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Bang-ga-rang
How deeply has Trump seeped into the culture? We had Chinese takeout with Riverdale Joe on Sunday and this was my fortune cookie:
Pardon my Yiddish, but I don’t know what the f*ck to make out of this story. Donald Trump, Jr., you-know-who’s idiot son, is getting married again, this time to Bettina Anderson. He’s 48 and she’s 39. Anyway, so they held an over-the-top bridal shower at Mar-a-Lago last Sunday and get this: Trump’s wife du jour, Malaria, did not attend, but her predecessor Marla Maples did.
Phil caught up with Bettina and Junior at Dick Cheney’s funeral last year.
Commenter Lewis said that he “uncle-ed” at one point while working on the puzzle today. That is, he “cried uncle.” I noted:
“Accepting uncle as a verb (for which, thank you!), did I uncle when my sister had her first child? Or was she the uncle-er and I the uncle-ee?”
“On the other side, my wife has five sisters. When Kathy became the first of the six to have a baby, can we say she established an aunt farm?”
My own puzzle nonsense played on the following: MANX (“Tail-less cat breed”); KNEE (“Lederhosen typically end just above one”); SEEDER (“Lawn-starting tool”); OTIS (“Soul legend Redding”); and DOHA (“Capital of Qatar”).
MANX must be one of the XMEN, no?
What do lederhosen typically end right before? Divorce.
SEEDER: The traaditional Paassover meal for Jews whose keyboard keys sometimes stick.
Was it Redding who wrote Dock of the Bay? O TIS true.
What you should do to show you enjoyed a funny text: DOHA
One that didn’t make the cut involved SHIV (“Jailhouse weapon”): Can you imagine making one out of ice? Makes me shiver.
Here’s one of my former tax students, Inga, modeling some lederhosen for us. Thanks Babe! Good luck on the CPA exam!
How about telling us how you really feel about it, Rex? Rex started his discussion of the puzzle today with “I rarely say this, but I don’t understand how this puzzle got accepted.” Ouch.
He had a problem with the “uninspired” theme: Four phrases containing the vowels AEIOU in order: WHAT’S NEW WITH YOU?, HASHES IT OUT, APPLE ICLOUD, and WATERING TROUGHS.
Amazingly, IMO, Lewis came up with:
“So, finding words and phrases that use all the vowels just once, is hard enough, but it can be done. I’m thinking of the GENIUS AT WORK in MOZAMBIQUE who AMBIDEXTROUSLY ate CAULIFLOWER, played the TAMBOURINE, and, while thinking of JULIA ROBERTS and the FOUNDING FATHERS, wrote with a FOUNTAIN PEN.
“But, getting the vowels in words and phrases just once in order MAKES IT TOUGH, and I believe it would make for an involving LATE-NIGHT HOUR activity … okay I’m only saying this HALF SERIOUSLY, please don’t TAKE IT OUT on me!”
Phil? Wanna chime in here? Thanks!
In the “falling back to Earth with a thud” department, the Gnats came off their three game win streak with a loss in Pittsburgh last night by the score of 16-5. Ouch. Jackson Rutledge was rushed up from Rochester to pitch 1.1 innings and give up 6 hits, 2 walks, and 7 (!) well-earned runs. Hope he didn’t unpack.
But let’s keep an owl’s eye on defensive whiz Jacob Young who seems to have found his bat this year, hitting .289 and popping his second dinger last night. Normally batting in the nine hole, he was bumped up to the seven spot. I’m a little worried over chills Garcia and House have come down with, batting-wise. But aside from that, scoring runs hasn’t been the problem (yet, kinehora).
Here’s JY. Nice shot, Philly.
This poem is called “Flipping the Bird.” It’s by Ann-Margaret Lim and was the poem of the day today from the Poetry Foundation. It rewards repeated readings, IMHO.
Holding his stare in mine, I flip the bird
at a grown manon a stool in front of the street bar
on the left shoulder of Red Hills Roadwhere big aluminum pots with crab, or soup
tell you when it’s Friday, or Wednesday.He’d just pssst and winked at me—
a 12-year-old in the back seatof a Buick Skylark
being driven by my Chinese stepmom.Couldn’t be my hair
—hot-combed for graduationstyled in two limp pigtails
and a too-big bangmy teacher christened a bang-ga-rang
so, of course, me being a kidI flip the bird at him, telling him
with my eyes, what the finger says.Don’t think my stepmom—eyes on the road—
sees him, or me, flipping outand flipping the bird at him.
Don’t think she hears him, flipping outhow a little “black gal” like me
pass mi place, damn renk an’ fiesty.
It’s time to excoriate the New Yorker for its shitty cartoons again. Here’s a sampling from the 4/20/2026 issue that just arrived.
On page 69. All you see is a door with handles, like in a commercial building. There is a sign in it that says: “Try pushing first, then pull.”
Who among us has not found him or herself in the position of having pulled when you should have pushed or pushed when you should have pulled? And who among us can imagine that being the slightest bit humorous when converted into a cartoon? I’ll tell you who — no one on planet Earth, that’s who.
On page 64. Fathers looking through the window into where all the newborn babies are kept. One father refers to it as “this weird glass baby prison.”
Yeah. Hysterical.
On page 59. A little drawing indicates a move from a house in the suburbs to an apartment in NYC. The “hook” is “Helpful vocab for new New Yorkers.” Three terms are then defined:
Park: Like a yard that you share.
Subway: Like a car pool in the basement.
Laundromat: Like an arcade for a laundry.
And you thought they couldn’t get worse than the first two?
On page 54. A little boy, dressed like a horse rider is in a room in which three horses are running in a circle. The mom is saying to a friend: “If he’s going to become an equestrian, I’d rather he did it at home.”
No comment.
On page 50. A doctor is at his desk, staring at a computer screen. The caption says: “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just put it in the chat.”
No comment.
On page 45. A woman is sitting in a comfy chair, holding a cup of tea. Her eyes are closed and she says to her husband “I love listening to the birds in the morning.” In the background, outside the window, you see two small birds seated at a table with headphones on producing a podcast.
