The Wellington Files

  • You Are The Words, I Am The Tune

    Hope you were all able to stay safe yesterday, Chatterheads. It was the date on which Abe Lincoln was shot AND the Titanic hit the iceberg. Yikes. Forty-seven years apart.

    So — was Cracklin’ Rosie a sex worker? The song says she’s a “store-bought woman.” . . . asking for a friend.

    It came up in connection with yesterday’s puzzle. The theme was WHAT’S CRACKING?” And the three theme answers started with things that get cracked: EGGPLANT DIP; CODE OF CONDUCT; and KNUCKLEHEAD, i.e., eggs, codes, and knuckles all get “cracked.”

    The commentariat was quick to come up with additional crack-related fare. From Lewis: nuts, safes, ice, riddles, jokes, books, and smiles. I added Liberty Bells, doors, butts, and corn (Jimmy cracked it). Maybe not doors? You crack open a door, was what I had in mind.

    But getting back to Cracklin’ Rosie, Sam and I attended a Lansing Lugnuts game (minor league baseball) maybe ten years ago. It was Neil Diamond Impersonator Night. OMG, what could be better, amirite? I thought he’d perform on the field to thousands of adoring fans in the stands after the game, but no. They set him up on the sidewalk outside the stadium where maybe twenty idiots like us hung around to hear him. Needless to say, he was fantastic. Introduced each song with a little history and he had a decent enough voice.

    Now this, below, is not the guy we saw. It’s another Neil Diamond impersonator. Seriously. Have no idea how many of them are out there. Is there an army of Neil Diamond impersonators training somewhere? Should we worry? (Confession: We love this song.)

    Suppose doing what you were doing suddenly paid you gazillions of dollars. What would you change in your life and what would you keep? The NYT sports section yesterday looked at MLB ballplayers who they said are penny pinchers.

    Tanner Scott pitches for the Dodgers and is making $16 million this year. “We are definitely still on my wife’s family’s Netflix,” he said. Steven Kwan of Cleveland (making $4.17 mil) explained: “You stay rich by being cheap.”

    Matt Strahm of the Phillies: I’m not going to just buy new clothes because I want to. I need to need clothes to buy clothes.

    Derek Law of the Gnats: My wife is like, “You need to get some new shirts,” and I’m like, “Eh, I’m good.”

    Ryan Mountcastle (Balt): I never need new clothes.

    Seth Lugo (KC): I hate paying for shipping.

    Jesse Chavez (Braves): And a processing fee. Processing? Where did that come from?

    Matt Vierling (Tigers): I still drive my car from college. It’s a 2012 Ford Escape. It broke down on the highway on me. I was driving an even older car before. It was used when I got it; it had 65,000 miles on it. Now it’s got like 172,000 and we are still rolling. I am going to try to ride it out for another year. I got everybody in my family saying “It’s not safe, you should get another car.” And I’m just like: “Not yet. I will ride it until it dies.”

    Getting back to Kilmar Abrego Garcia, the man the U.S. sent to prison in El Salvador by mistake. The Supremes ordered that his return be “facilitated,” but the admin is brazenly failing to implement the order. Turns out Garcia is a union man — the International Association of Sheet Metal, Air, Rail and Transportation Workers. So the president of North America’s Building Trades Unions, Sean McGarvey, said the following to a room full of his fellow union workers: “We need to make our voices heard. We’re not red, we’re not blue. We’re the building trades, the backbone of America. You want to build a $5 billion data center? Want more six-figure careers with health care, retirement, and no college debt? You don’t call Elon Musk, you call us!… And yeah, that means all of us. All of us. Including our brother apprentice Kilmar Abrego Garcia, who we demand to be returned to us and his family now! Bring him home!”

    McGarvey received a standing ovation. Good to see it.

    I love portmanteaus. That’s not a type of wine. It’s when you combine two words to form a new word that makes sense. So smoke and fog yields smog. The best-known one might be brunch (breakfast + lunch). Portmanteau means suitcase, i.e., one with words packed into it. Did you know that electrocute is one (electricity + execute)?

    I like making them up. Lianna and I came up with this one: What do you call it when it’s raining french fries? Answer: Precipitatoes.

    There was one in today’s puzzle. At 30D the clue was “Container for keys, wallet, razor, etc., in a modern portmanteau,” and the answer was MURSE. It’s from male and purse, of course. Rex hated it. He was also upset that the grid contained TEC as a term for detective, which he maintains is never used. Here’s his rant:

    I think MURSE was the thing that nearly made me slam my computer shut. First of all, no. And second of all, stop. And finally, third of all, no. No One Says This. People say “TEC” way more than they say “MURSE,” that’s how much they say “MURSE” (they don’t). This is one of those portmanteaus that the puzzle keeps trying to convince you is a thing, only it’s not. If it is (it’s not), it’s only a thing “jocularly.” No one is going to utter that term without smirking. And LOL “razor”? Dudes just carrying their razor around in their MURSEs for some reason? “Modern portmanteau” on what planet? This is not the modern world.

    Might work better for a male nurse, it seems to me. Stay away from this guy, though.

    I liked the theme of today’s puzzle because I like the expression it centered on: CLOSE BUT NO CIGAR. The four theme answers all had the letters: C, I, G, A, and R anagrammed but never spelling CIGAR. They were TRAGICOMIC, CHERRYGARCIA, MAGICREALISM, and CRAIGSLIST.

    The clue for magic realism was “Genre for Gabriel García Márquez’s ‘One Hundred Years of Solitude.’” Have you read it? Its opening sentence is admired for its brilliance:

    Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice.

    Sh*t! Who lit that cigar? This song by Leslie Stevens and the Badgers is called “Roomful of Smoke.”

    Dave Kelly of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) faced the following conundrum:

    “Well that’s my day ruined. Put too much milk in my first brew. I can’t throw it away either – Irish catholic upbringing: something about guilt/waste. I should probably just go back to bed.”

    Stephen Murray offered this suggestion: Drink that one quickly, make another one strong and black, drink that one quickly then jump around the kitchen to mix them both inside you into two decent brews.

    As expected, UCONN star Paige “Buckets” Bueckers was selected first by Dallas in the WNBA draft last night. Here’s how she dressed for the occasion.

    Good luck in the pros, PB!

    See you tomorrow!

  • Lord Have Mercy, I Think That It’s The Cops

    This is one of nine stanzas in a poem we are not sharing today in Owl Chatter. Lo!

