The Wellington Files

  • The Opposite Of Chuffed

    The clue at 1D today was “Small fly,” for MIDGE. The MIDGE will take Yankee fans back to Cleveland, Oct 2007, when midges from Lake Erie descended upon poor Joba Chamberlain in droves. He couldn’t shake them. The trainer sprayed insect repellant but it only drew more to him (a different spray might have helped). They attacked him as he pitched and essentially cost the Yankees the game. Then they lost the series. Joe Torre later said it was a major regret of his career that he didn’t pull the team off the field when the midges arrived.

    Here’s a shot Phil sent in from yesterday’s Chiefs game. That’s Caitlin Clark next to Tay. Phil said the suite was packed. With family members, security, and stalkers, he could barely fit his photog equipment and a case of vodka in.

    The scene was not as joyful 750 miles NE of KC where Washington handed our Lions a good old-fashioned thumping, 45-31. With the Lions shorthanded on defense and QB Goff suffering from the turnover bug, it was gracious of Commander coach Dan Quinn to pull up short of 50. Here are some of Washington’s soldiers celebrating on the corpse-strewn field of battle.

    We’ll be pulling for the Ravens tonight vs. Beefalo. How fitting that it’s Ed Poe’s birthday!

    If you find yourself a little more cheesed off than usual, you are not alone. Wait, what? Cheesed off? Yes, you heard me — cheesed off. It’s an expression I just learned from today’s puzzle. Miriam Webster says it’s chiefly British and means angry, irritated. The clue for it was “ticked (off).” I posted the following on the Dull Men’s Club (UK), with the dullest responses below.

    My DMC(UK) post:

    I just learned the expression “cheesed off” from a crossword puzzle in the NY Times. I’m 75 but never heard it before. Dictionary says it’s “chiefly British.” Have you good folks been using it all along, while I’ve been clueless? Anything else I should know about as I descend (or ascend?) into decrepitude?

    Kim Thornewell replied: We use it frequently! It’s a great expression and means what it says!

    Avi: Thanks Kim!

    Andy Spragg: With you all the way up to “means what it says,” Kim. Care to explain how?

    Kim: ok, so it means, in cruder language, that you are very pissed off! Fed up. Had enough. 

    Andy: Quite. So it doesn’t mean what it says at all.

    Stuart Morris: I agree . What is the cheese connotation?

    Bronwell Mitchell: It’s what you feel if your cheese is off.

    Ryder Cowan: We’re truly two countries divided by a common language. As another example, someone being “homely” has a completely different meaning in the UK, and would be considered a compliment. Many other examples I’m sure.

    Paul Searle: To be honest I’m not a happy camper that you are browned off that you didn’t know what cheesed off meant. However I am not fed up to the back teeth — yet.

    Sharon Hayton: I’d be jolly miffed if I were you

    Avi: I see. So you mean:

    Wayne Horrigan: Other cheese-related phrases you may have missed: Hard cheese – bad luck (popular on 80s games shows when a contestant fails in a task). Chalk and cheese – two acquaintances or siblings who are opposite in nature and/or personality.

    Joe McLaren: It’s the opposite of chuffed.

    The Poem of the Day from The Poetry Foundation today is by Robert Hayden and is called “Those Winter Sundays.” I’m pretty sure I’ve shared it before, but so what?

    Sundays too my father got up early
    and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
    then with cracked hands that ached
    from labor in the weekday weather made
    banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

    I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
    When the rooms were warm, he’d call,
    and slowly I would rise and dress,
    fearing the chronic angers of that house,

    Speaking indifferently to him,
    who had driven out the cold
    and polished my good shoes as well.
    What did I know, what did I know
    of love’s austere and lonely offices?

    We just watched Paige and her UConn buddies dismantle a decent Seton Hall team 96-36. Ouch! “Buckets” scored her 2,000th point early in the game, becoming the fastest (gamewise) Lady Huskie ever to achieve that millstone. I mean milestone. She is projected to be the #1 pick in the WNBA draft this year, but the scuttlebutt is she may put another year in at UConn to avoid starting her pro career in Dallas. Or at least threaten to do so to prevent the Dallas pick. We’ll see who holds the higher cards. My money’s on PB. The league does not want her to be unhappy. I bought a mug for Caity years ago that said: “If the princess ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.”

    See you tomorrow!

  • From Smoketown to Oldham County

    What’s another word for thesaurus? Never mind. Peter Mark Roget was born on this date in 1779. His thesaurus, which took twelve years to complete, has been in print since its publication in 1852.

    Sometimes, if you don’t look the part, you don’t get the bennies. I was on the subway years ago when a decent-enough looking fellow got up, explained that he was having a hard time, and asked if anyone could spare some change. One passenger, a little skeptical, eyed him up and down and said, “Those are pretty nice shoes,” implying his plea might be a scam. The man answered immediately: “Eleven dollars at Goodwill. I’m homeless but not a bum.” Good answer.

    This story by Cathy Winks is from tomorrow’s Met Diary.

    I was visiting New York City for the first time in several years as the escort for my 91-year-old mother, who is still quite spry but no longer travels alone. I took my responsibilities seriously and ran interference for her on the street and in other crowded places.

    As a treat, I got us tickets for a matinee of “Our Town.” Walking to the theater from the bus stop, we were more than a block away when we came across a long line of people. It wasn’t until we were halfway down the block that I realized the line was for “Our Town” ticketholders. I told my mother to just step into the line where we were at that point.

    A woman behind us immediately began to chastise my mother for cutting the line. Embarrassed but indignant, I tried to shame the woman. “So you really want my 91-year-old mother to walk all the way to the back of the line?” I said.

    The woman looked my mother up and down. “She looks pretty good,” she said.

    I was fuming as we walked back to the end of the line. My mother, however, looked delighted as she trotted alongside me. “Did you hear her say I look pretty good?” she said.

    I was waiting to see how Rex would rate the puzzle today, because I found it extremely easy for a Saturday. He rated it “extremely easy.” There were nine across answers that spanned the grid, i.e., they were 15 letters long. But each one fell right into place with the help of just a few crosses. “Is there more?” was a good clue for CARE TO ELABORATE? And Yankee fans were happy to see “Yogi Berra or Joe DiMaggio, e.g.” as the clue for ITALIAN AMERICANS. And did you know that the “Dish that’s different from its cousins by the inclusion of potatoes,” is a SPANISH OMELETTE?

