The Wellington Files

  • From Berkeley To Cornell

    Terrific puzzle today. So much going on. Let’s settle in with some brunch and take a look. Oooh — it’s a brunch theme, but if we had to put a name to it (the NYT does not name its non-Sunday puzzles), we might go with Brunch With The Girls. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

    First, it’s larger than usual size: 15 x 16 instead of 15 x 15. It’s needed because the revealer (key answer) runs down all 16 squares at 7D. The clue is “Event that might feature unlimited mimosas,” and the answer is BOTTOMLESS BRUNCH.

    Then, there are six separate theme down answers all related to brunch, e.g., “Raise a glass” is PROPOSE A TOAST. So there’s your TOAST for brunch. But, get this — the last T in TOAST is missing. What you have to fill in is PROPOSE A TOAS. Why? Because that makes it “bottomless!” So, similarly, “No goodnik” is BAD EGG, but you fill in BAD EG. The other four bottomless answers are: COUGH SYRU(P) (Remedy for a cold); SAVE ONE’S BACO(N) (Help avoid disaster); RAGAMUFFI(N) (Little scamp); and REHAS(H) (Go over again).

    That’s enough to make it a terrific puzzle, but Rex noticed something else that I missed. There are many names in the clues and answers – and every single one is a woman. Puzzles are typically male-centric, reflecting the tilt of society. So this constructor, Sophia Maymudes, is trying to even things up a bit. Brava!

    The women answers are: NAOMI (Novik, author); Diana RIGG; REY (Star Wars heroine); SARA (of Tegan and Sara, pop duo); ELENA Kagan; SOFIA Coppola; ASTRID (Gemma’s role in “Crazy Rich Asians”); and KAY Thompson (author).

    KAY Thompson was a singer and actress and author of the Eloise series of children’s books. She was Liza Minelli’s godmother. After two marriages that ended in divorce, she had a secret love affair with singer Andy Williams (who was half her age) that lasted 14 years, until he ran off and married Claudine Longet. Remember her?

    The only named males in the puzzle are Flotsam and Jetsam from The Little Mermaid, and they are eels.

    Men, as a concept, aren’t entirely excluded. Way at the bottom, the answer at 69A is GENTS.

    Tegan and Sara, noted above, are twin sisters from Calgary. Both are gay and married and very active in LGBTQ+ politics. In 2013, they took part in creating an ice cream sandwich that supported same sex marriage. It featured “double chocolate” cookies and salted caramel ice cream and was named “Til Death Do Us Part.”

    You got a problem with any of that?

    Hard not to like this tune.

    RAGAMUFFIN appeared in the puzzle, as I noted above. You don’t see that term very often, if ever. Commenter Barbara S. reminded us it appears in this old S & G tune, “Cloudy.”

    And it’s hitchhike a hundred miles
    I’m a RAGAMUFFIN child
    Pointed finger-painted smile
    I left my shadow waiting down the road for me a while.

    You may be hearing the name Shedeur more often as we get closer to the NFL draft. It’s the name of a quarterback (last name Sanders) out of UColorado expected to be drafted early — maybe by the NY Giants. It’s a beautiful Hebrew name meaning light or flame of God. His dad is (and his coach at Colorado was) Deion Sanders, whose nickname involves light too — Neon Deion. He, of course, was a brilliant Hall of Fame defensive back and not too shabby a pro baseball player. You see him in Aflac ads now all the time along with Nick Saban. If he’s wearing sandals, look down – you’ll see he only has eight toes. (He lost two from blood clots.)

    Good-looking young man, Shedeur Sanders. We wish him well.

    W. C. Fields was born on this date in Darby, PA, back in 1880. His entry into showbiz was as a brilliant juggler. He joined the carnival at age 14 and then moved to comedy and films. A big drinker, he often joked about it, saying e.g., “once, during Prohibition, I was forced to live for days on nothing but food and water.” And, “Everyone must believe in something. I believe I’ll have another drink.” And, “If I had to live life over, I’d live over a saloon.”

    One of my brilliant trip-planning moves decades ago was to place Linda, the kids, and me in a dumpy space behind/above a gas station/convenience store somewhere in the middle of Utah near some National Park we were visiting. How it earned more than one star is a mystery. But it didn’t seem infested by anything, it was pretty spacious, and it had weird hiding spaces the kids loved. There were stairs from it directly down to the little shop that had maps, junk, and candy. Sam thought that was fantastic and couldn’t conceive of a better life. For two nights he felt like we had our own private candy store. He was sad when it was time to move on.

    See you tomorrow, Chatterheads!! Thanks for popping in.

  • Beckham

    It’s the anniversary of the publication of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice (1813). Both on the same day: what are the odds?

    How better to start this glorious Tuesday than with a crappy cheap joke?

    Keira Knightly must be the poster child for thin women. In Chris Rock’s paean to fat women he said he’d drop-kick Keira to get to Rachael Ray.

    Could anyone possibly make up a better name than Emerance Maschmeyer? Maschmeyer’s the funny part, of course — and Emerance is such a beautiful name. It’s French for “emerging,” or “rising.” We first came upon it last night because Emmy (I’m guessing at the nickname) is the goalie for the Ottawa Crush of the PWHL. She’s an Olympic gold medalist (Canada, 2022). Could you shoot a puck at this face? SRSLY.

    How about this face?

    That’s Genevieve Lecasse. Also an Olympic-gold-medal-goalie, although Gen’s retired. What do these two women have in common, other than the obvious sports connection? Each other! They got married in the summer of 2023 (Phil was there, of course, see below), and they have a son, Beckham, born just last September.

