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Kinderdijk
A special welcome to planet Earth for our new grand-niece! She is either Beatrice Maeven or Maeven Beatrice: TBD, named to honor the memory of my sister Bonnie and my bro-in-law extraordinaire Mitch. Her older sister Cordelia Anastasia seems accepting, at the moment.
Two of my sister’s gorgeous quilts have also snuck into the photo: Pretty devious, Bon.
We are out to sea, at present, due in at Kinderdijk in about two hours (1pm). Our afternoon excursion on foot should bring us to our first major glimpse of windmills: Nineteen well-preserved 18th-century mills. I don’t think the tulips will be on full display this early in the Spring. We’ll see.
I tried the smoked-salmon eggs benedict this morning — delish! Checked on some sports results over b’kfst too. Paige Buckets dropped 40 on Oklahoma and UCONN is down to the Elite Eight. The Yankees obliterated Milwaukee with 9 dingers in a 20-9 win, three by Judge. Maxie (Fried) only made it through 4.2 innings, though, and did not get the win. Boo. And the team made 5 errors. The Nats have hit the ground limping, dropping their first two to Philly. Good starting pitching, but dreadful relief has been their story. It’s early, of course — things will get much worse.
Here’s PB, at the top of her game when it counts the most, the hallmark of greatness.
Lost in the hubbub — yesterday’s post was Owl Chatter’s #750, proving the naysayers completely right — what a load of nonsense. There’s apparently no end to it. Special thanks to staff photographer Phil; administrator George “Isn’t He In Jail Yet?” Santos, whose sole responsibility is keeping the fridge stocked with diet soda; fashion and style consultant de Armas; and sports consultant the exquisite Sarah Fillier, who assures us she’s making great progress learning the basic rules of baseball — the pitcher for one team throws to the batters of the other team: there’s never an exception to that rule — without whose tiresome, I mean tireless, efforts Owl Chatter would probably be a lot better, let’s face it.
Here’s SF, wearing one of her sexy hockey outfits — Hey, take it easy on us fellas, girl!
The windmills at Kinderdijk this morning were a trip highlight. I probably know more about windmills now than 99% of the Jews currently living on Earth. There is something spectacular about the sight of them dotting the windswept too-early-for-tulips plain. One bad note — the wind blew my feckin’ hat off and into the water. Arggggh. I’ll live.
We sailed into Rotterdam in the afternoon and had about an hour to stroll around. That was about an hour too much, although it was good to get another walk in. You can skip R’dam. We’re crossing into Belgium tonight and will see Aunt Twerp tomorrow.
Dinner was excellent — a seafood stew — so fresh and tasty. Incredible apple thingie for dessert. Three of the desserts so far have been over the top delish. Food has met or exceeded expectations. Also enjoyed a German Kolsch beer our wonderful waiter recommended. It’s a light crisp beer — perfectly paired with the seafood. We love our waiter and waitress, and the young woman who makes up our room is so sweet and cute you could plotz.
We are halfway through the cruise.
Before signing off tonight, let’s have a short visit with our friends at the Dull Men’s Club, who, btw, are far less dull than whoever joins us at our meals here. But, don’t start me — we managed to dine in peace today.
Jane Sutherland posted the following:
So last night me and my hubby had a conversation about sand…..I mentioned a type of sand in a discussion about the dog’s paws being irritated by it and the hubster then deemed it necessary to list the different types of sand that there are: Apparently beach sand is different to play sand, there’s also building sand, sharp sand, dry sand, coarse sand, masonry sand (at this point I switched off but he carried on)
……the list is endless!! Even by his standards this was an exceptionally dull conversation!!Here are some of the duller of the 30 comments:
John Scotland: Did you know that there are Fifty Grades of Shale?
Andrew Marshfield: Did he mention a sandwich?
Steve Craig: I thought everyone knew this??
Sterling Chamberlain: So the conversation was fine for a while, then a little coarse?
Iain Townsend: Mortarfied!
Nick Taylor: The sand is always sandier on the other side of the beach.
Shelyn Michelle Ponsford: at least you know that he checkin out the sand on the beach when he there with you.
See you tomorrow!
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Brouwtoren
Today we are in Nijmegen, a much bigger Dutch town than Enkhuizen, with a pop of 185,000 and a bustling marketplace L and I will revisit after lunch. I’d like to find some cheese to bring back for Caity, coffee beans for Sam, and beer for me. A young woman on the waitstaff talked me into a second beer the other night: a very smooth dark German beer that starts with a K.
Nijmegen’s history goes all the way back to Year Zero — 2000 years! Roman times. It’s the oldest town in Holland, although Maastricht claims that honor too, the guide said. It’s just 10 miles from the German border and British pilots bombed it by accident, killing 800 people and damaging much property during WWII. Horrible. About that many Jews were also deported from the town by the Nazis after they took over. There is a small site of remembrance and an annual ceremony commemorating their loss. If you look closely, you can see the Jewish star in the fence surrounding the woman who symbolizes the deported.
Ever see these little black things on the outer walls of older buildings and wonder what they are?
They are anchors, we learned, that help stabilize the building. They go through the outer wall of the building and are anchored to an interior floor, thus literally holding up the outer wall.
It’s a gorgeous sunny day. We’ll walk around town on our own after lunch, and I’ll no doubt get us hopelessly lost again.
This poem by Ada Limon is called The Raincoat. It was yesterday’s Poem of the Day from The Poetry Foundation, no doubt in honor of her birthday (she’s 49). I vaguely remember sharing it on OC once before, but that’s okay. It’s worth a second shot. Got kids?
When the doctor suggested surgery
and a brace for all my youngest years,
my parents scrambled to take me
to massage therapy, deep tissue work,
osteopathy, and soon my crooked spine
unspooled a bit, I could breathe again,
and move more in a body unclouded
by pain. My mom would tell me to sing
songs to her the whole forty-five-minute
drive to Middle Two Rock Road and forty-
five minutes back from physical therapy.
