The Wellington Files

  • Since I Toddled

    Tamara de Lempicka has been dead for 45 years. Unlike Jim Morrison of the Doors, she is still dead. She was a painter in the art deco style, born in Poland, but worked in the U.S. and France. Her parents were both Jewish, but they converted, and Tamara was raised as a Protestant. She was a baroness by marriage and lived a high society life. She was mostly an absent mom to her daughter Kizette, but immortalized her in her paintings. It was fairly daring for constructor Eric Rollfing to include such a non-famous figure in a Monday puzzle, clued via “de Lempicka, Art Deco painter.”

    The puzzle’s theme was revealed at 59A where the clue was “I’ve known them forever!” and the answer was WE GO WAY BACK. And the three long theme answers were things that “go back,” viz., DENTIST’S CHAIR, TIME MACHINE, and CREDIT HISTORY. But this oddly compelling song by Marlon Williams is called “Don’t Go Back.”

    At 8D the clue was “Feeling while walking in a desert,” and the answer was THIRST.

    Old New Yorker cartoon:

    A pair of men are crawling through the desert desperate for water. In the distance they see another man crawling directly towards them, similarly desperate for water. One of them says to the other: “That’s a bad sign.”

    Great clue/answer at 58A: “Who am ______ judge? Answer: ITO. (For the young among you, Judge Ito was the judge in the OJ Simpson trial.)

    At 3D, for the clue “numbskull” the answer was NIMROD. If you look nimrod up in the dictionary it has two definitions. One is mighty hunter, based on a figure in the Bible, and one is dimwit. How could two so different images emerge? Many blame Bugs Bunny, but it was actually Daffy Duck. In any event, the nimrod was unquestionably Elmer Fudd. Fudd as a hunter was sarcastically referred to as nimrod, the great biblical hunter. And the term stuck with its secondary meaning of dimwit. Bugs is so closely related to Fudd that he gets the credit/blame, but it was actually Daffy who hit Fudd with the term. Bugs later called Yosemite Sam a “little nimrod.” Credit where due: In both cases (Bugs and Daffy) it was voiced by the great Mel Blanc.

    Four cousins and a niece, yesterday: Dayle, Linda, YT, Niece Tamar, and Mike. Delaware, Jersey, Jersey, California, Delaware.

    Follow-ups:

    1. Kavan Markwood is the fan who fell out of the stands at a ballgame in Pittsburgh recently. We shared the horrific video of the fall on OC, you may recall. We still don’t know what caused the fall, but we’ve received word he is awake, alert, and able to speak. He has a long journey ahead of him for a physical recovery.

    2. You may also recall we posed the question: In the classic song “Darling Be Home Soon,” what word is used to rhyme with “dawdled?” The answer is “toddled” and I have no idea what it means in the context of the song. Here’s the chorus:

    But darling, be home soon
    I couldn’t bear to wait an extra minute if you dawdled
    My darling, be home soon
    It’s not just these few hours but I’ve been waiting since I toddled
    For the great relief of having you to talk to.

    So, toddled? It can’t mean “since he was a toddler.” The definition of toddle is to walk like a young child.

    Whatever. Let’s remember that time again.

    John Sebastian is 81 years old now. He was born in NYC and grew up in Little Italy and Greenwich Village. His dad was a “noted classical harmonica player,” according to Wikipedia. Get this! — his neighbor across the hall was Eleanor Roosevelt, and his godmother was Vivian Vance (“Ethel Mertz” from I Love Lucy).

      Sebastian made an unscheduled appearance at Woodstock [see above]. He traveled to the festival as a spectator, but was asked to appear when the organizers suddenly needed an acoustic performer after a rain break because they couldn’t set up amps on stage for Santana until the water was swept off.

      The following paragraph is for those of you who may not believe how high people were back then:

      Sources that have tried to reconstruct the Woodstock running order differ on the exact time and position of Sebastian’s unplanned set, with some stating that he played on Saturday, August 16, immediately after Country Joe McDonald; others saying that on that Saturday, Santana followed McDonald and Sebastian appeared after Santana; and still others, including McDonald, recalling that Sebastian actually played on Friday, August 15, at some point after Richie Havens opened the festival.

      I think that’s Grace Slick in the center, below. Phil — amirite? She’s 85 now.

      Seems like yesterday. (Not kidding.)

      It’s been a little bleak at OC headquarters since Georgie was carted off to the hoosegow. Really miss the big fella. Maybe a trip down to the Nats game tomorrow with a stayover near Baltimore will perk things up. Philly — you with us??

      See you next time!

    1. Give Her the Flower, Man!

      For you numerology/good-luck buffs, yesterday’s post was #777. Hi Mick! If my life depended on it, I could maybe remember three or four. Thankfully, they sail far away the moment I hit “publish.”

      Anyway, I learned a new initialism from my Californian niece Tamar. She grew up in the NY region and was thus raised on NY-quality bagels. They are hard to come by where she lives now. So the term they use for the bagels out there is BSO — bagel shaped object.

      Bagel purists are horrified by any bagel more modern than a core of bagels comprised typically of plain, poppy, sesame, onion, and garlic. Things like blueberry bagels and even cinnamon-raisin are scoffed at.

      This story is from today’s Met Diary in the NYT. It’s by Richie Powers and is called “Unacceptable.”

      Dear Diary:

      I went to a new bagel store in Brooklyn Heights with my son.

      When it was my turn to order, I asked for a cinnamon raisin bagel with whitefish salad and a slice of red onion.

      The man behind the counter looked up at me.

      “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t do that.”

      Here’s a “tiny love story” from today’s NYT by Alison Stine:

      He and I were walking, deep in conversation (in college, everything was serious). A group of lacrosse players with sticks walked toward us. In the path between us sat a magnolia blossom, big and pink, blown from a tree in the rain. We noticed the flower, and the lacrosse players did too. As we got closer and closer to the blossom, the players couldn’t contain themselves. They shouted to my friend (in unison as if they had practiced): “Come on! Give her the flower, man!” He obliged. Our romance never bloomed. But every spring, I smile, remembering that moment. 

      I was taking a walk in my neighborhood years ago and a couple was far ahead of me walking towards me. They seemed friendly and probably in their late 40’s. They were far enough away that I could not hear what they were saying, but at one point the wife reached over and punched the husband on his shoulder. When we got close enough to converse I said to her: “Don’t hit him!” And the husband said: “Tell her!!”

      This song is called “You in the Sky,” and it’s by The Waterboys. Perfect for a Sunday morning. (56D: “Where to see contrails.” SKY)

      I want to know why clouds come in between you and I.

      107A: “Famous Leonardo da Vinci drawing with four arms and four legs.” Not famous enough for me to have heard of him: VITRUVIAN MAN. Of course, we’ve all seen the guy. This is the woman.

