So the scuttlebutt is Trump is bailing on our man Hegseth to head the defense department in favor of boring Ron DeSantis. Oh, no! Please, readers, contact your senators immediately and voice your support for Owl Chatter fave Pete. I’ve already reached out to Cory Booker and will call our other one as soon as I find out who it is. (We have two, right?)
Calvin Trillin turned 89 today, kinahora. Happy Birthday CT! He’s one of my favorite writers — one of the few writers who, when I read his stuff I say “That’s it — that’s how I wish I could write.”
The only quote of his The Writer’s Almanac shared on the occasion is: “The most remarkable thing about my mother is that for thirty years she served the family nothing but leftovers. The original meal has never been found.”
I remember most two things from his writings. One was on his late, and very beloved, wife Alice. I forget most of the details, but Alice was working with a group of children, one of whom was severely disabled. The kids were sitting in a circle and playing some game or singing songs, and the mom of the disabled girl asked Alice if she could pass her daughter a note, amidst all the goings on. Unable to resist, Alice stole a glance at it. The note said: “If all the little girls in the world were lined up and I got to choose one to be my own, I would choose you.” On her way to delivering it, Alice handed it to Calvin and said: “Quick. Read this. It’s the key to life.”
The second one was from a long piece he wrote in The New Yorker about his father. (It later came out as a book.) He said when his dad drove Calvin and a friend of his somewhere, he ran a contest of sorts. He said he invented a word that was pronounced yiff-niff, but that wasn’t how he spelled it. Whoever could figure out the “correct” spelling would win a new bicycle. Calvin himself had an inkling, but no one ever got it right. Then Calvin wrote: “And if you are thinking it was a trick on my father’s part and no correct spelling existed, let me just say that my father’s stance on honesty made the Boy Scout position on the matter seem wishy-washy.”
There was an unusual clue in the puzzle today for ALAMO. It was “[Blank] Drafthouse.” You hear of it? Alamo Drafthouse is a movie theater chain that serves meals in your (reclining) seat, and has the following policies:
Guests won’t be admitted to the theater once the movie has started (i.e. after the trailers and Alamo ad reel). Latecomers may exchange tickets for a later time or a ticket voucher for a future show of their choice.
We have a no-tolerance talking or texting policy. After one warning, disruptive guests will be kicked out of the theater without a refund.
Unaccompanied minors are not allowed in showings, except for members of the Alamo Drafthouse’s Victory Vanguard rewards program, which allows 15–17 year-olds to attend showings unattended after their application to the rewards program has been submitted and reviewed. The application involves demonstrating an understanding of the theater’s policies around talking, texting, arriving late, and basic tipping etiquette.
At 24A the clue was “What Monday meals might lack,” and the answer was MEAT. You hear about this? There’s a campaign to reduce meat consumption called Meatless Mondays. The moooooovement was started by a group of rare talking cows in Idaho.
At 16A, the clue for OPERA was “La Forza del Destino,” for one.
According to Wikipedia, La Forza del Destino (The Force of Destiny) acquired a reputation for being cursed, following some unfortunate incidents. In 1960 at the Met, the noted baritone Leonard Warren collapsed and died during a performance. The “curse” reportedly kept Pavarotti from ever performing the opera, and the tenor Franco Corelli used to follow small rituals during performances to avoid bad luck.
Personally, I make sure to wear my lucky socks whenever I attend a performance. Here’s the leading lady.
Headline in The Onion: Judge Delays Decision After Learning One Menendez Brother Always Lies, One Always Tells The Truth
For the Swifties among us, a reminder that it’s T’s birthday next week (12/13), so you’re going to want to get your cards and gifts in the mail pretty soon. You know T: she wants to hear from every one of you. George is heading out to the Post Office for us as we write.
Wonder what Travis has planned. Phil — he say anything?
Still hot, girl — 35 is nothing to worry about.
In a follow-up to yesterday’s bombshell discovery that the Mona Lisa was painted on a wooden panel, today we learn that Duchamp’s famous painting Nude Descending a Staircase, No. 2, was drawn on the side of his cousin Loretta.
Just got Frank Bruni’s newsletter. He says Trump’s cabinet will be “an embarrassment of wretches.”
From his “For the love of sentences” feature, Melissa Clark in the NYT was let down by the chef Thomas Keller’s restaurant Per Se: “Instead of Mr. Keller’s brilliant butter-poached lobster, we got two wee langoustines topped with a damp crust of grated brussels sprouts that promptly, with flawless comic timing, slid off like loose toupees.”
If, like me, you don’t know what a langoustine is, it’s a Norway lobster.
Hold on a sec — who’s this hottie? Alex who? Alex Consani?
Want a closer look? Who wouldn’t? (Phil!! Argggggh! Let her finish with the makeup!)
Consani is in the news because she was just named Model of the Year: the first time since 2016 the award didn’t go to a Toyota (just kidding: not that kind of model). Actually, though, she is a “first.” She’s the first transgender woman to be named Model of the Year. So — have at her, haters.
Hey — don’t look at us in that tone of voice, AC — Owl Chatter’s on your side.
See you tomorrow Chatterheads. Thanks for popping by.
The Wellington Files 