    Kate WINSLET popped into the grid, clued via her Oscar in “The Reader.” Phil caught this shot of her at an inopportune time — the toilet in her apartment had just overflowed.

    Another Cate popped in too: CATE Tiernan, author of the “Immortal Beloved” trilogy. Had no idea who she is. That’s a Saturday-worthy clue.

    M.I.A. also dropped in, “Female rapper with the 2008 hit ‘Paper Planes.’” Apparently, it was a big hit but shot right by me. Her name is Mathangi “Maya” Arulpragasam. From 2006 to 2008, she lived in Bed–Stuy, Brooklyn, where she met Benjamin Bronfman of the Bronfman business family and the Lehman banking family. She gave birth to their son, Ikhyd Edgar Arular Bronfman, on February 13, 2009, three days after performing at the Grammy Awards, but they separated in 2012. Ikhyd? Srsly?

    M.I.A. was raised as a Hindu but became a born-again Christian after seeing a vision of Jesus Christ. That’ll do it.

    Here’s that tune.

    The largest tributary of the Mississippi ran down the center of the puzzle today, appropriately: OHIO. So you’ve probably got a hankerin’ to hear the Ohio River Boat Song. We’ve got it for you, courtesy of Commenter Son Volt. Float along and give it a listen.

    Catarina, your lovely hair
    Has more beauty, I declare
    Than all the tresses there
    From Smoketown to Oldham County
    Be they black, red, gold or brown
    Let them hang to lengths below
    They mean not as much to me
    As a melting flake of snow

    And her dance is like the gleam
    Of the sunlight on the stream
    And the screeching blue jays seem
    To form her name when screaming
    But my heart is full of woe
    For last night she made me go
    And the tears begin to flow
    As I sing the whole day through

    You all know what a palindrome is, right? Something that reads the same backwards and forwards: Madam, I’m Adam. Well, the puzzle opened up today with the start of a famous one: A man a plan a canal Panama. One commenter reminded me of a less famous great one I remembered too: “Go hang a salami, I’m a lasagna hog.”

    Here’s a poem called “Rest.” It’s by Richard Jones and is from today’s Writer’s Almanac.

    It’s so late I could cut my lights
    and drive the next fifty miles
    of empty interstate
    by starlight,
    flying along in a dream,
    countryside alive with shapes and shadows,
    but exit ramps lined
    with eighteen wheelers
    and truckers sleeping in their cabs
    make me consider pulling into a rest stop
    and closing my eyes. I’ve done it before,
    parking next to a family sleeping in a Chevy,
    mom and dad up front, three kids in the back,
    the windows slightly misted by the sleepers’ breath.
    But instead of resting, I’d smoke a cigarette,
    play the radio low, and keep watch over
    the wayfarers in the car next to me,
    a strange paternal concern
    and compassion for their well being
    rising up inside me.
    This was before
    I had children of my own,
    and had felt the sharp edge of love
    and anxiety whenever I tiptoed
    into darkened rooms of sleep
    to study the small, peaceful faces
    of my beloved darlings. Now,
    the fatherly feelings are so strong
    the snoring truckers are lucky
    I’m not standing on the running board,
    tapping on the window,
    asking, Is everything okay?
    But it is. Everything’s fine.
    The trucks are all together, sleeping
    on the gravel shoulders of exit ramps,
    and the crowded rest stop I’m driving by
    is a perfect oasis in the moonlight.
    The way I see it, I’ve got a second wind
    and on the radio an all-night country station.
    Nothing for me to do on this road
    but drive and give thanks:
    I’ll be home by dawn.

    Did you know Poor Richard’s Almanac was written by Benjamin Franklin. It’s true: Ben was writing as Richard, i.e., he was using a pseudonym. Here’s a vocabulary joke. (I just invented the genre.) So Billy picked up this babe at a bar and took her to a seedy motel. He told her his name was Bobby. As they undressed she asked him about birth control and he said, “Don’t worry, I’m using a pseudonym.”

    Phil should be getting ready to head over to Arrowhead soon — he’s with Taylor and will be watching the Chiefs game with her in her suite. Here’s a shot he just sent us. He says it’s the look she gave him right after he told her my pseudonym joke. Sorry Phil! — She’ll forgive you by halftime – it’s not that bad.

    Go Chiefs! Go Lions! See you tomorrow Chatterheads. Thanks for popping in.

  • Just A Bit Outside

    Whenever I saw Bob Uecker on TV he reminded me that I didn’t have to spot him any points. By that I mean, he wasn’t funny “for a ballplayer” or “for an announcer.” He was very funny by the normal standards for good comics. And he was funny with a heart — never mean. Here’s how he describes becoming a ballplayer: “You know, I signed with the Braves for $3,000. That bothered my dad because he didn’t have that kind of dough to pay out. But eventually, he scraped it up.”

    He said he had two highlights as a player: he was walked intentionally once by Sandy Koufax, and got out of a rundown against the Mets. He actually had a few more, including homering off of Hall of Famers Koufax, Fergie Jenkins, and Gaylord Perry. (He hit a total of 14 homers in his six-year MLB career.) He later said about Koufax: “Each time I see him, I apologize. I was worried it would keep him out of the Hall of Fame.”

    BTW, the intentional walk was “real.” It was Uke’s at-bat right after he hit the homer off of Koufax. Koufax walked him to get to the pitcher.

    Uecker’s lifetime batting average was exactly .200. Whew. He was one pop-out away from an ignominious .199.

    Before he became an announcer, Uecker was hired by Bud Selig to be a scout for the Brewers. Selig said he was the worst scout in baseball history, and swore he once received a scouting report in the mail from him that was smeared with mashed potatoes and gravy.

    Uecker always kept in shape and was proud of a photo that appeared in a Sports Illustrated issue he referred to as his “swimsuit issue.” (That’s Uke on the right, leaning against the bar.)