      Lenny was inspired by the writings of the architect Vitruvius. It depicts a nude man in two superimposed positions with his arms and legs apart and inscribed in both a circle and square. The drawing represents L’s conception of ideal body proportions. Blah blah blah. . .

      This poem is called “Tosca” and is by George Bilgere.

      My sister held on to our old turntable
      and all the old records we listened to
      through the long Italian opera

      of our childhood. So tonight
      we sit in the living room with some wine
      and Puccini, as the needle scratches

      the black door of the past, the air comes to life
      with that lovely, cornball melodrama,
      and our father is sitting in his chair,

      ice cubes clinking in his scotch,
      and our mother is in the kitchen
      trying to be quiet, trying not to disturb

      Maria Callas as she explains
      to Tito Gobbi that she has lived for art
      and she has lived for love, but it’s hard

      to fry pork chops and dice an onion
      without making a certain amount of noise,
      and pretty soon my father is shouting at her,

      he’s trying to listen to the music
      for God’s sake, could she for once
      show a little respect,

      and our mother says nothing,
      it’s just the same old argument
      between ghosts, after all—the music

      won’t let them sleep—
      though it has my sister in tears,
      and even Tosca has begun to weep.

      Long day visiting our dear Aunt Anita in Delaware, 96, kinehora. What a wonderful doll. See you tomorrow.

    2. Who Wants A Bucket Of Cement?

      Waiter: How did you find the chicken?
      Customer: It was under the potatoes.

      This poem by Tomás Q. Morín was today’s poem-a-day from Poets.org. It’s called “Bird.”

      After I fumble another conversation about love, I think,
      Bird wouldn’t have hesitated for a moment, played
      coy as if everyone didn’t already know what #33 would do,
      daggers for eyes, soft hands ready to guide that orange ball
      exactly where he said he would. I’ve taken shots before,
      fear be damned, and missed more than I made,
      gone up and down the court enough to know
      halftime won’t fix everything.
      I’m bruised, my knee barks, my shot is shit, and I
      just need the bank to be open for once, for the glass to
      kiss the ball back, softly. I’m always writing to you
      like a last-ditch prayer, a heave from halfcourt
      moving like a meteor, like I could turn this white page of
      nothing into a night sky, these words constellations,
      old messages that would say in a hundred different
      shapes that I love you. All I ever wanted was Bird’s game,
      quietly telling opponents the spot on the floor where he would
      rise, after a screen and two dribbles, in the corner like a yellow
      sun and let the ball fly. I’m always writing to you
      to remind myself that all love poems are about the future.
      Under the bright lights of this metaphor, I’m digging deep, not
      vanishing when it matters most, to find the heart to take a shot
      when the clock winds down to nothing. The X-Man,
      Xavier McDaniel, laughs when he tells of how Bird took his heart once.
      You already know you have mine when the clock says
      zero my no-look mouth, my honey crossover, my silky net.

      Morín said this about the poem:

      “Hall of Famer Larry Joe Bird of the Boston Celtics was my favorite basketball player when I was a kid, partly because we both hailed from small, rural towns, and because he played with so much passion and joy. Stories of his confidence are legendary, especially how he told opponents what he planned to do and then did it. An abecedarian also announces to a reader its formal intentions. In keeping with the ancient function of the form, my poem is a hymn, a praise song for love and basketball and our beautiful human hearts that dare.”

      Here’s a shot Phil sent in of Larry and Mrs. Larry. Phil: Whatever you said to them to coax out a smile — don’t try that again. Sheesh.

      The actor Sean Patrick Small played Larry Bird in an HBO series that first aired in March of 2022. It was called “Winning Time: The Rise of the Lakers Dynasty.” (Ouch.)

      Overheard snippet on WQXR this morning (NY’s classical music station). Jeff Spurgeon discussing some opera: “If he was in such a hurry, why did he hold those notes for so long?”

      Pretty California girls celebrating Israel Independence Day in these troubled times. The blond near the teacher is our grand-niece Cordelia (older sister of Maeven, the new one, a munchkin, pictured below).

      From The Onion:

      Trump: Russia Must Be Allowed To Keep Fighting As Part Of Any Ceasefire Deal

      Today’s puzzle was by beloved constructor Robyn Weintraub. Her puzzles can be chatty. So, e.g., at 40A for the clue “Yadda, yadda, yadda,” the answer was YOU GET THE IDEA. And at 25A, “Is that an amazing offer or what?” was HOW CAN I RESIST?

      Her cleverest today IMO was at 17A. The clue was “Sides of circles?” and the answer was ONION RINGS. Get it? Think “side dish.”

      At 51A, for “To nobody’s surprise. . . ” the answer was AS EXPECTED. It led commenter Teedmn to share this story:

      AS EXPECTED reminds me of a letter I got from my doctor. I had gone in due to feeling dizzy occasionally and was afraid I had Lyme disease. When I mentioned this to the doctor, she totally pooh-poohed the idea, told me to drink more water. She did order a blood test for the Lyme disease. The letter she wrote about the results said, “negative for Lyme disease, AS EXPECTED.” Ouch, what a CRAB! 

      At 24D “Concrete example of rotational forces and fluid dynamics?” was CEMENT MIXER. This old tune is new to me, but only because I had a deprived childhood.

      At 6D, “No need to respond right now” was THINK IT OVER.

      25D was a little puzzling. The clue was “One of two for one” and the answer was HALF. Here’s Rex on it, followed by a very good song shared by Son Volt:

       I could not make heads or tails of the HALF clue at first (25D: One of two for one). I am doing so many cryptic crosswords these days that I just looked at the clue and started thinking about it on a very literal basis, i.e. “what does the word ‘one’ have two of? Uh … vowels?” No no no. I mean, yes, it has two vowels, but no, that is not relevant here. But yes, any one thing, cut in half, has two … halves? I guess you can’t really argue with that.

      I picked up a copy of Erica Heller’s book about her family “Yossarian Slept Here.” Her parents met at Grossingers resort in the Catskills. Her grandmother saw Joe Heller joking around with his friends and something about him caught her attention. She went up to him and said “Have I got a girl for you!”

      After they got engaged her mom decided she didn’t want to marry Joe and asked her mother (Erica’s grandmother) to break the engagement for her. Erica writes (a bit jarringly?): “But asking my grandmother to intervene in this way was like entrusting Hermann Göring to light your Shabbat candles. There was no way it was happening.”

      Story in The Onion:

      Professor Deeply Hurt by Student’s Evaluation

      Leon Rothberg, Ph.D., a 58-year-old professor of English Literature at Ohio State University, was shocked and saddened Monday after receiving a sub-par mid-semester evaluation from freshman student Chad Berner. The circles labeled 4 and 5 on the Scan-Tron form were predominantly filled in, placing Rothberg’s teaching skill in the “below average” to “poor” range.