She’d say that even my voice sounded unfettered
by my spine afterward. So I sang and sang,
because I thought she liked it. I never
asked her what she gave up to drive me,
or how her day was before this chore. Today,
at her age, I was driving myself home from yet
another spine appointment, singing along
to some maudlin but solid song on the radio,
and I saw a mom take her raincoat off
and give it to her young daughter when
a storm took over the afternoon. My god,
I thought, my whole life I’ve been under her
raincoat thinking it was somehow a marvel
that I never got wet.
The sweetest of Rex’s commenters is Lewis, who always finds something nice to say about even the worst of the puzzles. He noted something about yesterday’s constructor, Zhouqin Burnikel.
Zhouqin’s last Times puzzle came a week after Helene hit. It was like the Twilight Zone here. And what do I remember most? Everybody was out of their homes helping everybody else. “What can I do for you?” “How can I help?” “What do you need?”
What I learned was that beneath a world that might feel dark at times, there lies a well of light that feels infinite.
This brings me solace and hope, and reminds me of Ghandi’s words: “When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love has always won. There have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time, they can seem invincible, but in the end they always fall. Think of it – always.”
Larry Josephson was an old radio personality. He once said: Discussing the Mahatma with a three-year-old is like taking Gandhi from a baby.
The dining area on our ship is huge, but there are no isolated two-person tables. L and I have been seating ourselves way in the back — the staff there is very friendly (the waiter sings much of the time and the waitress is adorable) — and it seemed to offer the best chance of avoiding having to socialize. It should be obvious to you by now that I am an inveterate misanthrope and dread having to make idiotic small talk with strangers. It worked for a while, but the last few meals we were hit. I fail to see the appeal of engaging in idiotic chit-chat while I am trying to focus on over-eating. And yet that seems to be a big part of what the rest of the folks on the cruise enjoy. Where are you from? Is this your first cruise with Viking? OMG — Man the lifeboats!! Get me outta here!!
Here’s the start of a poem I elected NOT to share with you in Owl Chatter:
You wanted to be so hungry, you would break into branches,
and have to choose between the starving month’snineteenth, twenty-first, and twenty-third evenings.
The liturgy begins to echo itself and why does it matter?
My phone led us to a local craft beer shop where the very nice young man offered some friendly guidance. It seemed pricey, so I just bought two items, one an amber he recommended that you can see in tiny print was brewed right here in Nijmegen. I’ll have it as a treat on a special night in Jersey. The other is an IPA also brewed here that he recommended.
Burp! See you tomorrow!
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To Herr Is Human . . .
Very enjoyable puzzle yesterday, unless you mind being “mooned.” Yes, I think the constructor, Brad Lively, mooned me! At 24A, “Provide a brief glimpse?” was DROP TROU. And just above it, at 14D, “Nincompoop” was ASS. Very funny, Lively — now pull up your pants.
Here’s our tour group partaking in a little “train mooning” yesterday.
43A was good too, IMO. The clue was “[Can’t talk, eating],” and the answer was OMNOMNOM.
Speaking of eating, breakfast today on our cruise was terrif. We opted for the buffet and took scrambled eggs, potatoes, mushrooms, sauteed carrots, sausage, with freshly baked rolls, smoked salmon with cream cheese and toppings, and muffins. Good coffee and OJ as bevs. Not used to being pampered like this. The late Steve Post could never have survived a cruise. He’d bite your head off if you said “Good Morning” to him. The staff is so cheery and sunny it would kill him.
One of my favorite constructors, the beautiful and brilliant Wyna Liu, did not disappoint with yesterday’s New Yorker puzzle. Started off wonderfully at 1A: “Generic term for a scrunchie or ponytail holder.” Answer: HAIR THING. Also learned “Word coined to refer to the fear of being without one’s cellphone” is NOMOPHOBIA. And how about this? You know the cyrillic alphabet, used in Russian, e.g.? It’s named after Saint CYRIL. Here’s Ms. Liu.
Getting back to the “moon” for a moment, a few years ago I had to get a shot at the doc’s office and I started rolling up my sleeve. But the nurse — a wonderful Black woman — said, “No, honey, this one goes in the rear.” So I said, “Okay, but I have to worn you, mine isn’t as cute as my grandson Leon’s.” So she chuckled and gave me my shot and then said: “It’s pretty cute.” Now, that’s a memory you take to the grave with you.
We had a free afternoon in Am’dam so I plotted a route for us to get from the ship to a big art museum about two miles away (The Rijksmuseum). We got there beautifully but on the way home I got us so lost it was ridiculous. I didn’t think we needed my phone because the route was so direct. Really only one turn which I was certain I remembered. We barely made it back for dinner. Walked ten miles total, though — great city.
The town is awash in bikes. There are 1.6 bikes per resident. The guide said he has two bikes, but most people have 1.6. (That was his joke.)
The museum was a gorgeous enormous building with grounds. I sent a shot of this painting to Caity — a 17th century Zoey, but Riverdale Joe rightly noted Zoey is way prettier.
And this one you should recognize or demand a refund of your college tuition.
The note next to it pointed out that Remmy (to his friends) painted it so that the men are looking up to see you (the viewer) — as if you were intruding upon them. It was his way of involving the viewer. Sounds like he was a bit of a card. We also saw some gorgeous Vermeers. Great art is generally lost on me, but it was neat to see this stuff on its home turf.
“To herr is human,” my bro said without fail whenever the topic of herring came up. You never know what will trigger fond memories; it might as well be herring. On our first guided excursion — a stroll through Am’dam, we passed a herring (or “haring”) stand. How great is that? A man from our group jumped over to it and soon returned with a roll stuffed with herring. He wolfed it down, noted Avi droolingly. Note to self: Make sure to get a herring sandwich if/when we pass a herring stand later on the trip. Sure enough, on our walk back from the museum I exclaimed: A herring stand!! We rushed over but were told, to my horror, that he was out of herring. My heart sank. There were other fish behind the counter. I said “What’s closest to herring?” He smiled ruefully and said: “There’s really nothing like herring.”