    Here’s an example of what you might call Uecker’s “counter boasting.” It’s from an appearance of his on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson.

    “I made a major contribution to Cardinals’ pennant drive. I came down with hepatitis.”

    Carson asked: “How’d you catch it?”

    Uecker said: “The trainer injected me with it.”

    He was inducted into the Hall of Fame as an announcer. In his induction speech, which was more of a stand-up routine than a speech, he started by talking about how he was born. His parents were on a run to Chicago for colored (yellow) margarine — you could only get white where they lived in Wisconsin. His mom went into labor on the drive back so they pulled off the highway at an exit and parked. He described it as “a Nativity sort of scene” — the exit lights were shining down.

    Uecker died yesterday at the age of 90. He is survived by his two children, Sue Ann and Bob, Jr., neither of whom were ever, even juuuuuuust a bit, outside.

    Rest in peace, Bob.

    This poem by Declan Ryan is called “Rope-a-Dope.” It’s the poem of the day from the Poetry Foundation today.

    Nothing for days, then a message:
    “I want to see a fight. An old one,”
    so I bring a fight to you.
    You know nothing of these men;
    even the most famous
    get to slink in their youth again —
    for you Foreman is Leviathan, unstoppable;
    Ali just past his prime
    flown “home” to muscle back his title.
    Not sure how you’ll react to violence
    we lie down again together —
    your feet in woollen stockings
    kneadable across my thighs,
    your mouth close to my ribs
    and their inmate: a pouting lifer.
    I fidget and you scold.
    As Ali opens up with right-hand leads
    you flinch
    but soon you’re lost to the screen
    where he waits it out along the ropes,
    takes everything Foreman throws.
    You don’t believe he can soak up
    all this pain and go on standing;
    we cheer him on,
    winter softened in the tropic of his strength.
    When Ali comes alive to put Foreman on the ground
    I see a hallelujah look as you turn to face me.
    “He won,” you say into my cheek.
    “He did,” I say.

    David Brooks’ article on Hegseth in the Times today is spot on, and vividly explains real military dangers the country faces with the dreadful (non)leadership of the new administration. I sent some snippets to Frank Bruni for his “For the Love of Sentences” feature.

    If you thought [serious] questions would dominate the hearing, you must be living under the illusion that we live in a serious country. We do not. We live in a soap opera country.

    Hegseth is in no danger of rising to the level of mediocrity. . . .  The world is on fire and what’s his obsession? Wokeness in the military. I went through high school trying to bluff my way through class after doing none of the reading, and in Hegseth, I recognize a master of the craft.

    He kept saying he was going to defend the meritocracy. In what kind of meritocracy is being a Fox TV host preparation for being secretary of defense? Maybe in the one Caligula fancied when he contemplated making his horse a consul.

    Lots of good football on tap for the weekend. Detroit faces a tough , Washington team, and the Chiefs start their run for a third straight Super Bowl. We asked TS if she thought they could do it and she shot us quite the look. Sorry, babe — silly question.

    See you tomorrow!

  • Ardbo Ardbo

    Crazy stuff — here this is, our 700th post (!!) coming on my 75th birthday, kinehora. What are the odds? We celebrated at the Pru last night at the Professional Women’s Hockey League (PWHL) game: Sirens vs. Frost. How could you not love a team that has an “official” bra?

    They wished me Happy 75th on the Jumbotron, or whatever that is: Me and a couple of 12-year old girls. How great is that! The game was terrific — our Sirens beat the Frost via a shootout. That means it was tied at the end of regulation play, and still tied after a 5-min OT period. Then individuals took turns (like in soccer) and finally the Sirens emerged on top.

    The fans were great. There were 1,780 of us on a frigid night in Newark. The Sirens colors are Miami Dolphin teal, orange, and black.

    Corinne Schroeder is our goalie and she saved our asses repeatedly last night. She was named the #1 star of the game. Sarah Fillier was star #2 for scoring the game-tying goal with only a minute left on the clock. Whew! (Or as the Sirens fans say: WEE WOO!)

    And that brings us to our very exciting announcement: Sarah F has signed on to join the Owl Chatter staff as our sports consultant!! I know — amazing, right? She’s very smart (played college hockey at Princeton), but agreed to join us anyway!! Welcome aboard, Girl! Can’t wait for you to meet Phil and George. You like diet soda? George is a genius with it.

    Not only is Sarah very smart and drop dead gorgeous (see below), she is tougher than nails. After being checked into the boards last night a bit nastily, she quickly sent a return message via elbow that was quite clear.

    Let’s turn to some wordplay. What’s unusual about the phrase “cardboard box.” Look it over; think about it. (Tip: I hinted at it somewhere above.) I’ll give you the answer later.

    I am happy to share my birthday with Ruth Reichl, whom the Writer’s Almanac refers to as a “food writer.” Ruth is 77 today, kinehora. She was sort of propelled into her field by her mom, who was a terrible cook. Her brother described their mom as “a menace to society.” She is a UMich alum (Go Blue!) and is best known for her years as food critic for the NYT. In that capacity, she went to extreme lengths to make sure restaurant owners and chefs didn’t recognize her. She made reservations under different names and switched credit cards regularly. She had 12 different personalities with full disguises for each. Here’s RR, below. If you google her and click on “images,” you’ll see why she has been described as “always smiling.” (There was a bit of spinach in her teeth in this pic originally, but Phil was able to photoshop it out.)

    We’ve all had our turn: Jews, Blacks, Gays. And women, of course, for sure. The turns are not completely over, but the current focus is certainly on the trans community. There’s all the hateful legislation promoted by the Repubs denying medical treatment and driving up suicide rates. But you can better see how insidious the hatred is in the smaller ways it’s expressed. In his op-ed column today in the NYT, Zeynep Tufekci notes that Zuckerberg’s Meta, to placate the MAGA-lomaniacs no doubt, has removed tampon dispensers from its men’s rooms. They were formerly provided for transgender or nonbinary employees. They were replaced by F*CK YOU stickers. Also — get this — users of Facebook’s Messenger App can still customize their “wallpaper,” but can no longer use themes containing the colors of the trans and nonbinary flags. (Not kidding.)