      Although the evaluation has deeply hurt Rothberg’s feelings, Berner defended his judgment at a press conference yesterday.

      “That class is totally boring,” said Berner, one of 342 students in Rothberg’s introductory English 161 class. “When I go, I have to read the school paper to keep from falling asleep. One of my brothers does a comic strip called ‘The Booze Brothers.’ It’s awesome.”

      The poor rating has left Rothberg, a Rhodes Scholar, distraught and doubting his ability to teach effectively at the university level.

      “Maybe I’m just no good at this job,” said Rothberg, recipient of the 1993 Jean-Foucault Lacan award from the University of Chicago for his paper on public/private feminist deconstructive discourse in the early narratives of Catherine of Siena. “Chad’s right. I am totally boring.”

      In the wake of the evaluation, Rothberg is considering canceling his fall sabbatical to the University of Geneva, where he is slated to serve as a Henri Bynum-Derridas Visiting Scholar. Instead, Rothberg may take a rudimentary public speaking course as well as offer his services to students like Berner, should they desire personal tutoring.

      “The needs of my first-year students come well before any prestigious personal awards offered to me by international academic assemblies,” Rothberg said. “After all, I have dedicated my life to the pursuit of knowledge, and to imparting it to those who are coming after me. I know that’s why these students are here, so I owe it to them.”

      Though Rothberg, noted author of The Violent Body: Marxist Roots of Postmodern Homoerotic Mysticism and the Feminine Form in St. Augustine’s Confessions, has attempted to contact Berner numerous times by telephone, Berner has not returned his calls, leading Rothberg to believe that Berner is serious in his condemnation of the professor.

      “I’m always stoned when he calls, so I let the answering machine pick it up,” said Berner, who maintains a steady 2.3 GPA. “My roommate just got this new bong that totally kicks ass. We call it Sky Lab.”

      Those close to Rothberg agree that the negative evaluation is difficult to overcome. “Richard is trying to keep a stiff upper lip around his colleagues, but I know he’s taking it very hard,” said Susan Feinstein-Rothberg, a fellow English professor and Rothberg’s wife of 29 years. “He knows that students like Chad deserve better.”

      See you next time Chatterheads! Thanks for popping by.

    3. Shirley Heller’s Pot Roast

      On this date in 1923, in Coney Island, Brooklyn, the patron saint of Owl Chatter was born: Joseph Heller. A snippy interviewer once told him he never produced anything else as good as Catch-22. Heller responded, “Who has?” Heller was a shameless womanizer and his divorce from his wife Shirley was brutal. He loved her pot roast but she refused to tell him her “secret.” He offered their daughter Erica $10,000 for it, but Shirley made it quite clear that Erica was not to share it. When, after Joe’s death, Erica published her book about the family, Yossarian Slept Here, she included the recipe in full on the final page. Here are Erica and her dad.

      These lines are from a poem we are not sharing in OC:

      Morning’s slow mucus, and Sixth Avenue
      opened, that strip of vowels and fever silhouettes.

      Trump may turn out to be the best climate crisis president ever. A story in the NYT today noted that the global recession he is causing will reduce economic activity so significantly that the pressure on global warming will ease. (Short-term only.)

      From Frank Bruni’s For the love of sentences feature:

      In USA Today, Rex Huppke pondered the president’s rambling reverie about “an old-fashioned term that we use — groceries” and his definition of it as “a bag with different things in it.” “Jiminy Crickets,” Huppke wrote, “the cheese has slid so far off this guy’s cracker that it hit the floor and the dog ate it.”

      In the puzzle today, at 51D the clue was “Popping pills, say,” and the answer was ON MEDS. It led commenter Gary to note: “I’m an elder now. When does the revering start?”

      At 68A, the clue was “Title friend of Marlin in an animated film,” and the answer was DORY. My comment: I can’t watch a Mets game anymore without mentioning to my wife five or six times that I’m “finding Nimmo.” (Brandon Nimmo, left field.)

      At 39D: “Piercings that might be felt while kissing,” was LIP RINGS. Here’s egs: I recently swallowed my phone and now when I get a call my LIP RINGS. (My comment: Soon you’ll be giving a whole new meaning to the term “butt dialing.”)

      My favorite clue/answer was at 20A. The clue was “Places to carry out some takeout orders, for short?” And the answer was ORS. Get it? Operating rooms — “takeout” orders.

      Say it ain’t so, Mariano! Our forever hero Mariano Rivera may be in a bit of hot water for a “blown save” off the baseball diamond. He and wifey were added as defendants in a suit alleging a child was abused while in the care of the ironically named Refuge of Hope Church in Westchester NY, which the Riveras founded. They are accused of failing to protect the child. (Mariano is also guilty of blowing the 2001 World Series to ‘Zona in Game 7. (Ouch.))

      First of all, according to court records, the child’s name is Jane Doe, which is pretty suspicious from the get-go, amirite? The Riveras claim they were not aware of the abuse.

      Has Owl Chatter sunk so low that we will use an incidence of child abuse to go after cheap laughs? (SRSLY — you have to ask?)

      Here are Mariano and wife Clara laughing it up at the ballpark. Monsters!!

      Yikes! Are you aware that people have been falling out of the stands at baseball games and dying?? It happened in Texas in 2011 and in Atlanta in 2015. And, then, yesterday, in Pittsburgh it happened again. We have a video of it — it’s horrifying The fan seems to self-propel out of his seat and onto the field. He was tended to by medics and is in the hospital now in critical condition. Brace yourself. Or don’t watch.

      Sheesh — we can’t end with that.

      So — I was today years old when I learned this new word: You know how (often in cartoons) a bunch of typographical symbols may be used in place of an obscenity? — “Why, you conniving little #%@&$!” The string of symbols is called a grawlix.

      Grawlix is not to be confused with gravlax, which I confuse with lox. Gravlax comes from grav (cured, as fish) + laks (salmon). I started trying to find out how gravlax differs from lox, but it was too hard for me.

      I hope that’s enough nonsense for the day. I’m getting sleepy. See you next time.

    4. Hand Soap

      On this date in 1952 Anne Frank’s diary was published in English. It was published in Dutch in 1947. Sixteen different American publishers rejected the English translation before Doubleday picked it up; one reader at Alfred A. Knopf dismissed the book as “very dull.” In the Dull Men’s Club (UK), of course, that’s considered high praise.

      “As long as this exists,” I thought, “and I may live to see it, this sunshine, the cloudless skies, while this lasts, I cannot be unhappy.” The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quite alone with the heavens, nature, and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature. As long as this exists, and it certainly always will, I know that then there will always be comfort for every sorrow, whatever the circumstances may be. And I firmly believe that nature brings solace in all troubles.