No comment.
Those are all, unquestionably, beyond horrible. What the hell is going on over there?
I’m going to close this out with one that I liked. It’s the two guys crawling through the desert dying of thirst genre. They crawl past a cactus and come to a couple dozen golf balls lying haphazardly in the sand. Another ball bounces into the bunch. One of the guys says hopefully: “There’s a driving range around here somewhere.”
Thumbs up, Frank Cotham.
The Onion had a pretty hard-hitting, no-holds-barred interview with the Pope. Here are some egg zerps:
The Onion: It must be boring having to go to church so much.
Pope Leo XIV: Yes.The Onion: What’s your go-to place for hiding Easter eggs?
Pope Leo XIV: Under stuff. Not many people think to look under stuff.I hadn’t realized how much the new Pope looks like Joe Torre. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
Thanks for popping by, Chatterheads! See you tomorrow!
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Horses and Poems
We have often used the term kinehora at appropriate points. Long ago we spent some time explaining it. It could loosely be described as the Jewish “knock wood.” But I was only today years old when I learned that in 2004, when Clint Eastwood was asked if he thought his film Mystic River could win an Oscar, he replied “Kinehora!” How great is that! Made my day.
What is this — the Spanish Inquisition? It seems like just yesterday, but it was on this date in 1633 that Galileo’s trial began on his ridiculous notion that the Earth revolves around the sun, instead of vicey-versey. He copped a plea and was sentenced to house arrest, which was not a bad deal because he could still watch TV, listen to his records, and surf the net, at least until he slowly went blind and died in 1641. D’oh! The Catholic Church stuck to its guns and only conceded the issue (on the Sun/Earth) in 1992. (Not a typo.)
Here’s a tiny love story from yesterday’s NYT. It’s by Canaan Reiersgaard and is called “Caramel Crush.”
As his barista, I wasn’t subtle: caramel hearts on his latte, my number on the cup. “We need to go out sometime,” I said. Multiple times. He thought I was being friendly. My advances rebuffed and confidence shaken, I had one final try in me. “I’m in a fashion show for the vintage shop around the corner — you should come.” Yeah, maybe . . . . ” That night, walking the “runway,” I scanned for him. No sign. Commiserating with friends outside, I said, “I guess it isn’t meant to be.” Then, a tap on my shoulder. “Am I too late?” “Not at all.”
At 54D in the puzzle yesterday, for the clue “Hip-hop artists with unintelligible lyrics,” the answer was, fittingly, MUMBLERAPPERS. Rex shared this example along with a couple of the funny You Tube comments, below:
“Twenty Month Ten!”
“Toning my tanner!”
Francesca Dego’s performances with the NJ Symphony this weekend were her first in New Jersey, she told us, before her encore. Hope she comes back soon and often.
Got a minute thirty-five?
Jimmy Kimmel said he’ll never understand “what’s going on inside that orange head.” Trump recently posted that the Pope is “soft on crime” and “likes nuclear weapons.” He says Leo was only chosen for Popehood to curry favor with him (Trump), as an American. How’s that for trenchant theological analysis?
Speaking of which — the Gnats swept the Beerboys in Milwaukee this weekend: a miracle, for sure. They are 7-8 now, 1/2 game ahead of the Mets! The magical mystery tour continues in Pittsburgh tonight. Keep it up gentlemen!
Here’s our favorite Gnats announcer. Who Datt? It’s Alexa Datt. Datt’s who.
I liked today’s puzzle. The theme was THREE CHEERS and the theme answers started out with words combining to form — well, take a look:
HIPHOPMUSIC; HIPPOCKETS; HURRICANE SEASON; and RAYCHARLES.
At 60A, the clue was “Tehre are two in tihs clue,” and the answer was TYPOS. But kitshef carped: I’d argue that there are no typos in the clue for 60A, as both places where the letters are reversed are intentional, not accidental. Really that should read “Tehre are zero in tihs clue.” Or “Tehre appear to be two in tihs clue”.
Puh-leeze.
At 3D, for the clue “Fruit pastry that pairs well with vanilla ice cream,” the answer was APPLETART. But Commenter Gary observed: can anyone anywhere name one single pastry that doesn’t pair well with vanilla ice cream?
Good point.
This poem by Linda Gregg is called “Staying After.” It was the poem of the day yesterday for the Poetry Foundation.
I grew up with horses and poems
when that was the time for that.
Then Ginsberg and Orlovsky
in the Fillmore West when
everybody was dancing. I sat
in the balcony with my legs
pushed through the railing,
watching Janis Joplin sing.
Women have houses now, and children.
I live alone in a kind of luxury.
I wake when I feel like it,
read what Rilke wrote to Tsvetaeva.
At night I watch the apartments
whose windows are still lit
after midnight. I fell in love.
I believed people. And even now
I love the yellow light shining
down on the dirty brick wall.
Taking Robin for a summer job interview today at Scoop Station: ice cream shop in Morris Plains. Would be good to have in there, amirite? If she gets it we may have to start calling her Sprinkles.
See you tomorrow!
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Crash Blossoms
I hit a bit of a groove today when looking for bad puns in the puzzle. I worked with the following: BAATH (“Old Syrian political party whose name means ‘resurrection’”); SALUD (“Spanish blessing”); a trio of ETHOS (“Spirit of an era”), ATHOS (“Alexandre Dumas’s Count de la Fère”), and OATHS (“Vows you may stand for”); YEN (“Hunger”); and NOMEANFEAT (“A significant accomplishment”).
Here’s what I came up with:
What Mary’s little lamb needed after playing in the mud: a BAATH
When Trump took office, a number of anti-immigrant churches adopted a rule prohibiting Spanish blessings. They continue to enforce this SALUD bar.
Ironically, the ETHOS of ATHOS includes OATHS to avoid anagrams.
The famed cellist’s urge to strike it rich in Japan: Yo-Yo’s YEN YEN
School ban on kicking at recess: No Mean Feet!