    These colors can still fly at Owl Chatter. Here’s the trans flag. Hang in there kids.

    Give up on “cardboard box?” OK, here’s the answer: If you remove the first and last letters, you’re left with “ardbo ardbo.” Well, I didn’t say it wasn’t silly.

    Phil!! Get her out of there!! What the hell is wrong with you!!

    Did you hear about DJT and the Jimmy Carter business? So Carter died on 12/29, and Biden, as is the tradition, ordered that the flags be flown at half staff for 30 days on federal property. You may not have detected the “problem,” but Trump did. That means it would be at half staff for his inauguration. Here’s what he wrote:

    “The Democrats are all ‘giddy’ about our magnificent American Flag potentially being at ‘half mast’ during my Inauguration. They think it’s so great, and are so happy about it because, in actuality, they don’t love our Country, they only think about themselves.

    “In any event, because of the death of President Jimmy Carter, the Flag may, for the first time ever during an Inauguration of a future President, be at half mast. Nobody wants to see this, and no American can be happy about it.”

    But Truman died on Dec. 26, 1972, and the flag was at half staff for Nixon’s inauguration. Even Nixon was man enough not to let that bother him.

    It should go without saying that Trump’s toady, Squeaker of the House Johnson, has announced that the flag at the Capitol will be raised to full staff on Jan. 20 “to celebrate our country coming together behind the inauguration of our 47th President.” Florida, Alabama, Texas, Iowa, and Nebraska are following suit.

    This poem is from the Poem-a-Day feature of Poets.org. It’s by Kerry Hardie and is called “Acceptance.”

    Yesterday it was still January and I drove home
    and the roads were wet and the fields were wet
    and a palette knife

    had spread a slab of dark blue forestry across the hill.
    A splashed white van appeared from a side road
    then turned off and I drove into the drab morning

    which was mudded and plain and there was a kind of weary happiness
    that nothing was trying to be anything much and nothing
    was being suggested. I don’t know how else to explain

    the calm of this grey wetness with hardly a glimmer of light or life,
    only my car tyres squishing the lying water,
    and the crows balanced and rocking on the windy lines.

    And, while we’re in the poetry section, in Frank Bruni’s “For the love of sentences” feature, after snippet upon snippet of Trumpiana, he let this one drop. It’s by Alexandra Petri from the Washington Post:  a welcome to an impending addition to her family, about to arrive:

    “I watch your sister walk and talk and tell me about the world. There she is, planted in time, decades after me but still close enough that we will share the view from our windows for a long time. It is with her that I, myself, feel most like a window. Through me, everyone I’ve ever known and loved and lost is peeking out to greet her, in little fragments of song and familiar turns of phrase and the way I fiddle with my chin when I get nervous. I wish I could tell them about you.”

    Today’s puzzle is by two old pros, Rachel Goldstein and Adam Wagner. Without even going into the clever theme, there were lots of little goodies.

    At 34D, “Something to put stock in,” was CONSOMME. At 42D, “Button clicked to advance to a YouTube video,” was SKIPAD. The intended answer was SKIP AD, but it left a bunch of folks wondering what a SKI PAD is. Answers like that are called DOOKs. It’s from when someone was driven crazy wondering what a DOOK is when the answer was meant as DO OK. (There are no spacings in XW answers.)

    8D was a great clue: “Something a meter reader reads?” Answer: POEM (Get it?) And did you know this? At 49A the clue was “Affirmation not usually spoken at a Jewish wedding,” and the answer was I DO. Is that true? How did I not know that?

    At 43D, the clue was “Aid in self-reflection,” and the answer was MIRROR. Some beautiful women don’t know that they are beautiful, Phil tells me. They are the ones with a special kind of beauty. It’s good if someone lets them know, he says.

    Remember this old tune? Nico and the Velvet Underground.

    I’ll be your mirror
    Reflect what you are, in case you don’t know
    I’ll be the wind, the rain and the sunset
    The light on your door to show that you’re home

    I find it hard to believe you don’t know
    The beauty you are
    But if you don’t, let me be your eyes
    A hand to your darkness so you won’t be afraid

    We’ll let that send us off tonight. See you tomorrow!

  • The Inside Of The Pomegranate

    It’s not easy being dull. A post I submitted to the Dull Men’s Club (UK) last night was rejected by one of their admins. It’s going to take me a while to recover. Here’s the post, followed by the rule they claim it violates.

    Wife and I enjoyed excellent burgers last night. The menu said they came with fries, which I believe you call chips in the UK. I asked the waiter if we could get something instead of the fries and he said a salad or sweet potato fries. So we asked for a salad for one of us and sweet potato fries for the other. When the check came I saw we were charged $2 for the salad and $3 for the s/p fries. I was not happy about that, but I didn’t make a fuss.

    Now, it’s true, I didn’t ask — will there be an extra charge? But the waiter also didn’t tell me there would be. I wasn’t adding to the fries, just replacing them.

    The meal was excellent, so I can’t be too upset at the place. And it’s the sort of thing I’ll calm down about over time. Still. . . any thoughts?

    Group rules violated

    Keep it dull, not controversial and not a moan…

    Posts and comments that are not dull (e.g. simple statements without a dull back story, jokes, memes, general moans and groans, pictures of your flash car etc.) will be removed, as will opinions/statements/questions/theories that are designed to (or are very likely to) provoke conflict/confrontation/argument – this includes posts/comments mentioning electric vehicles. 

    Hrrrrrumph!

    It’s not Phil. Hard to believe, I know, but for the second time in two months the man arrested for stalking an attractive woman basketball star was not our staff photographer Phil. Last month Paige Bueckers was the stalkee. This time it’s Caitlin Clark. Phil wants to make it clear — it’s not that he isn’t stalking them — it’s just that he hasn’t been arrested for it yet. It’s sort of a “get in line” situation.

    It’s not a joking matter. (But, don’t worry, we won’t let that stop us.) A 55-year-old Texas man named Michael Lewis was arrested in Indianapolis for sending threats and sexually explicit messages to CC via social media.

