The Wellington Files

  • I got it! I got it!

    I wouldn’t have brought in Alvarado, but what do I know? I used to enjoy an announcer for the Nats named FP Santangelo, former Expo player, before he was Me Too-ed the hell out of there. Whenever he second-guessed a manager, he’d say something like, “but there’s a reason he’s down there and I’m up here wearing makeup.” Remember that song, “Desperado?” It works for Alvarado perfectly — “Alvarado, Why don’t you come to your senses . . . . “

    Jeremy Pena deserved the World Series MVP for his Jeter-esque performance. Got a hit whenever he had to. First rookie non-pitcher ever to win the WS MVP. (The pitchers were Livan Hernandez (Florida, 1997), and Norm Sherry, way back in 1959 for the Dodgers.) How neat is this? — when Dusty Baker, Astro manager, made his managerial debut with the Giants on Opening Day in 1993, the leadoff batter for the opposing team (St. Louis) was Geronimo Pena — Jeremy’s father. (Cue the eerie music.)

    Triva fans — did anyone ever win the WS MVP from the losing team? Yes! Bobby Richardson on the 1960 Yanks, in the Series Pittsburgh won on Mazeroski’s famous HR over the left field wall in Forbes Field. Forbes Field has been torn down, but the site of the wall has been saved. Linda and I visited it in August. Here’s a shot of me catching Maz’s shot in front of the (rebuilt) wall.

    And here’s some chatter on Saturday’s and Sunday’s puzzles.

    If, like me, you’ve been wondering where Tasmanian Emus have been all your life, wonder no more. According to today’s puzzle, they’ve been extinct since around 1865, according to an Australian database. They were hunted as a pest and for food, but would have avoided extinction due their great speed, if only guns had been used against them. The introduction of domestic hunting dogs into Tasmania were their great undoing (woof woof).

    Saturday’s puzzle featured some great words and clues. The clue for 36A was “This clue’s answer might contain more than seven letters,” but we were given only seven squares to fill! WTF? The answer: MAILBAG. Get it? A mailbag “contains letters.”

    45A: “Met for a few hours in the evening?” The answer: OPERA (“Met”ropolitan Opera).

    20A: “Raise people’s spirits?” — HOLD A SEANCE.

    14D: “Game where It always counts.” — HIDE AND GO SEEK. (The “It” had a capital I.)

    23D: “Shot only you can take.” — SELFIE

    Even some of the small fill was clever: 4D: “Unsalted, perhaps.” — ICY (Think Winter, sidewalk).

    Some other niceties in the grid: FLIRT was just a short distance from LADIES. (Come here often, girls?) RESTING was crossed by EASY CHAIR. And how about this? 13A: “Famous game-saving 1954 World Series play by Willie Mays” was THE CATCH, not far from FIELD DAYS.

    I learned a weird new word too — “Ochlocracy,” meaning MOB RULE.

    And how about METONYM, the last across answer? That’s when a word, name, or expression is used as a substitute for something it’s closely associated with. For example, Washington is a metonym for the federal government, K Street for lobbyists, Hollywood for the film industry, etc.

    Metonym led LMS down the “nym” rabbit hole, where she found capitonym. That’s when a word changes meaning when it’s capitalized. Polish/polish; Turkey/turkey; March/march. And there’s aptronym (also called euonym), when a name is “apt.” For example, the racer Usain BOLT, a redhead named Scarlet, an Asian lawyer (who really exists) named SUE YOO. There’s a dentist near me named Dr. FANG. The opposite (or antonym) is an inaptronym, when a name is inapt — a misnomer. A conservative named Lefty, a boring person named Wildman. And how about oronym? That’s when two phrases or words differ in meaning and spelling, but sound the same. New deal and nude eel; I scream and ice cream; depend and deep end. All oronyms.

    The word “daith” was in a clue: “Location of a daith piercing.” Answer: EAR. LMS called daith a nobodyknowswhatthehellthatisonym. She added these additional examples: philtrum, lunule, and glabella. (I’ll look them up later. Maybe.) A “daith piercing” is a piercing through the smallest fold of cartilage in your ear, just above the entrance to your ear canal. There is anecdotal evidence (but no scientific evidence) for daith piercing helping with migraine headaches.

    Sunday’s was a BAD ASS puzzle (alert the tuchas squad!) The clue for BAD ASS was “Intimidating in a cool way.” There was also tuchas-related apparel: THONGS, boringly clued as “Some beachwear.” (Boo, jeered Avi cheekily.)

