The Wellington Files

  • Fernando’s Hideaway

    Here’s our little pumpkin at the pumpkin patch today: Isaac, or Izzy, if you prefer, Caity’s youngest at 4.

    Have I played this Chris Rock snippet for you before? It’s one of my favorites and it’s a good intro to The Poetry Foundation’s poem of the day today, by Lucille Clifton called “homage to my hips.”

    these hips are big hips
    they need space to
    move around in.
    they don’t fit into little
    petty places. these hips
    are free hips.
    they don’t like to be held back.
    these hips have never been enslaved,
    they go where they want to go
    they do what they want to do.
    these hips are mighty hips.
    these hips are magic hips.
    i have known them
    to put a spell on a man and
    spin him like a top!

    Headline from The Onion: Both Campaigns Release Ads Showcasing Trump’s Most Racist Comments

    Baseball fans old enough in 1981 remember Fernando Valenzuela, the joyful Mexican left-handed pitcher for the Dodgers who took us all for a hell of a ride that season. He won all of his first eight starts, five via shutouts. Seven were complete games and his ERA for them was 0.50. As luck would have it (bad), a players’ strike shut the season down for two months. He finished 13-7, with a 2.48 ERA, and copped both the Rookie of the Year and Cy Young awards, the only time in MLB history they have been won by the same player in one year.

    He was discovered by accident when a Dodger scout took a trip down to Mexico to check out a shortstop. Nando was pitching for the opposing team and struck out 12 batters. His signature pitch was the screwball. Hall of Famer Carl Hubbell had one the game’s greatest screwballs and he said of Valenzuela’s that it was the best he had seen “since mine.”

    He had several stellar seasons and pitched a no-hitter against the Cardinals on June 29, 1990, a gleam in his by-then declining career. The Dodgers retired his number (34) last year. Dodger fans who fell in love with him during that blazing start in 1981 never fell out of love. He returned to the Dodgers as an analyst for their Spanish-language radio broadcasts starting in 2003. He held that position until he took a one-month leave this year for health reasons and was planning to return next year. He was only 63.

    His wife Linda survives him, along with four children and seven grandchildren. Here’s the signed card of his from my collection.

    Rest in peace, Fernando.

    A small literary flap arose today regarding 49A in the NYTXW. The clue was “Genre for James Baldwin’s ‘Giovanni’s Room,’ familiarly,” and the answer was GAY LIT. Things started heating up when Commenter CM wrote: “Giovanni’s Room as GAY LIT?? So reductive. I don’t think Baldwin would approve!”

    If you’re like me, you don’t know what reductive means, so I looked it up. It means “tending to present a subject in a simplified form.”

    Anyway, it raised Anony Mouse’s hackles. He or she wrote: Describing Giovanni’s Room as gay lit is reductive? Huh? That’s absurd. It is THE ne plus ultra of gay lit. Hell, it’s so prominent in that world that Philadelphia’s oldest Gay bookstore is called Giovanni’s Room. For the last 51 years. Sheesh.

    To which we add: Hrrrrrrrumph!

    Let’s end on a dull note. Steven Cox of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) writes: I felt a frisson of excitement this afternoon at ‘bagging’ my highest numbered UK motorway so far. I believe there is only the M898 numbered higher than this – can anyone confirm? (Incidentally, I was the passenger, my wife was driving).

    David Edwards replied: Not quite right… there’s this little abomination up by Scunthorpe.

    Scott Wilson: Alphabetically or Numerically? Where would the M9 sit?

    Josh Sinnott: I think 9 is smaller than 876, might be wrong though

    Scott Wilson again: not as a character string in a computer

    See you tomorrow, Chatterheads.

  • Elmer’s Glue

    It’s Monday, but the puzzle threw me right at the start. 1D: “Oblong yellowish fruit.” Even if I weren’t queasy about describing a banana as oblong, why would you add the “ish” to yellow? But it couldn’t be banana because the answer only had five letters.

    Papaya came to mind. It looks right:

    But that’s not five letters either. Even its alternate name: pawpaw is too many letters. Answer: Papaw, an alternate spelling for pawpaw. Ouch.

    But how can you be mad at a puzzle that gives you Disney’s sexiest character at 11D: ARIEL, the little mermaid. Here she is as most of us remember her.

    And here she is, about ten years older, sporting her “Ariel” dress available from Pacsun for $57.60. Hope you’re still keeping in touch with Dad and your sisters, babe.

    The theme today was kids’ art work. The long answers were PAPER PLATE, MACARONI NOODLES, PIPE CLEANER, and COTTON BALLS, and the clue for the revealer was “What a kid might use to hold them all together,” ELMER’S GLUE. This was the closest I could come for a photo.

    At 32A the clue was “Family member who usually goes by one name” and the answer was PET.  Rex was troubled by this: “Does anyone in a family go by more than one name? What strangely formal family is this where they’re all calling each other by their full names?”

    In the ten-year span 1947-1956, the Yankees played the Dodgers (then the Brooklyn Dodgers) in the World Series six times, winning five of them and losing only in 1955. They met five other times in the WS: ’41, ’63, ’77, ’78, and ’81, with LA winning in ’63 and ’81, and the Yankees winning the other three.