    The creepy part is Lewis traveled from Texas to Indianapolis with the “intent to be in close proximity” to Clark. When confronted by police in a hotel room, Lewis claimed to be in Indianapolis on vacation. The police were immediately skeptical, noting “who the hell comes to Indianapolis on vacation?”

    When asked by officers why he referenced Clark in so many social media posts, he said “Just the same reason everybody makes posts.” (Makes sense.)

    Clark told the police she “has been very fearful since learning of the messages and that she has altered her public appearances and patterns of movement due to fear for her safety.”

    Concerned for Clark’s safety, our Phil tells us he plans to spend the next few months staying as close to her as he can all the time — following her every move and staying in constant touch with her via social media to make sure she isn’t being stalked. Seems reasonable.

    Here’s a shot of Caitlin pointing out the creep who has been following her to teammate Erica Wheeler. Wheeler said, “OK, CC, if the cops don’t grab his white ass soon I’ll have some brothers ‘reason’ with him.”

    Here’s a poem about chickens by Tom Healy from Poets.org. It’s called “Sonnet for the Chickens.”

    The picture of elegance, my grandfather.
    I wanted his photograph in the dictionary.
    Alone of the men I knew as a kid, 
    he always wore a shirt with a collar,
    always shined his shoes. Equanimity
    in a family on the run from itself.
    He amazed me once with a cardboard box
    of baby chicks, each in a small square as if
    he’d waved a wand over a carton of eggs.
    A fuzz of feathers, beaks and fragile lives.
    No more afraid than all of us, he said.
    Just sit with them, tell them apart, listen.
    Only if you see someone, can you become
    someone. Long gone, he still is and they are.

    The puzzle today had a quidditch theme — the game from the Harry Potter books. I didn’t read them and it left me cold. Rowling is viewed as the devil by many for her anti-trans stance. Rex cited an article in Glamour today for a good discussion of the issue: https://www.glamour.com/story/a-complete-breakdown-of-the-jk-rowling-transgender-comments-controversy. And he quoted it:

    Rowling is still “not the final boss of transphobia. A movement can’t get along without a devil. And across the whole political spectrum, there’s a misogynistic tendency to choose a female devil. Whether it’s Anita Bryant, Hillary Clinton, Marie Antoinette, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, or J.K. Rowling.” The real threat to trans people is the Republican party. Rowling and others are “useful idiots who put a concerned female face on the patriarchal violence against trans people that will ultimately be enacted by right-wing men.”

    It generated a discussion on whether a work of art can be appreciated independently of the noxious character of the artist.

    Commenter DR J (who I am guessing is not Julius Erving) wrote:

    I read the first page of the first Harry Potter book in a bookshop back in 1997 and decided not for me. I also tried one of Rowling’s adult detective books and was disappointed by the weak plotting. Still l agree that the works of writers or artists should not be judged by their views. In this connection l can cite the Talmud (finalized c. 500 CE) which tells of Rabbi Meir (c.
    150 CE) who insisted on continuing to study with his former teacher, Elisha ben Abuya, a great Torah scholar who had become an outspoken heretic. When asked why he did so, Rabbi Meir replied: ” l eat the inside of the pomegranate and then l throw away the rind.” (Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Chagigah, 15b, redacted).

    Hey, what are the odds? Today’s stalkee, Caitlin Clark, was in the puzzle too. The clue was “Signature Caitlin Clark shot, informally,” and the answer was THREE.  

    At 33A today, a “poorly behaved child” was the clue for BRAT.

    DR A says:

    Calling a misbehaved child a BRAT is horrible and should be stopped. The child is either hungry, tired, overwhelmed, bored, poorly parented or neurodivergent. Every time I see this in a puzzle my blood boils.

    Anony Mouse responded: So you are.. hungry?

    We’ll give the Ramones the last word on it.

    [Note from our legal department: Owl Chatter does not advocate beating brats with baseball bats.]

    Once in great while we treat ourselves to hot dogs here at Owl Chatter. Hebrew National, from the freezer. Today was the day. We had nice rolls from Costco, honey mustard, and Irish Cheddar. But when I went to open a new bag of sauerkraut, I saw that it had inflated like a balloon — like a football before Tom Brady got his hands on it.

    I remember hearing somewhere that it’s not good if a can inflates, so I feared the kraut went bad. But google tells me it’s a natural result of fermentation and not a problem. It said I should rinse it with cold water, which I did. The dogs were delish!

    Eight towns in the Midwest are listed in Wikipedia as celebrating “sauerkraut days” each year. These babes are at one in Illinois.

    Just three hours ago, Daniel Kingdon of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) posted the following: I’m doing an old house up, including relining the roof and I found this tile.

    Jon Kasch wrote: Frame that now!!!

    Kingdon replied: I’m going to have dinner first.

    Jon: Okay. I got excited.

    And I couldn’t resist posting the following: I have one grandson named Isaac (4), and another named Morris (3). Can’t be a coincidence. But what does it mean?

    Tomorrow in the Prudential Center in Newark the NY Sirens will take on the Minnesota Frost and Owl Chatter will be there. Can’t wait!!

    Thanks for popping by!

  • Broken English

    I liked the clue at 39D in the puzzle today: “Cheese-loving test subjects.” The answer was LAB MICE. It reminded me of a New Yorker cartoon from long ago. There is a little cage with a mouse that has hung himself. And one scientist says to the other: “Bad news on the anti-depressant.”

    Then there’s this comment today: Can’t agree with confusing “lab rats” with “lab mice.” The latter are animals being used in experiments, and they have no choice about being lab animals; the former are typically students who choose to spend an excessive amount of time in the lab.

    The puzzle had pretensions of erudition: the central clue was “Tongue of Chaucer,” and the answer was MIDDLE ENGLISH, but all it really did was take the pronouns THINE, THY, THEE, and THOU, and insert them into the “middle” of longer words or phrases. The best was TRUTHINESS, for THINE.

    Did you know that in Ye Olde Candy Shoppe, the “y” is a stand-in for the long lost letter “thorn” (“Þ, þ“), which was replaced by “th” during the Early Modern period? So “Ye” there is pronounced “the,” not “yee.” If you are using “ye” as an old version of “you,” it’s pronounced “yee.” Also — if you’re wondering about “Who,” he’s on first.