But, get this: At the end of our walk in Enkhuizen today the guide said he was told to get us back in time for a fish trial. I said to Linda: “Guilty!” But it wasn’t that kind of trial. A cafe near our ship produced waves of herring and some other fish, the latter breaded and fried, and it was wonderful. I had “seconds, thirds, and fifths,” to quote a line from — anyone remember? — The Boys in the Band. I could see God’s purpose in denying us the herring yesterday — how often does that happen?
The herring was so fresh and delicate — not salty. Our penance was sticking to a light salad for lunch, although the waitress talked us into sharing an outstanding warm apple crumb thingie a la mode for dessert. One last herring memory, if I may. A line from Bellow’s Herzog: “Stuff your face with herring, Shapiro, and mind your own fucking business.” (Or something close to that.)
Herring played a large role in Enkhuizen’s early, prosperous period. You can see three herring on the town’s coat of arms set in the facade of this public building.
This was the view from our “stateroom” this morning, and we’re headed back to sea for our next destination in about 30 min. So we’ll be able to have dinner overlooking the water.
Let’s end with a few items from The Onion tonight. See you tomorrow!
Cardinals Begin Placing Stickers On Vatican Relics They Want When Pope Francis Dies
Pete Hegseth Blows Into Breathalyzer To Unlock Phone
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Daddio
Broadcasting today from Stateroom 102, aboard the Viking VE River Cruiser currently docked in Amsterdam. That’s right — you heard me =- Amsterdam in Europe, like with the Euros and everything. We’re on the Tulips and Windmills 10-day cruise. The room is pretty tight — we should have never invited George along — he brought, like, six large suitcases. Phil’s not a problem — he’ll be passed out in the lounge if he doesn’t totter overboard. We took a nice walk into parts of A’dam on our own while waiting for the room. Very nice walk. And we plan to glom on to a guided tour in about an hour. Dinner’s not till 7. Had my first Heineken within 5 hours of landing — it’s complimentary with lunch and dinner. Burp!
The seven-hour flight went well, as far as unbearable experiences go. I watched part of an old Chris Rock special and two movies: Daddio, with Dakota Johnson and Sean Penn (two state-related names) — very good! It’s just the two of them — driver and passenger — talking in a cab. Electric. And Brooklyn, with Saoirse Ronan — also good! Here are Dakota and Sean.
And here’s Saoirse, wearing something either by Louis Vuitton or the Scott Paper Towel Company. Just roll it around me, hon — we’re late!
From The Onion:
Death Of Chopped-Up Woman Ruled A Suicide
Two long walks around Am’dam. Great city. Tons of canals: it’s the Venice of the North. But we won’t be able to see the Anne Frank House or the Van Gogh Museum because all the tickets for them are Van Gone.
The puzzle was a paean to baseball, no doubt to honor opening day. Answers led you to phrases that were missing, in order, first, second, third, and home. For example, for the clue “I’ve done this before,” the answer was NOT MY RODEO, i.e., leaving out FIRST.
Son Volt then shared this tune by Blue Rodeo.
For home the clue was “Rave over, metaphorically,” and the answer was WRITE ABOUT, i.e., omitting home. It caused Commenter Nancy to share this story:
I was 10-years-old and into maybe my 5th week at my 8-week sleep-away camp, when I got this postcard from my mother:
Dear Nancy,
I am having a wonderful time in NY.
Love, MomShe then went on to chastise me. Evidently, every postcard that I had sent her in the past 4 weeks — camp counsellors made us send a postcard home every week — had said exactly the same thing: and only that one thing: “I am having a wonderful time at camp.”
The following year, when I was 11, my postcards home were newsier.
Rex mentioned Keir Dullea today which reminded me of Noel Coward’s line after meeting him briefly: “Keir Dullea, gone tomorrow.”
Tired from the overnight flight. See you next time!
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Summer In Brooklyn
It’s the birthday of the poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti (1919, Yonkers). He died in 2021, just shy of his 102nd birthday. In the Navy during WWII, he was the commander of a 110-foot ship. He said: “Any smaller than us you weren’t a ship, you were a boat. But we could order anything a battleship could order so we got an entire set of the Modern Library. We had all the classics stacked everywhere all over the ship, including the john. We also got a lot of medicinal brandy the same way.”
Here he is in front of his bookstore in SF.
This poem by LF is called “11.” [The spacing works well if you are reading it on a laptop-sized screen. Your phone may screw with it.]
Fortune
has its cookies to give outwhich is a good thing
since it’s been a long time since
that summer in Brooklyn
when they closed off the street
one hot day
and theFIREMEN
turned on their hoses
and all the kids ran out in it
in the middle of the street
and there were
maybe a couple dozen of us
out there
with the water squirting up
to thesky
and all over
usthere was maybe only six of us
kids altogether
running around in our
barefeet and birthday
suits
and I remember Molly but thenthe firemen stopped squirting their hoses
all of a sudden and went
back in
their firehouse
and
started playing pinochle again
just as if nothing
had ever
happened
while I remember Molly
looked at me andran in
because I guess really we were the only ones there
I try to solve the Monday NYT puzzles using only the down clues. I usually get pretty far before caving, but today I made it to end. Yay. It’s not that you don’t work on the acrosses at all. You can still figure them out based on the letters you fill in from the downs. You just don’t read the across clues. E.g., after filling in a few downs today it was easy to see 20A was BATHROOM SCALE. Here’s a good way to use one, BTW.
One word I was surprised to learn I knew was POMADE. Its clue was “Greasy hair ointment.” Yuck.
I gasped (not really) when I saw 56D: “Toy bricks” was LEGOS. It’s a big point of contention — what the plural is. The Lego people want you to say “Lego bricks.” Yet sh*tloads (brickloads?), of folks just say Legos, like the constructor today. The acronym AFOL was used in a comment which I looked up. It’s “adult fans of Lego.” There’s a Youtube AFOL channel devoted to all sorts of Lego stuff.
There’s some neat Lego art out there.