    Let’s linger on the 1963 matchup. I went to the Stadium early for the first game with my friend David Katzman and we waited on line for bleacher seats. It worked — we got in! But it was a dismal game for the Yanks, with Sandy Koufax setting the then-WS record of 15 strikeouts in a complete game 5-2 win, outpitching Whitey Ford.

    Here’s some cool trivia. The only Yankee regular not to strike out was Clete Boyer. Bobby Richardson struck out three times. It was the only time he struck out three times in his entire 1448-game career. The big blow was Johnny Roseboro’s 3-run home run in the second inning. The other two LA runs were driven in by Moose Skowron. It was Moose’s only year in LA. He had been my favorite Yankee before ’63, so I felt a little betrayed.

    How effective was the Dodger pitching in the ’63 WS? Well, in all four games, the Yankees could score no runs through the first six innings. Zippo. Nada. And in all four games combined they scored a total of only four runs. Gasp.

    Here’s the Moose, explaining why his batting average shot way up in 1962. “I use five bats!”

    I’m a little tired tonight. Here’s a short poem by Ted Kooser from Winter Morning Walks. Then I’m going to cash in my chips.

    As if to spare the birds at the feeder
    any more competition than they already have,
    a snowflake drops right past the perches
    crowded with finches, nuthatches, sparrows,
    and without even thinking to open its wings
    settles quietly onto the ground.

    See you next time!

  • Handsome Sailor

    In tomorrow’s Met Diary, Mary Herr writes,

    Dear Diary:

    A few years ago I was sitting in a crowded subway car one morning when an older woman got on holding a large bunch of roses. She gestured to people on the train to see if they would buy one of the flowers. After being rejected by everyone, she stood wondering what to do.

    A young man approached her. He was dressed well, as if on his way to work. He asked how much for the whole bunch.

    Fifty dollars, the woman said.

    He gave her $50 and proceeded to hand out roses to all of the women on the car.

    A special note to all of Owl Chatter’s Tanglewood friends. Don’t miss today’s feature in the NYT on how to spend 36 hours in the Berkshires. The pizza spot in Lenox sounds good, including its Bresaola with dried figs and stracciatella; and the brewhouse in Pittsfield offers drafts with names like Handsome Sailor, Shred the Cello, the Fifth Daughter, Fellini, and Mirror of Simple Souls. There is much to do in Great Barrington, says the Times, including a good rock, folk, etc., music venue in nearby South Egremont.

    Here’s a shot Phil submitted from the Hoosic River and the Ashuwillticook Rail Trail in Adams.

    Not surprisingly, the NYT failed to mention Teo’s, a dump Linda and I visited two summers ago. It’s in the middle of nowhere in Pittsfield. They feature small-sized hot dogs for about $1.50 each, so you order, like, four or five with traditional toppings like mustard, onion, or relish. Cheap beer is available too, which helps the dogs go down, if not stay down. It’s a great local scene and we can’t wait to get back.

    Burp!

    Headline in The Onion: Mayor Explains Why He Changed City Named After Slave-Owning Founder To Salami Town

    The NYTXW defeated me today. I won’t bore you with the details of my miscues. Instead, I’ll bore you with 2 unusual four-letter answers: Did you know the capital of Greenland is NUUK? I didn’t either. And a dialect in the Black community is AAVE. It stands for African-American Vernacular English. Go know.

    Here’s Nuuk at niight (not to be confused with Nick at Night).

    At 20A, “View of the moon?” was a cute clue for BUTT.

    A shoal upon which many foundered was the crossing of ADA TWIST with RICK STEVES. I know. Seriously, right? Ada is “Titular scientist in a 2016 children’s book by Andrea Beaty.” (WTF!) And Rick is “‘Travel as a Political Act’ author, 2009.” Are you kidding me?

    At 25D, “They may open doors for you” had to be MAGIC WORDS, no? But it turned out to be BUS DRIVERS. Here’s one!

    In yesterday’s puzzle there was a controversy over 22A. The clue was “Playful snarl” and the answer was ROWR. Many would have preferred RAWR.

    Here’s Rex on it: The [Playful snarl] is RAWR. We’ve established this. There is ample crossword precedent for RAWR (four NYTXW appearances). Sadly, however, there is also precedent for ROWR, though not as ample (just two appearances before today). I hate that the crossword thinks you can go either way on this, when the correct spelling seems to me quite clear: RAWR is the playful snarl, ROWR is a typo. The more you bend the spelling, the more obviously you are in “playful” territory, so RAWR > ROWR by a country mile, case closed, stop using ROWR, it’s ****ing awful.

    Commenter Jammon noted: RAWR, ROWR…who gives a (stool sample.) Neither one is a word, regardless of how often the NYT uses them. The best crossword puzzle should NEVER just make up words, yet the NYT does it almost daily.

    Gary chimed in: You do know that EVERY word is just made up, right?

    Anony Mouse said: Rowr and rawr are different. Rowr is sexy. Rawr is cute. This is known. [OC: not by me, it isn’t.]