    The puzzle was called LENGTH-ENING, and the trick was to add the letters EN to some phrases, to arrive at a cute result with the spelling after the EN changed, but not the pronunciation. Also, the EN had to be pronounced (like the French) “ON.” E.g., for the clue “How Shamu acknowledged the crowd’s appreciation?,” the answer was MARINE ENCORE. So the change was made to “Marine Corps.” Another one was: “Why the party’s about to get less hip?” SQUARE EN ROUTE (from “square root”). In each case the spelling but not the pronunciation is altered, and the EN is French. The best one was funny: “Prepare for a sword fight, McKellen, Fleming, all other namesakes out there!”? EN GARDE, IANS OF THE GALAXY!

    The answer MEAGRE is usually clued with something like “Scarce in London,” because it’s the British spelling of meager. But today it was clued with “‘The ________ Company’ (Frans Hals portrait).” Here’s what it looks like, below. You think you have a bad commute? Hals was unhappy about having to schlep to Amsterdam from Haarlem to work on the painting, and it wound up being finished by someone else (Pieter Codde).

    We had a nice time in Saratoga Springs. Here’s a shot of Linda near a tree.

    We especially enjoyed a wonderful cup o’ coffee and breakfast sandwiches this morning at Uncommon Grounds right in the middle of town. What a nice scene.

    Last, the Jets upset the big bad Bills today! Whodathunkit?!

  • Amazeballs

    The biblical scholars among you will be pleased to see Mount HOREB in the puzzle today (“Biblical peak”) at 31 down.  That’s where God gave Charlton Heston the Ten Commandments.  It’s also where the burning bush incident occurred, and where Mo struck the rock to get water out of it.   According to Exodus 3:5, the ground of the mountain was considered holy, and Moses was commanded by God to remove his sandals.  This is also the source of the modern day requirement to remove your shoes for airport security, although many of the Israelites filed papers to obtain exemptions.

    The puzzle is highlighted by six down answers that go all the way from the top to the bottom, i.e,, six 15-letter answers, quite a feat of construction.  My faves were FREAKING AWESOME (clued by “Amazeballs”), and TEMPORARY TATTOO (clued by “Erasable ink?”).  A few months ago, “temporary tattoo” was nicely clued by “Mom for a day, e.g.”  (Get it?)

    Two ballplayers are in the grid.  The first is “Slammin’ Sammy,” which had to be golfer Sam Snead, except there were only four squares to fill.  It turned out to be Sammy SOSA.  He appeared right below “Muscly” for BUILT, in his case via steroids.  And “Six-time Dodgers All-Star Ron,” is Ron CEY, nicknamed The Penguin, by his HS coach for his slow waddling running gait.  He had a heckuva career, including being named MVP of the 1981 WS in which the Dodgers beat the Yankees.

    I had no idea why “Resting spot for some buns” would be NAPE, but a comment in Rex explained buns meant “hair buns.”  

    “Auntie Em and Uncle Henry, for two,” was a great clue for KANSANS.  

    In the new-stuff-learned dept., the clue for POLARIS, the brightest star in the constellation, commonly known as the North Star or Pole Star, taught me it is actually three stars.   Also ANEMONES can refer to either the lovely plant in the buttercup family, or, as a Sea Anemone, a predatory marine organism, so named because it looks like the plant.

    Several of you (Hi Liz and Joe!) took me to task for neglecting to call attention to yesterday’s blatant tuchas appearance in PAIN IN THE ASS, and less so in KICK IN THE PANTS.  So I won’t neglect to mention today’s sightings:  The hidden tuchas of Angela BASSETT, and the phonetic rears in “ASCENDS.”  The latter is clued by “Takes the throne, say,” which puts a bathroom spin on that “throne.”  And don’t forget those buns, see above.

    Okay, gotta run. Heading upstate for the weekend. Happy puzzling, puzzlers.

  • Grand Larseny

    Quite a reversal of fortune for the Phils last night. Not only did they lose, they couldn’t even scratch out a hit. It was only the second time in World Series history that a team was no-hit. The first, of course, was Don Larsen’s perfect game in the 1956 WS for the Yankees against the Brooklyn Dodgers. This one wasn’t perfect: three Phils reached base on walks. And it took four Astro pitchers to accomplish, while Larsen’s was perfect and was all his.

    Larsen started his career with the Aberdeen Pheasants in 1947, and had stints with the Wichita Falls Spudders and several other teams before making it to the big leagues. I thought Spudders had something to do with potatoes but a Spudder is (1) an oil driller, and (2) a tool that removes bark from timber. Here’s what the tool looks like:

    Get this – the first Wichita Falls Spudders team ran from 1920 to 1932 at which point it moved to Longview Texas and became the Longview Cannibals. Wait, what? Yes, the Cannibals! They got that name after one of their relief pitchers had such a poor outing that he was dismembered and eaten in the clubhouse after the game by several of his teammates. No! Just kidding! The team was called the Longview Baseball Club, but after a lopsided victory a local reporter wrote: “The poor San Antonio Missionaries were eaten up by the Longview Cannibals today,” and the name stuck.