Yo-Yo Ma’s daughter Emily did not want him playing the cello at her wedding. (Not kidding.) She wanted him to “just be a dad.” He danced with her to “My Girl.” She’s a lawyer in a hot-shot NYC firm.
Got sunshine?
You know those headlines that are funny because they are condensed to remove little words that would prevent confusion? They have a special name. But first, here are some examples:
“Squad Helps Dog Bite Victim”
“Child’s Stool Great for Use in Garden”
“Missing Woman Remains Found”My favorite may be: “British Left Waffles on Falklands.”
And the scariest is: “Gator Attacks Puzzle Experts.”
Anyway, the name for them was in the puzzle today, clued with “Term for an ambiguously worded news headline.” They are called CRASH BLOSSOMS.
The term “crash blossom” came from a headline on a story about a violinist whose career was taking off and whose dad was killed in a famous plane crash: “Violinist Linked to JAL Crash Blossoms.” When an editor asked “What’s a crash blossom?” another gentleman suggested that the term could be used for them and it stuck.
The more I learned about the puzzle today, the more it blew me away. At 28A, for the clue “Arboreal symbol in Billie Holiday’s ‘Strange Fruit,’” the answer was POPLAR TREE. First, learned from Commenter Carolbb that the song was originally a poem written by Abel Meeropol, who, with his wife, adopted the children of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg after they were executed.
More to the point, Holiday described the song as her personal protest. In it the image of “strange fruit” serves as a shocking metaphor for bodies hanging from trees, the victims of racist lynch mobs.
“Southern trees bear a strange fruit
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root
Black bodies swinging in the Southern breeze
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.”Holiday described how the song would allow her “angriest and strongest voice” to emerge, and how she would have to think long and hard about when the song ought to be performed, and for whom. She nearly always saved the song until last, after which she would leave the stage and go straight to the backroom, where she would be physically sick. It resonated with her personally because her father died after being turned away from a hospital because he was a Black man.
It is not for the faint of heart.
What better way to regain our balance than with a sexy violinist? We’ll be seeing the NJ Symphony tomorrow and they are featuring Francesca Dego performing Prokofiev’s Violin Concerto #2. Here she is with no strings attached.
The average age at these Sunday matinee performances is slightly above 90. So the drooling may get out of hand.
Speaking of orchestras, if you get the chance to see the Westside Chamber Players perform, go. They are brilliant young musicians based in NYC, committed to performing free concerts for audiences in the area. We caught them in a beautiful old church in Hoboken last night.
Linda’s seat neighbor mentioned that the orchestra’s size was good for performing Mozart (the Jupiter). It was comprised of around 30-35 musicians, including twelve tubas. (Kidding about the tubas. Can’t resist tuba jokes.) The NJ Symphony is way larger and the comment made me think about that. So I undertook a massive research project on the matter. You know, a minute or two online. Found this:
During the 18th century, the average orchestra was probably at most 20-22 musicians. Haydn’s orchestra when working for the Esterhazy family was often no more than 14-16 players. For Mozart when he was in Vienna, there actually was no “orchestra” as such, but musicians were contracted by the composer for individual performances. The same was true as late as Beethoven’s time (usually around 8 pm), though the concept of community orchestras had started to spread. Even so, the orchestras were usually much smaller than might be thought.
I know. SRSLY. Who cares?
Here’s Francesca again. This time with strings. Could you plotz?
When it is said that the team you root for is “inconsistent,” that’s generally a bad thing. But the Gnats have been so bad for so long, to find that they are inconsistent implies they at least have flashes of competence. Last night, e.g., we went to sleep with them tied 3-3 in the ninth against a tough Brewer squad in Milwaukee. Hope was hard to come by. But they exploded for a bunch o’ runs and held on for a very nice win. We’ll try to catch them tonight.
See you tomorrow, Chatterheads. Thanks for popping in.
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Penne State
Twelve games into the season, the Gnats are a dismal 4-8. That includes dropping two out of three to a miserable Cards club in DC. They’ve been scoring runs: they have some decent hitters, James Woods, of course, CJ Abrams, Brady House, and Daylen Lile. And two of their new starters have looked good: Littell and Griffen. So they’ve been able to jump out to decent leads, but in three of their games the bullpen just exploded and blew it all to hell. As Seinfeld might explain, they know how to “take” a lead, but they don’t know how to “hold” a lead. It’s early though — things will undoubtedly get much worse.
BTW, the agent in that clip is Donna Hanover, Rudy G’s ex. (Unless I’m wrong.)
One of the answers in today’s NYTXW was DIGRESS, which is, of course, a female diger. It reminded me of this bad joke that has a place in my heart because my bro told it to me, alav hashalom.
In a war between two tribes, a warrior is captured. He is offered the chance to earn his freedom by performing three tasks. If he fails, he’ll be put to death. He accepts the challenge. The tribal chief explains the tasks: He shows him a large lake. The first task is to swim back and forth across the entire lake in one hour. Next, he shows him two large tents. In the first, there is a ferocious tiger with an abscessed tooth. His task is to remove the tooth. Finally, in the third tent is the beautiful Princess Fatima. The chief explains that no man has ever been able to satisfy the princess. Satisfying her would be the third task.
“Let’s go,” the warrior says. He jumps into the lake and swims as hard as he can for an entire hour and makes it back with only seconds to spare. He’s led to the tent with the tiger. After he enters, you hear the most godawful sounds and shrieking and screaming, and you can see the sides of the tent bulging at one side and then the next. Finally, the uproar dies down. After a few tense moments, the warrior staggers out. He can barely walk and is bleeding from a thousand wounds. He slowly makes his way over to the chief and says: “Okay, now where’s that lady with the bad tooth.”
This song is by The Ataris, clued in the puzzle today right up there at 1D with “Pop-punk band named after a video game company, with ‘The.’” “Pop-punk” seems like an oxymoron, but it fits.
A little wordplay today with SYNODS (“Church congresses”) and NOTOK (“Unacceptable”).
How Sy expresses assent (SYNODS).