    E’en as the essence of the Lotus-flower
    That philters thro’ the gardens hour by hour 
    In ancient Egypt—Lo! it’s quick’ning breath 
    Makes wise the meek, and triumphs over Death.

    I’m far too lazy to do a serious analysis of this, but my understanding is that when a batted baseball crosses into the stands and a fielder goes after it, he’s at the mercy of the fans because he has crossed into their turf. So if they hamper his efforts to catch the ball, that’s just tough luck. But if the fan reaches out over fair territory and has an impact on a play, that’s “fan interference,” and the umpire can call the batter out even if the ball was not caught.

    We asked Owl Chatter Sports Consultant, the beautiful Sarah Fillier of the Professional Women’s Hockey League, for her input but she seems unclear on what a “foul ball” is. (It’s not exactly “offsides,” SF. Let’s talk later.)

    The upshot is the line separating players and fans is a little blurry. This play, below, involved a fan who later claimed he was protecting his son from being hit by a foul ball. Outfielder Mike Trout (proud Jersey boy) reached into the seats and caught the ball. But the fan was sort of grappling with him for it and ended up actually taking the ball out of Trout’s glove. (A punster would say he fished it out of Trout’s glove.) I love the look on the fan’s face when he realized what happened and apologized and offered the ball back to Trout.

    The umpires, correctly IMO, did not call the batter out due to fan interference because the incident essentially took place in the stands. The play caused many to recall a similar but significantly different play from last year’s World Series, where two Yankee fans ripped a foul ball out of Mookie Betts’ glove. The ball had not clearly crossed into the fans’ turf. That was a pretty ugly scene. The batter was called out and the fans have been banned from baseball stadia.

    In the Trout play, even though Trout lost the argument, when he found out the fan’s child was part of the story and that the fan was apologetic, he arranged to meet with them, gave them some stuff, including a bat, signed the ball, and orchestrated a very happy ending. Our Phil was on hand to video the meeting. Look at the kid’s face.

    In the puzzle today, at 94A the clue was “Retail magnate James Cash [blank],” and the answer was PENNEY. It reminded me of this story which I shared with Rex’s readers:

    Over four decades ago, I bought a pair of pants at JCPenney. They were cheap and comfortable and since they weren’t jeans I wore them to work now and then. I was riding home on the subway one day and was exhausted. Of course, there were no seats, but then I noticed that there was one open space. It was because right next to it was a poor homeless man who was in pretty bad shape. He hadn’t showered or shaved or laundered his clothes in a long time and nobody wanted to sit next to him. I assessed the space and determined that I could squeeze myself in and still leave enough of a buffer between me and the homeless gentleman. I was so tired I went for it. It was great to sit.

    After a few stops I glanced over at the poor fellow and noticed he was wearing the exact same pants as me. I guess I wasn’t the fashion plate I fancied myself to be. When my kids chide me for how I dress I remind them of that story.

    Commenter Son Volt shared a wonderful song today but, for the life of me, I couldn’t see its link to the puzzle. I re-read all of the clues and perused the grid several times. Finally I caught the tie-in. At 61D the clue was “Title for Marie Tussaud,” and the answer was MADAME.

    Did you know this? The clue at 30A was “Fig. that never starts with 666.” The answer was SSN (for Social Security Number). Rex noted:  “This is how you will know the antichrist—by the first three digits of his social.”

    On this date in 1899 in Poughkeepsie, NY, Alfred M. Butts was born. He invented Scrabble. Among its many admirers was Vladimir Nabokov who worked it into his novel Ada, and had a Russian version produced especially for his wife and himself.

    It took awhile for the game to catch on. Butts lined the original playing board into small squares and cut the 100 lettered wooden tiles by hand. The first players were Alfred, his wife Nina, and their friends. Nina was better at it than Alfred. “She beat me at my own game, literally,” Butts admitted.

    He earned a degree in architecture at UPenn and was an amateur artist. Six of his drawings were collected by the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NY.

    Rich Little is the best impersonator I’ve ever seen. He’s 86 years old and still active. Active? I think he’s playing shortstop for the Dodgers. In yesterday’s game against the Cubbies, LA fell behind 11-0 and conceded defeat. In baseball that means you bring in a position player to pitch. Why waste a pitcher in a losing cause? So the Dodgers put shortstop Miguel Rojas on the mound for the last two innings. But Rojas is a bit of a card and he put on quite a show with his rare opportunity — impersonating the deliveries of four of the Dodger pitchers.

    This is how Andrew Simon put it on MLB.com:

    “Rojas imitated the way teammate Landon Knack, when pitching from the stretch, keeps his glove at the belt and leans back a bit before starting his delivery. He mirrored the way Yamamoto wiggles the ball around in his glove, then works with a slight hesitation in his windup — all while using Yamamoto’s No. 18 blue glove. He then recreated Kershaw’s iconic pre-pitch process: lifting both hands high above his head before dropping them back down. And finally, he repeated the way Sasaki, the Dodgers’ highly-touted rookie, starts with his back knee bent and his front leg straight out ahead of him before lifting it way up high as he goes into his windup.”

    Here’s a small part of the show Rojas put on:

    Hey, I got through an entire post without mentioning Trump. Oops, d’oh!

    See you tomorrow!

  • Prom Night

    It’s hard to imagine that a woman who looks like this could have done anything stupid, but she did. She literally froze her ass off.

    This is Ravena Hanniely, 24, an “influencer” from Brazil. What she did that was so stupid is what you’re looking at. According to People Magazine, Ravena’s butt froze up in the 14-degree air. And that’s Fahrenheit — it was even colder in Celsius.

    Despite planning the shoot “carefully,” she said “the cold was much more intense than I expected. At first, it felt manageable. But then my body started to lock up. I was freezing my buttocks off.” Dumbness set in, sorry, I mean numbness, and “I couldn’t even sit.” She went straight from the shoot to the ER where she was diagnosed with frostbite, or, in this case, frostbutt.

    But we learn from our life experiences. As Ravenna shared with her 267,000 followers: “We get so excited about our ideas that we forget the risks. It looked beautiful, yes, but it was also very dangerous. The shot came, but so did the struggle.” Amen, girl.

    One thing we can say for sure about the young woman — she was born for Owl Chatter. Keep in touch, Sweetheart.

    This piece from tomorrow’s Met Diary is called “Wild and Free” and is by Avi Friedman.

    Dear Diary,

    We had been married for a year and were living in Kew Gardens Hills when we decided to make a Target run at 9 pm with our 3-month-old. We could still live wild and free, right?

