Travel agents are hurrying to upgrade their Alaska vacations to include a blow job from Trump. You know, the Putin package. Did any of you think for even a second that Trump wouldn’t spend every moment kissing his ass and selling out Ukraine? Puh-leeeeze.
I love the analysts who are relieved that it wasn’t worse. Right. He could have, like, given Putin Chicago or New Mexico. Sheesh.
This Tiny Love Story by Anil Classen was in the NYT Styles section today.
At 24, I took my father to dinner. As our food arrived, he mumbled, “Don’t tell anyone . . . it’s our secret.” He smiled conspiratorially, slicing into the red meat that, as a Hindu, he wasn’t allowed to eat. “I have to tell you something,” I said slowly. “I will never marry a woman.” Tears blurred my vision, my sexuality finally open. “You have only one life,” he replied. “You don’t owe anyone any explanations.” Later, while parting, he kissed my forehead the way he did when I was a child. Twenty-four years later, I still touch that spot when I feel lost.
[The staff could not agree on whether this next section belongs in the Dirty Old Man Department (Childish Humor Division), or in Cooking and Furnishings.]
Do you remember the spice rack Homer Simpson built?
You can actually buy ones that duplicate it.
By way of contrast, Jamie Steed of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) posted the following:
I’m not one for posting spicy contents on social media but after discussing racks with the wife for over a week, we finally bit the bullet. Not the largest we’ve ever seen but they still take a good handful to fill. Thankfully, the wife also appreciates a decent rack when she sees one.
He added that he’s still struggling to find the oregano.
Ian Bradley: I’ve swapped all the herbs and spices around in ours. The wife hasn’t noticed yet, but the thyme is cumin.
To which Ashley Gray replied: High chive.
Roger Collier: You have a couple of jars too many of coriander.
Paul Miller: Why have you got two Italian Style Herb Blend, and why are they on different shelves?
Clare Lorraine Payne: Ok very nice but this is doin’ my head in….herbs and spices need to be separated and the jars need to be in alphabetical order….sorry I’ll get my coat.
Jamie: yep, I completely get it. I’ll admit, I’m disappointed in myself for how they are arranged. However, as the wife is, how do you say? vertically challenged… it’s easier to have the ones we use the most at a height she can reach off the step ladder.
Anne Warner: I’m not sure how I would arrange them, I think I’d have to have the same coloured bottles together, in alphabetical order, starting shortest to tallest.
Clare: Anything would be better than a mish mash.
Michael C: I have quite a lot from Morrisons which have the initial of the spice/herb on top of the lid. I was making baked figs with honey and cinnamon one time, picked up the wrong C and ended up using cayenne pepper. Was actually quite nice after the initial surprise.
Julie Watkins shared her rack, noting the contents are in alphabetical order:
To which Clare replied: Nicely done.
We’ll let Heidi Jones have the last word: I wish for a rack like your wife’s. Please do tell where you got them from?
The puzzle today was by Sam Ezersky. But we knew something was up right from the start because his first name was written in Pig Latin, “Amsay,” and the title was Ixnay That (nix that). Looks like you need to know Pig Latin to solve it. Fortunately, it is among my many useless skills.
The theme answers ended wackily using Pig Latin. Translating a word into Pig Latin requires taking the final sound, moving it to the front, and adding “ay” at the end. So “nix” becomes ixnay: the “ix” is moved to the front, and the “ay” is added at the end: is that earclay?
The problem was even though the theme answers were clever in their way they weren’t very funny. My favorite was at 93A where the clue was “‘Do I ‘really’ wanna start an online bidding war? Hmm …’”? And the answer was TO EBAY OR NOT TO EBAY? (“Be” in Pig Latin is EBAY, so it was a play on “to be or not to be.”) See what I mean? Clever but so what? (Sorry, Sam Ezersky, maybe I’m just a grumpy Gus today. Or EEYORE, who was at 94D (Long-eared pal of Pooh)).
At 23D, a non-theme clue was “French city from which a soup gets its name,” and the answer, of course, was TOMATO. Just kidding — it was VICHY. It gave me the chance to share one of my favorite old New Yorker cartoons with Rex’s gang:
Long table at which monks are sitting. At the head is a large cauldron, and the monk who is serving soup to the others says: “Forgive me brothers, for breaking the sacred vow of silence, but I, for one, am tired of vichyssoise.”
[Quick quiz: try spelling that soup without looking it up.]
The puzzle defeated me at one square. I confused aviary with apiary and didn’t know Michael Stipe of REM. Rats!
There was some serious-ass obscurity in it, but the crosses bailed me out. So, it was okay that I didn’t know that the “Minnesota county whose seat is St. Paul” is RAMSEY, or that the “Emperor who founded the Mughal Empire” was BABUR. I thought it was Murray.
I know a few gods and goddesses (mostly from puzzles) but it was new to me that a Greek goddess of the night is NYX.
At 86D, “Progressive inits. in the U.S. Congress,” was AOC. Hey, girl — lookin’ good!
Here she is very pretty in wire rims and then at a family dinner with her grandpa.
At 74D, the clue was “Vodka-and-lime cocktail,” and the answer was GIMLET (which is pronounced with a hard G). Rex went on for quite a while explaining that the clue is wrong. A gimlet is a gin drink, not vodka. The only alcohol I drink is beer, so I don’t have a dog in that hunt. But this song, below, ends with a great lyric, and Dinah Washington does a helluva job with it.
Well, I got high last night
And I took my man to his wife’s front door
I said I got juiced last night
And I took my man to his wife’s front door
Oh, but she was a .45 packing mama
And I ain’t gonna try that no more
Adrian Bull of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) posted this picture and then wrote: My bird identification app seems to disagree with itself…
I’m glad this is Owl Chatter and not Raven Chatter. Wouldn’t know what to make of it.
See you tomorrow!
The Wellington Files 