Is it TIK? (NOTOK).
Yeah, kinda weak, but I got some good responses from the gang yesterday with this nonsense for RHINO (“One with thick skin, notably”); NOODLEBOWL (“Customizable Asian-fusion dish”); OJS (“Drinks with or without pulp, for short”); and HEDDA (“‘_________ Gabler’ (Ibsen play)”).
A hippo who dresses up as a RHINO and calls himself a RHINO is a RHINO in name only,
NOODLEBOWL: Site of the New Year’s Day football game for Penne State.
OJ’S: Shortly after the famous trial, OJ’s daughter was driving around in his car and wrapped it around a telephone pole. When the cops came, she said “Oh, man. When my dad finds out about this, he’s gonna kill me.” When the cop saw who it was he said: “You’re right. Gonna get away with it too.”
Ibsen’s notebooks reveal that his first version of the play was about a vegetable stand and was called HEDDA LETTUCE. When that bombed he revised it to involve a turkey farmer and called it HEDDA GOBBLER. Only when that crashed did he write the version we all enjoy today.
One of our neighbors dressed his mailbox up for us. How nice. It’s on our walking route.
We’re closing the store a bit early today. Heading into Heeboken for some falafel and a concert. See you tomorrow!
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An Aye For An Aye
Hail to the victors! A great win for the national title for U of New Jersey Monday night over UCONN. Oops. I can explain the “mistake” — two of the biggest Michigan stars are Garden-Staters: Lendeborg and Cadeau. Great job, guys!
Back on poor planet Earth, here’s a headline from The Onion:
Trump Warns Iran To Accept His Ultimatum Or Face Wrath Of Next Ultimatum
WASHINGTON—Threatening to continue issuing threats if the Islamic Republic did not quickly agree to his demands, President Donald Trump warned Iran on Monday to accept his ultimatum or face the wrath of his next ultimatum. “Lay down your weapons now or I will have no choice but to ask you to lay down your weapons later,” the commander in chief wrote on Truth Social, adding that the Iranian regime only had two more days to consider his terms before he would give them eight more days to consider his terms.
OC note: We hope this story stays funny. Paul Krugman very much fears we are on the verge of becoming a criminal nation of historic proportions. Here’s what he said:
“Damned if I know what’s going to happen. I mean, at some level, I think that the civilization that may be destroyed tonight is our own. I mean, are we civilized if we do this kind of thing? If America as a nation doesn’t stand up against this, what are we?
“So, God help us. Normal life will continue. It’s going to be a really weird thing to be out there, you know, grocery shopping and taking the subway and all of those things. But this is, in a way, the defining moment. The fate of the whole American idea is on the line.
“I have no idea how this ends.”
[Since the above was written, things have been pushed off two more weeks.]
I am finding much to play with in the puzzles lately, and so have been embarrassing myself with shameless idiotic posts on Rex Parker’s blog. Yesterday’s fodder was: TOKEN (“Unit of arcade currency”): STOOPED (“Bent down”); AYE (“Reply to a ship’s captain”); RANATAB (“Decided to pay later, say”); HUN (“One under Attila’s rule”); and OFFAL (“Organ meats”).
Here’s what I came up with:
TOKEN: How Barbie dedicated her first novel.
STOOPED: How someone who is might spell it.
The bartender tripped on his way in to the pub and twisted his ankle. So he said he could only walk a tab with a limp for me instead of running one.
Senator #1: I’ll vote for your bill if you vote for mine.
Senator #2: It’s a deal.
(An AYE for an AYE)HUN: How Mrs. Attila referred to her hubby.
Attila: Have you seen my sword, Babe? I have some pillaging to do.
Mrs. Attila: The kids were playing with it, HUN. Look in Junior’s room.
Attila: Thanks, Pumpkin!Wife: What’s this stuff you brought home from the butcher? It looks awful.
Husband: It’s OFFAL.
W: That’s what I said, but what’s it called?
H: It’s OFFAL.
W: Yes, but what is it?
H: OFFAL.
W: I can see that — but what is it called?
H: OFFAL
W: Stop repeating what I say!!
H: Repeating what you say?
W: Arggggggh
Is it possible to fall in love with a sports figure within the space of a few paragraphs? Here’s how the story in today’s NYT about UCLA women’s basketball coach Cori Close starts. (If you live under a rock like I do, you may not know UCLA won the title this year over powerhouses South Carolina and UConn.)
“’Let me show you who Cori really is,’ a UCLA staffer says as he pushes the door open to the UCLA coaches’ temporary locker room at the Final Four arena. Around the corner, there’s a collection of recyclable cans and bottles that Close has picked up and set atop a mini fridge.
“In the next hour, those cans and bottles will be packed into a bag so they can take the flight back to LA with the newly crowned national champion UCLA Bruins. Behind Close’s efforts, the entire team regularly gathers these bottles and cans after practices and games. Staffers then take turns returning the recyclables for 5 cents apiece, and later, that money is pooled and donated to one of the Bruins’ chosen nonprofit organizations. Recently, the UCLA women’s basketball team paid for school uniforms and a computer for girls in Tijuana with money collected from these recyclables. The school later sent a photo of the girls watching one of the Bruins’ games this season.
“After games and practices — and yes, even on the day the Bruins won their first NCAA title, thwarting resident powerhouse South Carolina 79-51 — Close collects these plastic bottles and cans, pulling them out of trash cans or grabbing them from the locker room or empty gyms. Coaches and players joke that if you can find Close’s blue purse, you’ll undoubtedly find some recyclable cans and bottles nearby. ‘That’s just who she is,’ the staffer says. ‘That’s Cori.’”
Sounds Jewish to me, but she isn’t. George says she’s “Jew-ish.” She’s 54 and not married.
If you followed the Congressional Jan. 6 hearings several years ago as reported in the Dirty Old Man’s Guide to the Insurrection (Owl Chatter Press, 2022), you’ll remember us drooling shamelessly over Cassidy Hutchinson, who appeared on the cover and centerfold, handily beating out Liz Cheney for the honors.