    Of course none of that mattered last night as the Sirens were desperately holding on to a 2-0 lead against Maschmeyer with the Crush controlling play and literally pounding the crap out of us for the entire second half. (In case you don’t know, hockey games have three twenty-minute halves — like the old Car Talk radio show.) It was a brutal game – these women are stone-cold killers – and we couldn’t relax for an instant. Play was more even-handed in the third half, and our goalie, backup Kayle Osborne, was brilliant. Final result — Sirens 3, Crush 0. Whew!

    For those of you into sports porn (and who isn’t?), here’s what Emerance looks like in her sexy uniform.

    Let’s play “guess the theme.” Commenter Lewis likes to do this with the puzzles – you fill it out as best you can while avoiding the “revealer.” Then, from the theme answers you try to intuit the theme. So today the theme clues/answers are:

    “The 68 participants in the N.C.A.A. March Madness tournament, e.g.” Answer: SEEDED TEAMS

    “Michelangelo’s David and the Venus de Milo, for two.” Answer: MARBLE STATUES

    “Purim or Rosh Hashanah.” Answer: JEWISH HOLIDAYS

    “Old TV series featuring the creepy main character Barnabas Collins.” Answer: DARK SHADOWS

    Okay — so what’s the theme? Can you find a connection?

    Well, here’s the revealer: “Courtroom directive.” ALL RISE.

    Still no idea? You have to read the revealer phonetically: all ryes. Each theme answer has a type of rye bread: seeded, marble, Jewish, and dark.

    Kudos constructor Dan Margolis. Good one.

    But I noticed some other stuff going on in the grid. At 6D ELDERLY was right next to DIE (5D). Ouch. Was that really necessary, Dan? It left me with very little appetite for my OREO at 3D. Then I saw that ELDERLY was also abutting ABSTAIN at 24D. I don’t think Dan is looking forward to his golden years. Is this a puzzle or a book about my prostate surgery?

    At 67A, “Place for a lace” was EYELET. Here’s egs on it:

    What did the distraught shoe designer say to his boss after it was pointed out that there were no holes for laces? I feel like EYELET you down.

    As a member in excellent standing (or lying down, snoring and drooling) of the Dull Men’s Club (UK), I am good authority for whether the expression is “Prof. Liveson’s classes were as dull as dishwater,” or “Prof. Liveson’s classes were as dull as ditchwater.” It’s a study in evolution. The expression began as “ditchwater,” from the muddy water in ditches by the side of roads. But it morphed into “dishwater” from the dingy water in which dirty dishes soak, which is more often encountered in daily life. The more tradition-bound club members insist of sticking with ditchwater.

    In any event, Andy Spragg of the club posts the following (with photo): Increasingly often these days, I find that I have to wash the washing-up bowl after I’ve finished washing the dishes, to remove a grey slimy residue from the bottom. I concede this may be connected with the “bad” habit of leaving things soaking and allowing the water to go cold, but that is not something I only started doing recently and I never noticed before. I find myself wondering: is it to do with a change in the water quality (we’re in hard water Thames Water territory, so maybe I should just be glad we don’t have turds coming out of the tap)? Or maybe something nefarious in the washing-up liquid? Or, just something to be expected and I’ve only just noticed?

    Tony Wickenden: I only use the original green fairyliquid [?] and have not experienced this. I am not sure why you have to remove a grey slimy residue from your bottom – or who would be best to advise you.

    Andy: I avoided including posterior-related tomfoolery in the sure and certain knowledge that I could rely on it being supplied in some of the comments

    Tony: Happy to oblige.

    Ruth Hunt: Buy a grey bowl. You won’t see it.

    Andy: Our old one was grey! The current one is a sort of buff colour. Evidently a strategic error

    Ruth: Don’t buy a black one..whatever you do..it hides all manner of stains!

    Andy: A black washing-up bowl! What do you think I am, a goth?

    Mary Lou Wilshaw Watts: Have you changed your eyeglass prescription?

    Tony Ross: Why use the bowl in what is effectively another bowl (the sink)?

    Ruth: That is how those of us who don’t have dishwashers wash up. The dirty water gets dumped into the sink, and the plastic bowl is used for the crockery etc, which also prevents the sink or crocks getting chipped if you have a ceramic sink!

    This poem is called “Roustabout.” It’s by Jack Ridl and was in today’s Writer’s Almanac.

    It’s a bed. Can’t gripe.
    Plenty of coffee. Have
    my mug. Been here
    with the show ten years.
    Once took off to try
    some factory work.
    Hated it. Every day
    was Monday. Always
    the same place. Here it’s
    a new town, something
    new to talk about, deal
    with—mud, wind, broken
    rigging, ripped canvas.

    During matinees we bet
    on Alfredo, if he’ll try
    a triple, and every night
    after tear down, we see
    if the town’s got any action.
    But you turn on a townie,
    you’re gone. One guy lost it
    in Nebraska somewhere. “No
    one pulls a knife on me,” he
    growled walking off the lot.

    Most guys last two, three years.
    A few jump mid-July. I can’t
    settle. Rather be nowhere, be
    nobody. Put up the tent,
    play some cards, during the show
    take a nap, eat, tear down, roll up
    the canvas, pull up the stakes.

    Ted Kennedy was campaigning once, early in the morning, outside the entrance to a factory. Shaking workers’ hands. One guy said to him, “Hey, Kennedy, have you even worked one day of your life in a job like this?” Kennedy said: “No, I can’t say that I have.” And the guy said, “Well, you haven’t missed a fuckin’ thing.”