    Larsen was traded to the Yanks by Baltimore in 1955 as part of a 17-player trade. Yes, seventeen. He left the Yanks after the 1959 season in the trade with Kansas City that brought Roger Maris to NY.

    Larsen’s control was so sharp in his perfect game that he went to three balls on only one batter. The game ended on a called third strike, his 97th pitch. The last batter was pinch-hitter Dale Mitchell. Larsen’s catcher, Yogi Berra, leapt into his arms.

    Larsen’s first marriage, to Vivian in 1955, was less than perfect. On the day Larsen pitched his perfect game they were estranged, and Vivian was in court seeking to have his WS winnings withheld and paid towards her support. But his second marriage, to Corinne, lasted over 60 years. In 2012, he auctioned off the uniform he wore for the perfect game, and used the proceeds to pay for college for his grandchildren. He died on New Year’s Day, 2020, at age 90.

    The puzzle today described itself at 38 across: BLAH, clued as “Meh.” My favorite word in it was PLINTH. Don’t thay it outloud — you’ll be lithping for half an hour. The clue was “Column base.” Here’th a nithe plinth:

    In the “Missed Opportunity Department,” 34 across: NO EAR, was clued as “Absence of musical ability.” I’d have used “Taunt hurled by art hooligans at Van Gogh,” although I guess that would have to be “One ear.”

    Leopold AUER was the answer for 22D. Classical music fans might recognize him as the great Hungarian/Russian violinist who lived from 1845 to 1930. He came to the U.S. during the Russian Revolution. Many of his students achieved great success, including Jascha Heifetz. Tchaikovsky was a big fan and helped get Auer his position in the St. Petersburg Conservatory, where he stayed for 49 years. Had I not wasted so much time, space, and energy on all that drivel about Don Larsen, I might have gone on longer about Auer. So count yourself lucky.

    Leopold Auer is no relation to Arnold Sexauer, a Manhattan attorney. I had to call Sexauer once but the connection was bad. The receptionist answered and I said “Arnold Sexauer, please.” She said she couldn’t hear me, so I repeated it louder: “Arnold Sexauer, please.” Again, she told me it wasn’t coming through. I tried one more time but it was frustrating, so I started shouting into the phone — “Sexauer, Sexauer, — do you have a Sexauer there?” And she said, “Are you kidding me? We don’t even get a coffee break.”

  • Betty Boop

    Alec Bohm’s dinger last night in the Phils’ 7-0 drubbing of the Astros was the 1,000th HR in World Series history. The first was by Jimmy Sebring of the Pirates off of Cy Young (!), pitching for Boston on Oct. 1, 1903. Sebring’s was an inside-the-park job dissed by the Boston press as “a weak fly,” while the Pittsburgh papers said Sebring “sent the ball to deep center.” Here’s a shot of Sebring, taken when he was with Cincy.

    Willie Mays, Ted Williams, and Ken Griffey, Jr., never hit WS home runs. “Home Run” Baker and Shoeless Joe Jackson, hit Nos. 10 and 29, respectively. Baker earned his nickname by leading the AL in homers 4 times, twice by as few as 9 and 12, during the dead ball era (duh). Shoeless Joe hit his WS HR during the scandal-marred 1919 Series. Casey Stengel hit the first WS homer at Yankee Stadium in 1923 (No. 39) while playing for the Giants. The most improbable WS HR was hit by Jose Santiago (No. 401) for the Bosox off of the great Bob Gibson of the Cards in 1967. Santiago was a pitcher and hit only one regular season homer in his career. (Gibson homered himself in the Cards’ series-winning Game 7. So there.)

    Announcer Bob Costas tells a wonderful Bob Gibson story (Hi Joe!). In the last game he ever pitched, Gibson surrendered a grand slam HR to Pete LaCock (son of Hollywood Squares host Peter Marshall, btw). Ten years later, with both of them retired, LaCock was participating in an Old Timer’s game and Gibson took the mound and drilled him with a fastball. Costas went up to Gibson after the game and said “I can’t believe you did that.” Gibson replied: “Robert, the scales must be balanced.”

    Did someone mention Hollywood Squares? Paul Lynde was everyone’s favorite “square,” although George Gobel (below) was a close second in my book. Lynde was once asked “Do guinea pigs whistle?,” and he answered “Only when brought to a boil.” Gobel was once asked “When your grandfather put oatmeal on his forehead, what was he trying to do?,” and he answered “Get it in his mouth.”