    It was a short hop from Middle English, to “Broken English,” the Marianne Faithfull song from 1979. Some of you may remember it.

    MF was dating Mick Jagger for a time (1966-70), but none of Mick’s eight children are from Marianne. She has one child, with a different dad.

    It must be old song week. Son Volt shared this Jackson Browne hit with us, since the answer at 44D was DELUGE, clued with “Downpour.” (Nice that it crossed LIGHTHOUSE, the theme answer that contained THOU.)

    Some of them were dreamers
And some of them were fools

    A bit of a hoo-ha erupted recently over bald-faced lies vs. bold-faced lies, to say nothing of bare-faced lies. It raged loudly enough to draw the attention of the NYT Games people. Here’s the scoop — all three are acceptable. Bare-faced was the original. Then came bald-faced, which is the preferred version in formal writing. But it morphed into bold-faced (like bold print), which is acceptable as well.

    Rex was not happy with the clue at 27A: “Disinfectant brand with the tagline ‘Healthing.’” It’s an invented slogan by the LYSOL people. Sort of like Steve Colbert’s “truthiness” but lacking in charm. Are you “healthing” when you kill germs with Lysol?

    Graham King posted the following for the Dull Men’s Club (UK):

    I would be quiet happy if I never left the house again. I have on several occasions thought how plausible it would be to have everything delivered, my job is very easy to do from home, I have two internet connections to ensure i can do my job. Whilst at home i would also try to become as self sufficient as possible and live our lives (me and my wife) from our home. Interactions with other people become so problematic, face to face. Am I alone with this thought?

    Anne Finnanger: No.

    Margaret McKean: Yes.

    Andy S. Carvey: It’s what those in charge want.

    Darren Hilburn: Text book introvert here. While I don’t practice what I preach, even I know that after you’ve done the whole being of service/responsibilities thing, the only point of humans is meaningful relationships with other humans.

    Steve Craig: I enjoy being at home. I work from home and have as much as possible delivered. I avoid interacting with people, even in a supermarket I use the self checkout. BUT, this is due to Depression so I recognise it’s probably not normal and may not be healthy. I do enjoy spending time on my own or with my dog, even going on holiday or to gigs alone. I could certainly live in a log cabin in the wilderness. One of my favourite books is Walden by Henry Theroux.

    I was rooting for Tampa Bay last night vs. Wash. I have a soft spot in my heart for their coach Todd Bowles, who suffered a few seasons with the Jets. The game was tight (23-20), but Tampa lost it when they couldn’t convert a 3rd and one late in the game, settled for a game-tying field goal, and gave the ball back to Washington who only needed to bleed the clock and kick a FG of their own for the win. We’re set up for a good Wash/Detroit game on Saturday. Go Lions! Here’s Todd with wife Taneka and sons Todd, Jr., Troy, and Tyson.

    We’ll let the Bowleses usher us out tonight. See you tomorrow!

  • If You Live Alone And You Like Fish

    My knowledge of opera is negligible, but I reasoned my way to the answer at 80D in today’s puzzle because the clue was good: “Opera character whose name might be heard in an opera singer’s warm-up.” You got it, right? MIMI. Here’s Rex’s note on it:

    An elaborate but very clever clue. MIMI is the female lead in Puccini’s La Bohème, which is the opera that Guy and Geneviève go to see at the beginning of The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, which I saw on the big screen for the first time just a couple days ago (60th Anniversary 4K restoration). That movie feels silly at first, but it turns into something moving and magical. Also, it just looks Amazing. Every frame. [Whoops, my wife reminds me they saw Carmen in Umbrellas, not La Bohème, my bad.]

    The clue at 122A was nettlesome: Walker with the 2015 triple-platinum hit “Faded”). You can make it quintuple-platinum if you want, I still never heard of it from under my rock. Any Walker other than Alice will be unknown to me. Or maybe Dustin Hoffman? — “Hey, I’m walkin’ here!” I can’t even think of any well-known Walker ballplayers. Oops, (googling) — my mistake — there’s Larry Walker in the HOF, and Rube Walker, old Brooklyn Dodger catcher. Rube was on their 1955 WS-winning team. Hey, and I just learned he was catching on 10/3/1951 when Bobby Thomson hit his famous HR: the “shot heard round the world.” (And now I remember Dixie Walker and Harry Walker, so never mind.)

    Anyway, the puzzle was looking for ALAN Walker, and here’s his duodecuple-platinum song.

    At 22D, “House, slangily,” was the clue for CRIB. Rex shared this video that is hysterical, IMO. I even took the title of today’s post from it.

    In Maureen Dowd’s piece in today’s NYT Opinion section, she remarks on W’s snub of DJT at the Carter funeral: “W. has clearly not changed his opinion of Trump since he famously said, after watching his American Carnage Inaugural speech, “That was some weird shit.”

    As some of you know, my wife Linda has five sisters. Is it misogynistic to say at this point that it explains in part why her dad was a drinkin’ man? Anyway, I used to mention in class from time to time that I majored in brothers-in-law.

    Here’s a story by Danny Klecko that appeared in today’s Met Diary. It’s called “Albertine.”

    Dear Diary:

    What do I know about France?
    What do I know about French bookstores in New York City?
    Not much is the answer to both questions.
    But I do know about sisters.
    And I saw two sisters in the French bookstore.
    It’s not like I asked them: “Are you sisters?”
    I didn’t need to. I could tell by watching them amid a dispute.
    When sisters have conflict, their reactions are unique.
    Sister #1 said something I couldn’t hear.
    Sister #2 replied: “In Malaysia, people don’t mention the tiger for fear it will draw him out.” I’m not sure if this was an allegory, but for a moment, the moment became sharp. Coincidentally, in a moment, after that moment, the sisters hugged each other with their eyes, while allowing each other red carpets of retreat.
    I didn’t end up buying a French book.
    Instead I considered sisters.
    Before leaving in pursuit of ice cream.