    DrSparks proposed a better clue: “Seat with 17 heads ahead of you?”–ROWR. (Get it? Row R.)

    At 48D yesterday “Fork-tailed bird” was TERN. It led egs to share this:

    When Mrs. Egs and I were contemplating divorce, we alternated picking household items that we would take. She had just chosen our dog and then said “I’ll also take the fork-tailed bird.” I countered, “No, it’s my TERN.”

    You can see the forked tail in this shot. (Thanks Philly!)

    This clue was a complete mystery to me at 33A. “Half of LV.” See if you can get it (three letters). I’ll tell you the answer later.

    At 3D, the clue was “Stay [blank]” and the answer was WOKE.

    Commenter jazzmanchgo notes the following, re: what’s almost certainly the first recorded version of the term “stay woke” in its original sense of “stay alert, keep your eyes open.”

    In 1938, folk singer Huddie “Leadbelly” Ledbetter recorded the song “Scottsboro Boys” about the notorious Scottsboro Boys trial, which had taken place seven years earlier. In it he warns “all good Colored people” to watch their backs and be vigilant: “I advise everybody, be a little careful when they go along through there. Best stay woke, keep their eyes open.” (Good advice then, and just as timely now.)

    It’s unclear whether Ledbetter actually coined the phrase, but I [the commenter] know of no documented instances of its being used before this.

    Here he is:

    [From up above: Half of LV is LAS (think Las Vegas). D’oh!]

    David Dibb of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) asks the following, which is dangerously close to being interesting:

    “Driving down a country lane the other day on a leisurely drive back from my son’s football. Noticed some ladies on horses riding along the road. As I slowed to pass I noticed one of the riders pull out her mobile phone and begin using it. Did I witness an offence or is it different when on an animal on the road as opposed to a vehicle?”

    Stephen Carroll observed: It won’t have been an android phone, as horses prefer Apples.

    Graham Oates posted: I think it’s illegal to be drunk in charge of a horse, but it’s okay if you’re sober and the horse is drunk, which seems a bit unfair.

    The majority view was it’s unwise but not illegal (in Britain) to use a mobile phone while riding a horse. But the rural road safety advice issued by the British Horse Society states that it is illegal to use a phone while riding.

    Owl Chatter’s feelings on the matter: Horsefeathers!

    In a related story, this is Nanako Fujita, Japan’s leading female jockey. She was charged with using her cellphone in a restricted area of a racecourse, and her license was suspended. As a consequence, she has retired from the sport, at age 27. Nanako! We hardly knew ye. Give us a call — oops, sorry!

    See you tomorrow!

  • Ahoy!

    In the puzzle today, at 32A the clue was “Digital art?” and the answer was PAINT BY NUMBERS. Son Volt shared this dark tune with us:

    There are too many “new” statistics in baseball (for me). I guess it’s good to know the speed of a pitch, but do I need the speed of the ball coming off of the bat too? And what’s OPS? I just looked it up — it’s on-base percentage plus slugging percentage. But I never really knew what slugging percentage is. Turns out it’s total bases earned by hits divided by at-bats. So it’s [singles + (doubles x 2) + (triples x 3) + (homers x 4)] divided by at-bats. I actually did not fully get “on base percentage” either, it turns out. That’s the number of times the batter reaches base via hits, walks and hit-by-pitches, divided by at-bats. (Sacrifice bunts are ignored entirely for this: like they didn’t happen.) If this is getting too technical for you, it’s too technical for me too, and this is rudimentary stuff. But even knowing (as I now do) what OPS means, I don’t know what a good or bad one is, so I just stare at it with big blinking Homer Simpson eyes.

    Cleveland pulled out a miracle win last night against the Yanks. Down by 2 with two outs in the ninth and two strikes on Lane Thomas, the Guardians (yeah — used to be the Indians) woke up. Lainie (Thomas) doubled and Jhonkensy Noel tied the game with a pinch-hit homer. Jhonkensy’s really his first name: Caity’s cat did not just walk across the keyboard. His nickname is Harriet. [No it’s not.] The Yanks were “fried” in the tenth: i.e., David Fry homered.

    What a treat! Today’s poem, from The Writer’s Almanac, is by the late Jim Harrison, Ted Kooser’s friend, to whom Kooz sent his Winter Morning Walks poems. This one of Harrison’s is called “The Bear.”

    When my propane ran out
    when I was gone and the food
    thawed in the freezer I grieved
    over the five pounds of melted squid,
    but then a big gaunt bear arrived
    and feasted on the garbage, a few tentacles
    left in the grass, purplish white worms.
    O bear, now that you’ve tasted the ocean
    I hope your dreamlife contains the whales
    I’ve seen, that one in the Humboldt current
    basking on the surface who seemed to watch
    the seabirds wheeling around her head.

    In yesterday’s puzzle at 27D the clue was “Consonants articulated with the tongue against the upper teeth,” and the answer, of course, was DENTALS. It sent Rex off into a paroxysm of delight: — “Technical linguistics terminology! I don’t mind it! Has FRICATIVE ever been in the grid? No!? And not FRICATIVES either? What’s the hold-up!?”