    Today’s puzzle was a masterpiece of construction. Kudos to Ethan Zou and Tomas Spiers. The theme was BOXER, clued with a groaner as “One serving punch,” but it was supposed to be parsed as BOX “ER,” with the letters ER sharing one square (box) 12 times in the grid. The symmetry was lovely: The ER appeared 3 times each in 4 long answers — two across and two down, loosely forming a “box.” My favorites were ROGER FEDERER and WE’RE OVER HERE. The others were BORDER TERRIER and FERRERO ROCHER. Each of the 12 ERs also worked with the crossing answer, e.g., “Two-thirds of 100,” was ZEROS.

    There’s more. The answer BOXER, in its fighting connotation, crossed BLOODY NOSE (28D). If you’d prefer to think of the canine BOXER, the puzzle also contained a BASSET hound (45D), and the aforementioned BORDER TERRIER. Or how about BOXER as an item of underwear? There was 10D — BRIEFS, clued as “Intimate apparel in many lawyer puns.” Impressive? — OH HELL YEAH!, clued as “Amen!” at 8D.

    The word BOOP appeared at 22D, clued without resort to Betty, as “Cutesy sound that may accompany a poke.” LMS pictured the poke being given to a good-natured pup, and it brought to mind for her the words “floof” and “sploot.” These are actual words. Floof means fluffy pet, and sploot is when a dog or cat flattens himself on his belly with his back legs splayed out.

    Last (on the puzzle), WE’RE OVER HERE inspired the sharing of the following tweet: “My favorite thing is when I’m in a park and I see someone answer their phone and stand up. They’re like ‘OK, we’re by the tree. No, it’s like a big tree. OK, I’m wearing jeans and a grey — oh, I see you! — do you see me? I’m waving. OK, do you see me now?’ I could watch people do this for hours.”

    Today is the birthday of Marie Antoinette, born in 1775. And, how’s this for the Mandela Effect? She never said “Let them eat cake.” That was written by Jean-Jacques Rousseau and he was describing a different queen, Marie-Therese of Spain. It was also attributed, years later, to the Pillsbury Doughboy.

  • As the Smew Flies

    Today’s puzzle employs the well-known mnemonic for the Great Lakes: HOMES, for Huron, Ontario, Michigan, Erie, and Superior. But our favorite member of the commentariat (LMS) suggested a better one, one that uses their full names. It’s Leon Likes Licking Luscious Lollies. Lake Huron, Lake Ontario, Lake Michigan, Lake Erie, and Lake Superior. Much better.

    For those of you keeping track of the tuchas sightings, I did get a response to my post on whether ERSE should be considered a variant of ARSE. Here’s the reply: “I considered ERSE as being, perhaps, an Irish AE [“Ass equivalent”]. But if you don’t draw the line somewhere, you’ll never hit bottom.” My response: “I agree. Sometimes it’s best just to turn the other cheek.”

    Favorite clue/answer today: “Slept soundly?” Answer: SNORED.

    SMEW and MERL are two birds that appeared in the puzzle yesterday and today. Both are new to me, which means nothing: if the bar on bird knowledge for me were any lower it would be underground. The smew is a species of duck.

    The merl is a dark European thrush.

    Today’s theme worked with the idea of a LINKING VERB. I tried to understand what that is, but it eluded me. I’ll just copy this from wikipedia for you in case you can make sense of it:

    A linking verb is a verb that describes the subject by connecting it to a predicate adjective or predicate noun (collectively known as subject complements). Unlike the majority of verbs, they do not describe any direct action taken or controlled by the subject. [I fell off the truck at “predicate adjective.”]

    This might help: The following sentences include linking verbs:

    Roses are red.
    The detective felt sick.
    The soup tasted weird.
    Frankenstein’s monster resembles a zombie.
    He quickly grew tired.
    You are becoming a nuisance.

    Fortunately, understanding that was not needed to solve the puzzle. The theme answers just had the letters V-E-R-B “linking” two words. E.g., NEVER BETTER, clued as “Upbeat response to ‘How are you?’” (It also occurred in OVER BUDGET, COVER BAND, and RIVER BASIN.)

    LMS, who is a teacher of problem children, had this to say about “never better.” “In my experience this response always feels forced and shrill. Like the person is determined to feel this way come hell or high water. I guess I admire that, but it’s not the way I roll; I prefer to publicly wallow in my misery. Every Monday we’re supposed to fill out this Monday “Check-in Survey” to report our mental state, and I always check the one that says I’m overwhelmed and need help. I add in the note that I cry all the time. No one has touched base with me, so why are we even being asked?”

    The “linking verb” theme inspired some terrific wordplay in the commentariat. One fellow applied the concept to “sausage links.” Here were some of his invented clues and answers — see if you can find the “sausage link” in each:

    1. Is carrying our own home-grown virus?
    2. Bushy Bahamas sight?
    3. Jacob’s brother’s to-do list

    Answers:

    1. HAS A USA GERM.
    2. NASSAU SAGEBRUSH.
    3. ESAU’S AGENDA.

    And that inspired another to work with “Bobolinks” to come up with words linked by BOBO.