Her testimony was compelling and it is hard to imagine the member of any jury (or the nation, in this case), doubting her integrity and honesty. So it comes as no surprise that Trump’s corrupt DOJ has opened up an investigation of CH on charges of perjury. We fully support the effort, of course, on the grounds that it will put her back in the news for us to gawk at.
Members of MAGA (Morons Against Governing America) can’t comprehend why the cases against Trump proceeded through the legal system while the cases against Comey, James, Powell et al are all being summarily thrown out. They (and Trump, of course) don’t appreciate the key distinction that Trump actually committed many serious crimes and none of these other parties even came close. Once, when I umped women’s softball games in New Providence NJ, similar fly balls down the left field line dropped. Looking directly down the line I could plainly see that one fell fair and one fell foul and I made my calls accordingly. At the second call, the shortstop yelled at me: “Yeah, for them it’s fair, but for us it’s foul.” I was incredulous at the stupidity of the charge, since she was a good player and generally sharp. “Exactly,” I replied. “The first one fell fair and the second one fell foul.” To me, that mattered.
Cassidy is still only 29 and is a proud Jersey girl (Pennington, down Route 31). She’s not married and denied having dated Matt Gaetz. “I have much higher standards in men,” she said. (Not kidding.) Ouch. That rules all of us out, fellas.
Let’s wrap up today with a final word from Paul Krugman, so I can finish with a nice song he posted.
“There will be many analyses by military and strategic experts of the Iran debacle. But let’s not lose sight of the larger picture: We were led to disaster by the boastful ignorance of men like Trump and Hegseth — boastful ignorance made even worse by claims that God supports whatever they want to do.”
See you tomorrow!
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Kissing Boys On The High School Hill
Let’s get right to the puzzle; the news is insufferable.
I had something to say to the gang about the following: ARMRESTS (“Possible causes of in-flight disputes”); LEGLOCKS (“Certain submission moves in wrestling”); NATO (“Grp. joined by Finland in 2023 and Sweden in 2024”); and I’LL LIVE (“‘Tis but a scratch”).
ARMRESTS: What ARM does when it’s tired.
LEGLOCKS: French handguns.
NATO: Sources say Finland and Sweden only joined NATO after a better deal fell through for them to join the Big Ten.
POPCULTURE: The section in the bookstore where you’ll find the six-volume set on the history of Fresca.
Re: I’LL LIVE
Many years ago I was on line at the supermarket in Bristol VT with my friend Robert who lives up there. The fellow in front of us had some empty bottles to return for a refund. The young woman at the register told him he would get 65 cents and that she’ll take care of it after ringing up his items. He said fine. But by the time they finished, they both forgot about the refund. She remembered just as he was reaching the exit. So she shouted: “Sir! Sir! Your 65 cents!” But it was too late. He didn’t hear her and he left the store. We could sense she didn’t run after him because there must have been a strict rule against leaving the register unattended. By now she was holding 65 cents in her hand that didn’t belong to her and there was no way to get it to him. She was completely flummoxed. She looked up at us in utter despair. And Robert said: “He’ll live.”
The poem of the day today from poems.org is by Kathy Evans.
It’s called “Bio.”
Born at midnight, fish were spotted on the ceiling, and language,
all song and curlicues.
Mother was a pretty ribbon, father, a painted merry-go-round horse.
I hunted arrowheads,
watched water-skeeters on the surface of a pond.
I had a pet chameleon with half a tail that lived on my windowsill.
Somewhat abstract, I loved swimming pools, the deep end,
kissing boys on the high school hill,
listening to the sound of distant trains in the middle of the night—
I walked in hot mud
ate pie cherries from a tree above a creek,
was baptized for the dead, read Edgar Allen Poe,
could crack codes, enter caves and sestinas.
When asked, what do you want to be when you grow up?
I always answered, “the weather girl.”[OC note: For the ignorant among you, a sestina is a fixed verse form consisting of six stanzas of six lines each, normally followed by a three-line envoi. The words that end each line of the first stanza are used as line endings in each of the following stanzas, rotated in a set pattern.]
DIEGO Maradona popped by today, clued as “Argentine soccer legend.” As good an excuse as any for Son Volt to share this haunting tune.
True stories of high finance. Linda has a Roth IRA. It’s with Vanguard and I check in on it from time to time online. It’s whimsical. So sometimes it asks me to verify my (Linda’s) identity via a secret code sent to our phone. The problem is the phone it uses is our landline, which we shut down (“is no longer in service”). Okay, so we called Vanguard and gave them the new number and they assured us the problem was solved. I tried to log in several hours later only to discover the problem was not solved. They were still sending the code to the old dead number and I was not able to log in. Hmmmmmm. Must remain calm.
I called Vanguard again and this time a young woman answered. I explained the situation. She dug a little deeper and said the other guy just changed the number in the profile — not the number for security purposes. For that, we need to mail in a form with Linda’s signature notarized. She emailed me the form. I printed it out and Linda and I drove down to the Chatham library where they notarize things as a community service. However, as luck would have it (bad luck), the notary was out and would not be back for several hours. So we drove back home.
Must redouble efforts to remain calm.
Bottom line: It took me ten minutes (and was easy) to open a new account with Fidelity, close the Vanguard account, and transfer the funds over. All just because we dropped our landline. Ridiculous.
This Letter to the Editor appeared in today’s NYT.
To the editor:
Bruce Springsteen is doing exactly what artists are supposed to do: Artists call out society’s shameful acts, artists alter a person’s consciousness, and artists point society in the direction of change and hope.
Thanks, Bruce.
Rebecca A. Miles, Sarasota, FL, a novelist.
[Taylor — where are you?]
Oooh, that reminds me — the Big Man was in the puzzle on Sunday: CLEMONS (“Sax player Clarence”). How great is that? Lookin’ good, big fella. Miss you.
Thanks for dropping by, Chatterheads. Go Blue!