      Daniel Leaney of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) has asked for advice.

      After 40 years with my wife, I have come to the conclusion that’s she’s “gone bad.” I have just noticed that ,,, She chews ice cream ,,, that’s not normal.

      Here are some of the dullest comments:

      Eric Armitage: Is that a euphemism?

      Anne Warner: Open the door, walk out, don’t look back. This is just the start of madness.

      John Hodgson: Sort all those commas out then get back to us.

      Kieran Madden: The triple commas are far far far stranger and more baffling than chewing ice cream. SERIOUSLY WHAT IS IT WITH THE TRIPLE COMMAS WHY DO PEOPLE DO THAT? Sorry. I’ve been bottling up the bafflement for too many years.

      Avi Liveson: Must be commatose, no?

      Ashley Gray: If that’s all you’ve noticed after 40 years then you’re very fortunate… After 40 years I’ve noticed everything.. every tiny little annoying thing… even things she doesn’t do annoy me.

      Philip Gleeson: I did my dessert-tation on this. I’ll give you the scoop. There is no rum or raisin to this behaviour! I know it’s cold but, she’s gone bad.

      Anne Warner: I was watching Bargain Hunt today, one team had bought Ice Cream Forks – Forks! What’s that all about?

      Christine Everest: Jason Momoa bites ice cream.

      Jason Andreoli: Mine once took a bite out of a complete KitKat, right across all four fingers. It’s sensible to ignore these things as pointing them out never ends well.

      Lainey Sobe: The horror!

      Avi Liveson: I didn’t know they are called “fingers.”

      Do you know the expression “to clean his clock” in the sense of beating him pretty badly? “I thought Johnny could hold his own against Max, but Max really cleaned his clock.” It may come from boxing with the reference to a (clock’s) face getting beaten up.” Anyway, it was the puzzle theme today. CLEAN ONE’S CLOCK ran down the center of the grid, clued with “Beat an opponent soundly.” Then two theme answers were HAND SOAP and FACE WASH. Get it? A clock’s “hands” and “face” are getting cleaned. Commenter Lewis said the soap should be “Dial.”

      Walking thru Macy’s in the mall today, a young woman sprayed some perfume on Linda’s wrist. It was nice. I asked her how much it cost and she said a half-ounce cost $85. I said “$85!! What the hell’s in it — eggs??”

      Headlines from The Onion:

      Handwriting Expert Confirms Killer Used Cursive

      Study: People Far Away From You Not Actually Smaller

      We took advantage of being retired and went to see a movie in the middle of the goddamn day. Sinners. You hear about it? Yikes. Very high Rotten Tomatoes scores both from critics and audiences. Very intense. An odd blend of old Black Blues musicians and vampires. (Not kidding.) Excellent performances by everyone — even the secondary roles, — and a brilliant production. Because of the importance of music to the film, we were glad we saw it in a theater, and one that had excellent sound. My only regret is that I’m not smarter — I got the feeling I missed a lot of its meaning. Should probably read a bunch of reviews now. Here’s Hailee Steinfeld, below. When she’s not smooching up Michael B. Jordan, she hangs out with Bills QB Josh Allen, proving, for the 8 billionth time, that the quarterbacks get all the pretty girls. (Her dad’s Jewish, BTW, so I’m claiming her for us.)

      In the puzzle today, at 43D the clue was “Lollygag,” and the answer was DAWDLE. Son Volt put his finger on the perfect song link. But this version is not by the Lovin’ Spoonful. It’s the Tedeschi Trucks Band. It’s a long version, and I love it and was very happy to see it through. Ten bonus points to any chatterhead who can figure out what rhymes with “dawdled” in the song. (Answer tomorrow.)

      That’s enough nonsense for today. Thanks for coming by.

    5. Upside Down

      Here are two lines from a poem we are not going to share today.

      Tie a boat to my wrist, I sprout wings.
      Give me a pair of shoes, I grow fins.

      Here’s an item from The Onion:

      ICE Agents Wait At Edge Of Delivery Table To Deport Newborn

      D’oh! I forgot to share this song the other day. You may recall the puzzle required us to read numbers as letters by turning them UPSIDE DOWN. Diana Ross knows what we’re talkin’ about.

      I was filing my newly-acquired autographs of Bob Cain and Jim Delsing in my collection yesterday and had to go online to remind myself of their particular roles in the Eddie Gaedel story. Eddie, you may recall, was the little person (3 feet, 7 inches tall) who pinch hit in a baseball game, a stunt perpetrated by Bill Veeck. Cain was the pitcher. After Gaedel walked, Delsing pinch-ran for him at first. I learned some more about it.

      First, happily, everyone involved was good natured about it. Eddie did not encounter any mean shouts from fans or the opposing team, as little people sometimes do. Cain was laughing good naturedly on the mound when Eddie came up to bat. His first two pitches were actual attempts to throw strikes into the teeny-tiny strike zone. But he gave up and just soft-tossed the next two to the catcher.

      Eddie was under strict instructions not to swing, but Veeck worried he might anyway. He told Eddie he took out a life insurance policy on his life and had a rifle and would shoot him if he swung. They practiced a crouch for Eddie to use to minimize the strike zone. But when Eddie was at the plate he did not crouch, instead adopting a stance Veeck described as imitating Joe DiMaggio’s. It increased Veeck’s fear that Eddie would swing. But he didn’t.

      When Eddie walked, he stopped twice on the way to first base and bowed to the crowd. They gave him a standing ovation. It was Eddie’s only MLB at-bat, but he continued to work for Bill Veeck in a variety of roles.

      Sadly, Eddie died after turning 36 when he was robbed and beaten. The only person from baseball to attend the funeral was the pitcher Bob Cain, even though the two men never met formally. That’s Cain, below, clearly a mensch.

      Ladies, let me put it this way. If Christie f*cking Brinkley’s husband had an affair, you might as well just give up and stop trying. Jeez Louise. You can’t get more beautiful than that. She’s the poster girl for poster girls. (Just made that up.)

      According to People magazine (so you know it’s true), it was 2006 and CB was giving a graduation speech at a local high school in the Hamptons, when she was approached by a man she’d never seen before.

      “Excuse me,” he said softly. “I need to tell you that arrogant husband of yours has been having an affair with my teenage daughter.”

      Ouch.

      The arrogant husband was architect Peter Cook, CB’s hubby #4. Despite a pre-nup, they were in court for six bruising years. She came out of it okay, especially happy for her three very loving and supportive kids, all of whom are, surprise surprise, not too bad looking.

      In the puzzle today, the clue at 8D was “Double-decker checker.” Anony Mouse #1 couldn’t understand why the answer was KING. Anony Mouse #2 responded with an absurd explanation, but I clarified things up.