    Two of these were:

    1. Requests for skewered meat
    2. Nerdy reed player

    Answers:

    1. KABOB ORDERS
    2. DWEEB OBOIST

    OK, everybody. It was a long day. I’m going to end it by watching the Phillies pummel the hated Astros — a bunch of dweeb oboists, if you ask me.

  • Roz, Cass, and Shaq

    Walter O’Malley, whose name Brooklynites utter with the same degree of loathing Jews reserve for the Nazis, was the man most responsible for moving the Dodgers to LA. And the woman most responsible was Roz Wyman, who died last Wednesday, at age 92. In 1953, when she was 22, she became the youngest person (and only the second woman), elected to the LA City Council, having based her campaign on a promise to bring major league baseball to the city. Once in office, she was crucial to the effort to convince O’Malley to move the team. O’Malley himself said “Roz did it,” and that “she deserves all the credit.” How beloved a figure is she in LA sports history? Well, she was honored with a bobblehead doll .

    It’s a good likeness.

    If you read Rex Parker’s daily NYT puzzle blog you will find him to be a nitpicker and curmudgeon of the highest order, albeit a lovable one. Today, in honor of Halloween, someone posted an imaginary scene between him and a 4-year-old trick-or-treater:

    4YO – Trick or treat!
    Rex – What are you supposed to be?
    4YO – I’m a ghost.
    Rex – You call that a ghost costume? The eye holes are not symmetrical and there’s a tag on it. And since when do ghosts wear Nikes?
    4YO – Can I have some candy mister?
    Rex – OK. But next year you better have a better costume.

    The puzzle had a term that was new to me: DOOM SCROLLS, clued as “Binges on bad news, in modern slang.” It prompted commenter LMS to chat about her web “scrolling” habits, and she shared this very short video, which I dare you not to laugh out loud at: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/Sgw3zXzTNO8

    I’m not the only one keeping a tuchas watch on the puzzle. A Rex commenter is keeping close track too, and noted that today’s grid contained SEAT, END, and ASSay. He also thought ASTOR could qualify, as in the phrase: “I got my ASTOR up pretty bad by that Rottweiler.” I posted a response, wondering if ERSE (clued as “Gaelic dialect”), could qualify, as a variant of the British “arse.” I’ll let you know if he gets back to me, or if he’s a SNOOT (“Stuck-up sort”).

    Appropriate for a Monday Monday puzzle, The Mamas & The Papas made an appearance. The question as to exactly how Cass Elliot died came up recently. So let’s take a look.

    Cass was born Ellen Naomi Cohen in Baltimore. All four of her grandparents were Russian Jewish immigrants. After The Mamas and The Papas “disbanded,” she maintained a solo career that was going well. After a successful performance in London, she celebrated for 24 hours straight at various venues (including at Mick Jagger’s home for his 32nd birthday). She eventually got to sleep at singer-songwriter Harry Nilsson’s apartment, where she died in her sleep of heart failure, at age 32.

    There are two theories for how the legend grew that she died from choking on a ham sandwich. The first is that the doctor who was called to her room noticed a half-eaten ham sandwich, and speculated to the press that it might have had something to do with her death. The autopsy had not been performed yet to establish the actual cause. The second is that the sandwich story was promoted by her manager to protect her reputation fearing the actual cause was drug-related. In fact, no food was found in her windpipe and no drugs in her system.

    The constructor of today’s puzzle, Emily Carroll, may have wanted to team a big man up with that big woman, because SHAQ O’Neal is also in the grid. I’m not going to dwell on him much, other than to note he’s a Jersey man, born in Newark, and that my favorite sentence in his wikipedia entry is “O’Neal came from a tall family.” Ya think?

  • The Quality of Mercy

    Shakespeare’s Portia visits the puzzle today, identified as “The Merchant of Venice character who favors wordplay.” She has a line in which she comments on “the will of a living daughter curbed by the will of a dead father,” i.e., a play on the word “will.” (The second will refers to a will as a testamentary document.) She is better known for stating that “the quality of mercy is not strained,” which goes pretty far towards explaining why it’s so lumpy.