    Did you know that FLORENCE was the first city in Europe with paved streets? It was way back in 1339, according 12D yesterday. And how about this tidbit at 5D?:  What Alexander Graham Bell suggested as the standard telephone-answering greeting. It was AHOY. It (mostly) didn’t catch on. 

    OMG, this is so funny. It was posted in the Dull Men’s Club (UK) by Billie Rodgers: I took my gf into the Liverpool branch of John Lewis and she totally enjoyed it. They have a coffee shop there, so I treated her to a latte’,. The young assistant asked me for my name and I thought that rather odd until I realised why. I gave my name as Spartacus and approx 5 minutes later the assistant shouts out “Spartacus!” I stood up and shouted out “I am Spartacus,” and then another 2 people did too.

    Simon Moon posted the following post with the photo in the DMC (UK):

    Today’s the day. Sort out the Allen key drawer.

    John Stockton chimed in: The one on the far left that comprises two parts that slot together- I have one of those.

    Can’t top that! See you tomorrow!

  • Love Conkers All

    Beautiful writing can soften the blow of even the most distressing of topics. This is from Frank Bruni’s “For the love of sentences” feature:

    In The Toronto Star, Janice Kennedy charted the wages of aging: “There’s the physical decline, unimaginable back in younger days. There’s the consignment to irrelevance, also inconceivable once. And of course there’s that great departure lounge where we’ve ended up, knowing our flight won’t be canceled but hoping for a delay.”

    And, OMG, this one is delicious:

    David Rothkopf, the host of the podcast Deep State Radio, beheld Trump’s descent this week from “being periodically adrift” to something stranger and more savage: “He’s one cloudless night away from baying at the moon.”

    Last, Chuck Culpepper in WAPO reflected on the free-for-all for dominance among college football teams this year: “It’s a season loaded with faith, hope and parity.”

    I sent some material in today too — hope it’s accepted. It’s by Ted Nguyen in today’s NYT sports section:

    “The Cleveland Browns sold their souls for a franchise quarterback but didn’t even get the fleeting moment of happiness that typically comes with these pacts.”

    Playwright Arthur Miller was born on this date in NYC in 1915. His first success was All My Sons (not to be confused with My Three Sons starring Fred MacMurray), and he used the money from it to buy land in Connecticut upon which he built a cabin by hand. He conceived the ideas for Death of a Salesman while working, but vowed not to start writing until the cabin was up. When it was, he started writing one morning and finished the first act by the time he went to sleep in the middle of the night. In bed, he found that his cheeks were wet with tears, and his throat was sore from speaking and shouting the lines of dialogue as he wrote. Miller wrote: “For a salesman, there is no rock bottom to the life. He don’t put a bolt to a nut, he don’t tell you the law or give you medicine. He’s a man way out there in the blue, riding on a smile and a shoeshine.”

    Here’s a photo of Willy Loman, sans smile. (In the Chinese production, it’s Willy Lo Mein.)

    This poem by Nikki Giovanni from The Poetry Foundation yesterday is called “Mothers.”

    the last time i was home
    to see my mother we kissed
    exchanged pleasantries
    and unpleasantries pulled a warm   
    comforting silence around
    us and read separate books

    i remember the first time
    i consciously saw her
    we were living in a three room   
    apartment on burns avenue

    mommy always sat in the dark
    i don’t know how i knew that but she did

    that night i stumbled into the kitchen
    maybe because i’ve always been
    a night person or perhaps because i had wet
    the bed
    she was sitting on a chair
    the room was bathed in moonlight diffused through   
    those thousands of panes landlords who rented
    to people with children were prone to put in windows   
    she may have been smoking but maybe not
    her hair was three-quarters her height
    which made me a strong believer in the samson myth   
    and very black

    i’m sure i just hung there by the door
    i remember thinking: what a beautiful lady

    she was very deliberately waiting
    perhaps for my father to come home   
    from his night job or maybe for a dream
    that had promised to come by   
    “come here” she said “i’ll teach you   
    a poem: i see the moon
                   the moon sees me
                   god bless the moon
                   and god bless me    ”   
    i taught it to my son
    who recited it for her
    just to say we must learn   
    to bear the pleasures
    as we have borne the pains

    Yesterday’s discussion of “ocean eyes” generated unusual interest and requests for an additional example. Amazingly, Phil managed to come up with this one without the police getting involved. Thanks, Philly. Remember, they don’t have to be blue, but it doesn’t hurt.

    If you’ve ever been hit by a bad earworm, Andy Pullin of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) offers this remedy: I find humming the “Pink Panther” theme removes any earworm, never fails. (It may replace it with the Pink Panther theme though).

    This man is David Jakins. He’s 82 and won this year’s World Conkers Championship in Southwick, England, but not without a bit of controversy.

    If those things that are hanging from strings look like chestnuts, that’s because they are chestnuts, although they are called conkers here. A hole is punched through and a string attached. Each player gets one and uses it to try to destroy the opponent’s by whipping his against it. The last to emerge with a viable conker is the champ. Smithwick boasts only 160 residents, but 256 contestants showed up to compete this year, and 2,500 spectators spectated.