      Anony Mouse #2: In the game of checkers, when you manage to get one of your pieces all the way over to your opponent’s side of the board, your opponent will top it with one of your pieces they have taken in the game creating a “double decker king” that can move in all directions.

      Liveprof (me): The Checker Cab was a popular taxicab in the U.S. and England for many years. As a convenience, on longer trips the drivers would provide a deck of cards to their passengers. And when the King (England) was riding in one, he would be given two decks, so it was known as a “double decker Checker” for the KING.

      At 18A, the clue for LENA was “”Game of Thrones” co-star Headey.” I hadn’t heard of her and neither had Tig Notaro.

      Duke Ellington was born on this date in Washington DC back in 1899. He said, “I never had much interest in the piano until I realized every time I played, a girl would appear on the piano bench to my left, and another to my right.”

      Yup. That’s why I went into tax law.

      See you tomorrow!

    6. Derek and Kermit

      The NYT had a piece today on commencement speakers at various campuses. Derek Jeter is speaking at UMich. Go Blue! If you’re wondering why a NY Yankee in Ann Arbor, it’s because DJ is from Michigan — Kalamazoo. He would have gone to UMich had he not gone pro out of high school. But UMaryland is one-upping even Derek this year. They’ve invited Kermit the Frog to give the address. Could you croak?

      Here’s Derek with Elmo. Kermit’s below.

      Hey who’s Tiger’s new babe? Looks like she could be about the age of his granddaughter, no? (In fact, no — she’s 47, just two years younger than Woods. There must be a painting of her, aging, in some attic somewhere.)

      You hear about this? It was news to me. That woman has five kids of her own. Need another hint? Their last name is Trump. Yeah, you heard me. Trump. It’s Vanessa Trump, the ex-wife of Trump’s idiot son, Donald, Jr. The oldest of their five kids, Kai, below, is turning 18 in two weeks. She’s a competitive golfer and spoke at the 2024 GOP Convention. If Tiger becomes her step-dad it won’t do her golf game any harm.

      Eugenio Suarez is one of the few Venezuelans left that Trump hasn’t shipped off to an El Salvadoran prison, and Diamondback fans are relieved. He hit 30 homers and drove in 101 runs for them last year, and last night he hit four dingers in one game — only the 19th time that’s happened in MLB history. Making it even rarer in an odd way is the fact that ‘Zona still lost the game, 8-7 in 10 innings. It’s only the second time ever that a batter hit four homers in a game his team lost.

      Maybe Gino’s feat is not so surprising: he twice had 3-homer games, and he’s a pretty accomplished slugger, with four seasons of 30 or more along with hitting a whopping 49 in 2019 (with 103 RBI).

      The puzzle today was a little blah, IMO. The whole trick was that the theme clues seemed to be long numbers or equations. But you had to realize they were numbers that, when you turned them over (upside down), they became words. You can do this if you limit yourself to these letters: BEGHILOS.

      For example, take my favorite. The clue was

      Depiction of

      If you turn those numbers upside down they become letters spelling out HIGH HEELS. (See it?) So the answer was STILETTOS. The problem was once you saw the trick, the whole puzzle fell into place. (There were 8 of those.)

      Hey, while we’re on the topic, Armas — can you model a pair for us?

      Thanks Babe. BTW, you can be sure that’s Ana and not an imposter by the little heart tattoo.

      This one spelled out HILLBILLIES BOOZE:

      Depiction of

      The answer was MOONSHINE. Son Volt shared this song on it.

      Did you know about these? The clue was “Food-centric broadcasts originating in South Korea” and the answer was MUKBANGS. They are videos people make of themselves eating. [Who are we to judge?] Most go on for quite a while, but here’s a short clip that gives you some idea.

      I also liked 14D. The clue was “Tough customer for a wedding planner,” and the answer was BRIDEZILLA.

      This tiny love story by Reem Faruqi is from today’s NYT.

      When my father was a college student and moved from Karachi to California, his father wrote him letter after letter that could be collected only at the post office. When my father told his father that his shoes were getting worn out by walking to and from the post office, his father promptly airmailed him a package. Inside the box: new shoes. Luckily, I’m a 45-minute drive away from my father, not a daylong flight. Yet, the cycle of care packages continues. For me, he will deliver steaming soup, my favorite books and box upon box of sweet mango juice. 

      Happy 44th (!) wedding anniversary today to Ringo Starr, 84, and his bride Barbara Bach, 78. It was the second marriage for each. Barbara had two kids and Ringo three from their exes (and no kids together). In 1985 Ringo became the first Beatle to be a grandfather and has eight g’kids now. In 2016 he was the first to become a great-grandfather.

      Ringo is very funny. I heard him begin an interview once by saying “I was born at an early age. . . “

      L’Chaim, kids!

      See you tomorrow!

    7. Mood

      Aaron’s Boone’s near-haiku may become this season’s motto, at least for NY baseball. This time it was the Mets who could say:

      The audacity

      Of the call standing

      Is remarkable.

      And the result this time was a triple play! Here’s the story: The Mets were playing the Gnats in DC yesterday and they had runners on first and second with no outs: Vientos on first, and Nimmo on second. Winker (“Wink”) was at bat and hit a soft liner towards first. First baseman Lowe made a nice backhanded play on it, trapping the ball on a short hop. But the ump did not have a good view and said Lowe caught it on a fly. Both runners left their bases without tagging up (which is what they should have done, since the ball was only caught on the bounce). Lowe threw to Abrams at second, so Nimmo was out. He then tagged Vientos, who advanced there from first. That was the third out.

      But he trapped it. It hit the ground. The replay clearly showed that. So why wasn’t the call overturned on review? Because, for some (crazy?) reason, the question of whether a ball was caught or trapped is reviewable when it occurs in the outfield, but not when it occurs in the infield. The call was not reviewable. Mets manager Mendoza begged the umps to confer as a group, thinking one of the other umps must have seen the play clearly as all the Mets did from their dugout, but the umps refused. The call stood.

      The Mets ended up losing by one run. The call may have cost them the game. It was the third ever triple play pulled off by the Gnats — and only the first at home.

      That play involved two fielders — Lowe caught the ball for one out. And Abrams made both of the other outs by touching second base and then tagging the runner from first. An “unassisted” triple play — where one fielder makes all three outs — is much rarer. There have only been fifteen ever. (Perfect games occur more often.) The most famous was by Bill Wambsganss for Cleveland in the 1920 World Series. Oddly, as rare as they are, in May 1927 two occurred within 24 hours of each other. It was then a 41-year wait for the next.