    And she’s the first image I managed to place into the blog! This is Lynn Collins as Portia, quite beautiful. She played Portia in the 2004 movie version, with Al Pacino as Shylock. Portia is also wealthy and very sharp, thus she successfully argued the case against Shylock to save Antonio. (Oops — I forgot to say “spoiler alert.”) The New England School of Law recognized her legal acumen — it was called the Portia Law School when it was established in 1908 as a law school for women only, and it retained that name until 1969. Abigail Adams used Portia as her pen name when she wrote letters to hubby John Adams, who signed his “Lysander,” the handsome young man from Athens in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I may start signing my notes to Linda like that. (Too late?) Last, the “Portia Hypothesis” holds that women with masculine-sounding names tend to be more successful in the legal profession than those with feminine-sounding names.

    Other visitors to the grid today are Manhattan’s first Black elected district attorney, Alvin BRAGG, at 74D. Welcome counselor! He’s right next to YOYO MA at 75D, proving there’s always room for cello. And welcome as well to (Dame) ANNA WINTOUR of Vogue and Conde Nast. She should zhuzh things up a bit. And ERNIE PYLE, WWII correspondent, of whom Harry Truman said: “No man in this war has so well told the story of the American fighting man as American fighting men wanted it told. He deserves the gratitude of all his countrymen.” He was killed by Japanese machine gun fire, and was buried wearing his helmet, between an infantry private and a combat engineer.

    But the star of the puzzle was ALAN TURING of “The Imitation Game” and Enigma Machine fame. The Enigma Machine is what the Germans used during the war to encrypt messages, and Turing helped decipher them for the good guys. As a letter in code was typed into the machine, its counterpart appeared above it (or something like that). And in the puzzle eight five-letter answers had to be “decoded” to get a Turing quote. But the code was given to us solvers, and the online version did the decoding for you, by flashing first the answers you entered and then the decoded quote — similar to how the Enigma Machine worked, I guess — you entered one version and then the other appeared. So we didn’t have to solve anything other than the regular puzzle, which was on the easy side. I mean, everyone knows Herbert Hoover’s middle name was CLARK, right?

    Turing and the British were building on the groundbreaking (and code-breaking) work of Polish mathematician Marian Rejewski. Here’s a memorial dedicated to Rejewski in the Polish city of Bydgoszcz.

    OK, that’s about it for today. I’m going to stare a bit longer at Portia, above, and then go watch the Jets.

  • Ace Harlem

    I’m sure you’re all as deflated as I am over the news that Tom Brady and Giselle Bundchen have decided to split (amicably) after 13 years together. “We still love each other,” Tom explained, “but the air has gone out of the marriage.” My favorite Tom Brady line was by Steve Somers of WFAN who said that within five years, Brady will be younger than his children.

    In other sports news, how about them Phils! Realmuto’s game-winning dinger was the first World Series game-winning home run by a catcher since Carlton Fisk’s for the Bosox in 1975. Wow! Eerily, the puzzle today at 23A had “Word after White or Red,” and the answer was SOX. And the two teams Fisk played for were the Red Sox and the White Sox. I remember wondering whether he’d go into the Hall of Fame as a Red Sock or a White Sock, and my brother said “Maybe he’ll go in as an argyle.” In the end, he went in wearing a Boston cap. I only learned recently that it’s not the player’s choice as to which team cap he wears on his HOF plaque. The Hall decides.

    The puzzle had some nice clues today. “Grant in folklore studies?” turned out to be THREE WISHES. (I have a dirty joke about a genie I’ll tell you later.) “‘Li’l Abner’ creature” turned out to be SHMOO, and “[Blank] C. Evans, journalist who co-founded All-Negro Comics (1947)” was ORRIN. (I’m not sure how helpful that “(1947)” was.) “All-Negro Comics” was the first comics magazine written and drawn solely by African-American writers and artists. It was the brainchild of Orrin Cromwell Evans, and the hero was Ace Harlem, a Black police detective. Only one issue was published.

    Al Capp’s Shmoo is shaped like a plump bowling pin with stubby legs. It has smooth skin, eyebrows, and sparse whiskers—but no arms, nose, or ears. Its feet are short and round, but dexterous. It has a rich gamut of facial expressions and often expresses love by exuding hearts over its head. Shmoos reproduce asexually and are incredibly prolific, multiplying faster than rabbits. They require no sustenance other than air.

    Those of you keeping track of the many appearances of a tuchas in the NYTXW will be pleased to know that the clue for 30D fits the bill: “When you might see a star’s moon?” The answer: SEX SCENE.

    The Jewish Genie. So this old Jewish guy, Murray, finds a lamp and rubs it and an old Jewish genie comes out. He says he can only grant one wish. That business about the three wishes is nonsense. So Murray says, OK, and he pulls a little map out of this wallet and shows it to the genie. “This is a map of the Middle East,” he explains. “The country in the middle is Israel, and it’s surrounded by Arab states. My wish is that you bring peace to this troubled region of the world.”

    And the genie says, “Well, that’s sort of a socio-geo-political type of wish. Mostly we grant wishes for wealth, fame, personal happiness, that sort of thing. Can you come up with something along those lines?”