Try to not let your cat eat any Lego bricks, though. There’s no telling what may happen.
We had a blast with Caity, Danny, and Zo at Lianna’s HS production of Les Miz yesterday. It’s such an emotional production and the kids really threw their hearts and souls into it. The snippet below doesn’t fully capture the intensity. Lianna was in the crew and they put in long hours to make it all come together. We are so proud of her.
The performance we saw was the final one, and the emotional release for the cast when it ended was overwhelming. With the audience giving them a standing ovation, many cast members were openly weeping: more boys than girls. We have enjoyed many fine HS productions over the years, but this one carried everyone involved — cast, crew, and audience — into an extraordinary place. Bravo Morristown High School!
Astute OC readers will recall I shared a post from the Dull Men’s Club (UK) yesterday on escalators in the London Underground that have the handrails moving at a slightly different speed from the stairs. Some comments (27) have since been posted and here is a selection of the dullest.
Tim Robinson: Imagine the stairs as being like the rim of a wheel and the handrail is like the outer edge of the tyre, they are both rotating in sync but the outer edge has longer to travel so the linear speed is more. When the handrail gets to the bottom it has further to travel to get back to the top then the stairs does. (Sorry not sure that makes much sense. I can see it in my head but it’s difficult to describe.)
David Mortimer: I think what you mean is the circumference of the hand rail is larger than the foot plate. I don’t think this precludes the functional surfaces travelling at the same linear speed. I think the extra distance the hand rail needs to travel would simply mean you’d be holding a different part on each escalation. And that wouldn’t matter to the user.
[What?]
Vince Peterbilt: The invention of the escalator was a US/European collaboration with one team working on the steps and the other on the handrails. Unfortunately one team was working in imperial measurements while the other used the metric system, and despite their best efforts when they converted the calculation to match they were a bit off and thus the handrails always move at a different speed to the steps.
Mark Daniels: It is for safety. If the hand rail is moving faster than the steps, there will be a tendancy to be pulled forward very slightly, thus ensuring you do not fall backwards. This is very important on up escalators and causes no problem on down escalators. Most people will re-adjust their hand position if the difference becomes significant without even realising.
Here’s a young woman remarking on the divergent handrail speed to her beau.
See you tomorrow!
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Baby, You Picking Up A Package?
If ever there was a story tailor-made for Owl Chatter . . .
From the Associated Press:
An Orthodox Jewish passenger says a United Airlines pilot forcibly removed him from an airplane bathroom while he was experiencing constipation, exposing his genitalia to other flyers during a flight from Tulum, Mexico, to Houston.
Hard to “unsee” something like that. (When many dems were trying to ignore the polls that showed Kamala was in trouble, James Carville said it was like accidentally seeing your grandmother naked — hard to “unsee.”)
Needless to say, the poor fellow, Yisroel Liebb, is from Jersey. He had been in the restroom, fruitlessly, so to speak, for over 30 minutes. After repeatedly assuring the pilot he was “finishing up,” the pilot lost his patience, broke the lock on the bathroom door, and hauled Liebb out with his pants still down. He was “helped off” the plane in handcuffs “lent to him” by Homeland Security folks and missed his connecting flight. He’s suing the airline.
Liebb! — you need more fiber, boychik. Your mother never told you about prunes?
United eventually booked him on a flight home for free, but he did the math and complained the cost of his hotel and food for the overnight stay exceeded the savings.
Oy, Liebb! Let it go. No wonder you’re all in a knot.
Craven GOP Congresspersons are not just fearing being “primaried” if they show a little spine and oppose Trump’s methodical, illegal, and immoral dismantling of the government. They (and federal judges) fear that they and their family members will be killed. There’s an underlying mob element to the current goings-on. (Hang Mike Pence!) Remember the attack on Nancy P’s hubby? It started before Trump, IMO. Remember when a violent mob attacked the location where Florida officials were counting Gore v. Bush votes and successfully halted the counting? Trump has just embraced that approach and made it more vicious and personal.
This is Jessica Aber. She was 43.
She was a brilliant U.S. Attorney, in charge of a staff of 300 in the Eastern District of Virginia. She was appointed by Biden and confirmed unanimously by the Senate. A rising star, she resigned her post the day before Trump took office. She was found dead in her home yesterday. An investigation is underway. In, we hope, unrelated news, Trump has terminated the security the government was providing for Kamala and Hilary. What took him so long? The savings will help pay for his golf outings, which already cost over $18 million since he re-took office, setting a pace that will exceed the $152 mil spent on golf during his first term. Of course, Biden’s inflation is responsible for some of the increase.
With just three days more I’d have just
About learned the entire score to Aida.That’s a lyric from the song “Verdi Cries,” by 10,000 Maniacs. The woman is on vacation and every day hears the opera music that emanates from the hotel room next door. AIDA is the “Doomed Ethiopian princess” who was in the puzzle today at 6D. It’s a good tune. She steals the guy’s pastries!
The folks in Crossworld I’ve run across at the few tournaments I’ve attended and through “the commentariat” for Rex’s blog mostly seem very nice. Mensches and menschettes. Several have put together a fundraiser you can learn about at the following site: https://fund.nnaf.org/campaign/these-puzzles-fund-abortion-5/c661718. For a $25 donation, you receive a bunch of puzzles. Check it out.
A new feature of Owl Chatter: Portions of poems that did not get past the gate (i.e., OC rejects):
This way of seeing
senses cave,where darkness, backlit,
hisses sparks overash-hued crow
wings peakingsickle sharp,
from river glyphs[It lost me early, but “river glyphs?” Isn’t a glyph that thing with a node you don’t want the cancer to reach? Why is it in the river? Wait, is that “glymph?” That’s even funnier. Maybe lose the “g”? Never mind.]
From today’s Met Diary in the NYT, by Oona Pritchard.
Dear Diary:
After days of going back and forth with the Postal Service about the whereabouts of a package I was expecting from my mother, I went to the post office at the corner of 11th Street and Fourth Avenue just after it opened at 9 a.m.