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The Soul of Ireland
Paul Krugman has been more upset than I’ve ever seen him, and that’s saying something. He’s convinced Trump will be blowing Iran to hell or, to use his words, back to the Stone Age, on Tuesday, via overwhelming attacks on their infrastructure, a war crime that will only further blow the region up while accomplishing nothing. He says:
It’s entirely possible that basically by this time Tuesday, America will have established itself as one of the world’s great villains. I don’t want to be here, but, you know, be warned. This is happening. This is real.
He goes on:
You can get even more pessimistic. Historian Tim Snyder [currently at UToronto, formerly at Yale], has been arguing that we’re basically in preparation for a coup, that somehow or other the war will be a pretense and arguing that this insane expansion of military spending in the latest Trump budget is a bribe to the military.
Krugman notes Trump’s use of the phrase “Glory be to God” as an indication that he’s gone off the rails into some Hegsethian Christian reverie. Trump later also classlessly jeered “Praise to Allah.”
The order to commit war crimes should be disobeyed by the military, of course, but many people of principle have been purged from the military and chances are good the orders will be obeyed.
I had some fun today with three of the answers from the puzzle: NOMAD (“Land rover”); DIEGO (along with SAN, clued via the popular zoo); and ARMLET (“Article of jewelry worn around the biceps”). Here’s what I came up with:
DIEGO: The choices given to me when I overstayed my welcome.
NOMAD: The answer you do not want to the question Are you happy?
ARMLET: Along with Omelet, the names considered by Shakespeare for his play before settling on Hamlet.
At 12A, the clue was “Second first lady, after Martha,” and the answer was ABIGAIL. But isn’t the second first lady after Martha the third first lady? Abigail is the first first lady after Martha. I guess that comma in the clue is doing some heavy lifting.
The ‘Rines pounded the crap out of ‘Zona last night. There is one more hill to climb, as the saying goes: UCONN. Lendeborg only played 15 min on a bum ankle. They can win with him out or hobbled, but I sure hope they don’t have to. Go Blue!
Did you feel the planet shudder a little? They did over in Ireland. Dolores Keane, the “soul of Ireland,” passed away in Western Ireland at the age of 72 on the eve of St. Patrick’s Day. Linda and I spent a week over there two years ago, starting out in Galway. A country wholly devoted to music and Guinness that owns the color green. In the limo to the airport for our trip home I said to the driver “back to our miserable lives,” and he loved it. Said he’d be stealing it. Our lives aren’t miserable, of course, but you could do worse than live in that beautiful land.
Clay Risen, in the NYT obit wrote: Keane was beloved in her country in part because she was so quintessentially of the place: Her glittering wit, warm personality and lilting burr of an accent all marked her as a child of County Galway.
She is survived by two brothers, two children, two grandchildren, and all of her native Irishfolk, who cherished every note she offered. Rest in peace, Dolores.
‘Tis all the heaven I ask of God
upon my dying day
My soul to soar forever more
above you, Galway Bay
I’m going to drastically alter the way I cook pasta. Yeah, you heard me. I just read a piece by a hot-shot chef from the Barilla company who explained that pasta used to be of poor quality, so it would get starchy and clump up after cooking if not rinsed. But the finer wheat that is used today does not require rinsing. And the small amount of starch that does form adds to the taste and makes sauces cling better. I’m sold. And here’s George’s pretty cousin Estelle. She’s not complaining.
See you tomorrow, Chatterheads. We’ll be heading up to Costco. I made a list! Thanks for dropping in.
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Silver Leaves of Milkweed
Just as I finished sitting shiva for Kristi, Pam falls. I’m reeling. Pete — watch your back!
Frank Bruni and Bret Stephens had a delicious back and forth on the embarrassing cross-dressing pics that emerged on Noem’s hubby Bryon.
Frank: What makes the Noems’ situation so difficult to process and so much to process is that after the pictures’ release, Kristi Noem asked for some compassion, but she offered absolutely none of that in her wretched days as the secretary of homeland security. She reveled in the vilification of Renee Good and Alex Pretti, baselessly slandering them before their dead bodies were even cold; with a $50,000 gold Rolex on her wrist, she strutted in front of caged men in El Salvador, celebrating their consignment to a hellhole. Incapable of mercy (or, for that matter, decency), she now beseeches it.
Bret: Cross-dressing is fine by me, but shooting a 14-month-old dog because it couldn’t hunt — and then boasting about it in a political memoir — is psychotic and despicable, not to mention dumber than buckshot. Everything about her tenure as homeland security secretary could be gleaned from that incident. Also, her taste in watches is terrible: A sporty Jaeger-LeCoultre Reverso or a 1960s-era Omega Seamaster De Ville in a 34-millimeter stainless steel case would have shown actual class.
Pam’s departure blows a hole in the sexy blonde wing of the administration. We still have Karoline. In pretending she is fine with the move, Bondi wrote: “Leading President Trump’s historic and highly successful efforts to make America safer and more secure has been the honor of a lifetime, and easily the most consequential first year of the Department of Justice in American history.” We certainly agree with the “most consequential” part. Like the plague was consequential.
Here’s how the NYT described her tenure: Ms. Bondi surrendered much of the department’s historic independence and oversaw the exodus of experienced career officials, leaving the department’s public corruption and national security units, along with many local U.S. attorneys’ offices, weakened and demoralized.
That’s putting it mildly. She didn’t surrender “much of” the department’s independence, she surrendered all of it. There have been bad AGs before, e.g., John Mitchell. You remember, Martha’s hubby? But no one has taken a torch to the department like our Pam. It’s in ashes.
In other administration news. Headline from The Onion:
Hegseth Replaces Top General With Horse That Drinks Beer
The puzzle yesterday was a little blah, but egs came to the rescue with two good parsings. First, at 50A the clue was “Tundra, for one,” and the answer was HABITAT.
egs:
Q: What did the Abbess ask the naked nun?
A: Where’s your HABITAT?
Then, at 37A, for the clue “Hit HBO series inspired by a post-apocalyptic video game,” the answer was THELASTOFUS.
egs: We went to see a vegan mariachi band last night — THELASTOFUS.
