Yesterday’s constructor, Colin Adams, must have a thing for hair. Men’s hair in particular. First, at 39D, the clue was “What pogonophobia is the fear of,” and the answer is BEARDS. I don’t have a fear of beards, but I have a fear of snakes. And I would be afraid of a snake with a beard, so there’s that. The beard thing is a real phobia stemming from “negative past experiences with bearded individuals, societal stereotypes associating beards with danger or untrustworthiness, cultural perceptions, personal anxieties about masculinity, or even a fear of the unknown as a beard might conceal a person’s face.”
According to Wikipedia, BBC’s Jeremy Paxman accused the BBC of pogonophobia after he caught sh*t for presenting some programming while bearded. He (unhappily) became a “poster boy” for the Beard Liberation Front, he claimed. Broadcaster Robin Lustig, previously winner of “Beard of the Year,” also described the BBC as pogonophobic. Sorry to say, we’ve lost a lot of respect for the BBC over this.
Then, at 28D, “Did some personal grooming” was MANSCAPING. Miriam tells us it means trimming or shaving a man’s body hair to enhance his appearance. Think I’m making this up?
Comedian Glaser was NIKKI Glaser. Many of us had not heard of her so she became part of a “natick” when a word crossing her was “Going backward, in skateboarding slang,” which was FAKIE. (I know — what? Seriously.) Even Rex was defeated (as was I) thinking it was Nicki and Facie. D’oh! (Natick is the term for the crossing of two obscure crossword clues.)
Anyway, here’s what Nikki Glaser says about babysitting: “I hated babysitting. It’s so hard because it’s like you’re a mother but you don’t love them, so it’s hard to do the right thing. I would just let them watch TV all day in the basement or wherever I kept them. Who cares? I don’t see the harm in letting your kids watch TV all day. I grew up watching TV, and I turned out perfect. I don’t read or anything, I mean besides tweets and Plan B’s side effects. I’m not like digging into chapter books. That’s how little I read: I still call them chapter books.”
Here’s a nice shot of Glaser doing her imitation of Musk’s Nazi salute.
At 13D, “Sort who might go for all the bells and whistles?” was ONE-MAN BAND. I’m sure you remember it in this lyric from long long ago. Note the lovely job Sabrina Carpenter does on it.
Here’s another look at a new feature at Owl Chatter we call “Inside My Brain.” So I was in the shower this morning and it occurred to me that showers are better than naps in one way. If you miss a few nights of sleep and then manage to sneak in a bit of a nap, that’s good — it helps. But you’re not “caught up.” You’re still going to have to get a good solid night of sleep to become yourself again. Conversely, you can go a week without showering, and then take one good shower and you’re all caught up. It’s like you never fell behind. You’re back on the beam.
Stick with us here at Owl Chatter for more profound observations from “Inside My Brain.”
Catharsis. Sometimes you feel constrained to hold in or tamp down your emotions. Maybe to be polite, or to avoid confrontation. After a period of some constraint, if they are released it’s “cathartic.” This short scene is a good example.
Similar to Musk recently, Steve Bannon took advantage of a friendly crowd at the Conservative Political Action Conference to invoke Hitlerism with a Nazi salute to the crowd. Are we coming to a time in which we’ll see a rally crowd all chanting Heil Trump, and saluting back? Is it a matter of months? Will it take a year? What else are Musk and Bannon planting these seeds for? Apologists say, but Obama, Harris, and Warren all raised their hands in a similar fashion one time or another. Maybe so — but the difference is they are not Nazis.
Today’s puzzle, at 7D, had “Big shot performer.” It was HUMAN CANNONBALL.
At 17A, “How criticism of a pastry chef might be delivered?” was TARTLY.
But, yet again, the puzzle defeated me. For “School of whales,” all I could think of was POD, even after the last two letters came in as AM. Turns out a GAM is also a collection of whales.
At 12D, the clue for MILK DUDS was “Candies named for their imperfect shape.” It led CDilly52 to share this family story.
Long ago, when our daughter was about 10 and her dad could do no wrong, we were in Santa Fe for our annual camping and opera week. Dear friends were also there: Mike as percussionist in the orchestra and his wife, Nancy (offering dance workshops) and daughter, Jen (about our daughter’s age). With a Monday off, they joined us for a hike.
We are a couple miles in, and had been showing the girls different flowers, trees, birds and generally enjoying our time together. Lots of teachable moments and fun. After narrowly escaping being “dropped on” by a sassy Blue Jay, and nearly avoiding stepping on a pile of deer scat, the girls became interested in finding different “piles.” We were, after all in a very remote area of the National Forest, heading for a small lake – a favorite picnic spot and wildlife watering hole. Evidence of animal life was abundant.
My husband, ever the prankster called the girls over and said “here’s some more,” meaning yet another ”pile.” Our daughter Kate looked and opined that the pellets were “bigger than deers and rabbits and not a big squishy pile like cows, so Daddy what kind of scat is this?” She was so proud of herself, using her new word “scat,” and so certain her dad knew everything – such a golden time with kids, right?
I could see on his face that this was going to be a famous “gotcha” moment but had no idea how. Larry bent over, took a stick and moved a couple pellets around, looked critically at the pile and then picked one up and ate it! The girls screamed and we all gasped, as he smacked his lips and said “definitely Bobcat,” and casually started to walk on. As we all looked on in utter shock, he turned around and tossed the two girls a box of Milk Duds.
Let’s close tonight with a poem called “Scheming in the Snow.” It’s by Jack Gilbert and was in today’s Writer’s Almanac.
There is a time after what comes after
being young, and a time after that, he thinks
happily as he walks through the winter woods,
hearing in the silence a woodpecker far off.
Remembering his Chinese friend
whose brother gave her a jade ring from
the Han Dynasty when she turned eighteen.
Two weeks later, when she was hurrying up
the steps of a Hong Kong bridge, she fell,
and the thousand-year-old ring shattered
on the concrete. When she told him, stunned
and tears running down her face, he said,
“Don’t cry. I’ll get you something better.”
See you next time!
The Wellington Files 