    So Murray thinks for a while and then he takes a photo out of his wallet of a little gray-haired lady. He shows it to the genie and says, “This is my wife Estelle. It’s been a wonderful marriage and she’s a wonderful wife. But she’s always been hesitant about oral sex. So my wish is that you get her to loosen up in that area.”

    And the genie stares at the picture for a while and says: “Let me take another look at that map.”

  • Think Like a Mountain

    Will Nediger had quite a week. On Monday The New Yorker featured a puzzle of his on their “challenging” day, and, on Friday, the NYT threw us one of his as well. The clue for 34D in the NYer was “Joanna Newsom song title that’s rhymed with the lyric ‘loose legs.’” Well, I’ve never heard of Joanna Newsom, but “loose legs” caught my attention. The answer was GOOSE EGGS, and the lyric is:

    Recently, a bottle of rye, and a friend, and me
    On our five loose legs
    Had a ramble, and spoke
    Of the scrambling of broken hopes, and goose eggs

    My favorite of his clues in that grid was: “Maker of the nail polish Haute to Trot” (ESSIE). Haute to Trot!

    Nediger’s Friday NYT puzzle set the tone for me at 1 across: “Flummoxed,” — AT SEA. And that’s how I felt as I hacked my way through it. It didn’t help that Rex rated it “Easy.” But he (modestly) calls himself “the greatest crossword solver in the universe (when he co-solves with his wife),” and I’m not.

    There was a nice crossing of I CAN’T LOOK (“This is too painful to watch!”) with OH GOD! (“This is a disaster!”) Well, it wasn’t that bad — I eventually completed it successfully.

    How about 16A? — not exactly a gimme for me — “Symbolic hand gesture in Hinduism.” Turned out to be MUDRA. Huh? LMS jokingly noted that it was a gimme for her, since “I had to memorize all symbolic hand gestures in Hinduism back in the fifth grade. Snort.” Another comment was: “The thing that people would make with their fingers, making O’s with thumbs and forefingers as they sit cross-legged and close their eyes, to suggest ‘meditate’ in a game of charades: that would be a MUDRA.”

    The clue for 37A was “Stocks,” and it took me forever to come up with BROTHS, even though I had THS. Here’s something I learned: Stock is made with bones, broth with meat and/or vegetables. The former is fattier from the marrow, the latter thinner with usually a lighter flavor.

    There was a lovely “stack” of three long answers sitting atop one another: BURNER ACCOUNT, CINNAMON TOAST, and ROOKIE MISTAKE. Cinnamon toast made people think of midnight snacks, and one poster shared this comment:

    “Had a roommate after college who always woke up in the middle of the night for a snack. Years later, I spent a night in the guest room at his home. About 3 AM I heard all this conversation in the kitchen and found my friend eating cereal accompanied by his 3 boys, ages 7, 5, and 3.”

    15A referenced “Ecologist Leopold who advocated “thinking like a mountain.” It’s ALDO Leopold. And here’s a quote posted on Rex’s blog by Barbara S:

    “We reached the old wolf in time to watch a fierce green fire dying in her eyes. I realized then, and have known ever since, that there was something new to me in those eyes – something known only to her and to the mountain. I was young then, and full of trigger-itch; I thought that because fewer wolves meant more deer, that no wolves would mean hunters’ paradise. But after seeing the green fire die, I sensed that neither the wolf nor the mountain agreed with such a view.…I now suspect that just as a deer herd lives in mortal fear of its wolves, so does a mountain live in mortal fear of its deer. And perhaps with better cause, for while a buck pulled down by wolves can be replaced in two or three years, a range pulled down by too many deer may fail of replacement in as many decades. So also with cows. The cowman who cleans his range of wolves does not realize that he is taking over the wolf’s job of trimming the herd to fit the range. He has not learned to think like a mountain. Hence we have dustbowls, and rivers washing the future into the sea.”
    ― Aldo Leopold, A Sand County Almanac

    I learn so much from puzzles! Thankfully, almost none of it is even remotely useful. The clue for 24D was “Roll with many functions,” and the answer was DUCT TAPE. Many people think duct tape is used to repair ducts and is often wrongly called duck tape. But in fact its original name was duck tape because it’s made from cotton duck fabric. And it should not be used to repair ducts because heat from the duct unsticks the tape’s adhesive.

    How about TOFF? Ever hear that word? I hadn’t. It’s British slang for an “aristocratic type.” It’s said derogatorily of someone exuding an air of superiority. So, an example of how it’s used might be: “F**K you, toff.”

    As the World Series begins, Yogi comes to mind. What a gift he was to us. Some of his teammates were lamenting the decline in attendance one season, and Yogi said: “If folks don’t want to come to the ballpark, you can’t stop ’em.”