      If I may crow a bit, I got a big laugh out of my g’kids Leon and Rafi yesterday. We picked them up from school and Leon was holding a little sapling to plant at home. They had planted a tree at school for Arbor Day, and each student was given a little one to take home. Leon said he didn’t remember the type of tree it was. I said “Evergreen?” and he said yes. I said that’s because it doesn’t turn brown in the winter so it is “forever green.” Okay. Then I said, “Do you know what else is green?” and they both listened attentively. “MY BIG FAT BUTT!!” I exclaimed, and they roared. Maybe the biggest laugh I ever got out of them.

      That’s a good example of one of the great lessons I learned from my brother — not expressly — by observation. Trying to make someone laugh is a way of saying you love them.

      The puzzle was very good today — top notch constructor team of Sarah Sinclair and Rafael Musa. I learned a neat piece of slang: MOOD, at 27A. It’s slang for “that’s so relatable.” It’s better than just saying “same,” “me too,” or “I hear ya.” It’s like you’re saying “I can relate to that and it’s the story of my life.”

      “That gorgeous girl in my bio class shot me down again.”

      “Mood.”

      Here’s egs on it:

      Farmer: I was out in the field and my cow did something so relatable, I said MOOD.
      Pal: What’d the cow do?
      Farmer: Mooed.
      Pal: Was she ok?
      Farmer: Yeah, just a little MOODy.

      15A was a little unusual: “Tantric meditation practiced while in a sleeping state.” Answer: DREAM YOGA.

      I got this from Wikipedia: “In the yoga of dreaming, the yogi learns to remain aware during the states of dreaming (i.e. to “lucid dream”) and uses this skill to practice yoga in the dream.” A lot of my tax students took a similar approach in class. They entered a dream-like state, occasionally tipping over onto the floor with a thud. I’m not sure I’d call it “lucid,” though.

      Please make up your own joke about combining dream yoga and goat yoga. I can’t do everything around here.

      At 54A, the clue was “Rely on audience support during a show?” and the answer was STAGE DIVE. Here’s one:

      And then there’s this.

      31A was good. The clue was “Words on a statue honoring Washington.” So you start thinking about George, but it’s about Denzel. The answer was BEST ACTOR, and the statue was an acting award. It led Rex to share this short wonderful piece.

      It was an example of a puzzle with cluing so erudite and clever that you stop and think — wow, there can really be a lot more to these puzzles than silly wordplay.

      Here’s how they clued the simple four-letter word WEPT: “‘The young man who has not ___ is a savage:’ George Santayana.”

      And at 43D, the clue was “Something picked in a fortunetelling game,” leading Rex to wonder,  “‘What the hell is a fortunetelling game?’ I couldn’t think of any. Magic 8 Ball? Is that a ‘game?’ But no, the ‘game’ was some version of ‘(s)he loves me, (s)he loves me not …’” The answer was PETAL.

      OK, let’s see what’s up at the Dull Men’s Club (UK).

      Brian Greenhalgh posted this photo on how to eat those half-chocolate biscuits. And then wrote: “Chocolate side down? Must be joking.”

      Here are the dullest of the 28 comments:

      Adrian Bull: Your taste buds are on your tongue, not the roof of your mouth. So if you want to taste chocolate more than biscuit, it makes sense. Then again, I know that but still eat them the “right way up.”

      Mike Knee: Whichever side is on the bottom will get more heat from the hand, if the biscuit is held lightly, which is the main reason I hold them chocolate side up. However, I think the flavour and the crumb-dropping behaviour are both better chocolate side down.

      Daniel Faraday-Kiss: This doesn’t work for dunkers. Chocolate on the bottom makes it heavy side down and more likely to break off in your brew. Also causes more Chocolate ingress into the tea. I’d also feel uncomfortable putting a biscuit on a plate with chocolate down. All in all I give this information 7 thumbs down.

      Ben Farrington: He’s not the boss of me.

      John Scotland: Noooooooooo. . . .

      Mike Pezaro: NOBODY TELLS ME HOW TO EAT MY BISCUITS. That be fighting talk!

      Neale Rumble: I like to eat them in pairs, choc to choc.

      [Sadly, at this point the matter took a slightly ugly turn.]

      Mark Daniels: Chocolate side down is the only way that makes sense. Come on! Where are your taste buds, people?

      Sultan Brown: Don’t you chew?

      Mark: Think, Sultan Brown, think! It’s really not that difficult. Taste buds are on the tongue, chocolate is concentrated on one side of the biscuit. Where do you want that when biscuit enters your mouth??? Chewing comes later… Duh!

      Martin Tweddle: Same as pizza or anything else you want your tongue to taste

      Robin Smith: That’s where I’ve been going wrong. I’ve never tasted any topping on a pizza for that reason – they only taste of bread and nothing else.

      Andy Steele: When a digestive biscuit is made, it’s plain and the writing is on the top. It gets a pattern on the bottom side from the mesh that it’s baked on. If this biscuit it subsequently turned into a chocolate digestive, the chocolate is not poured on. That would be very tricky to get right. Instead it travels through a lake of molten chocolate which sticks to the underside. As it cools the classic hatched marking appear as the mechanisms flip it over. The chocolate which was the bottom, now becomes the top. But the bottom is now the originally top of the plain digestive. Thus, it has two tops, and therefore no bottoms. Which way up a person eats them, becomes an arbitrary decision as both sides are tops.

      Avi Liveson: For a brief moment there you almost seemed to be making sense.

      Let’s leave it at that. See you tomorrow!

    8. Baby It’s You

      There’s a terrible pall over Owl Chatter headquarters. Our George was sentenced today and will be going off to the Big House for over seven years. Ouch. And we don’t mean Michigan’s football stadium. We will miss you terribly, Georgie. Stay strong. I don’t think I’ll be able to look at a can of Fresca without tearing up. Get through this and come back to us Buddy. Meanwhile, we’re just going to remember the good times.

      The puzzle today, by Adrian Johnson, was full of neat stuff. Sometimes an answer just doesn’t make any sense to me. In that case, I resort to Rex’s column hoping he clarifies it, or some member of the commentariat does. For example, at 7D today the clue was “Ran through some laundry, maybe,” and I had no idea why the answer was BLED. But Rex explained it: “Laundry is (notoriously) sharp, so when you run through it, you cut your feet and they bleed.” Thanks! Makes sense now.

      A HIDDEN STAIRCASE ran right across the grid — i.e., not very well hidden. The clue was “Passage in a mystery novel?” and it brought back Nancy Drew memories for some. Barbara S. was able to recall that “The Hidden Staircase” was book #2 in the series (right after “The Secret of the Old Clock”). And two folks had stories to share (one of them was me!).