    Last, from our You Just Can’t Win Department comes the tale of Matthew Huttle, 42, shot to death during a traffic stop by a Jasper County Indiana sheriff’s deputy. Huttle had a firearm and was resisting arrest. An altercation arose and . . . bang bang. It comes to our attention because Huttle was just released from prison via Trump’s pardon for crimes related to the Jan. 6 insurrection. Impressively fast denouement.

    Next!

    See you tomorrow!

  • Shoebills, Witherspoons, and Turquoise Dogs

    Oy that was a lot of football to watch yesterday. It comes down to a Philly-KC Superb Owl matchup. Owl Chatter’s crack photographer Phil managed to snare these intimate moments between Tay and Trav for us before he (Phil) was “helped” out of the stadium by an armed security force. [Hang in there, buddy. George is heading out with bail money and a couple of Diet Cokes.]

    If you receive the paper edition of the NYT on Sundays you may have been as pleasantly surprised as we were while flipping through the Style section yesterday. Right there smack in the center, covering most of both center pages, is our style and culture consultant, the exquisite Ana de Armas, hawking some cheesy Louis Vuitton baubles. Next time give us a heads up, Armas — I nearly spilled my coffee.

    We take NY delis for granted. You appreciate them more when you are away from the city. When I lived in Rochester NY there was a deli there called New York Deli, implying it mimicked NYC delis. The one time I stopped in I was the only customer so I didn’t think I’d have much of a wait. I ordered a sandwich at the counter and watched it being assembled. The man took some bread, then walked over to where the meat was, then walked back to put the meat near the bread, then walked over to where the dressing was, brought it back, then went off somewhere for the cheese. It was taking forever. NY deli my ass!! In the city, somehow everything is within reach and his hands move faster than Willie Randolph’s turning a double play. I’d be chewing on it before I finished getting my order out. I shudder to think what would happen up in that Rochester place if there were ever a line.

    Here’s a story by Tommy Weir from yesterday’s Met Diary.

    Dear Diary:

    It was lunchtime in Midtown, and the deli counter line snaked its way along a refrigerated unit filled with cheeses, salamis and tomatoes.

    It was all new to me, a recent arrival from Ireland. Finally, it was my turn to order.

    “Yeah?” the counterman said.

    “Do you have whole wheat?” I asked.

    The counterman furrowed his brow and nodded.

    “Do you have Cheddar?”

    “Yes.”

    “Do you … ”

    I felt a tap on my shoulder.

    Turning around, I saw a short, older man wearing a pork pie hat and a bow tie and peering at me though his glasses.

    “Stop asking questions,” he said. “Tell him what you want.”

    “Out on the Flats,” by Leonard Nathan.

    Out on the flats, a heron still
    as a hieroglyph carved
    on the soft gray face of morning.

    You asked, when I seemed far away,
    what it meant but were gone
    when I turned to you with an answer.

    Nothing mysterious—hunger,
    a taste for salt tides,
    distance, and a gift of flight.

    Never mind that heron. In the puzzle today, the clue at 26D was “Bird named for its beak’s shape,” and the answer was SHOEBILL. I can see it.

    Egs asks: “Did you know that the world’s largest known SHOEBILL belonged to Imelda Marcos?” Ha!

    At 62A, “Stance for a yoga beginner” was TREE POSE. Wanna nit pick?

    Here’s Rex on it — “This clue is bad in at least two ways. First of all, TREE POSE is a stance for ‘anyone’ practicing yoga. Just like corpse pose, down dog, etc. It’s just a pose. The fact that a beginner ‘might’ do it does not mean it’s ‘for’ a beginner specifically. Which brings me to my next objection, which is that TREE POSE is not that easy for many people. People fall out of that pose in class all the time. You gotta balance on one leg with the sole of your other foot pressed up against the inner thigh of your standing leg. Basically I think the word ‘beginner’ is screwing up this clue.”

    Ooops, that’s not it. Wait a minute.

    There you go.

    REESE Witherspoon dropped by. I can never remember whether it’s REESE or REECE.

    Her full name is Laura Jeanne Reese Witherspoon. She’s 48, from New Orleans, currently unmarried, and has three kids. Her mom was a professor of nursing at Vanderbilt, and her dad was an otolaryngologist (some kind of doctor). Had she been born a boy, she would have been named Otto. (That’s not true.)

    Get this — she claims descent from Scottish-born John Witherspoon, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, but this has not been verified by genealogists.

    She majored in English at Stanford but went into acting before she could graduate. For a star of her stature, she is surprisingly unphotogenic. Ana and I reviewed buckets of shots Phil sent in before choosing this nice one.

    The clue for BRIE was “Soft French cheese.” The following are from our bad cheese joke department:

    If you add soft French cheese to your sandwiches, have they been abrieviated? If so, should you edam?

    Want anything else on them, Max? Pepper, Jack.

    How are you guys on “textspeak?” I’m hanging on by my fingertips. I have some basics like IMO, IMHO, BRB, TTYL, TLDR, and SRSLY (in my opinion, in my humble opinion, be right back, talk to you later, too long didn’t read, and seriously). Plus about a half dozen I can’t think of right now. Oooh, BTW of course (by the way), and FWIW (for what it’s worth). There are literally hundreds.

    A new one for me, from the puzzle, was clued with “Tsk, tsk, in textspeak.” It turned out to be SMH, for shaking my head.

    “New Mexico art locale” was the clue for TAOS (where I visited once with Caity, so that helped). But commenter jberg was not pleased: “New Mexcico art locale” is right up there with “Period of time.” Are there places in New Mexico that do not have any art?