    Jakins’ victory was his first after many decades of competing but the runner-up, Alastair Johnson-Ferguson, cried foul and claimed Jakins used a steel conker. The serious charge was leveled on the basis of his conker disintegrating in one hit, which “just doesn’t happen.” Now get this — a steel conker was in fact found in Jakins’ pocket! He claimed he only carried it around for humorous effect. (It does strike us as hysterical.) An investigation has been launched.

    Kelci Banschbach won the women’s competition, the first American to do so, though we do not see why this “sport” requires a division of the sexes.

    If two folks meet at the games, fall in love, and marry, no doubt the papers will announce: Love Conkers All.

    We’ll leave you tonight with this nice image Phil sent in of two women conking out.

    See you tomorrow Chatterheads!

  • Ocean Eyes

    Joe Benigno, long-suffering Jets fan, on last night’s loss, auguring yet another disastrous season: “Thank God for drugs.”

    Driving through Ohio towards that right turn up into Michigan, the question arose: Does a resident of Vermilion, OH, refer to himself as “one in Vermilion?” Or as a Vermilionaire?

    In the puzzle today, at 4D, the clue was “Pet tracking device,” and the answer was ID CHIP. Egs noted: Our dog is so self-centered that we got him an ego chip rather than an ID CHIP.

    Bumper sticker sighted on a Honda Odyssey: My Other Car Is An Iliad.

    OC friend Pennsylvania (nee Delaware) Nancy, sent me an XW puzzle appearing in today’s WSJ constructed by Seth, the son of her friends Wendy and Simon. He’s had some in various publications previously (including the NYT), and he’s good, IMWO. (W = worthless)

    This puzzle was on the easy side (it’s Tuesday), but was pretty classy. How classy? Well the theme was revealed at 54A to be Handel’s WATER MUSIC, and the theme answers were, appropriately, OL’ MAN RIVER, UNDER THE SEA, BLUE BAYOU, and Billie Eilish’s OCEAN EYES.

    I’ve been watchin’ you for some time
    Can’t stop starin’ at those ocean eyes

    According to the Urban Dictionary, a person with ocean eyes is a person you cannot help falling in love with. They don’t have to be blue. They are clear and beautiful, and deep like the ocean. They are eyes you can fall into.

    This poem by Mary Oliver is called “The Poetry Teacher.” It appeared in The Writer’s Almanac last Friday.

    The university gave me a new, elegant
    classroom to teach in. Only one thing,
    they said. You can’t bring your dog.
    It’s in my contract, I said. (I had
    made sure of that.)

    We bargained and I moved to an old
    classroom in an old building. Propped
    the door open. Kept a bowl of water
    in the room. I could hear Ben among
    other voices barking, howling in the
    distance. Then they would all arrive —
    Ben, his pals, maybe an unknown dog
    or two, all of them thirsty and happy.
    They drank, they flung themselves down
    among the students. The students loved
    it. They all wrote thirsty, happy poems.

    Crack OC photographer Phil called us last night, but between his slurring and the crowd noise we could barely make out what he was saying. It turns out Taylor, Travis, and he were at the Yankee-Guardian game last night. Neat! The Bombers bombed, but in a good way. They won 5-2.

    The puzzle today wanted us to remember what “Wednesday’s child” is full of. Sadly, it turns out to be WOE.

    Here’s Rex stumbling all around it:

    As a Wednesday child myself, I always resented this particular “nursery rhyme”; I can never remember exactly how it goes. I can start it (“Monday’s child is full of grace”) but then I lose the thread on Tuesday and end up breaking into Madonna’s “Vogue” (“Tuesday’s child … gave good face?”). Oh no, it looks like it’s actually Tuesday’s child who is “full of grace,” and Monday’s child is actually “fair of face” (so the “Vogue” thing, not far off, actually). Thursday’s child has far to go. Friday’s child likes pork & beans, Saturday’s child makes horrid scenes, and Sunday’s child goes “wee wee wee” all the way home … something like that.

    Here’s the actual verse with no pork and beans, darnit:

    “Monday’s child is fair of face, / Tuesday’s child is full of grace, / Wednesday’s child is full of woe, / Thursday’s child has far to go, / Friday’s child is loving and giving, / Saturday’s child works hard for a living, / But a child that is born on the Sabbath day / Is blithe and bonny, good and gay.”

    Made it back to Jersey! See you tomorrow.

  • Michigan Ho!

    Arrived safely in MI, but only to watch the Tigers fall to Cleveland. Oh, well.

    Here’s the TP Sam and Sarah use.

    It’s made of bamboo and is very planet-friendly.

    How are you on the Periodic Table of the Elements? Well, the puzzle today asked us how many elements include the letter J? There were four letters in the answer. Times up — NONE! A neat way to clue a boring word and a neat trivia fact to know.

    And then commenter smalltowndoc posted:

    “On a visit to Munich, 30 years ago, I decided to visit the Deutsches Museum, a renowned science and tech museum. There was a display of the periodic table of the chemical elements with their symbols. I noticed where iodine should have been (under Br, for bromine) there was a J. Well that can’t be right, said I to myself. Turns out, in German, iodine is jod, hence the J. The memories that can be triggered by the NYTXW!”