      Here’s what egs wrote: My father was an architect and my brothers and I grew up in a house he designed. It was a lovely house, but for some reason we always expressed a sort of amazed disappointment that there was no secret staircase or hidden passage. I mean, if you can design your own house, obviously you’d incorporate the good stuff like that. Right? Well, many years later, he and my mom built a second home. When we visited, the grandchildren were delighted beyond words (as were my brothers and I) to find that when you tried to pull from a built-in bookcase a book titled “The Hidden Passage,” the whole bookcase swung open to reveal a small playroom. From the inside, a button could be pressed to open a completely disguised exit door onto a stairway middle landing. It has, of course, remained one of all of our fondest memories, even though dad is long gone and the house long sold.

      And here’s mine: About 30 years ago, on a family trip to the Grand Canyon, Zion and Bryce, one of the rooms I booked for us turned out to be a tacky space above a gas station on the outskirts of a small town in Utah. It had anti-charm — you could look out the window at the gas pumps. But it was clean, roomy, cheap, and my wife didn’t chew me out too badly over it. The gas station had what we would call today a convenience store behind the pumps that sold maps (remember those?), candy, and weird stuff that must have been sitting there for decades and is probably still there. I felt a bit sheepish for subjecting my family to such a dump, but the more little odd spaces my kids found, the more excited they got. My son’s joy exploded when he found a back staircase that led directly down to that little shop. “Dad!! We have our own private candy store!!” Every once in a while — not often — you get lucky.

      At 27D, for the little answer ITS, the clue was “‘Baby ___ You’ (Shirelles hit).” Rex shared it, along with a cover version by some British band.

      We have a very special birthday to celebrate today. Owl Chatter’s Poet Laureate Ted Kooser is 86, kinehora. Happy Happy Kooz!!

      I am going to steal shamelessly from the nice write-up in The Writer’s Almanac today and then share the poem of his it included.

      He wanted to be a writer, but he flunked out of graduate school. So he took the first job he was offered, at a life insurance company, and he worked there for 35 years. He said: “I believe that writers write for perceived communities, and that if you are a lifelong professor of English, it’s quite likely that you will write poems that your colleagues would like; that is, poems that will engage that community. I worked every day with people who didn’t read poetry, who hadn’t read it since they were in high school, and I wanted to write for them.”

      He resigned himself to being a relatively unknown poet. Then, in 2004, he got a phone call informing him that he had been chosen as poet laureate of the United States. He said: “I was so staggered I could barely respond. The next day, I backed the car out of the garage and tore the rearview mirror off the driver’s side.”

      This poem is called “A Rainy Morning.”

      A young woman in a wheelchair,
      wearing a black nylon poncho spattered with rain,
      is pushing herself through the morning.
      You have seen how pianists
      sometimes bend forward to strike the keys,
      then lift their hands, draw back to rest,
      then lean again to strike just as the chord fades.
      Such is the way this woman
      strikes at the wheels, then lifts her long white fingers,
      letting them float, then bends again to strike
      just as the chair slows, as if into a silence.
      So expertly she plays the chords
      of this difficult music she has mastered,
      her wet face beautiful in its concentration,
      while the wind turns the pages of rain.

      An article by Antonia Hitchens in the April 28th New Yorker is all about the sycophancy that has gripped the GOP, and serves as a large-scale emetic for the rest of us. If you’re not familiar with the term sycophant, this should help. [OMG, I only just now realized how much Rubio looks like George Santos!]

      The story starts with Rep. Andy Ogles who proposed changing the 22nd Amendment to allow Trump to serve a third term. A criminal investigation into his fundraising activities was withdrawn by federal prosecutors the following week. (One was a GoFundMe account that raised $25,000 for a burial garden for stillborn babies that never materialized.)

      At a cabinet meeting during which Secretaries took turns gushing, Brooke Rollins (Agriculture) said: “Your vision is a turning point and inflection point in American history.” AG Bondi said: “You were overwhelmingly elected by the biggest majority–Americans want you to be President.” And Rubio said: “What you’re doing now is a great service to our country, but ultimately to the world.”

      Wait, it gets better.

      GOP Rep. Anna Paulina Luna proposed legislation to arrange for the carving of the figure of DJT on Mount Rushmore. Rep. Brandon Gill proposed a bill requiring Trump’s image on $100 bills. Rep. Claudia Tenney’s legislation would make You-Know-Who’s birthday a federal holiday. Rep. Addison McDowell wants Dulles Airport to be renamed Trump International, and Darrell Issa is nominating Trump for the Nobel Peace Prize. “No one deserves it more,” Issa said.

      Hitchens attended a meeting of the House Committee on Natural Resources where Marjorie Taylor Greene was seeking to have the Gulf of Mexico’s renaming apply more broadly. Jared Huffman, the ranking Dem railed against the rampant insanity on display as business as usual (“crazy, destructive, incompetent, and corrupt”). After the hearing he suggested an amendment to rename Earth “Planet Trump.”

      Here’s Huffman.

      See you tomorrow!

    9. The Chronicle Of Wasted Time

      Leave it to Shakespeare to come up with the best ever description of Owl Chatter. It’s from his “Sonnet 106,” which appeared in yesterday’s Writer’s Almanac, to our great good fortune. Take a look:

      When in the chronicle of wasted time
      I see descriptions of the fairest wights [persons]
      And beauty making beautiful old rhyme
      In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights,
      Then in the blazon of sweet beauty’s best,
      Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,
      I see their ántique pen would have expressed
      Ev’n such a beauty as you master now.
      So all their praises are but prophecies
      Of this our time, all you prefiguring,
      And for they looked but with divining eyes,
      They had not skill enough your worth to sing.
           For we which now behold these present days,
           Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.

      And, speaking of “sweet beauty’s best,” the lovely Sarah Palin was in the news again. So many fond memories. The villains (and villainesses) were so less villainous back then. Sigh. Palin’ by comparison.

      Phil! Can you dig out an old shot or two for us?

      Nothing sexier? Gotta give her credit — despite decades in the public eye, she was careful to avoid photos with even the hint of indecency making their way onto the internet. Believe me, I’ve searched relentlessly (you know, for a minute or two). Don’t get me wrong — not a fan. Just sayin’. Credit where due.

      So, where were we? Oh, yeah. SP is back in the news this week. A jury ruled against her in a defamation suit she filed against the NYT. An editorial said Palin’s PAC contributed to an atmosphere of violence by circulating a map of electoral districts that put Gabby Giffords and 19 other Democrats under stylized crosshairs. Seems accurate to me, but the Times quickly corrected the article, saying it had “incorrectly stated that a link existed between political rhetoric and the shooting” and that it had “incorrectly described” the map. The jury agreed with the Times that it was an honest error and that it took reasonable steps to correct it.

      Palin’s response:  “I get to go home to a beautiful family of five kids and grandkids and a beautiful property and get on with life. And that’s nice.”

      Dripping with venom, clearly.