    Commenter Gary came back with:

    I am sitting in the waiting room of a car service center in Albuquerque with Family Feud playing on one enormous TV screen, and unless you count the “Is It Time for a New Battery?” sign emblazoned with a well lit 84-Month Nissan battery, this is an art-free New Mexico location. Oh wait, there’s a picture of a car behind the counter. It’s lovely. Screw Taos and their turquoise dogs. It’s mostly a Circle-K on Highway 68 anyway. That should’ve been the clue. Destination for gas station chimichangas.

    Hope that’s enough nonsense for you. (I know, I know — it’s never enough.) I gotta go watch the Sirens skating against Ottawa tonight. C’mon, Sarah!!

    See you tomorrow!

  • Mormons Flatten Penguins

    Let’s open with Peter Everwine’s poem from yesterday’s Writer’s Almanac called “A Story Can Change Your Life.”

    On the morning she became a young widow,
    my grandmother, startled by a sudden shadow,
    looked up from her work to see a hawk turn
    her prized rooster into a cloud of feathers.
    That same moment, halfway around the world
    in a Minnesota mine, her husband died,
    buried under a ton of rock-fall.
    She told me this story sixty years ago.
    I don’t know if it’s true but it ought to be.
    She was a hard old woman, and though she knelt
    on Sundays when the acolyte’s silver bell
    announced the moment of Christ’s miracle,
    it was the darker mysteries she lived by:
    shiver-cry of an owl, black dog by the roadside,
    a tapping at the door and nobody there.
    The moral of the story was plain enough:
    miracles become a burden and require a priest
    to explain them. With signs, you only need
    to keep your wits about you and place your trust
    in a shadow world that lets you know hard luck
    and grief are coming your way. And for that
    —so the story goes—any day will do.

    Yikes! Have you heard the rumors about the Obamas maybe splitting up? Can it be? M was absent from the Inaug and Carter’s funeral. Hmmm. Apparently, the last time he went low, she went high. That can’t be good. There are also rumors about B hooking up with (better sit down) — Jennifer Aniston. He’s 63 and she’s 55. Of course, when you’re a starlet the math is skewed. Use this guide: 55 = 25.

    The puzzle yesterday was murder. But I got it with some lucky guesses. One clue was “Some photomontage art” and the answer was DADA. A photomontage is when one or more photos is used to create a composite work. It was strongly associated with the dadaists. (The mamaists, not so much.) Here’s a weird one. Hi Sandy! (I meant Koufax, but hi to you too, Sandee.) Oooh, Ilya Kuryakin is also in there. Cool.

    On the topic, Son Volt shared a compelling song with us by the German band Trio called “Da Da Da.” It was a big hit outside the U.S.

    The Utah Hockey Club of the NHL is having a little trouble getting a team name approved. We think the best name would be the Mormons, but that’s not even one of the finalists. It would allow headlines like Devils Rout Mormons, or Mormons Flatten Penguins. The finalists are the Yeti (or Yetis), the Blizzard, Outlaws, Mammoth, and Venom. The pesky U.S. Patent Office is causing the problems. Yeti is too close to the cooler company name. Blizzard and Venom, also too close to something. Mammoth and Outlaws face the fewest problems, but are boring.

    And, speaking of hockey, the ladies of the PWHL are getting good coverage. We watched our Sirens on the MSG network yesterday lose to Toronto before 19,100 fans up North!! We came back to tie twice, but were woefully outshot, and goalie Schroeder couldn’t stop the relentless onslaught. Final score: 4-2. That would be a good name, no? The Utah Onslaught. Nobody asks me. Here are some Sirens in their sexy uniforms.

    I thought today’s puzzle was pretty clever but it was roundly criticized by Rex and his gang. Seven down clues had one letter circled and the clue said “Circled letter” plus a picture. E.g., where the picture was a tray, the answer was BETRAY, with the B as the circled letter.

    Then that answer served as the clue for the word crossing the B. In this case it was BACKSTAB. Last, the seven circled letters spelled out the word REBUSES, because when you use pictures to form words (like here) it’s called a rebus.

    At 74A, the clue was “Annual observance for breast cancer awareness,” and the answer was NO BRA DAY. It’s October 13th, for those of you who don’t observe. At Owl Chatter, it’s a holiday our reverence for which exceeds even Yom Kippur.

    Alright, alright, take it easy. It was a joke. Lighten up. Sheeesh.

    Anony Mouse added this info: Just FYI – No Bra Day was started by a plastic surgeon to encourage breast reconstruction after mastectomy (it’s morphed into something either wildly sexist or freeing depending on your point of view). For those of us who have either chosen not to have reconstruction, or have had it reversed, it’s not possible to go braless in public as we use prosthetics.

    I also posted the following: Apologies in advance if this is deemed un-PC, but I couldn’t help noticing that NO BRA DAY shared the grid with LARGE SCALE, DROOP, HAVE EYES ON, and STARED AT. Also VENUS, for whom every day was NO BRA DAY.

    An exhibit honoring the beautiful owl Flaco whom all of New York fell in love with is opening February 7th at the New York Historical (formerly NY Historical Society). It will feature Flaco memorabilia: photos, poems, letters, stuffed animals and trinkets. OC readers may recall we featured a beautiful drawing of Flaco by special friend Newton Jenny. [J — you should send a copy in to them. It’s the sort of work they are displaying.]

    Roberta Klassen, a curator at the museum said: “He’s such a flexible symbol. People see all these things in him — a New Yorker who had grit, an immigrant — and he was liberated, he was free. That idea was very potent for people. And he was a raptor. Raptors have a hold on people. You can imagine how people felt when this large raptor appeared on your window sill. You’re going about your day, and this large, beautiful bird appeared.”