    Oh, hi Saoirse! Glad you could pop in — we conjured you up today after enjoying your incredible performance in The Outrun recently. We’ll be pulling for you on Oscar night!

    We were so impressed with her that we spent several hours on our trip trying to learn how she spells her name. Let’s see if we can come up with another photo too — she’s hauntingly beautiful. We all rightfully associate Saoirse with Ireland, but she was born in the Bronx! Her Irish folks immigrated here back then, but returned to Ireland when Saoirse was three and she was raised there. Good job mom and dad! Saoirse is 30 and got married just this April to Scottish actor Jack Lowden, whom you may have enjoyed in Slow Horses.

    If SR represents the finest actresses of our day, yesterday’s puzzle brought us back to an earlier era with Anna MAGNANI, clued as the first Italian to win an Oscar. In 1950 Life called her “one of the more impressive actresses since Garbo.” She won the Oscar for her role in “The Rose Tattoo,” which Tennessee Williams wrote for her specifically to star in.

    Magnani was married for a time and had lovers, with one of whom she had her only child, her son Luca, who contracted polio when he was 18 months old. She devoted herself to his care. In 1945, she fell in love with director Roberto Rossellini. “I thought at last I had found the ideal man. He had lost a son of his own and I felt we understood each other. Above all, we had the same artistic conceptions.” Rossellini could be violent, volatile and possessive, however, and they would argue about films or out of jealousy. In fits of rage they threw crockery at each other. The two separated when Rossellini fell in love with and married Ingrid Bergman. D’oh!

    Here are the Kinks performing “Muswell Hillbilly.” They were the musical guests in today’s grid. Hadn’t thought of them in years.

    Favorite clue/answer from yesterday’s puzzle: 35A “Is it just me. . .?” Answer: AM I NUTS?

    New joke from Jersey Dan: 95-year-old man goes to a lawyer. Says he wants to divorce his 92-year-old wife. The lawyer asks him, “Why now?” The man says: “Enough is enough.”

    Bet you didn’t know there were orange trees in Michigan.

    See you next time!

  • Linda’s Pajamas

    We’re staying at an inn in Shadyside (Pittsburgh). It’s located on Negley Street. Why it’s called The Inn on Negley Street is a complete mystery.

    It’s the quietest place we’ve ever stayed, and it’s beautiful. Highly recommended. The owls have their own room!

    Dinner last night at the Carson Street Deli was great. They even recommended a terrific local ale for me. Perhaps the best corned beef Reuben we’ve ever had. Watched a few innings of the Mets game there too.

    On that topic, Lindor’s winning slam was Jacksonian (Reggie), except for being in the playoffs and not the World Series. Certainly historic. Our Owl Chatter (Mets) caps are off to you. And our hearts go out to our Phillies fan friends, who deserved better after a great season. That’s baseball.

    I don’t often discuss my wife’s sleepwear here (or anywhere), but she has these dark pajamas with big white flowers all over them. Top and bottom. And as we drove back from the deli last night, there was this cool-looking Black guy dressed in a dark hoodie with matching pants, all with puffy white clouds all over them. A great look for the street. I rolled down the window and caught his eye. “Great outfit,” I said, and Linda gave him a thumbs up. He smiled. “Appreciate it,” he said.

    It later occurred to us how similar to Linda’s pajamas it was. He was wearing your pajamas!, I told her.

    Spent the morning at Randyland, a wild outdoor art exhibit in a neat, historic P’burgh neighborhood. Conceived and created by Randy Gilpin, a self-described “retarded” kid, who cared about the right things, had friends, and was happy.

    Excellent sourdough pizza for lunch, if a bit pricey ($34), and a great seafood dinner, each in a different neat neighborhood. In between, Saoirse Ronan wowed us in “The Outrun.” Very compelling. Photo of SR next time.

    On to Michigan tomorrow!

  • Fear the Wurst!

    Happy Anniversary Don Larsen! On this date in 1956, Larsen pitched his perfect game against Brooklyn in the World Series. It was the first perfect game pitched since 1922. Only 24 have been pitched in all of baseball history.

    Larry Napp was umping at third base for Larsen’s game, and twelve years later when Catfish Hunter pitched his perfect game, Napp was umping at first. Ed Runge was umping in right field for Larsen’s game, and 56 years later (in 2012) when both Philip Humber and Matt Cain pitched perfect games, Runge’s grandson Brian umped in both.

    The puzzle was very clever today. The theme was “Make Ends Meat.” Meat! The theme answers all used meat homonyms. E.g., at 17A the clue was “Beware of this sausage!”? and the answer was FEAR THE WURST. At 45A the clue was “Charlotte’s first draft for ‘Some Pig’?” And the answer was WHAT A BOAR.

    Rex wrote briefly on the topic of boars and pigs and, apparently, betrayed his ignorance. Because a commenter who called himself Anyone/Everyone who lives in Iowa schooled us with the following:

    “Sir, your ignorance of swine is astonishing.

