grid, clued as himself (“Ted Lasso footballer Jamie”). George! Get our guest a Diet Sprite! Cheers, Tartt!
See you tomorrow! Thanks for popping by.
The Wellington Files 