    Where is the integrity? After the portrait of Gen. Milley was removed from the walls of the Pentagon, every other general with a portrait on display should have requested that his be removed as well. Living generals and the descendants of deceased generals. How about some support for a brother in arms?

    In that connection, Rep. Derrick Van Orden (R-Wis.) said Milley and former Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin should be court-martialed because they made the Department of Defense too “politicized” to win wars. “We have the most highly educated and powerful military in the history of the world, and we have not won a war in 80 years,” Van Orden said. The logic is irrefutable, no?

    Well the Jets haven’t made the playoffs since Jefferson was in the White House, but we’re not calling for anyone to be court-martialed. Ridiculous.

    We are posting the following clip without comment. The expression in Yiddish is: Res Ipsa Loquitor. The thing speaks for itself.

    We’ll finish today saying goodbye to David Lynch. I caught Blue Velvet late in its run. I went by myself to a seedy theater near Times Square, one of the few places it was still playing. There were about five of us in the theater, all solo, spaced apart. It was intense. When it ended the lights in the theater went on and I stood up to leave. A Black guy seated about six rows in front of me got up too and our eyes met. He just said “Whoooo” and shook his head.

    Yup. Rest in peace David.

    “O.K., but who really killed Laura Palmer?”

    See you tomorrow!

  • The Old Man of the Mountain

    Hi everybody! Ready to start dipping your toesies into a whole big bucket of nonsense today? That’s from a good clue/answer in today’s puzzle: At 41A the clue was “Temperature gauges, sometimes,” and the answer was TOES.

    But the most wonderful item in the grid today was a pretty famous work/concept of Rene Magritte’s that was new to me. The clue/answer at 9D only begins it. The clue was “English translation of a paradoxical line in a Magritte painting,” and the answer was THIS IS NOT A PIPE.

    What happened was in 1929 Magritte painted a painting called “The Treachery of Images” which was a painting of a pipe. And under it he wrote “Ceci n’est pas une pipe,” which means, of course, this is not a pipe.

    When he caught sh*t for it, as the French say, he explained that in fact it is not a pipe — it’s a painting of a pipe. In his words:

    The famous pipe. How people reproached me for it! And yet, could you stuff my pipe? No, it’s just a representation, is it not? So if I had written on my picture “This is a pipe”, I’d have been lying!

    This cartoon does a nice job with it:

    Magritte’s pipe, I mean painting of a pipe, is in the LA County Museum of Art.

    Who says pipes are for men only?

    Andy Spragg of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) ran into trouble with instructions he was following when cooking a steak. Here’s his post:

    “add the steak when the oil is nearly smoking”

    How is one supposed to ascertain when the oil is /nearly/ smoking?

    Here are some dull responses:

    Geoff Jenkins: Offer it a cigarette?

    John David Salt: It’s essentially the same as the tactical advice I received in the Territorial Army to take cover just before the incoming fire would produce a casualty.

    Andy: Pull over just before the puncture occurs?

    Bridget Butler chimed in: yes, that’s why I answer calls just before the phone rings.

    Tom Young: Two identical pans, two identical gas rings, start sacrificial pan, then start second one 45 seconds later. When sacrificial pan smokes, leap into action. (Record pans, gas settings and time for future occasions and thus reduce sacrificial burden. Simples.)

    Karen Bearns-Donnelly: There’s a haze off it, just before it smokes

    Andy: So it’s the air that “shimmers,” not the surface of the oil?

    Karen: Yeah, it looks like wobbly air. It’s a term coined by Mozart when he cooked his steaks.

    Wayne Mudwander: Yes, if you stand 3km away, you will see what appears to be a lake, similar to what you see on the horizon when driving on a country road on a hot day. This test is best performed with the aid of an assistant with a mobile phone.

    Rose Kocher: We BBQ ours.

    Sharon Hayton: the oil?

    Andy: one would think it would be bloody hard to tell when BBQd oil was nearly smoking …

    Rose: what oil?

    Andy: the oil I was asking about.

    Well, as soon as the puzzle hit today, our Dirty Old Man Dept was all abuzz with a rare double supermodel alert. It was at 23D where the clue was “Supermodels Upton and Moss.” KATES, of course. Hi ladies! What a treat! Let Georgie know what you’re drinking, as soon as he comes down. You like diet soda? Clear that crap off the sofa and catch us up.

    Upton, I see you were born in Michigan — terrific! How’s Justin and your little girl? She’s six now, right? Folks, Kate Upton’s been married to ace pitcher Justin Verlander since 2017. They got married in Tuscany two days after he won the World Series with Houston.

    Verlander just signed a one-year deal with the SF Giants. Better keep your day job, Kate — he’s only making $15 million. That won’t even cover you through June, amirite?

    And what are you up to Ms. Moss? Hey, guess what — we have the same birthday! No sh*t! You were born exactly 24 years after me. How great is that! George — there’s a twenty in the kitchen drawer with the whisks and spatulas and stuff — run down to Shoprite and get us some cake!! What do you like Kate?

    So Kate Moss is 51 now and she has a daughter Lila who is also a model at age 22, and already very successful.

    And how’s the Count? Kate’s partner since 2016 has been British photographer Count Nikolai von Bismarck of the German aristocratic family. Does he know Phil?

    In November 2014, Moss designed a Paddington Bear statue, one of fifty created by various celebrities before the release of the film Paddington, with the statues auctioned to raise funds for the National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children. Here’s Kate’s.

    David Brooks has really hit stride since you-know-who took office. His article in The Times today was on Trump’s return to the 1800s. Here’s his first paragraph.