That took me a while to unpack: THE LAS TOFUS.
At 6D, “Ticks of a ticker” was HEARTBEATS. Son Volt dug up these two tunes for us.
Andrew Norton, of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) shared the news with the membership of a “not too exciting” museum re-opening that features British Post mailboxes.
And he asked for other suggestions. Hazel Smith offered the railway museum in York but was upbraided by Paul Clark on the grounds that it is “FAR too interesting.” Clark offered the Cumberland Pencil Museum in Keswick. When EmEM Jay said: “I love that museum. Even bought a WWI map pencil,” Clark responded with “TBF I still talk of little else.”
Mark Kirkham suggested the British Lawnmower Museum. Nora, below, is one of the tour guides.
Tony Simpson recommended the Chair Museum in High Wycombe. Admission is free, but they are closed Mondays and Saturdays. Looks inviting.
Last, literally, Ruth Hunt suggested dropping in at the Coffin Factory/Museum in Birmingham.
Admission is 9.5 Euros for an adult (11 for a 1 hr. 15 min. guided tour.) The website notes the following:
Our Self-Guided entry is designed to be more inclusive to those with additional needs as you can interact with our volunteers as much or as little as you like. Our Mobile Tour has all the information you need and the loud machinery demonstration can be bypassed.
Alternatively, we do offer a specialised Relaxed experience for groups, which is a factory tour designed specifically for people on the Autistic Spectrum and their families. It is also suitable for people with additional learning, sensory or communication needs.
In today’s puzzle, at 37A the clue was “Low-priced car introduced in 1980.” Remember the ill-fated YUGO? I shared this with the gang:
There was a whole slew of Yugo jokes back when there were Yugos. The jokes were about as bad as the cars. But that was okay, a bad joke won’t leave you stranded in the middle of nowhere (probably). Why were Yugos equipped with rear defrosters? To keep your hands warm when you pushed them. How do you double the value of a Yugo? Fill the tank. What makes a Yugo go faster? A tow truck. You get the idea.
My favorite bad car line was from a call in to Car Talk the great old radio show on NPR. Some poor fellow called in with a litany of problems with his lemon of a car. And either Ray or Tom said “You must be a student.” And the other one said “Or, worse, a professor.” Ouch.
At 29D, the clue was “Target of some filters,” and the answer was EMAILSPAM.
Egs hopped right on it:
How NOEM offers condolences to Bondi: EMAILSPAM.
This poem by Hayden Carruth is from today’s Writer’s Almanac.
“The Cows at Night.”
The moon was like a full cup tonight,
too heavy, and sank in the mist
soon after dark, leaving for lightfaint stars and the silver leaves
of milkweed beside the road,
gleaming before my car.Yet I like driving at night
in summer and in Vermont:
the brown road through the mistof mountain-dark, among farms
so quiet, and the roadside willows
opening out where I sawthe cows. Always a shock
to remember them there, those
great breathings close in the dark.I stopped, and took my flashlight
to the pasture fence. They turned
to me where they lay, sadand beautiful faces in the dark,
and I counted them — forty
near and far in the pasture,turning to me, sad and beautiful
like girls very long ago
who were innocent, and sadbecause they were innocent,
and beautiful because they were
sad. I switched off my light.But I did not want to go,
not yet, nor knew what to do
if I should stay, for howin that great darkness could I explain
anything, anything at all.
I stood by the fence. And thenvery gently it began to rain.
At 54D the clue for TIED was “Like some tongues.” I missed this song when it came out in 2018. It’s by the Wombats. Turn it up!
See you next time, Chatterheads. Thanks for stopping by.
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When Is It Starting, Mommy?
In the puzzle yesterday, the clue for DOGTOY was: “Bone that squeaks, e.g.” That’s exactly what I complained about to my orthopedist recently.
A teensy bit of baseball history was made yesterday and we were there at Camden Yards to see it. The O’s did a pretty good job of beating up the Rangers. There were two outs in the ninth and what remained of the sparse crowd was on its feet cheering for the final out. Suarez threw, and the pitch came in and was called a ball. The O’s catcher, Basallo, signaled for a challenge. So we all watched the scoreboard for the ball to appear. Hey, it clipped the zone! Wow, what? Strike three! Game over! First MLB game to end on a pitch appeal.
Basallo, btw, was the same player who I noticed was listed at 6’4″, 180, on the scoreboard, though he looked beefier, as befits a catcher. Yikes, I said to Linda. That guy is six inches taller than me and weighs 35 pounds less. Clearly, I am way too short.
It was a day game and school was out, so even though the crowd was sparse it was full of kids. There was a little red-headed 8-year-old in front of us who was cheering more actively than her parents. “Look at that head of orange hair,” I said to Linda. “A born Orioles fan!” And there was a little girl behind us who was at her first game. Baseball critics are quick to point out how little action there is in the game most of the time. So I had to chuckle in the top of the first. The count was two and one on the Texas leadoff batter, Nimmo, when I heard the little girl ask: “When is it starting, Mommy?”
When we arrived in the area yesterday, we took a wonderful walk/hike in Ellicott City after stopping at The Breadery along the path to see if they had any half-price day-olds for us. They did! We scored a loaf of rye (new to them, I think) and Grains Galore, for a total of $8. Yum.
After checking in at our dump, I mean motel, in Catonsville, we shot back to EC for the outstanding burgers at the White Oak Tavern. Highly recommended! This was our fourth visit, and, God willing, there will be many more. Since the draft beer list was extensive and most of it new to me, I picked two and asked the waitress for small samples to taste: The Pennsylvania Lager (from Hershey, PA, Troegs), and Fitz’s Irish Red (local from Baltimore, Monument Brewing). She came back with them pretty quickly and I dispatched them both just as quickly. When she returned, she asked me which one I wanted and I reported that neither one grabbed me, so I would have the ale I had the last time we were in: Morning Dew, by New Trail Brewery in Williamsport, PA. Now here’s where things got a little dicey.