    We picked out two bright-green lawn chairs that would fill our porch (really just a tiny slab of cement off our kitchen). We were not sure they would fit in our compact car, but we bought them anyway. Somehow, stuff always fits, we figured.

    When we got to the parking lot, our baby ran out of his patience, and we realized the chairs would not fit after all.

    A man approached us to help. The woman he was with called out to him.

    “Stop chatting,” she said. “It’s after ten o’clock.”

    “They have a baby!” he yelled back.

    He reached down, took the laces out of both of his sneakers and tied down our trunk.

    I tried to pay him for the laces.

    “Nah,” he said. “Just drive slow and take Jewel. You’ll make it.”

    We did and we did.

    The NYT ran a piece on the front page today about the 381 books the Administration removed from the U.S. Naval Academy library. Maya Angelou’s “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings” is out. So is “Memorializing the Holocaust,” by Janet Jacobs. Hitler’s “Mein Kampf” made the cut (phew) and is still on the shelves, as is “The Bell Curve” which maintains Blacks are genetically inferior to whites, although a critique of it was removed. Is it me, or is that overt racism and anti-Semitism?

    There’s a town in Georgia called Rome and their minor league baseball team is the Emperors. They were supposed to host The Winston-Salem Dash last weekend when a plumbing disaster badly damaged the clubhouse. The Emps asked the Dash if the games could be switched to Winston-Salem, with the Emps still batting as the home team. Of course, the Dash were happy to help out. So what if the Dash had already rented their stadium out for a Friday night prom? Students at Davie County Early College High School in nearby Mocksville were slated to dance the night away in the Stadium’s upper-level Flow Club.

    F*ck it, said Dash General Manager Brian DeAngelis, we’ll just combine the two — the dance and the ballgame — what can go wrong? In fact, things just kept going right. For starters, the Dash told their fans it was “Prom Night” and encouraged them to come to the game in tuxes and gowns. Dash players were surprised with printouts of their own prom pics before the game; the prom king and queen were crowned on the field during the game; the T-shirt toss featured fans throwing T-shirts from the stands into the Flow Club where the prom was taking place; former prom kings and queens were invited to attend the game free of charge; and prom-themed clips from movies such as Back to the Future and Grease were played on the videoboard.

    After the game, Dash players visited the students to sign autographs, pose for pictures and distribute game balls and a team-signed jersey. Here are a few of them with a very pretty prom queen.

    Good job all around, gentlemen!

    If you are a fan of The Simpsons and completed the NYTXW today, you appreciated the curve thrown your way at 6D. “Onetime first name at Springfield Elementary,” just had to be LISA, no? But it was EDNA — Edna Krabappel, the teacher. She was voiced by Marsha Wallace, but when Marsha died in 2013, the character disappeared. (Thus the “onetime” in the clue.)

    15D was interesting (at least to me). The clue was “Improv tenet,” and the answer was YES AND. There are “rules” to how you would work with someone in conducting an improv skit. You should always agree with your partner, and then build. Not “deny.” So if your partner lays something down, you say YES, AND . . .

    Here’s Tina Fay:

    The ever-gushing Lewis coined a new word today (a neologism) in describing the joy he derived from today’s puzzle:

    “Oh, that magical moment when, with the addition of one more cross, suddenly I see what was opaque every time I looked at it before. It’s not just an oh-yeah moment but more of a joyous eruption – a bliss-krieg.”

    Happy Passover, to those of you who are so inclined. See you tomorrow!

  • Cheyanne Is On The Beach

    A crossword puzzle sometimes gives you a little insight into how your brain works, as you watch it pinball from wrong answer to wrong answer to, if you’re lucky, the right answer. It can make some funny stops. Here’s Rex describing a brain journey he took today:

    The clue was “Creature with over 200 tiny eyes along its shell,” and the answer was SEA SCALLOP. (Who knew?) [OC note: A potato has eyes, but the answer is not “sea potato.”]

    Rex: I may have come up with the dumbest wrong answer of all time. I dare you to beat it for dumbness. I had the SEAS- at the beginning and wrote in SEA SERPENT (a dumb answer, to be sure, but not the dumb answer I’m talking about); thankfully, it didn’t take me long to realize that SEA SERPENTs, in addition to being maybe fictional (?!), is almost certainly shell-less. So I left that answer and came back to it. When I came back to it, I had the -ALLO- part, and after a split second of wanting SEA SWALLOW, whatever that is, I thought “oh, no, it’s the seafood thing, the thing you never order at restaurants … what’s it called? … oh yeah, shallot! It’s SEA SHALLOT! (it was not, in fact, SEA SHALLOT, as a shallot is a kind of onion, as you likely know). In my defense, a shallot is roughly the size of a scallop (I’m just kidding, I have no defense, I plead insanity). 

    When ya gotta go, ya gotta go. I was with Linda in Central Park and the restroom we raced to for me was closed! Arggggh! No choice — with Linda standing guard, I snuck behind some thick bushes and . . .

    My nephew Jared wasn’t as lucky. Years ago, I went to court with him after he was charged with public urination. I forget how it turned out – not too bad, I think. It was a long journey to court from when I was the holder (of his little legs) at his bris. It was quite an honor. I held on, but didn’t watch.

    Anyway, this all comes up because of what happened, incredibly, at the Masters golf tourney this week. Jose Luis Ballester, a golfer from Spain, who was paired with the golfer ranked #1 in the world, Scottie Scheffler (whom I haven’t heard of, but that’s on me), just sauntered behind a bush on the 13th hole and peed into Rae’s Creek. He thought he was out of view, but some fans saw him and clapped! [Please make up your own puns. The Associated Press has already called him the Whiz Kid.]

    If you’re wondering, well, how do the golfers relieve themselves during a long day of golfing? — there are restrooms spaced out along the course. Ballester just forgot about them.

    We await blowback. The Masters is famous for its rigid sense of decorum. E.g., Ballester’s coach was kicked off earlier for wearing shorts. And he kept his fly zipped.

    When I saw that yesterday’s puzzle was by Adam Wagner, I knew I was in for a treat. He’s a great trickster. Sure enough, I completed the entire grid but had no idea what the theme was. See how you do. Here are the five theme clues and answers. (I knew they were the theme because the clues were in italics.)