As I waited empty-handed in line behind several people who were holding packages, a middle-aged woman in a postal uniform approached me.
“Baby, are you picking up a package?” she asked.
I nodded.
She motioned me with her finger out of the line, and we walked toward the back of the post office.
“Package pickup isn’t usually until 10 a.m.,” she said, looking at my confirmation slip. “But let me see what I can do for you.”
She walked off and then reappeared two minutes later with a large brown box.
“Here you go, baby,” she said, handing me the package. “You have a good day now.”
I thanked her and turned to leave. As I did, I heard her speaking to another person in line: “Baby, you picking up a package?”
The novelty of Rex’s blog (Rex Parker Does The NY Times Crossword Puzzle) is that it views the puzzle as something to be assessed like a novel or other creative work and not just to solve and discard. The creativity that goes into the construction of a puzzle is unique and, in the hands of the better constructors, brilliant. Rex has his own curmudgeonly approach to the puzzles, and then the commenters chime in. Here are some thoughts two commenters posted yesterday.
Kitshef noted: One of my least favorite classes of comments are of the form of “anyone who knows anything about [insert subject] will know about [insert name or thing].”
They tend to go wrong in one of two ways. Either the subject is laughably obscure (“anyone who knows anything about European calligraphy traditions will know about insular script”). Or the subject is well-known but the assertion is questionable (“anyone who knows anything about baseball will know Glenn Gulliver”).
And pabloinnh quipped: Well said. This is a variation of the “I know this and everyone else should too,” which is of course ludicrous, unless the person who knows it is me.
Attendance was up for today’s Sirens game vs Ottawa at the Prudential Center in Newark to close to 5,000, but the Sirens lost the second of two must-win games and their playoff hopes are pretty much doomed. Wait till next year girls!!
Abby Roque had a good game, scoring one of our goals in the 5-2 loss. Abby is a Michigan girl by birth, although she earned her marketing degree at Wisconsin. She is a member of the Wahnapitae First Nation and was the first indigenous person to play for the U.S. women’s national ice hockey team.
Don’t let that sweet punim fool you. She’ll knock your teeth out with a stick without a moment’s hesitation.
Wayne Stallwood of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) posted this just about an hour ago so there are no comments yet. (Can’t wait! Will report back.)
Take the walk from Liverpool St Station Tube station entrance to The Elizabeth line and you encounter a set of escalators.
The handrails on these move slightly faster than the steps. About an arm’s length on each over the duration of the ascent/descent
What’s with that? It’s a gear ratio and should be fixed right…how can it be wrong?
I’ll take better measuring equipment on my next journey, but it seems to me that one of the things I’d concentrate on getting right if I was building an escalator, is making the handrail move at the same speed as the steps.
[Yeah, me too. If I was building an escalator. “Better measuring equipment.” You mean, better than your arm?]
See you tomorrow Chatterheads! Thanks for popping by.
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Ana’s Gowns
We’re back from a quick jaunt out to Michigan. May not have been a good idea to leave Phil and George in charge of Owl Chatter headquarters, but the damage doesn’t seem too bad.
What a nice surprise to open our mail, find the New Yorker issue of 3/24, and see our own culture and style consultant Ana on the back of the cover in an ad for Louis Vuitton. Nice going, Armas!
Some of you fashionistas may recall she wore an LV gown to the Oscars in 2023 (when she was a Best Actress nominee for Blonde) that took over 1,000 hours to create.
This year, as a presenter, she wore wore a black column gown with a silver halter neckline. Ana, of course, could slay an army wearing a potato sack.
From The Onion:
Archeological Dig Uncovers Ancient Race of Skeleton People.
“This is an incredible find,” said Dr. Christian Hutchins, Oxford University archaeologist and head of the dig team. “Imagine: At one time, this entire area was filled with spooky, bony, walking skeletons.”
“The implications are staggering,” Hutchins continued. “We now know that the skeletons we see in horror films and on Halloween are not mere products of the imagination, but actually lived on Earth.”
So we see that the formerly powerful Paul Weiss law firm fell all over itself rushing to kiss Trump’s ring. Sorry, I mean ass. So much for the legal community banding together to save America. So it comes down to the NBA as the only remaining force in this country powerful enough to take on the rogue administration. Stay tuned.
Kudos to an amazing young woman, Becca Schneider, whose brilliant one-woman play we saw today in West Orange at a neat local theater: the Luna Stage. Becca is the niece of long-time Owl Chatter friend Ellen.
The play is called Trich (pronounced trick), and is about Becca’s struggle with a condition called trichotillomania, a compulsive desire to pull out one’s hair. It’s a mental disorder that is overwhelmingly debilitative. The play is utterly absorbing and was a perfect blend of comic moments with searing personal struggles. If you get the chance to see it, run. It has won awards and has been staged here and there for the last few years.
There was a question/answer period following the performance. Since I am committed to missing no opportunity to make a fool of myself, I asked whether trichotillomania has ever appeared in the NYT crossword puzzle. Becca said she does the puzzle daily (how great is that!) and to her knowledge it has never appeared. (At 16 letters in length it would require a enlarged daily grid (not uncommon), or a Sunday.)
Phil was with us and caught this nice shot of Becca.
And speaking of the puzzle, I think I was naticked today! That’s when two terms cross and you’re helpless if you don’t know them. 30D was “The “magic” in some mushrooms,” which is PSILOPSYBIN. Are you kidding me? And the cross at 53A was “Company that owns Words With Friends,” which is ZYNGA.
BTW, the term “natick” for such a situation was coined by Rex and caught on widely in Crossworld. It came about because he was caught between not knowing the Massachusetts town, Natick, and the first two initials of N.C. Wyeth, the artist. They stand for Newell Convers. Just two days ago, in the Butler Art Institute on the campus of Youngstown (OH) State College, we came across this painting — to my delight, of course.
The puzzle saluted Langston Hughes today. At 39A: “Classic Langston Hughes poem quoted on a wall of the National Museum of African American History and Culture.” The poem is I TOO.
I, too, sing America.