    “Naming based on Age / Sex:
    Piglet – a baby pig of any sex. Called such until weaned
    Barrow: A male when castrated before sexual maturity
    Stag: A male castrated post puberty.
    Gilt: A female who hasn’t had a litter.
    Sow: A female who has had a litter.
    Boar: An intact, adult male.

    “Based on Size:
    Weaner: Any sex, but weaned an not ready for market.
    Porker: up 120lbs, ready for market as meat
    Cutter: 120 – 160lbs, also for meat, and
    Baconer: 160lbs+ – Produce good bacon, lesser quality meat otherwise.

    “You probably haven’t eaten boar pork in your life, as boars exist solely for breeding purposes, and one boar can take care of hundreds (thousand with assistance of technology) and no one wants to have to handle a boar if it’s not necessary.”

    I know what you are all wondering. No, that won’t be on the midterm. Hi Wilbur!

    In Monday’s puzzle, a clue was  “Boxer who lit the cauldron in the 1996 Olympics” and it was, of course, ALI. It opened a little door to a wonderful memory for commenter Tom T and he shared it with us:

    “In 1996, my wife and I took summer jobs in Europe before a planned move with our two young sons from Louisiana to South Florida in the fall. The jobs in Europe turned out to be a bust and, with the Olympics about to get underway in Atlanta, we had to scramble to get flights to Atlanta from Europe. We ended up with my older son and me flying through LaGuardia while my wife and younger son reached Atlanta via Cincinnati.

    “As she waited with my son at their gate in Cincinnati, my wife thought that the lone man who arrived on an airport motorized cart might be Mohammed Ali, even though it seemed really odd that he would travel without an entourage. It was indeed Ali and she got a great picture of our son with the legendary boxer.

    “Two nights later, sitting on the living room floor of our new house in Florida with my son in my lap, we watched the opening ceremony of the 1996 Olympics. And as the torch passed from one famous person to another, it dawned on me that the last person to hold that torch, the one to light the cauldron, would be Ali. I shared that thought with my son, and when the big moment came, he said, ‘That’s him, Dad!’”

    “Ali’s low profile travel arrangement was clearly part of a plan to keep his torch-bearing a secret. It led to a great memory for my family.”

    Gotta get to bed early tonight — the owls and we are taking the show on the road tomorrow with a stop in Pittsburgh and then on to see Sam, Sarah, Morris, and Worthington in Bloomfield Hills MI. Broadcasting may be a bit spotty until our return next Tuesday. But we’ll see.

    Thanks for stopping in!

  • Vandy! We’re F*cking Turnt!

    There are surprises in sports, there are upsets and shocking upsets. And then there is Vanderbilt beating Alabama Saturday 40-35. Is there a descriptor for that? Bama was fresh off its win over powerhouse Georgia and ranked #1. They owned Vandy. They had beaten them 23 consecutive times, more than any Alabama victim. They were 22.5-point favorites. Vandy had never beaten a top-five team. Ever. Sh*t, are they even a real team? — they’re called the Commodores. What the hell is that? A bar-mitzvah band? And Bama of course is the Crimson Tide, a red tsunami. But when it was all over, the scoreboard read Vandy 40, Alabama 35. QB Pavia summed things up in his on-field interview after the game:

    That interview was conducted by Alyssa Lang and it wasn’t easy for her to get a hold of him. The NYT said Lang was the only one who stopped him all day.

    Later, of course, in front of the press, Pavia was much calmer and gave a lot of the credit to God for the win. These players who credit God — assuming arguendo that God exists — do they really think God favored them over their opponent? Does it take deep reflection to realize how absurd that is? Back in 2010, Buffalo Bills wide receiver Stevie Johnson blamed God for his (Johnson’s) dropping a game-winning touchdown pass. (“I praise you 24/7, and this how you do me!!”) I’m sorry to go off on this God tangent and distract from Vandy’s historic win — but you started it Pavia.

    Crack Owl Chatter photographer Phil was at the game, but only got this one shot for us before passing out. Thanks, Philly! Good work.

    Just a short note now to let you know that my old ass is wonderful.

    Wait, what?

    Oh, no — let me restate that: The movie “My Old Ass” with Aubrey Plaza and no one else I heard of is wonderful. Even though it takes place on a cranberry farm in Canada, it never gets bogged down. (Hi Carl!)

    The male lead, Percy Hynes White, has an electric charm. It’s the first role for Maisy Stella, the young actress who plays the lead character with the sexy name of Elliott, and she’s good too. Let’s have a look at them, below. Then, when you all go to see it, 92% of you will like it, according to Rotten Tomatoes. It’s about what it means to be young. In case you forgot.

    This “Tiny Love Story” is from yesterday’s NYT. It’s by Phyllis Sheerin Ross.

    Earl and I were introduced in January 1961. As we sat in a darkened movie theater in April watching a rescreening of “An American in Paris,” he leaned forward and whispered, “I think I love you.” I replied, “Please let me know when you do.” He did, and we married in October. Over the next 46 happy years until Earl passed, he would occasionally lean forward and whisper, “I think I love you.” And yes, I would then lean forward and whisper, “Please let me know when you do.”