    Clue: “Shoveling?” Answer: GENTLE NUDGE

    “Martini?” — VENDING MACHINE

    “Bandito?” — PINKY RING

    “Sublet?” — FINGER SANDWICH

    “Rockette?” — GRAIN OF SAND

    See what’s going on? Took me a bit to figure it out. The ending of each clue makes it a diminutive. So, take Rockette – a very small rock is a grain of sand. A small shove is a gentle nudge; a small sub (sandwich) is a finger sandwich. What made the puzzle unusual is there was no “revealer,” i.e., you were on your own to figure out what was going on, and, as I did, you could complete the entire grid and still not know.

    REM was a musical guest in the grid and Rex shared this song of theirs.

    The lyrics are cryptic, at best. This is the second verse:

    Who will tend the farm museums? Who will dust today’s belongings?
    Who will sweep the floor, hedging near the givens?
    Rally ’round your leaders, it’s the mediator season
    Cheyanne is on the beach, do you realize the life she’s led?

    “It was at this point, gentlemen, that the President decided it was his plan all along to reverse course.”

    You’ve made mistakes, amirite? What do you do? — You try to fix it, to undo the damage. Do you need the Supreme Court to tell you that?

    So the government f*cked up and sent some poor slob in Maryland to a dreadful prison in El Salvador, by mistake, in their own admission. Instead of making a reasonable effort to get the poor guy back, they are fighting all the way up to the f*cking Supreme Court having to take any action to undo their damage. Even in light of all the craziness this administration has unleashed, this one still boggles the mind. It’s not the usual refusal to admit a mistake – we’ve come to expect that. They’ve conceded the error. With a human life at stake, how could anyone not take the next step to remedy the mistake? At least make a f*cking phone call. Remarkable. Even the Supreme Court said, “Duh, get the poor slob back, you idiots.” Nine to f*cking nothing. Even a monster like Alito couldn’t abide this one. Jeez Louise.

    Can’t leave on that note. Phil — what do you have for us?

    Nice shot, buddy. You still in Jersey? It’s Jessica Springsteen, The Boss’s daughter – world class equestrian. Not just a rich girl’s hobby: Jess won a silver medal in Team Jumping for the U.S. at the Tokyo Olympics.

    That’s better.

    See you tomorrow!

  • Magic

    We shared the postgame hug between Paige Bueckers and Coach Auriemma in an earlier post. Here’s one that’s gotten a lot of play as well. Florida defeated Houston on the very last play when the Cougars’ Sharp couldn’t get a shot off with Gator Clayton Jr. on his ass. It was a devastating, heart-wrenching loss for Sharp and Houston: they led most of the game. After the buzzer, Sharp was on the ground gripped by his agony. Clayton Jr., known to be a gracious and impressive young man on and off the court, is seen here, below, seeking Sharp out for a quick word and consoling hug. We’re listing the young man among our “honorable menschen.”

    Kudos to our favorite blogger, Rex Parker (real name Michael Sharp) and wife Penelope Harper who won the prestigious American Crossword Puzzle Tourney in Stamford CT last weekend, in the “pairs” division. There were three puzzles in the morning and three in the afternoon on Saturday. Then one final larger puzzle Sunday.

    If you saw the movie Wordplay (2006), as I did, this is the tourney it featured. When competing as a “pair,” each partner gets a copy of the puzzle. Some couples work separately and then combine their work for submission. Rex and Penelope did it differently — they worked separately on different segments on one copy, trusting each other, and then finished up together a bit sloppily in the middle. It worked!

    Points are earned for each correct answer with a bonus for a perfect grid. Also, significantly, points are earned for how fast you finish.

    Rex also shared this sweet pic of OC fave Wyna Liu with him. Hey, Wyna — Phil says hi!

    Today’s “Poem-a-Day” from Poets.org is by Leonora Simonovis and is called “Little Bruja.”

    There’s nothing left except to try.
          —Mrs. Whatsit in A Wrinkle in Time

    I tried, believe me, I did, but my cheap Caribou jeans
    and Buster Brown polos couldn’t match the prestige
    of Levi’s, Nikes, Lacoste worn by my fifth-grade classmates
    who visited Magic Kingdom every summer. There was
    Claudia with her button-y nose and perfect smile;
    blonde and green-eyed Caroline. Despite her rumpled clothes,
    she looked like a queen. And then Federico, who pulled
    my braids and boasted about meeting Mickey Mouse. I said
    mice are dirty, they poop everywhere, will make you sick.
    You’d know, he sneered—I wished him gone. Abuela told me
    about giving mal de ojo to a woman who spoke ill of her.
    The woman got sick, almost died. One day Federico fell,
    pierced his knee on a sharp piece of metal. I whispered in his ear
    as he wailed: I don’t need to go to Magic Kingdom. Magic is in my blood.

    Do you often find yourself agreeing with the very right-wing National Review? Me neither, but then there’s this:

    “What has happened since last Thursday is hard to fathom,” they write. “Based on an ever-shifting series of rationales, characterized by an embarrassing methodology, and punctuated with an extraordinary arrogance toward the country’s constitutional order, the Trump administration has alienated our global allies, discombobulated our domestic businesses, decimated our capital markets, and increased the likelihood of serious recession.”

    Yeah, so? What’s your point? Is that bad?

    One of the most impressive features of the extraordinary damage Trump has done to everything he’s touched is the speed. It’s only been about 2 and half months. How the hell are we going to make it through 4 years?

    The following has been lifted shamelessly from Frank Bruni’s “For the Love of Sentences” feature:

    It’s hard to pick just a few lines from David Roth’s examination, on the Defector website, of what Trump has done to us (and what we’ve done to ourselves), but these capture its haunted and haunting tone: “The world will cease to matter to him the moment he leaves it, and so he is more than happy to decree that everyone and everything be buried alongside him. It will be important to remember the shame of this moment, both how it felt and how it worked, when it is time to build whatever will rise from it.” 

    Owl Chatter has been flooded with mail, email, and texts for Phil on whether Taylor and Travis have gotten secretly married. Phil, who is very close to Tay, would certainly know, and he assures us they have not tied the knot, or even knotted the tie. The hoopla has all been caused by AI-generated fake wedding photos. The word is Travis is gung-ho, however, and would like to start a family with TS. Brother Jason just had his fourth — it may be hard to catch up.

    Don’t look at me in that tone of voice, Swift!

    Barry Meadan of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) posted: I’m 45 tomorrow and wondering what is an acceptable midlife crisis to aim for? I am married and have kids, so no Ferrari for me.

    Here are the dullest of 242 comments. (Hit a nerve!)