      The sh*tstorm Trump has unleashed is so dizzying and multifaceted that it’s easy to miss big pieces here and there. For example, did you know about this item in historian Heather Cox Richardson’s newsletter: Secretary of the Interior Doug Burgum signed an order assigning to the assistant secretary for policy, management, and budget, control over the Department of the Interior, including its personnel and budget. He is DOGE operative Tyler Hassen, the CEO of a Houston-based energy company, who has not been confirmed by the Senate. Elon Musk is now effectively in charge of America’s public lands.

      The upshot: Burgum has handed power over the Department of the Interior to a hitherto unknown political operative who is holding his position in violation of the appointments clause of the Constitution. Hassen is responsible for 70,000 employees, the administration of international treaties, the welfare of 574 Native American Tribes, 433 national park sites, over 500 million acres of public lands, 700 million acres of subsurface minerals, and 3.2 billion acres of the Outer Continental Shelf. Look for the government to sell off massive swaths of public land as a way of raising revenue. They have not been shy about expressing that aim.

      From The Onion:

      Trump Opens Up Nation’s Aquariums To Commercial Fishing

      2-Year-Old Unaware He’s Basis For 6 Couples’ Decisions Not To Have Kids

      For us to go to a Mets game (from NJ to Queens) is a big commitment of time and energy; we have plenty of the former and very little of the latter. We took a 9:30 train into NY yesterday for a 1 pm game and got home around 7 in the evening. So you hope to be rewarded with a decent game. In our case, it was way beyond decent. The Mets were playing the Phillies and it was clear that a lot of Philly fans came up for the game. The teams appear to be the main rivals for the Division crown. The Mets won the first two games and were itching for a sweep. Philly ace Zack Wheeler was pitching against decent lefty Dave Peterson for the Mets.

      Mets second-bagger Brett Baty popped a two-run homer into the seats early but otherwise Wheeler was in command. Peterson worked in and out of trouble, eventually giving up the lead to a flurry of sharp singles, and left in the sixth with the score knotted at two. Meanwhile, we were treated to some serious glovework at short by Francisco Lindor and right in front of us in left by Brandon Nimmo. A whole bunch of fly balls were “finding Nimmo.” (Get it?)

      It was one of those wonderful games in which every pitch seemed to matter. With the score still tied 2-2 in the 8th inning, the Phils put men on first and second with two outs. Oh, no! The next batter, Max Kepler, laced a single to right. But it was hit pretty sharply and right-fielder Soto raced in to pick it up and threw a laser beam to catcher Senger who slapped a brilliant tag on Castellano trying to score. Out! Clearly out! The throw came in a bit on the first base side. Senger knew he’d have to lunge across the plate for the tag, but had no idea where the runner was since he was focused on the ball. “He could have been halfway down the line, and I’d look like an idiot diving towards the plate,” Senger said after the game.

      BTW, Max Kepler was born in Berlin and both of his parents were professional ballet dancers. He is not listed as Jewish in Wikipedia.

      OK, where were we? Extra innings. With the new rule placing a runner on second at the start of every extra inning, we had to hope Diaz, who was pitching his second inning, could keep that runner (Bryce Harper) from scoring. When Diaz struck out Schwarber his chances looked decent, but Harper quickly stole third. D’oh! And the next batter drove him in. Rats!

      Then things got a little weird. Diaz stepped off the mound (“disengaged”) a couple of times and then a third time — that’s an automatic balk and the runner advanced to second. But Diaz called for a conference on the mound: his hip was bothering him. He couldn’t lift his leg. He left the game and, get this — the umps reversed the balk call. Since he stepped off due to injury, it wasn’t a balk.

      Alright, in comes Kranick. Max Kranick. In about two seconds the Phils had the bases loaded. D’oh! And there was only one out. I said to Linda: “We can probably handle being down one, but if all hell breaks loose now, we’re f*cked.” That was my trenchant analysis. Inside baseball.

      Kranick went back to work. The next batter launched a fly to center. It was caught and all eyes went to third base to see if the runner would try to score. He stayed put. That was a big out. And so was the next one, a grounder. So we went to the bottom of the tenth, down 3-2.

      Lindor took his spot at second base as Juan Soto stepped up to the plate, he of the historic $765 million contract. The moment was made for him but his swing yielded only a soft grounder to the right side. Lindor scooted to third. At least Soto advanced the runner. It would be up to Pete Alonso. And he didn’t let us down, driving a double to deep right-center. I knew right away it was deep enough to score the runner from third even if it were caught, but the crowd wanted more and it held off cheering until it was clear the ball was in the gap and Pete lumbered into second base.

      Yes, it was all tied up now, but the crowd wanted Philly blood. Nimmo was walked intentionally to get to Starling Marte. “A grizzled old veteran [36],” I opined to Linda — “he can do it for us.” And he did. He lofted a single to center, but it wasn’t very deep and the question became, could Alonso score from second? The “loft” was the key. Since the ball was not hit hard, by the time the throw home was made, Alonso was far enough along that he could score, barely — with a belly flop. No matter. Game over. Mets win.

      Have you heard of the Israeli-Dutch singer Keren Ann? I hadn’t, even though she’s 51 and has released 8 albums. Rex shared this song of hers in connection with the puzzle today. The clue was “Might, to Shakespeare,” and the answer started with MAY, but how did it end? Mayhap? Mayeth? Nope, neither of those — it was MAYEST. In fact, commenter jberg looked it up and found that WS used “mayest” only 3 times and used “mayst” 76 times. Whatever. It led Rex to share “End of May” with us.

      Among the many atrocities of Trump’s, his support for Russia over Ukraine is pretty impressive, going so far as to blame Ukraine for the invasion and shrieking like a ten-year old at Zelensky to just shut up and give in to all of Putin’s demands. So much for the art of the deal. Europe, of course, isn’t buying any of his sh*t.

      I recently learned the conflict spilled over into women’s tennis, of all places. Have you heard of Anna Potapova? She’s 24, Russian, and ranked around #25 in the world, winning a round now and then, but hardly dominant. She appeared at a match in Indian Wells (CA) in 2023 wearing a shirt supporting a Russian soccer team. Iga Swiatek (currently ranked #1) was aghast. She’s Polish and has a heart and a brain and thought it was outrageous for Potapova to give off any pro-Russia sentiments under the circumstances, and she opened her mouth about it. Potapova said she was not expressing any political views: She was just a fan of the team and has been since she was thirteen. It didn’t help that she was unable to name a single player on the team. She was reprimanded by the tennis authorities. Complicating matters is the fact that she’s very pretty, not that we would ever compromise our principles for anything so shallow. (Much.)

      See you tomorrow Chatterheads, as we crank out another installment of The Chronicle of Wasted Time. Thanks for popping in.