    A black-and-white photograph of the author, Phyllis Sheerin Ross, and her husband standing outside a house. He has his arm around her, and they are both smiling.

    A local TV station in Texas (WFAA) keeps “a running list” of pastors in their heavily-churched area who have been involved in scandals, mostly sex scandals, we are happy to note. There are 17 so far this year, including five that include criminal charges. It’s enough to earn a front-page story in the Times. “It’s like the unbuckling of the Bible Belt,” said one church founder. [OC note: Wish I had come up with that.]

    We all have our favorites, of course, and mine is Robert Morris, the founder of the Gateway Church, one of the largest in the area. Morris was also a “faith advisor” in the Trump administration. This man of God engaged in the sexual abuse of a girl dozens and dozens of times over a four-year period. I know what you’re thinking — a pastor sexually abusing a child — why is that even news anymore? It would be more newsworthy to find one who hasn’t. [Have I shared this joke? A cop stops a car with two priests in it. “We’re looking for a child molester,” the cop says. One of the priest answers: “We can do it.”]

    In the case of Robert Morris, it was his defense that caught my eye. Let’s have a look. First, here’s Cindy Clemishire. It was she who was abused by Morris when she was 12 and finally went public.

    Morris was 21 when it started, married with a child. He traveled the country spreading the word of Jesus. As NBC News put it, “Clemishire was 12, dressed in flowery pink pajamas, and still liked to play with Barbie dolls. It was Christmas, 1982, and Morris was staying with the Clemishires. He told Cindy to come see him in his room before bed, and she was the type of girl who listened to instructions from trusted adults. He molested her repeatedly.”

    It took a while, but 25 years later, Clemishire hired an attorney and advised Morris she was suing him for the abuse. Now comes my favorite part. Morris retained a sharp lawyer. Well, let me rephrase that — he retained a lawyer named Sharpe.

    “It was your client,” wrote Sharpe, referring to Clemishire at age 12, “who initiated inappropriate behavior by coming into my client’s bedroom and getting in bed with him.”

    Aha! The “She started it!” defense!

    It reminded me of the Seinfeld episode in which Kramer got into a fight with a monkey at the zoo. (They were throwing things at each other through the bars.) When he was called into the zookeeper’s office and upbraided for his actions, Kramer said, “Well, he started it!”

    Sharpe denied knowing Clemishire was only 12, but when offered to see the correspondence that clearly stated the fact he said he did not have time to read it. Fair enough. Busy is busy.

    Clemishire said the abuse lasted for years and involved over 100 incidents far more intimate and abusive than the “kissing and petting” Morris admitted. Morris also said the number was only a “fraction” of the number of times she claimed. He did not make it clear what size fraction should be considered okay.

    Clemishire’s father found out about the abuse in 1987 and called the senior pastor in a rage demanding Morris be removed from the Church.

    This part’s good too.

    Clemishire remembers getting a call from Morris’ wife, Debbie, a few days later.  Debbie told her, “I forgive you.”

    “I’ll never forget that,” Clemishire said. “They wanted me to believe that I — me, the child — was responsible for what happened. And they’ve never stopped trying to make me believe that.”

    I like to think there’s a special place in Hell for these schmucks, but I doubt there’s enough room down there for them all.

    Yuck. Those stories make me feel like I need a shower. Either a shower OR! a visit to the Dull Men’s Club (UK).

    Member Andy Spragg shared the following: This morning I made three slices of toast for my breakfast, from a loaf type we don’t usually buy (Jasons Sourdough 400gm; it was a reduced bargain at Tesco Express). Imagine my dull delight when I realised how nicely they conformed to the outline of the fish plate when suitably arranged.

    Mike Woodward-Gregg asked: How did you manage to corale the upper left dollop of chilli crisp into the shape of a cockerel?

    I know what he meant to ask — that upper left dollop of jelly (or whatever) looks like a cockerel. But what does “corale” mean? I inquired but have yet to receive a response.

    Elaine Dixon noted it was her favorite bread. And Clarissa Vincent had this story for us: I buy two Jason’s at once because I get through a loaf quickly. Yesterday the huge Tesco was heaving and in the busyness the teller only charged me £2. I thought it was BOGOF but on my receipt only one had been charged.

    I like to participate when I can, so I chimed in with: “I live for when things like that happen.”

    Then things got a bit ugly. Karen Bearns-Donnelly asked: Why can’t you spread to the edges?

    Spragg replied: it’s crunchy peanut butter; it’s not infinitely spreadable. Why is it a big deal?

    Karen: I didn’t say it was a big deal. Just don’t see the point of having naked toast.

    Spragg: you didn’t say it was a big deal, but you did say “can’t” rather than “don’t,” like it was some fundamental disability on my part rather than just a conscious choice.

    Karen: Jaysus

    Spragg: Why can’t you spell Jesus properly?

    Karen: if I’d meant Jesus that’s what I’d have put.

    [It seems to have ended there. Could you plotz?]

    See you tomorrow Chatterheads!