    Jill Swan: No no, you’re misunderstanding the depth of a midlife crisis. Perhaps you’re still too young and happy. A Ferrari is absolutely what a mid life crisis symptom looks like, and in case you need a tip, you don’t discuss it. You just screech up to the house in a cloud of smoke one sunny afternoon and casually throw the keys on the kitchen table.

    Mark Anderson: Tattoos are always a good start.

    Stacy Pink: Knee supports and life insurance..

    Avi Liveson: Best pastrami sandwich you can find, with a cold beer. Cheers!

    Colin Bailey: Vasectomy.

    Karen O’mara: It’s not really an age thing. You just know it when you have one.

    Robin Hames: I decided when I hit 45 that I really wanted hairy ears, hairy nostrils and reading glasses. It was the easiest midlife crisis ever, I didn’t have to do anything (except buy the glasses)

    Ben Farrington: If you feel like something exotic, I once met a chap who said he collected egg whisks (and had over 300 different ones.)

    Ken Irvine: You need a Dad shed, and tools, and a hobby… like making miniature models of industrial machinery, then describing it in lengthy detail to us here

    Thea Cook: A collection of oddly shaped vegetables.

    Jan Brady: Hookers and hard drugs. Alternatively, using a different bus stop.

    After a slow start, the Gnats went 4-2 on a homestand against ‘Zona and the Dodgers, winning both series. Not too shabby. James Wood is for real. Probably too much to hope for a .500 season, but let’s see.

    See you tomorrow!

  • The Wink Of A Young Girl’s Eye

    Hi! This is turning in to one of my favorite new features: snippets from poems we have elected not to share on Owl Chatter. Here are some opening lines:

    another face has sprouted in my chest
    beastly, that’s me, a super freak
    cavorting with your skull in my grasp

    When an artist refers to someone in his or her past, we see that person as a symbol — old love, high school buddy, the girl that got away — we don’t think of him or her as an actual flesh and blood person. But in Bruce’s “Glory Days” that friend who was “a big baseball player back in high school” who “could throw that speedball by you — make you look like a fool, boy,” was a real person. It was Joe DePugh. Bruce and Joe grew up together in Freehold NJ and played Little League ball. Joe was the ace pitcher and Bruce, well, sucked so badly Joe gave him the nickname “Saddie,” reflecting the sad state of his skills.

    “Bruce lost this big game for us one year,” Joe recalled years later. “We stuck him out in right field all the time, where you think he’s out of harm’s way. But this important game, we had a bunch of guys missing, and we had to play him.” In the last inning, Saddie dropped an easy fly ball. “Actually, it hit him on the head and we lost the game.”

    The two of them ran into each other in a bar, just like it says in the song, and reminisced. “Glory Days” is what came of it.

    Joe passed away last Friday at the age of 75. He couldn’t make it in pro ball, and cobbled together a life as a contractor. He often told stories about his times with Bruce. His marriage ended in divorce. He is survived by three brothers, and the rest of us, all of whom are quite familiar with that speedball of his.

    Rest in peace, Joe.

    From The Onion:

    Man Who Bumped Tesla While Parallel Parking Sentenced To Death

    The other obit that caught my eye today was for Dennis the Menace. Well, Jay North, the actor who played him. Mr. Wilson has been called in for questioning.

    North was 73 and his life story had much sadness in it. His mom worked full-time so he was in the care of his uncle and aunt while he was Dennis and they were terribly abusive. He muddled along in show biz after Dennis, but never caught fire. He spent two years in the Navy, honorably, and later worked as a corrections officer in Florida. I remember him as Dennis. It was a decent show for its time.

    Rest in peace, Jay.

    I’m cashing my chips in early tonight, boys and girls. Let’s close with this poem by Marjorie Wentworth called “Spring” from today’s Writer’s Almanac. See you tomorrow!

    After the rain, outside
    the barred windows
    of the classroom
    tiny black birds
    are bathing in puddles
    beneath the oak trees.
    Dipping into the icy water,
    they shake their feathers
    with such joy that their song
    pulls us from our seats—
    out onto the steps
    where my students and I
    walk into the first sunlight
    we’ve felt for days
    to watch them dance.

    The birds remind me
    of the Chinese peasants
    I read about in college.
    Sitting in the sunshine
    on the first day of spring,
    after cutting the quilted
    clothes they were sewn
    into for the long winter,
    they gathered outside
    to pick fleas from the sour
    cotton lining of their jackets
    and flick them at each other;
    ducking and laughing
    in the bright air,
    while their children
    ran naked into a pond
    filled with melting snow.

  • Harlow Gold

    I can name a couple of the great switch hitters pretty easily. The Mick, of course, and Eddie Murray both come to mind first. A little googling brought back Chipper Jones (who, did you know, has a son named Shea in part because he hit so well in Shea Stadium against the Mets?), Pete Rose (I forgot!), and Maury Wills. But what about switch pitchers?

    Yeah, you heard me.

    I bet you never saw one pitch. I haven’t. A switch pitcher is one who can pitch as both a right hander and a left hander. He will switch batter to batter depending on whether the batter is a righty or lefty. (Right-handed batters generally hit better against left-handed pitchers, and vicey-versy. So a switch pitcher would pitch as a righty against a right-handed batter, and face a lefty as a lefty.)

    The only pitcher who pitched on a regular basis as a switch pitcher in the major leagues since 1901 was Pat Venditte, from 2015 to 2020. He was drafted in 2008 by the Yanks and pitched as a reliever for six different teams, appearing in 61 games with a 4.73 ERA. A handful of others (pun intended) have done so in other pro leagues, and Greg Harris did it once in the majors, in relief for Montreal in 1995 in the penultimate game of his career. He faced three batters, retiring one as a righty, and then walking one and getting one out as a lefty.

    Switch pitchers use a specially designed glove that can be worn on either hand. A question I haven’t resolved is who has to commit first when a switch pitcher is facing a switch hitter. I’d guess the batter does.

    I can’t say who is currently pitching as a switch pitcher in the minors. Not because I don’t know who it is, but because his name is unpronounceable. It’s Jurrangelo Cijntje. Actually, the last name is pronounced Sain-ja and his nickname is Loo. He was born in the Netherlands, is Curacaoan, and has lived in the U.S. since he was sixteen (he’s 21 now), and pitched college ball for Mississippi State. He speaks fluent English, Dutch, Spanish, and Papiamento, the latter of which is also a condiment (no it’s not).