    We sent Phil a note on his assignment for that story that just said one word: “Sisters.” He sent this in:

    Jonathan Page, of the Dull Men’s Club (UK), in this post, alerts us to an extraordinary fact we had no idea was true. He writes:

    “I was recently told, whilst in Canterbury for their Christmas market, that British Galloping Horses or Gallopers (carousel) [or merry-go-round] rotate clockwise, whilst U.S. versions rotate anti-clockwise. The Canterbury Gallopers rotated anti-clockwise. Does this mean the ride was imported, or have British manufacturers adopted the U.S. way? Or was I misinformed?”

    Paul Goodwin explained: If all carousels spun the same way the earth would be knocked off its axis and float off into space.

    Extensive research conducted by Owl Chatter (a minute or two of googling) confirms the fact that, indeed, there is a directional difference between European and American carousels, with the former generally going clockwise and the latter anti. We did not discover why. And Canterbury is apparently an exception.

    Looks like Phil may have gotten lucky with this attracive young merry-go-rounder.

    We’re heading down to New Brunswick soon to hear the NJ Symphony. We often grab gourmet hot dogs at Destination Dogs when we’re down there. It’s one of our favorite places. We shared a Brat Favre last time. Good beer too. But we’re leaning towards burgers at the Harvest Moon Brewery today. Yum.

    See you tomorrow!

  • Pride Parade

    Today was the first time I’ve seen KATE SMITH in the puzzle. Remember her? The clue was “Contralto singer known as the “First Lady of Radio.” Philly Flyers fans know all about KS. Her rendition of God Bless America became the team’s good luck anthem, back in their Stanley Cup days. How effective was it? — They erected a statue of her. And the Yankees played GBA during their 7th-inning stretches for close to 20 years. Then all hell broke loose. It emerged that she recorded songs viewed as racist earlier in her career. The statue was removed and GBA stopped playing. Here’s what Wikipedia says about it.

    Smith’s rendition of “God Bless America” was played during the seventh-inning stretch of New York Yankees home games from 2001 until April 2019, when the practice was discontinued amid controversy surrounding her 1931 recordings of “That’s Why Darkies Were Born” and “Pickaninny Heaven”. The following day, the Philadelphia Flyers followed suit, and the statue of Smith outside the Flyers’ arena was removed.

    Her family responded by denying the racism allegations. They cited the satirical nature of the song “That’s Why Darkies Were Born”, and the fact that it was also popularized by Paul Robeson. The song “Pickaninny Heaven” is from the movie Hello, Everybody!, one of whose writers was Fannie Hurst, an advocate for African American equality.

    Get this — In 1969, after Jim Morrison’s arrest in Miami for indecent exposure, Smith performed with The Lettermen, Anita Bryant, and Jackie Gleason in a concert demonstration against indecency, and President Nixon commended the stars’ performances. Et tu, Ralph?

    Jeez Louise. Yesterday Peter of Peter, Paul, and Mary gets smeared, and now Kate Smith. God Bless America.

    “Pride parade participant?” Four letters, but LGBT didn’t work. Turned out to be LION. Nice. And “De-briefed” was a fun clue for PANTSED.

    Here’s a true story that I love because I actually said what I said at the right time rather than only think of it later.

    Caity had to be in the hospital for a few days when she was in her teens, nothing serious, and they gave her the choice of being in a regular double room where the roommate would be any patient — some wheezing old man, for example, or of being in a kids area. Since some of the kids were in for psychological issues, there were some safety rules, like any gifts people brought in had to be cleared with the nurse.

    So we came for visiting hours that night and got on line to have the nurse OK a few small items we brought (blow torch, chain saw, etc.). The couple ahead of us were having some small toys reviewed — cheap little nothings — but the nurse was rejecting each one for various reasons — this edge is sharp, these small pieces can be dangerous, etc. Each rejection was like a physical blow to the mom — not that she cared so much about the little toy, but it was a comment on the seriousness of her daughter’s situation, that she was in danger from it. And after the third rejection, she exploded and exclaimed “Be Nicer!!”

    The nurse was taken aback and said “What do you mean? I’m being nice,” and the dad said, “No, you’re being very officious.”

    Well, the nurse was devastated — it’s a caring profession — and stammered out something about the safety rules being important. And they said, “This is very hard for us, you should show some sympathy.” She hurriedly cleared the next few items and they left.

    Linda and I went up to her next. She looked at us like she had just been to war. Pale and near tears. I looked at her reassuringly, and said: “It’s okay — you don’t have to be nice to us.”

    *****

    Phil, as always, was on hand, and took this shot of her.

    Stories from The Onion:

    U.S. Mint Introduces New Controversial John Wilkes Booth Pennies

    Biden Wanders Into Flames

    I’m thrilled to be moving a nice dollhouse I had in my office at school into Zoey’s room for her ninth birthday Monday. Here it is from the outside. Once it’s set up, I’ll try to share some shots of the furnishings with you.

    Good night. See you tomorrow!

  • From Yankton To Wichita

    Henry Curran, of the Dull Men’s Club (UK), poses the following:

    Could you settle a dispute between my wife and me please as to whether my conduct in the situation I’ll describe was appropriate.

    Some years ago we were driving along a quiet road in Devon and I saw a man standing in front of his car, the bonnet of which was open, and holding the ends of a pair of jump leads, the other ends of which appeared to be connected to his car. It was obvious what he needed. He knew what he was doing and had the requisite equipment. He was just lacking a supply of electricity such as the one I happened to be driving. I pulled up with my bonnet as close to his as possible, and pulled the bonnet release lever. He opened the bonnet, connected his jump leads, started his car with no difficulty, disconnected the leads, closed my bonnet and gave me a thumbs up. I reversed then drove away giving him a cheery wave. We didn’t exchange any words and kept our communication to a thumbs up gesture and a cheery wave.

    Now to my mind this was a model of friendly efficiency. It was helpful and avoided any unnecessary excitement. It maintained as much dullness as possible and both got him on his way and allowed us to continue on ours with only the very briefest of interruptions.

    My wife feels that it was heartless and unfriendly. She thinks I should have got out, asked him how he was and had a bit of a natter. I’m not sure what we should have nattered about though.

    So please, your views… was this friendly efficiency or cold-hearted rudeness?