    “After a four-year hiatus, we are once again compelled to go spelunking into the deeper caverns of Donald Trump’s brain. We climb under his ego, which interestingly makes up 87 percent of his neural tissue; we burrow beneath the nucleus accumbens, the region of the brain responsible for cheating at golf; and then, deep down at the core of the limbic system, we find something strange — my 11th grade history textbook. . . . Trump has gone all 19th century on us.”

    After making sure Hesgeth’s confirmation was secure, Susan Collins pretended to be principled by voting against it. Does anyone seriously think she would have opposed him if her vote were decisive? Puh-leeeze. You might think the nation’s defense in the face of real threats would be one area for which the GOP mustered some backbone. Not even close. Right, Joni?

    Here’s Pete sporting the tattoo popular with the Proud Boys.

    In the puzzle today, the clue at 40D was “Seafarer’s device,” and the answer was SEXTANT, as in: I haven’t seen Pete since we’ve set up camp. Oh, he’s over in the sextant. (Almost!) It did remind me of this though:

    I called up a law office once and said, I’m looking for Arnie Sexauer: does he work there? The receptionist asked me to repeat the name. I said Arnold Sexauer. She apologized and said the connection must be poor, she’s having trouble hearing me, could I repeat it one more time. I said, sure, Arnie Sexauer. I still can’t hear you, she said. So I pretty much screamed into the phone — Sexauer, Sexauer — do you have a Sexauer there? And she said, Are you kidding me — we don’t even get a coffee break.

    Are you familiar with the Old Man of the Mountain? It was a geological formation. It was a series of five granite cliff ledges on Cannon Mountain in Franconia, New Hampshire, that appeared to be the jagged profile of a human face when viewed from the north. It was of cultural significance to several Indian tribes and became a state symbol for New Hampshire, appearing on its quarter and a stamp. Sadly, it collapsed on May 3, 2003.

    Anyway, I was reminded of it by a clue in yesterday’s puzzle. The clue was “Geologic formation from glacial melting,” and the answer was ICE CAVE. And that clue reminded me [I’m getting there — stay with me] of the folksinger Tom Rush, whom I love and saw perform a bunch of times, but only in the last dozen or so years, not during the folk revival of mid-to-late last century, which was his heyday. If you’ve seen him perforn you know that, in addition to his music, he’s very funny and a great storyteller. And, getting to the point of this story, he’s from New Hampshire. And so, when discussing how old he has gotten, he was able to say: You know you’re old when you’ve outlived geologic formations.

    This is his version of J. Mitchell’s Urge for Going. It’ll send us off tonight.

    I had a girl in summertime with summer-colored skin
    And not another man in town my darling’s heart could win
    But when the leaves fell trembling down
    And bully winds did rub their faces in the snow
    She got the urge for going
    And I had to let her go.

    Thanks for popping by. See you tomorrow!

  • Sign Language

    Where are you on Musk’s Nazi salute? You giving him the benefit of the doubt? Of course, the Musk-ovites are dismissing it as nonsense and they are defending him by noting that Taylor Swift routinely dons a Hitler moustache and parades around in a swastika suit. No one gives her any shit over it. Good point. Here’s EM’s salute. You decide.

    Did you know Musk has twelve children? Six are from his first wife Justine Wilson, who referred to herself as “his starter wife.” Sadly, the first was a son named Nevada who passed away from SIDS when only ten weeks old. Musk was holding him in his arms when he died. Wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

    El and Justine used IVF to have more kids and the next two were twin boys Griffin and Xavier, who are 20 now. But, get this, Xavier changed her gender and her name to Vivian. She is not on good terms with her dad, who blames the neo-Marxists in her college for poisoning her mind against rich people. He notes he’s on good terms with his other kids and says: “You can’t win ’em all.” (Not kidding.)

    The next three are triplet boys: Kai, Saxon, and Damian. They are 18. Here’s Justine.

    Three of his kids come from the singer Grimes, whose real name is Claire Elise Boucher. They are son X Æ A-Xii, daughter Exa Dark Sideræl, via surrogate, and Techno Mechanicus, a son(?). Here’s Grimes:

    Three more kids are from Shivon Zilis. They are twins Azure and Strider, and a new one born early last year, name and sex not available.

    Shivon was born in Canada to an Indian mom and Canadian dad. She went to Yale and is a very successful tech exec and venture capitalist. Our sports consultant, Sarah, tells us Shivon played on Yale’s women’s ice hockey team as a goaltender, and is the school’s all-time leader in goals-against average. Wow. Shivon and Musk made a rare public appearance together at a pre-inaug event last Sunday. Here she is with one of their very cute kids:

    Say you were a ballplayer and you have a chance to get into the Hall of Fame, but it’s super close and now it’s your last time on the ballot and you get the call and you’re in. How do you play it? Cool? A sincere thanks? Or are you a blubbering bowl of Jell-o that can barely talk.

    Billy Wagner was a great relief pitcher. His vote has been growing each of the nine years he was on the ballot. He was so close last year, a camera crew was sent out to be with him for the announcement. When he fell short it was a little embarrassing, to say the least. This year was his last shot to get voted in: you need to get on 75% of the ballots and you only have ten tries. He made it! I’m glad. From the few times I’ve seen him interviewed, it seems like he’s a mensch. Here’s how he took the news (ignore the background sound about Ichiro from the TV that was on):

    Among pitchers with at least 900 innings, Wagner ranks first all time in opponents’ batting average (.187), strikeouts per nine innings (11.92) and hits per nine innings (5.99). He’s the ninth reliever elected to the HOF, joining Mariano Rivera, Dennis Eckersley, Hoyt Wilhelm, Goose Gossage, Trevor Hoffman, Lee Smith, Rollie Fingers and Bruce Sutter.