    Loo is a top-ten prospect for the Mariners, currently assigned to the Everett (WA) Aquasox. He looked very good in his first outing: four scoreless innings with six Ks. We’ve asked our sports consultant Sarah F. to keep an eye on the young man for us, although we’re not clear she understands the difference between Washington as a state and Washington as a district. She’ll get it — we’re not worried (much).

    Loo looks like a good kid.

    You’ve all heard of March Madness, of course, but this year it’s really meshuggah. Three of the head coaches in the men’s final four are Jewish! When’s the last time a Jewish head coach won? Good question — 1988: Larry Brown with Kansas. Of course, it’s not in the bag yet. The fourth coach could win. He’s Kelvin Sampson with Houston. And, get this — Sampson’s Native American. The three boychiks are Bruce Pearl (Auburn), Todd Golden (Florida), and Jon Scheyer (Duke).

    Update: Florida and Houston won in the Semis: So it’s Golden vs. Sampson tonight. Go Gators! And we’ll say Kaddish for Auburn and Duke.

    Here’s Todd, whose mom must be kvelling.

    Wha hoppin’ mon?

    The last time we saw Wink — Jesse Winker — he looked like an Earthling. Here he is with Mrs. Wink.

    We’ve been following him since he was on the Gnats last year and did well enough to get traded to the Mets mid-season where he’s been a decent part of their offense. But what has he done to himself? That’s him below, with massive amounts of hair all over the place. That’s okay, Wink — just keep stroking those hits — we love you!

    And we love you too, UCONN women! Kudos on coasting to the title. Bueckers, Fudd, and Strong scored 65 of the team’s 82 points, with Azzi (Fudd) named MVP. Paige is off to the pros now. Hope we still get to see her play now and then.

    You may have heard about the hug? “He told me he loved me and I told him I hated him. … Nah, I love that man more than words can describe.”

    One of the things that makes me decide to share a poem here on Owl Chatter is that it doesn’t make an effort to let me know that it’s a poem.

    This one is by Tom Hennen. It’s from today’s Writer’s Almanac and is called “Plains Spadefoot Toad.”

    Toads are smarter than frogs. Like all of us who are not good-
    looking they have to rely on their wits. A woman around the
    beginning of the last century who was in love with frogs wrote
    a wonderful book on frogs and toads. In it she says if you place
    a frog and a toad on a table they will both hop. The toad will
    stop just at the table’s edge, but the frog with its smooth skin
    and pretty eyes will leap with all its beauty out into nothing-
    ness. I tried it out on my kitchen table and it is true. That may
    explain why toads live twice as long as frogs. Frogs are better at
    romance though. A pair of spring peepers were once observed
    whispering sweet nothings for thirty-four hours. Not by me.
    The toad and I have not moved.

    Hrrrrrrumph.

    On measles: GOP Senator Bill Cassidy (R-LA), a medical doctor, posted: “Everyone should be vaccinated! Top health officials should say so unequivocally b/4 another child dies.”

    D’oh! Just a smidge too late, Doc — a second death has been announced.

    Dr. Senator! Dr. Senator! A question: Do you think there is blood on your hands for voting to confirm an obvious lunatic to head HHS? Kennedy, for his part, has touted Vitamin A to combat measles. It’s already had some results — a hospital in Texas says it is now treating children for toxic levels of Vitamin A. [I’m not kidding.]

    I remember when our poor Sam had the measles. It was a bad case but we never worried that he might die. They even spread to the bottom of his feet, so it was hard for him to walk. Linda was up with him in the middle of the night, and suggested they treat themselves to cookies and ice cream. They were sitting at the table, miserable, and Sam, who is always so sweet, looked up at her and in his squeaky little-boy voice said: “At least we’re having a nice midnight snack.”

    Today’s puzzle is a good example of a blah theme. That’s surprising since the brilliant Jeff Chen is a co-constructor. The theme is “ten to one odds” and the long answers all have the letters t-e-n and o-n-e embedded in them, and they start in odd-numbered squares. E.g., at 45A the clue is “Instruments for John Coltrane and Sonny Rollins,” and the answer is TENor saxophONEs.

    Dull Men’s Club (UK), Part 1.

    Lee Fricker of the DMC (UK) writes: I seem to have reached an incredibly sad moment in my life. At the tender age of just 37 years old I proceeded to engage in a massive sneeze and in doing so, pulled a muscle in my neck as a result of the contortion. Am I to be expecting this for the rest of my life now?

    Ed Ward: Oh brother, I’m 45 and I pulled a neck muscle the other day yawning in the morning. If I stretch to get a sock out the back of the washing machine it’s 50/50 whether I’ll pull my shoulder.

    Tricia Ballinger: Give it a few more years and when you sneeze you’ll be wetting yourself too.

    Claire Lorraine Payne: Or worse.

    Daniel Wakley: Hoarding tramadol and morphine is the way forward.

    John Stephney: You poor sod, most of us make it to 40 before it starts to go wrong

    Martin Lacey: I’m 25 years older than you, you have no idea of the delights the future has in store for you. I have to kneel a lot at work, every time I stand up my knee makes a noise like a car door slamming.

    Avi Liveson: Per Philip Roth: Old age is not a battle; it’s a massacre.

    Dull Men’s Club (UK), Part 2.

    Emma Morton-Doe (DMC(UK)) writes:

    “You’re weird you are! You will spend loads a money on a book but not £8 on some concrete chicken ornaments for the garden.” Said my husband to me. Who’s in the right here? I mean, who wants concrete chicken ornaments in the garden?

    Neale Rumble: Nobody, but nobody needs any concrete chickens… nor concrete rabbits or hedgehogs or badgers!

    Jack Sayer: Says who? I’ve got 3 concrete monkeys in my garden which my wife “tolerates.” She spends a fair bit on books. I feel his pain. She drew the line at a life-size Cleopatra mind. 

    Avi Liveson: What’s a Cleopatra mind?

    Ashley Gray: Similar to Bette Davis eyes.

    [What?]

    Ashley: Jack, I’ve got a concrete cat and frog… I’ll swap you the cat for one of your monkeys…

    Jack: Sorry, I’ve got a concrete cat too, but the wife is OK with that. One real frog spotted, plus a load of tadpoles, so I think we’re full. Thanks for the offer though.

    Ashley: Fiddlesticks!

    Can’t top a concrete chicken. See you tomorrow Chatterheads. Go Gators!