I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.Tomorrow,
I’ll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody’ll dare
Say to me
“Eat in the kitchen,”
Then.Besides,
They’ll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed,—I, too, am America.
Paige B. and the other UCONN women made mincemeat of Arkansas State in their first game of the Big Tourney: 103-34. Ouch. It was 66-16 at the half. The Lady Huskies were led by Azzi Fudd, no relation to Elmer, who, in addition to scoring 27 points, had seven azzizts.
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Roam Most Near Me
Broadcasting from Room 316 in the Sleep Inn in Youngstown, Ohio. Quite comfortable for only $65 a night. (Even Linda thought so.) We had a fun BBQ dinner at Barry Dyngles in Austintown OH (on Raccoon Road!) . The waiter told us they’ve been smoking meats since 2007. I had an ice-cold ale from a local brewery: Birdfish Brewing in Columbiana OH. A hazy IPA called “Too Hip to Sip.” A touch strong for me at 7.5% alcohol, but I enjoyed it. We ordered the “Pick 4.” Four generous portions of meats plus two sides (for only $32!). We went with two types of ribs (KC and baby back, yum), chicken, and brisket (with baked beans and a baked potato). Couldn’t finish. Staggered back to the inn drunk and bloated. Life is good.
If I may go on about the cuisine, lunch was a treat too. Jimmy’s Italian Specialties in Y’town. It started out as an Italian gift shop back in 1974 and eventually expanded into an enormous shop with Italian specialties (oils, sauces, wines, cheeses, home-baked goods, etc.) with a counter in the back where you place a lunch order (they close at 5). Linda had a terrific meatball sub and I tried the Pollo Diavolo “brick.” While waiting on line, I asked the very heavily tattooed couple behind us what a brick was. The guy answered by forming a brick shape with his hands and saying, “you know, a brick, with . . .” and I had to finish for him: “stuff inside?” He said “Yeah.” It turned out to be a terrific panini-type sandwich. The couple might run a tattoo shop — the guy wore a t-shirt from one. They were very nice — he said they come to Jimmy’s from “all the way across town.” I said, “Well, we’re from Jersey, so fuck you.” (No I didn’t.)
Total cost for both sammies: $12.98. I’m not kidding. Linda’s sub was $4.99 and mine was $7.99. Could you plotz? It was like it was still 1974. Most of the staff were Italian women in their 70’s. Hysterical. We were looking at the dessert counter after we ate and a woman came over to see if we wanted anything. “Just drooling,” I told her.
We spent the morning walking around the campus at Youngstown State U. It was less of a kick than our preceding day at Penn State, but then we fell into a terrific art museum they have there: The Butler Institute of Art. Enormous and with a really good collection. (Hi Bob!) We asked this guard for help, but he just sat there. (He’s a statute.)
This painting is by Edward Hopper. I think that guy in it is staring at a pretty YU coed, and who could blame him?
And this one’s by Sargent.
This headline is from The Onion, appropriate for the holiday.
Oversized Leprechaun Hat Left At Home On St. Patrick’s Day To Avoid Damaging It
This unusual poem is by Chloe Honum (after Chen Chen), and is from Poets.org. It’s called “Irreversible Fetal Anomalies.” And get this — it only uses letters that are in the title.
a tall iris
a list of river namesomens all i see
fatal bellso visio
o loama lit table
a test small flames retelli fall over a rose
reel into a mess of liliessleet amasses stone
a sea lives a feverin time a lion enters
o fearsome maneroam most near me
[You might think, as I did, that the title is pretty long so limiting oneself to the letters in it is not so severe a limit. But it means not using any of the following letters: B, C, D, G, H, J, K, P, Q, U, W, X, Y, and Z.]
To honor the returning space travelers, the puzzle today had an appropriate theme. Theme answers were STARBURST, nicely clued by “Chewy fruit-flavored candy;” SUPER NOVA, “Astronomical event depicted visually in this puzzle;” and HAD A BLAST and MAKE IT POP. Then the four letters (STAR) were depicted blowing apart! They started out all smooshed into one square, as part of the crossing answers LO[ST AR]TS and RE[ST AR]EA. Then they were in four separate squares forming a box, then forming a box with each letter separated by one space, and, finally a box with each letter separated by two spaces.
Monday’s puzzle was all about GIRL POWER no doubt since March is Women’s Month. It had four “girls” with last names connoting a positive force in some way: TAYLOR SWIFT, JEAN SMART, BLAKE LIVELY, and CICELY STRONG. We’ve been hearing a lot about Blake lately, but don’t know much about her. Phil? Thanks!
Gotta run — we’re still 3.5 hours from Sam and Sarah’s. Hope it’s okay if we let Liz Phair rock us off today, with a theme-appropriate song. See you next time!
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Juliet Is The Sun
We’re hitting the road this week. Driving the old Odyssey out to Sam and Sarah’s. We sold it to their friends Elizabeth and Richard from Chicago who are having twins, and two + one = need an Odyssey. Richard will fly out to Michigan to pick it up, and we’ll rent a car to drive home. It’s got 98K miles on it, but is riding very well. Body beat to shit (Caitlin’s adventures, don’t ask). I’m just happy to stop paying insurance on it. But enough about me.
This Tiny Love Story from today’s NYT is by Julie Taylor and is called “An Enduring Luster.”
One of the first things Jay told me was, “I love your hair.” It was 1995, and it was inky black from drugstore dye. After I got my first magazine job, it was colored red in a Madison Avenue salon. When we married, it was twisted in perfect ringlets. After two children, it was in a ponytail 24/7. In our L.A. years it was straightened weekly at a blow-dry bar. During the pandemic, it turned silver. And when it fell out in chunks last month after chemo, it was shaved off by my husband, who said, “I love you without hair.”
I was just remarking to Linda the other day that I wondered if there was enough warbling going on in the world. I mean, when’s the last time you warbled?
This story is from today’s Met Diary. It’s by Shelley Russell.