    Hard to argue with that.

  • We Will Be Moving Shortly

    Today’s puzzle was very well-constructed but the general cluing was a little blah. The trick was hard to discern and there was no “revealer,” tipping you off to what was going on. It was sink or swim, or, in my case, float around thrashing helplessly for a while. Here’s the deal:

    There were six italicized across clues that turned out to be two-word answers with the second word differing from the first by only one letter. And you had to use both letters for the down answers. So, e.g., for the clue “Eat, quaintly,” the answer was BREAK BREAD, but you had to fill it in in just five squares, using BREA and then K/D. The K and D both fit into the last square (that’s called a rebus). Then a crossing down clue was “Place where everything should have a mate,” and the answer was SOCK DRAWER, with the K and D both being used. (LMS noted there is a second place where everything should have a mate — the place you keep all your Tupperware containers — with those damn disappearing or “extra” lids.)

    In addition to that craftiness, some good clues/answers were: “Item of feline furniture” for CAT CONDO, and “Tiny pedestals of a sort” for TEES (think golf). It was also cute that BRAYS (“Complains, donkey-style”) was crossed by the ASS from TD PASS (“Reason for an end zone celebration”), giving us yet another tuchas in the puzzle — a regular feature in the NYTXW these days, giving a whole new meaning to the phrase “behind the times.”

    Was there a mild political note in the puzzle? “Confident assertion” right in the center of the grid gave us the Obama-esque YES I CAN, and “DC address?” gave us SOTU (for State Of The Union (address)). One Rex commenter noted “When Trump gave the SOTU, all I could think was STFU.”

    I was waiting for a train on the subway platform years ago when an announcement came out of the loudspeakers. But it was just blasts of static — you couldn’t make out a single word. Then it was repeated in Spanish. It was still just static, but you could tell it was Spanish static. And what I loved about the scene was, there were tons of people on the platform, and not one person tried to find out what was said. Not one person said “What was that?” or “Could you understand that?” And that was because everyone knows that in the entire history of the subway system every announcement ever made was a complete lie. “We will be moving shortly.” “There is a train directly behind this one.” Or my favorite: “We are sorry for the inconvenience.” You ever see those guys who drive the trains? They have death in their eyes and are counting the minutes to retirement. I asked one once: “Does this train stop at 18th Street?,” and he just stared at me blankly and said “Please kill me.” You think they care about our inconvenience? You think he’s worrying — “Oh, no, Professor Liveson may be late for his class because of this delay — what will his students do?”

    Even when the news is bad, it’s a lie. I was on a train once, going up to Hunter, and I was in great shape. I had a seat, a book to read, and a snack and a drink, if needed. Perfect comfort. The train stops at a station, the doors open, the doors close, and then the doors open again. And I’m thinking — NO! We did that already — we are supposed to move forward now, not open the doors again.” And then the announcement came: “Ladies and gentlemen, due to [insert any lie] all uptown service on the East Side of Manhattan has been suspended indefinitely. If you need to get uptown, cross over to the other side of the platform, take the downtown train to Grand Central Station, take the shuttle to Times Square, and take the 1, 2, or 3 train to 72nd street where a shuttle bus will be waiting to take you to the East Side.”

    And I’m thinking, right — I’m going to take seven trains in the wrong direction to get to a shuttle bus that there is no chance in hell exists. I’m staying right where I am unless someone in a uniform with a gun tells me to get out. Sure enough, after a minute or two, the doors closed and we proceeded on our way like the announcement was never made.

    How about the “sick passenger” announcements? Ever get one of those? I’m on a #6 train around 23rd Street and we stop dead for a few minutes and then it comes: “Ladies and Gentlemen. Due to a sick passenger at East 149th Street, all service on the East Side of Manhattan has been suspended indefinitely.” What!? East 149th Street is, like, Canada!! Some idiot has a tummy ache five miles away and the greatest city in the world is brought to a complete standstill?? I’m guessing they have to wait for medical help to arrive. They can land a man on the moon within one inch of where they plan to land, but it’s beyond human capacity to coordinate getting help to this guy at some point up the line so the trains can still move?? Or is this one of those football-type injuries where his neck may be broken so any movement is dangerous? Has Lawrence Taylor sacked someone on the #6 train at East 149th Street? Not likely.

    The terrorists have been trying to attack the subways for decades and haven’t succeeded. But one guy with the flu paralyzes the entire system. They shouldn’t be checking our bags for explosives – they should be taking our blood pressure. “I’m sorry, sir, you’re at 140 over 90. We can’t let you on that train – you could paralyze the entire city.”

    Enough. There is a train directly behind this one. We will be moving shortly.