  • A Crack Of Dark Geese

    We’re back in Jersey from our cruise around The Netherlands and I found the perfect New Yorker cartoon to sum it up. Because, let’s face it, the whole trip is just filler for the hours in between meals. Who the f*ck cares about the Dutch and their stupid flowers? It’s a nine-day eating spree. Your best friends are the waitstaff. “How did you enjoy your morning, sir?” “I don’t know — I think we saw another f*cking windmill — is the steak any good today, Raoul?”

    “Do you want the last piece of plankton? I’m stuffed.”

    The flights forth and back were on time and uneventful. Kudos to United Airlines. We are quick to assail the airlines when they screw up (i.e., pretty much all the time), so let’s give credit when due. We watched that movie where all the actors impersonate folk singers for a few hours, and then a very enjoyable Paul Reiser comedy special. I have been favorably disposed towards PR since reading a book of his about parenthood. In it he described a baby on a plane who was so bad, he was disturbing passengers on other planes. Then I finished up the Chris Rock special I got halfway through on the flight out. No question in my mind — Richard Pryor handed him the torch. He talked about sex a little (duh). How there are two kinds — mostly it becomes routine. But then there are the times when it’s “like a civil rights fire hose. (Pause) Free at last! Free at last!”

    We did love Holland, though. So many bikes. The cap I picked up on the last day says “Bike City Amsterdam” on it. The Dutch love their country: it’s palpable. You can feel it in how the local guides talk about it. The people are friendly and happy to help idiots. We were lurking around a woman who was alone and pulling cash out of a sidewalk ATM. (I was waiting to ask her for help on how to use it.) In the U.S. she might have felt threatened, but there not at all. She took a lot of time helping me through the transaction. She was as happy as I was when my PIN worked.

    Our usual airport ride is Linda’s sister Ally, but she was away. We decided to try the public transit option from Newark Airport I was curious about for years. You take the airport tram thingie to the last stop. Then you buy a ticket for $14.10 (senior) to Chatham (Owl Chatter headquarters), and you take a NJ Transit train to Secaucus. There you connect with the regular NJT system for the train to Chatham. We had a bit of waiting, but it worked pretty smoothly. We tried bumming a ride from OC friend Norrie (Hi Nor!), but I hadn’t set it up earlier and she was out (d’oh!). So we rolled our bags all the way from the train station home, about 1.5 miles (uphill). We must have looked like immigrants with our bags and heavy coats on a warm day. But it felt great to make it home without needing a defibrillator.

    So it’s back to our miserable lives. I said that to our limo driver to the airport in Dublin when we were there in ’23, and he roared and said he was going to use it. It got a different response from a steward (Serbian?) on the cruise ship on our last morning. He said — No, you have to look at it like “all good things come to an end.” Then he shared some wisdom his father passed down to him which I can’t remember.

    OMG the puzzle ran me through the wringer this morning — an old-fashioned bruising Saturday by Rafael Musa that had me very close to caving before I broke through. The whole damn top third had me gasping (not that the rest was a gimme). Here are a few ballbusters:

    17A: “Old story coming straight from the horse’s mouth?” TROJAN WAR

    19A: “Supposed evidence for extraterrestrial life.” CRASH SITES

    13A: “Model organization?” AUTOMAKER

    Ouch.

    On the clue for “trojan war” (above), Rex’s replacement Eli wrote: “I’m not quite sure what it’s saying. I mean, old story – yes. And I know about the Trojan Horse. But what does his mouth have to do with it? Did it vomit out the Greeks inside? Was The Iliad told by Mr. Ed?” 

    Commenter Gary added: “While I’m old, I’m not wooden-stallion old, and I can’t say my almost-Bachelor’s in music makes me a giant pony engineer, but I’m pretty sure the physics of your basic gift horse filled with villainy requires the warriors to exit from the back or the bottom and not the mouth, and I’m pretty sure the horse didn’t talk, so what are they teaching the kids these days to lead to this TROJAN WAR comedic (?) clue?”

    Those three answers were a block sitting on top of each other and I couldn’t crack enough crosses for the longest time. E.g., at 3D “Creature with a white winter coat” was STOAT. What? The only thing I know about stoat is it’s an anagram of toast. That’s on me, though. They’re adorable.

    Since the GOP is trying to disappear them, it was nice to see 8A where the clue was “Like some who take testosterone,” and the answer was TRANS.

    And 5D was funny. The clue was “‘Hey, dude, enough with the jokes’” and the answer was OK WISEGUY.

    Math Dept. (Hi Judy!): Did you know that “Mathematical process used to model unpredictable phenomena” is RANDOM WALK? New to me. Even after I got RANDOM WAL, I had no idea. Wall? Wale? Also, I just learned it’s sometimes called a drunkard’s walk (not kidding).

    Clever cluing at 26D also, with a baseball “misdirect:” “Ball two?” AFTER PARTY.

    The clue at 4D was “World’s largest maker of backpacks,” and, amazingly, the answer just came to me: JANSPORT. I guess I’ve seen a ton of them on the subway over the years. Eli shared this photo of a drag queen named Jan Sport. Hey Girl! Looking good!

    The puzzles have been dumbed down since the old days to the extent that I expect to be able to finish even Saturdays without too much of a battle. Today, though, it was very satisfying to nail it. Rafael Musa is one of the best constructors.

    This poem is called “Early Spring in the Field” and is by Tom Hennen. It’s from today’s Writer’s Almanac.

    The crow’s voice filtered through the walls of the farmhouse
    makes sounds of a rusty car engine turning over. Clouds on a
    north wind that whistles softly and cold. Spruce trees planted
    in a line on the south side of the house weave and scrape at the
    air. I’ve walked to a far field to a fence line of rocks where I am
    surprised to see soft mud this raw day. No new tracks in the
    mud, only desiccated grass among the rocks, a bare grove of
    trees in the distance, a blue sky thin as an eggshell with a crack
    of dark geese running through it, their voices faint and almost
    troubled as they disappear in a wedge that has opened at last
    the cold heart of winter.

    From The Onion:

    World Chess Championship Forced To Use Salt Shaker After Losing Bishop

    Man Already Having Bad Day Deported To Salvadoran Mega-Prison

    Speaking of El Salvadoran prisons, in all of the insanity the administration has unleashed, I can’t get over this one. They admit they sent this guy to that prison by mistake. Okay, mistakes are made by humans. But then they make no effort to get him the hell out of there. In fact, they are pissy about it. “Well, fuck him, we have no jurisdiction over El Salvador.” What the f*ck? Look, I don’t know about you, but when I send the wrong guy to a maximum security prison in a benighted foreign country, I at least have the decency to try to get him back. Is there not the slightest modicum of human decency in play for these guys? The slightest? Jeez Louise.