Dear Diary:
It was a bright clear morning in Manhattan. I was visiting from Arkansas, helping my college daughter settle into a summer program. While she was in class, I explored the city.
Wandering through Bryant Park, I spied a crowd of people with their phones out and all pointed in one direction. Some of them were cradling large cameras with long lenses.
I hurried over, eager for a celebrity sighting. The phones and lenses were angled downward at a cluster of bushes near the carousel.
The crowd spoke in hushed tones. I was confused.
“What’s going on?” I whispered to a particularly intense young man with a huge camera. His face was aglow.
“It’s amazing!” he said. “The mourning warbler. We don’t usually see him here!”
He lowered his camera, eager to show me shots of the small, brightly colored songbird. He explained its migratory pattern, its unique features and our stellar luck at being able to witness him.
I nodded gratefully, tickled at his joyous rapture over this avian miracle. He returned to his focus, kneeling for more shots.
A woman joined us.
“What is all this business?” she asked, her Australian accent evident.
“It’s the mourning warbler!” I said, having caught the enthusiasm. “It’s amazing!”
Anybody have any problems with this poster from a classroom?
Hard to imagine, right? I mean, if you had to check off boxes that said “Controversial” or “Not controversial,” would you have trouble picking one? Of course not.
And yet a sixth grade teacher in Meridian, Idaho, Sarah Inama, was ordered to take it down by her school district. Her principal cited district policy that classrooms must respect the rights of people to express differing opinions and that decorations are to be “content-neutral.” What?
Now, Sarah’s a reasonable and logical person. So she thought it through. It didn’t strike her as very complicated:
“There are only two opinions on this sign: Everyone is welcome here or not everyone is welcome here,” she says. “Since the sign is emphasizing that everyone, in regards to race or skin tone, is welcome here no matter what, immediately, I was like, the only other view of this is racist. And I said, ‘That sounds like racism to me.’”
Yup. Us too.
Nevertheless, she took the sign down as she was directed to. But over the weekend she found it impossible to live with herself, and she and her husband took it to the school and hung it back up. She has been advised that she may be fired.
She had meetings with district officials so they could explain the school policy to her. “The more we talked about it, the more it just solidified,” she says. “It seems so gross what they’re asking me to compromise about. I mean, there’s no way you’ll convince me that the differing view they’re trying to protect of that sign is not racist.”
Here’s the district’s position:
“Classrooms are places where students learn to read, write, think critically and build the skills needed for future success. While classroom decorations can contribute to the atmosphere, a truly welcoming and supportive environment is built through meaningful relationships and positive interactions between staff and students, not posters on the walls. Our focus is on fostering kindness, respect and academic achievement so that every student can thrive in a distraction-free learning environment.
“This policy is designed to maintain consistency across all classrooms while ensuring that no one group is targeted or offended by the display of certain items. While we respect individuals’ rights to express their perspectives, it is important to reaffirm that this situation is not about limiting speech or expression but about ensuring consistency in our classrooms and maintaining a learning environment free from distraction.”
Got a shovel? Fifty bucks to anyone who can find a bigger pile of horseshit.
George! Make sure there’s enough Fresca in the fridge. We’re having some people over later to welcome Sarah into the Owl Chatter Hall of Fame. How are we on chips?
If you were wondering what integrity, courage, and principles look like:
In the puzzle today, at 87A, the clue was “Metaphor for Juliet, in Romeo’s soliloquy,” and I’m proud that I remembered SUN.
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.(Sigh. Young love.)
I think that was what led Commenter Son Volt to share this pretty song with us. It’s by Iron and Wine and is called “Sunset Soon Forgotten.”
Oh, and here’s Juliet now. You were in the puzzle today, J!
Listen, it’s probably the least of your worries, but that sill looks like it could use a little caulking or something. Just sayin’. If the rain starts seeping through you’re f*cked. Believe me, I’ve been there, in the Brooklyn house. Until we figured out what it was I wanted to kill myself. Oops. Sorry.
ODE is a very common XW answer. It was clued today with “Composition of Catullus in ancient Rome,” which upset one Anony Mouse:
“I am a Latin teacher and I never think of Catullus as writing ‘odes,’ even if there are addressees. We are far more likely to talk about his hendecasyllabics or elegiac couplets, or the epyllion that is poem 64.”
For sure! The epyllion. Thanks, Mouse!
For every poem I share here in Owl Chatter there are about twenty that don’t grab me. I’m going to start sharing pieces of those. Sort of my own personal Bulwer-Lytton contest. Here’s a snippet from a rejection today:
Like priestly imprisoned poets,
the poplars of blood have fallen asleep.
On the hills, the flocks of Bethlehem
chew arias of grass at sunset.[I swear I did not make that up.]
I don’t know, kids. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.
Let’s hope for the best and leave it at that. Thanks for popping by. See you next time!
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Put Me In, Coach
Meet Buddy, the lettuce-eating dog. He’s buddies with Owl Chatter friend Pennsylvania Nancy (and Eric) and he’s in a beauty contest. Should be a slam dunk, no? Got my vote.
David Brooks had so many zingers yesterday. Trump has really made him jaunty. I sent this one to Frank Bruni: “One of the reasons MAGA conservatives admire Putin is that they see him as an ally against their ultimate enemy — the ethnic studies program at Columbia.”
I also liked: “As America withdraws its security umbrella, nations around the world, from Poland to even Japan, will conclude that they need nuclear weapons. What could go wrong?”
Last one, I promise: “I don’t care if Abraham Lincoln himself walked into the White House in 2029, no foreign leader can responsibly trust a nation that is perpetually four years away from electing another authoritarian nihilist.”
That last one reminded me of when Bill Parcells became the coach of the Jets and Linda insanely grabbed at a smidgeon of optimism. Not me. I said, “God can take over as coach and they’d still go 5 and 11.”
In yesterday’s puzzle, for the clue “Bench press?,” the answer was PUT ME IN, COACH. Great answer but the clue seemed a bit clunky to me. It’s a guy on the bench pressing the coach to put him in.