    There were 134 comments. As always, I will choose from among the dullest.

    Bob Farrer: Divorce her.

    Liam Power: Good grief, human interaction? No thanks!

    Daniel North: “Some years ago?” Is she still going on about it?

    Bt Humble: Just say you’re sorry. You’re a married man, you should know this by now.

    Fraser Mackie: Like a Haiku in its simplicity, yet deeply meaningful. Hat doffed.

    Michael James: The epitome of the difference between men and women right there!

    Ruth Hunt: My husband would have done exactly the same…..even if it had been me that he helped.

    Jon Bird: Imagine if it had a been a charming woman who was holding the jump leads and you helped start the car, all the while chatting about this and that, and she gives you a sexy ”thank youuu..” when done. Would wifey had been so keen on communication..?

    Chris Ball: I’d have been very wary of approaching him as he was obviously just wanting to start something!

    Alan Briggs: I’m too dull to read all of that….However in my experience I will side with the wife. I don’t know the situation but I learnt that the wife is always right.

    Linda Hurst: It seems men get far more chatty when out and about once they retire! Now 2 women would probably have exchanged life histories in that time.

    Anne Warner: Definitely! I come home from taking the dog for a walk and come back knowing a complete stranger’s life history. Hubbie takes the dog and probably just says ‘morning’ to anyone he meets. He says I like to know the ins and outs of a duck’s arse!

    Robin Armstrong: That’s the most perfect human interaction I’ve ever heard about.

    Sam Shamus Mwaura: Why couldn’t she get out and natter? If she feels your nonverbal but completely functional level of communication is lacking, perhaps, as your life partner and spouse, she could handle that side of things.

    The risk though, is that the other chap’s wife would step out and then you would feel obliged to, and next thing you know you’re going on English Heritage castle tours, and then they try to induct you into a questionable religious society, and will be coming round yours every week for a natter and catchup. Stay in the car… or drive on and don’t make eye contact if you want to play it extra safe.

    Regarding the above — the best definition I’ve heard of the difference between a man and a woman is this: If it came down to a choice between catching a fly ball or saving the life of a baby, a woman will go for the baby without even considering if there are men on base.

    A special Owl Chatter shout out to Riley Leonard, Notre Dame quarterback who led the Irish to a dramatic win over Penn State in the Orange Bowl last night. He’s from Fairhope, Alabama, as is his girlfriend Molly, who was his high school sweetheart. Yup, the quarterbacks always get the pretty ones. She’s in college at Auburn. After the Penn State game, he was desperate to find her. He was holding four oranges in his hands and was intent on giving her one. “She loves oranges,” he explained.

    This poem by Ted Kooser is one of my favorites from Winter Morning Walks.

    Horsetail cirrus miles above,
    stretched all the way from Yankton to Wichita.
    I stoop on the road, small man in coat and cap,
    tying his shoe.

    A curled, brown leaf lies on its back,
    lifting its undistinguished edges
    into the glory of frost.

    Good night, Chatterheads! So glad you could pop by.

  • Blowin’ In The Wind

    DJT surprised us by exhibiting adroit leadership qualities in the face of the devastating California fires. Just kidding, of course. Here’s what he said:

    “Governor Gavin Newscum (sic) refused to sign the water restoration declaration put before him that would have allowed millions of gallons of water to flow daily into many parts of California, including the areas that are currently burning.”

    Newscum, sorry, Newsome, being a little busy actually dealing with the crisis, kept his response short: “There is no such document as the water restoration declaration.”

    The remaining owl terms (just 3, not 4):

    1. Gillhooter: Barn owl. Gill is short for the name Gillian, and means “girl” or “sweetheart.” Gillhooter has been, used for male or female (usually barn) owls, however, as can jenny howlett. Here’s our little sweetheart now: Awww.

      2. Strix: Owls who lack ear tufts, including the tawny owl and the barred owl. Yup, no ear tufts on this fella (or gal).

      3. Saw-whet: a very small harsh-voiced owl that is largely dark brown above and chestnut streaked with white beneath. It was named by someone who thought the owl’s piping, tooting call sounded like a saw being filed. Try to stay on this one’s good side.

      The clue at 32D today was “Notable site of enlightenment.” I was pretty sure the answer was CARNEGIE DELI, but I was wrong. Ever hear of the BODHI TREE? It’s a large sacred fig tree known as a tree of awakening or enlightenment. The expression “I don’t give a fig” comes from it. (No it doesn’t.)

      It was under this tree that Buddha attained enlightenment back around 500 BCE. The original no longer exists, but there are others, including a descendant of the original. Here’s one: note the heart-shaped leaves.

      At 22D, Singer Gomez, was SELENA. It hasn’t all been roses for SG. She grew up very poor and was diagnosed with lupus about ten years ago. In 2017 she received a kidney transplant. During the operation, an artery broke and emergency surgery was conducted to build a new artery using a vein from her leg. Kinehora, she seems okay today.

      The puzzle made me draw on all of my knowledge of Italian today, which doesn’t go much beyond the menu at Nonna’s in Florham Park. “Italian for baked,” COTTA, crossed “Entire in Italian,” TUTTO.

      Peter from Peter, Paul, and Mary died on Tuesday at age 86 in Manhattan. Paul is the only one left: he just turned 87 and must be getting nervous. Mary was 72 when she died back in 2009. Our Phil was very close with Mary back in the day, and dug this old shot of her out of an old scrapbook for us.

      I only learned about the blemish in Peter’s life today from the obit in the Times. I had no idea he went to jail for “taking indecent liberties” with a 14-year-old girl who came to his dressing room for an autograph in 1969. Yikes! The Times implies it played a role in the trio’s breakup. He was pardoned by Jimmy Carter in 1981 but the blemish remained, and a performance by him was canceled in 2019 due to Metoo protests.

      Peter married Marybeth McCarthy in 1969, a niece of Pres. candidate Eugene McCarthy. They divorced, but remarried just two years ago. He is survived by Marybeth, their two kids, and a grandchild, each of whom had a hammer.

      I’m going to try to remember him without the smudge. Rest in peace, Peter.

      Good night everybody. See you tomorrow.