    Here’s David Remnick in The New Yorker: “In the initial months of Donald Trump’s second administration, the qualities of malevolence, retribution, and bewildering velocity have obscured somewhat the ineptitude of its principals.” And he wasn’t even talking about the poor guy they sent to that hellhole prison by mistake. (It was about the military secrets blunder.)

    Remnick goes on: “The comedy of [the military secrets scandal] resides, at least in part, in the discovery that the Vice-President and the heads of the leading defense and intelligence bureaucracies deploy emojis with the same frequency as middle schoolers.”

    So as not to leave you on so sour a note, take a look at what I encountered when I opened The New Yorker website in search of that whale cartoon, above:

    It’s our Ana in yet another stunning Louis Vuitton ad! Still got it, babe.

    See you tomorrow Chatterheads! Thanks for popping by.

  • Got Milk?

    Former VP Mike Pence posted: “The Trump Tariff Tax is the largest peacetime tax hike in U.S. history.” Wow — Trump is really going to hang him now.

    I’ll just address the tariffs briefly. Since I did major in Economics, there has been much interest in my views of the matter. Just kidding, of course, none of it stuck. But the one point I will make is a general one. If you are pushing an idea that is fundamentally sound, you should be able to push it without being deceitful. Here’s just one issue. Trump correctly noted that Canada has tariffs exceeding 250% on some US dairy products. However, he claimed that “the first little carton of milk” exported to Canada faces a “very low price,” but “then it gets up to 275, 300%.”

    In fact, the Canadian tariff does not kick in until the amount of milk imported exceeds a certain level. And the actual amount it imports is below 50% of the kick-in point. So no U.S. dairy product actually comes close to being subject to Canadian tariffs: zero. Trump’s point is thoroughly deceitful. Why resort to deceit unless you know what you’re peddling is full of shit?

    Headline from The Onion:

    Washington Monument Collapses After Someone Pulls Loose Block

    Today’s outing, our last, was to the Keukenhof Gardens, a huge park near Am’dam devoted to tulips (voo den?) and other flora. We were very lucky on two accounts: (1) the weather was excellent, and (2) the flowers only this week emerged in force. Whew. Here are some shots:

    That covers about one one-millionth of the place.

    This poem is from today’s Writer’s Almanac. It’s by Sue Ellen Thompson and is called “Vegan.”

    My daughter hauls her sacks of beans
    and vegetables in from the car and begins to chop.
    My father, who has had enough caffeine,
    makes himself a manhattan-on-the-rocks.

    It’s Sunday, his night for sausage and eggs,
    hers for stir-fried lentils, rice, and kale.
    Watching her cook eases his fatigue
    and loneliness. Later, she’ll trim his toenails.

    He no longer has an appetite
    for anything beyond this evening ritual.
    But he’ll fry himself an egg tonight
    and eat dinner with his granddaughter. For a widower,

    there is no greater comfort in the world
    than his girls and his girls’ girls.

    It’s our last night on the water. Should touch down in Jersey around 11 am tomorrow, kinehora, God willing. If the plane goes down, tell Linda I loved her. Oh, — never mind, she’s right here — I’ll tell her myself.

    We loved the young woman who was our room steward, Amalia. We left her this note: To beautiful Amalia — wishing you much happiness and long life. And I signed it with a smiley face. When we returned from dinner, she had made up the room for the last time, and wrote on the bottom of the note: “Thank you! Was a pleasure!” And she drew a heart with an arrow through it. We’ll let Amalia bid you goodnight tonight.

  • We’re All Alone Roger

    We love our waitstaff on the ship. Karolina and Raoul. K is very pretty and very professional and R is a wild man — he’s almost always singing. I heard him explaining to another table how it is that he is always happy. “I wake up in the morning and look into the bathroom mirror and point at the person in there and say: ‘You are happy!’ (Pause.) Then he answers me: ‘Oh, no you’re not!!’” And he roared with laughter.

    So there’s the secret, Chatterheads.

    Today we are in Zeeland, a maritime province. Have you heard about the flood of February 1, 1953? It was a Dutch 9/11. The North Sea exploded in a violent storm, overwhelming the dikes. 375,000 acres of land were ruined along with many villages. 1,836 lives were lost, including the life of one baby born during the storm. We visited a museum built starkly in the shape of a caisson that commemorates the losses. (Caissons used in the D-Day invasion were donated by the U.S. for use in the recovery/repair effort.)

    This monument situated outside the museum indicates via its waves how high the water reached.

    This statue stands in the town we visited afterwards. It’s a woman protecting her child from the sea.

    In the puzzle today, for the clue “Goofball” the answer was BUFFOON. JT commented: Cluing buffoon as “goofball” doesn’t seem quite right; to me “buffoon” suggests a certain amount of foolishness or stupidity. 

    What?

    For the clue “Parmesan shelfmate” the answer was ASIAGO. Rex’s guest blogger Malaika wrote: I don’t know why this struck me as such odd phrasing. I think it’s because “shelf” made me think of a shelf in a regular grocery store aisle, but parm would be in the refrigerator section? In my grocery store, the cheeses are in like a round sort of island that you can access on all sides.

    She included this photo she captioned “Cheese Island.”

    Wouldn’t you love to be shipwrecked on Cheese Island (chipwrecked?) with a case of Triscuits?

    Unrelatedly, another commenter referred to Malaika as “Malaria,” either on purpose or via a typo — either way it’s good. Wait — isn’t that the name of Trump’s wife?

    Roger Warman, of the Dull Men’s Club (UK), asks: Do any other dull types find 👍 as an answer to a text message irritating? Or am I alone ? …

    Here are the dullest of 82 comments:

    Rick Bedford: We’re all alone Roger. And then we die.

    Clare Lorraine Payne: It’s irritating yes.  It shows the replyer (made up word sorry) can’t be bothered to use words like, yes I agree or yes thank you.

    Rosie Dawson Barker: I find it rude. To me it means “whatever.”

    Chris Hughes: Passive aggressive reply. Makes me cross.

    Mandy Fullerton: No, it’s not. It just tells the correspondent that you agree and have nothing more to add.

    Colin Lambert: No it does the job. What do you want, a sonnet ?

    Shaun Gisbey: Is emoji shaming a thing now?

    [My position: Are these folks nuts? I use a thumbs up all the time in texts (and in person). It’s affirmative — it tells the other person that you agree with him. How is that aggressive?]

    Hrrrrrrmph.