    Wagner was born a righty but broke his arm twice when he was seven, so he learned to throw left-handed. He’s the only lefty reliever in the Hall. He was brilliant all the way up to retirement, making the all-star team in his last year with the Braves, with 37 saves, a 1.43 ERA and 104 Ks in 69 1/3 innings. In the final regular-season inning of his career, Wagner struck out all three of the batters he faced, all on called strikes. Mazel Tov on the Hall, Billy.

    Jake Neighbours’ best friend is Ozzy Weisblatt. When Jake turned 16 and could drive, he’d pick Ozzy up in his 2010 Chevy Malibu, and they’d go together to practices or games for their club hockey team in Calgary. Jake would park and go into Ozzy’s home to pick him up, and that’s when he learned about the family. Ozzy’s mom is deaf and the six of them: the mom and five kids communicate via sign language. In short order, the two families grew close and became one big family.

    Early on, Jake asked Ozzy to teach him how to say something he wanted to tell Ozzy’s mom, so Ozzy did. Only what he taught him to say instead is not printable and was very embarrassing. Jake realized he’d have to learn the language himself. It did not come easily, but he can communicate directly with Ozzy’s mom now.

    Fast forward six years. Jake and Ozzy were both drafted by pro teams. How great is that! And get this — when the San Jose Sharks picked Ozzy, their exec, Doug Wilson, Jr., announced it using sign language. Jake was called up to join the St. Louis Blues and proposed a special project for the team. They worked with a cap designer and producer and turned out caps with “Blues” written out in sign language. They are selling well and a portion of the profits go to an organization that helps the deaf community. Bravo gentlemen. And that 2010 Malibu is still on the road. It’s Ozzy’s now, still putting on miles.

    Chris Corlett posted this for the Dull Men’s Club (UK).

    It hit a bit of a nerve — 79 comments — but nothing too intense. I enjoyed Christina Traynor’s earnest reply.

    You either enjoy eating porridge or not. Those of us who grew up having it for breakfast, whether adorned or plain in times of want, who relied on a good hot bowl of porridge to get us through the morning at school until dinner break, or tide us through roaming and adventures until we headed home for tea, we appreciated porridge then and a lot of us still do. I clean off the wooden spoon once the porridge is cooked, but I do soak the pot and bowl in cold water which will help remove any remnants.

    See you next time!

  • Cappuccino

    I love the nitpickers. In fact, I am a dues-not-paying member of ANAL (American Nitpickers Association & League). Yesterday the clue at 22A was “High-pitched bark,” and the answer was ARF.

    Sharon wrote:

    ARF IS NOT A HIGH PITCHED BARK.!!!
    YIP is a high-pitched bark. ARF covers the range but is mainly middle pitch.

    Thank you Sharon! Woof woof.

    An absolutely wonderful person, Howard Buten, died on Jan. 3 at an assisted living facility near his home in Plomodiern, France, a town in coastal Brittany. He was 74.

    He performed as Buffo the clown to sold-out theaters around the world. Extremely popular in Europe, he was compared to Charlie Chaplain and Harpo Marx. During the day, he volunteered as an aide with autistic children and eventually opened a treatment center.

    It took him a while to get going. He was born in Detroit and dropped out of UMich after two years when he decided to take up clowning. He did the math. “I could go to clown college for 13 weeks and become a clown,” he told his friends. “Or I could go to the University of Michigan for another two years and become a clown.” Makes sense.

    I love this quote by a friend of his in the NYT obit about his early struggles: “Howie was going absolutely nowhere. He wrote a novel that nobody wanted. His girlfriend broke up with him. His dog, Frank, got run over. He was in a horrible place.”

    To pull his life around, he volunteered to help developmentally struggling children. The first he met was a 4-year-old named Adam Shelton. “He bit and he head-butted and he pinched and he pounded, himself as well as others,” Buten wrote. “He had no language. He did not come when called. He would not sit still in a chair.”

    Buten worked with Adam almost daily. Unable to communicate with him, he decided to imitate his actions — “rocking when he rocked, flapping my hands when he flapped his hands, screaming and humming when he screamed and hummed.” And then, one day, a connection: Adam started imitating him. Intrigued, Buten kept up the approach, ultimately using imitation to teach Adam acceptable social behaviors and more than a dozen words. The method Buten stumbled on wasn’t entirely new. It’s called reciprocal imitation training, and is a helpful treatment for autism.

    Out of his work with Adam, Buffo the clown emerged: a clown who can sing and make noise but is unable to speak.

    “What I learned is how to be autistic. His mannerisms, speech patterns (or lack of them), physical behaviors and perceptions of reality are all real autistic. A kind of idiot savant syndrome is what Buffo is: lovable, infantile, totally innocent.”

    Buten earned a degree in clinical psychology and opened a treatment center in Santa Barbara, CA, lovingly named after his special friend Adam. He continued performing as Buffo and wrote several books that were very well received.

    The French adored Buten in a way Americans never did, a mystery that would puzzle him. He was made a chevalier of arts and letters by the French Culture Ministry in 1991.

    Very special honors for you here at Owl Chatter too. Rest in peace, Buffo.