Commenter PH noted: “Leroy Hoard was a former running back (1990-99 Browns/Vikings). He once said, ‘Coach, if you need 1 yard, I’ll get you 3 yards. If you need 5 yards, I’ll get you 3 yards.’ I don’t why I love that quote so much, but I do.” [OC note: LH played college ball at UMich.]
Egs had an alternate clue: The response to “Sir, we are able to offer you an upgrade to first class. You’ll be sitting next to Marjorie Taylor Green.” PUT ME IN COACH.
He was also “tickled to report that at my granddaughter’s Friday assembly, a fourth grader recited Pi to 50 decimal places! The sequence was projected onto a wall behind him so that we could verify his recitation as it went. “
Happy Pi Day folks (yesterday, 3/14). Einstein’s birthday too, of course.
An odd flare up occurred over REOS. Rex started it:
As clued, REOS is terrible (16D: “Classic pickup lines, familiarly”). REO is a “line” (of motor vehicle), but REOS are not “lines,” just as FORD is a line of car but FORDS are not “lines” (they’re part of the same, single line: FORD).
Then, Jim M wrote:
I think the lines on the REO Speedwagon pickup are the flair of the fenders, etc. Classic design.
Anonymous I: Absolutely not. There has to be correspondence between clue and answer. You’re talking about a “feature” of the REOS. The clue is saying the lines “are” the REOS.
Anonymous 2: I disagree. The most interesting clues are not A = B, but ones that make you think, “Ah, that’s what they meant.” REO Speedwagons were designed with memorable body lines, as opposed to, say, a new utilitarian looking Ford F-150.
Anonymous 1: Anonymous 2, there’s no basis for disagreement. You’re simply wrong. “Lines” is the main part of speech in the clue. It’s a plural noun. So the answer has to be a plural noun that = “lines.” So REOS *are* the “lines.” Clue would have to be rewritten to have your meaning.
Jim M again: If the constructor used “lines” to mean vehicle models or manufacturers, then the constructor erred in the verb tense. If (design) lines were meant, then I believe that “REOs” works just fine as an answer. The plural works here as there were several classic REO Speedwagon designs.
[What?]
Let me tell you something folks. As a Jets fan, I don’t need another reason to hate Bill Belichick. But have you seen his girlfriend? He’s 72 years old. She can’t even spell her name: Jordon. She’s exactly one-third his age.
Just kidding. Have a good time, kids. Life’s too short.
In today’s puzzle, at 26A, “Irish actor who was nominated for a Golden Globe for 2023’s Saltburn” was BARRY KEOUGHAN. That was rough. I needed a lot of crosses. But I should have remembered him from Banshees. It netted him a well-deserved Oscar nom.
In one scenes he professes his love for Kerry Condon and she so sweetly has to say no.
Here’s Kerry’s Criterion Closet video. Rex called it his “favorite of all time—charming and funny and sincere, full of genuine, unaffected love of movies—a real model of the form.”
Do you know about the Criterion Closet? I was today years old when I learned about it. Here — this is from Wikipedia:
The Criterion Closet is a film closet owned and stocked by The Criterion Collection, a home video distribution company based in NYC with a specific emphasis on licensing, restoring, and distributing “important classic and contemporary films.” Located in their office, the film closet contains every title distributed by Criterion, totaling over 1,700 films. It was formerly a “disused bathroom” before being re-tooled to a film closet.
In 2010, director Guillermo del Toro visited the Criterion office, during which he was filmed making his selections from the Criterion Closet; there, he made picks such as The Red Shoes by Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, Crumb by Terry Zwigoff, and Paths of Glory by Stanley Kubrick. Since then, Criterion has filmed over two hundred individuals visiting and making their own selections from the Criterion Closet in a video series called Closet Picks; past visitors have included Bill Hader, Martin Scorsese, Park Chan-wook, Cate Blanchett, Bong Joon-ho, Ayo Edebiri, and many others.
Here’s a nice shot of CB. Thanks, Phil!
At 24A, “Drink akin to a Moscow mule” was DARKNSTORMY. Wow, five consonants in a row. It reminded many of the famous worst first sentence “It was a dark and stormy night. . . . ” Up until this year, the English Dept of San Jose State U held the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction contest, in which contestants had to compose the worst first sentence of a novel. The contest was started in 1982 by Prof. Scott E. Rice of the department and was named after Edward George Bulwer-Lytton who wrote the novel Paul Clifford (1830) that opens with:
It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents, except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.
The first year of the competition attracted just three entries, but it went public the next year, received media attention, and attracted 10,000 entries. It expanded into subcategories, such as detective fiction, romance novels, Western novels, and purple prose. Sentences that were notable but not quite bad enough to win were awarded Dishonorable Mentions.
This is the winner from 2023: She was a beautiful woman; more specifically she was the kind of beautiful woman who had an hourlong skincare routine that made her look either ethereal or like a glazed donut, depending on how attracted to her you were.
A Lyttle Lytton contest is still in operation. It was started in 2001 by a writer, Adam Cadre. Entries are limited to 25 words. Here’s the winner for 2024, by Erin McCourt: He slammed the door in my face, loud and sharp, like an acoustic lemon.
The puzzle today is by Ryan McCarty, and there are many fresh, clever clues/answers in it:
First, 2D and 3D, right next to each other, are AMNESIAC and WHYWORRY?
35D: “Whiny comeback to a certain parent.” Answer: BUT DAD.
14D: “Code group.” Answer: ZONING BOARD. Get it? Building codes.
18D: “Something legally defined in the U.S. as affecting fewer than 200,000 people.” RARE DISEASE.
7A: “Cozier alternatives to motels.” Answer: BANDBS. You usually see it as B&Bs. It’s called an ampersandwich, according to Rex.
At 41D, “‘If you squint, maybe’” was a great clue for SORTA.
Whew. That’s enough nonsense for me, for now. Kerry’s going to send us off today.
Thanks Babe. George! Get the girl a Diet Pepsi – where are your manners?
See you tomorrow, Chatterheads.
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The Wellington Files 