I thought she said “OK, I’ll bring you a sample,” but she might have said something else. I wasn’t sure. Instead of asking her to repeat what she said, I responded to what I thought she said. So I said, “Don’t bother — you can just bring me a pint.” I meant, don’t bother with the sample. Then she said “Of course!” But she said it in a way that led me to believe that that was what she was planning to do, which meant she didn’t say she would bring me a sample before. That also meant that when I said: “Don’t bother, just bring me a pint,” it made no sense. Obviously, I had to clear that up. So when she returned with the pint, I said “I thought you said you were bringing me a sample.” My intent was to explain why I said “Don’t bother.” But, in fact, she had said she would bring me a sample before!! So she thought I was (unfairly) upbraiding her now for not bringing it!! So she replied, a touch sternly: “And you said, ‘Don’t bother, just bring a pint.” And I replied “Exactly. Thank you.” And she said “I just want to make sure we’re both on the same page.” We are, I assured her, and that put an end to it. It was delicious, and when the burgers arrived they were brilliant.
By now you are aware that Trump took great pains to assure the nation last night that he would continue to f*ck up our (and the world’s) economy with his idiotic war rather than declaring victory and pulling the hell out as the stock market thought he would when it soared by 1,000 points. Sure enough, it’s down by a cool 600 as a result of his speech. The best take on the speech was by Paul Krugman who noted: Trump doesn’t even have the courage to run away.
Also of note yesterday: Trump’s “historic” attendance at the Supreme Court hearing. He thought he could intimidate “his” Justices by being there, like when Michael Corleone brought a witness’s aging dad to the courtroom from Sicily. Kavanaugh probably spent the whole time drooling over Bondi, but it apparently had no other effect on the Nine.
We had a long walk back to our parking garage after the game since I refused to pay $25 to park closer (paying only $8.50). It was a brilliant move because we lucked out and the walk was through a neat neighborhood: Federal Hill. We passed by a house with this in the window. Ouch.
Then we drove to Little Italy for a Fresconi pizza at Angeli’s: Garlic herb sauce, mozzarella cheese, fresh spinach, marinated artichokes, cherry tomatoes, feta cheese, and caramelized onions.
Out of this f*cking world. Phenomenal crust and a combination of tastes that was as original as it was delicious. This was our second visit to Angeli’s, but our first Fresconi. This photo does not do it justice. Mwah.
Can’t top that. See you tomorrow!
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Do You Like Chocolates?
Unless you’re perfect (Hi Linda!), you probably benefited from Hyman Lipman’s invention. He’s the genius who stuck erasers onto the backs of pencils. It was patented on this date back in 1858.
You know who loved pencils? John Steinbeck, that’s who. He started every day with 24 freshly sharpened ones and went through 300 in writing East of Eden. Who was counting? And he used 60 a day on The Grapes of Wrath and Cannery Row.
If that’s not enough useless knowledge for you: The common pencil today can draw a line 35 miles long, or write around 45,000 words. It’s hexagonal so it doesn’t roll off the table. You’re on your own as far as rolling off the table yourself goes.
Well, it looks like Tiger Woods has propelled himself (poor choice of words?) back to the top of the “people you least want to drive your daughter to the airport” list. He’s ahead of Ted Kennedy and Princess Diana’s driver again.
Our Phil was pretty close with the Princess, back in the day. When word came out about the dreadful accident it was widely assumed Phil was driving. Here she is giving him one of her “Come off it, Phil” looks that he loved.
At 13D today, the “California city with a humble-sounding name” was MODESTO.
Hard to believe Warren Zevon has been dead for 22 years, especially since I thought he was still alive. His dad was Jewish (last name Zivotofsky), and worked as a bookie for the LA mobster Mickey Cohen. Warren died at the age of 56 from mesothelioma. On his last David Letterman appearance, when asked what he learned about life, he said he learned “to enjoy every sandwich.” At DL’s request, he performed Roland, below. It was his final public performance. We’re discussing it today because MOMBASA was in the puzzle: it’s the second largest city in Kenya. Who knew?
Zevon was a close friend of Stephen King who said: “His albums are dense with stories and brilliant images.” King dedicated his novel Doctor Sleep to Warren. Zevon said that, with his last recordings, he wanted to remind people that “This was a nice deal: life.” Yeah, it’s very easy to forget that.
And then there were four. Go Blue! Standing in the way of UMich for the national title are Arizona, and (if we beat them), probably UConn. That’s right — mighty Duke has fallen. It’s been thirty years since we’ve won (1997, North Carolina).
This poem is from today’s Writer’s Almanac. It’s by Louis Simpson and is called “Chocolates.”
Once some people were visiting Chekhov.
While they made remarks about his genius
the Master fidgeted. Finally
he said, “Do you like chocolates?”They were astonished, and silent.
He repeated the question,
whereupon one lady plucked up her courage
and murmured shyly, “Yes.”“Tell me,” he said, leaning forward,
light glinting from his spectacles,
“what kind? The light, sweet chocolate
or the dark, bitter kind?”The conversation became general.
They spoke of cherry centers,
of almonds and Brazil nuts.
Losing their inhibitions
they interrupted one another.
For people may not know what they think
about politics in the Balkans,
or the vexed question of men and women,but everyone has a definite opinion
about the flavor of shredded coconut.
Finally someone spoke of chocolates filled with liqueur,
and everyone, even the author of Uncle Vanya,
was at a loss for words.As they were leaving he stood by the door
and took their hands.
In the coach returning to Petersburg
they agreed that it had been a most
unusual conversation.
The Gnats have gotten off to a good start, kinehora, taking two of three from the Cubbies at Wrigley! Bullpen seems sharp. We’ll see if they can keep it up in Philly tonight. And we’ll catch them in person on 4/23, down in DC, v. the Atlantans, God willing.
Thanks for stopping by. See you next time.
Note: We are heading down to Baltimore tomorrow for a short getaway. Catching the O’s v. Texas on Weds. So broadcasting may be spotty. As always, we’ll do our worst. Back Thursday night.
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The Wellington Files 