    The Spice Girls were featured in today’s puzzle. They’ve sold over 100 million records and are the best-selling girls group of all time. But am I familiar with even one of their songs? Not that I’m aware of. What I needed to know was that Sporty Spice was MEL C (I did somehow know there were two “Mels”), and their song title “2 Become 1.” Here’s Sporty:

    On this date 49 years ago, the day after his inauguration, Jimmy Carter pardoned draft dodgers who had fled to Canada. The pardon did not cover deserters, the dishonorably discharged, protestors who engaged in violence, or men named Ziggy. It is not known how many dodgers there were: Canada did not keep records or ask immigrants about draft status. Tens of thousands is a decent guess.

    Many remained in Canada despite the pardon, entering all of the professions and even taking positions in government. In the 1970s, a senior aide to Prime Minister Trudeau hired a draft dodger for a top cabinet position, and felt no need to mention that to the Prime Minister.

    Wow, is that Jane Fonda? Hey, girl — lookin’ good!

    I still consider the actions I took to avoid the draft by flunking my physical the most important I ever took for my country. Countless American lives were saved by my avoiding combat. I can barely work the remote — you want me with a gun?

    After writing about Lenny Randle’s passing in OC recently I checked eBay to see if any autographs of his were being offered. I was interested in getting his signature on a photo of his infamous effort to blow a slow roller foul, like by blowing air at it. Surprisingly, it was never memorialized on a baseball card or widely circulated as a photo. The only item on the incident was a business card containing a photo signed by Randle with his full name and his nickname in Japan, “Cappuccino.” I was able to snare it for under $20, as a birthday gift to myself.

    This poem by Danusha Lameris is called “Fictional Characters,” and is from today’s Writer’s Almanac.

    Do they ever want to escape?
    Climb out of the white pages
    and enter our world?

    Holden Caulfield slipping in the movie theater
    to catch the two o’clock
    Anna Karenina sitting in a diner,
    reading the paper as the waitress
    serves up a cheeseburger.

    Even Hector, on break from the Iliad,
    takes a stroll through the park,
    admires the tulips.

    Maybe they grew tired
    of the author’s mind,
    all its twists and turns.

    Or were finally weary
    of stumbling around Pamplona,
    a bottle in each fist,
    eating lotuses on the banks of the Nile.

    For others, it was just too hot
    in the small California town
    where they’d been written into
    a lifetime of plowing fields.

    Whatever the reason,
    here they are, roaming the city streets
    rain falling on their phantasmal shoulders.

    Wouldn’t you, if you could?
    Step out of your own story,
    to lean against a doorway
    of the Five & Dime, sipping your coffee,

    your life, somewhere far behind you,
    all its heat and toil nothing but a tale
    resting in the hands of a stranger,
    the sidewalk ahead wet and glistening.

    We asked Sarah Fillier, star forward for the NY Sirens of the PWHL, OC’s new sports consultant, how the league was doing. It’s still early — only the second season. A game in Montreal filled the arena with over 20,000 in attendance. Amazing. But the Sirens are running only around 2,000 a game, the lowest average in the league. They play in a gorgeous arena — the Pru Center in Newark where the NHL’s Devils play, but that effectively cuts off NYC. It’s hard to get there. We’re going to try to get to another game. The other teams in the league are drawing better – maybe around 6,500 average. That’s Boston, Minny, Ottawa, Montreal, and Toronto.

    And Sarah’s hoping all this free coverage for the league in Owl Chatter doesn’t do too much damage. Wait, what?

    We’ll let her pretty smile send us off tonight. Thanks Sarah!

    See you tomorrow!

  • Hair Knots and Hat Brims

    It’s Inauguration Day. Phil has refused to cover it for us, so we are relying on The Onion. Here are two of their features:

    RFK, Jr., Attends Inauguration Shirtless

    Pete Hegseth Crashes Golf Cart Into Inauguration Stage

    Look at this beautiful cookie tree Caity made for Zo (9) and me (75). Yum!

    The puzzle today had some pretty tough words for a Monday. For example, who knew “Hair knots with a French name,” is CHIGNONS? Not moi. Our style consultant Ana says they can be sleek and glamorous but they are sexier when messy. Either way, we’re sold.

    Ana herself is not partial to them. Phil had to (jokingly) pull a gun on her for this photo. Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!

    And how about “Geometric figures whose subparts mimic the full shape.” WTF! On a Monday? FRACTALS. Gimme a break!

    And Barbie has sisters? Turns out she has three. I also learned she has a last name: Roberts. Her sisters are Skipper, Stacie, and Chelsea (who was formerly Kelly). Stacie is the “tween” the puzzle was looking for. Also, in case it comes up, Ken’s last name is Carson, and Barb’s parents are George and Margaret.

    Here are Barbie’s parents with little sister Chelsea.

    I knew right away that the “Chinese general who wrote ‘The Art of War’” was LAO TZE. Unfortunately, it’s SUN TZU. D’oh! Goldberg. . . Greenberg. . .

    In an act of vital national interest taken within two hours of being sworn in as Prez, Trump ordered the removal of the portrait of retired General Mark A. Milley from the corridor in the Pentagon where the portraits of all other former Chairmen of the Joint Chiefs of Staff hang.

    Trump has called Milley a “woke trainwreck,” “slow moving and thinking,” a “moron,” and, most recently, a “big fat doodyhead.” Reportedly, the portrait was transported to the White House, where Trump drew thick eyeglasses and a mustache on it with a black magic marker. Here is the portrait of the moron as it hung in the Pentagon before Trump’s enhancements.

    In more inauguration news, Trump’s attempt to kiss his wife Melatonin before being sworn in was blocked by the brim of her hat. (Not kidding.) He had to settle for an “air kiss.” “I usually have to stiff-arm the schmuck,” she later remarked to Jill Biden.

    Oy. Buckle up. See you tomorrow!

  • 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.