The Wellington Files

  • Taylor’s Ruffled Cream Zimmerman Dress

    I’ve never been to the Anne Frank House, or even to Amsterdam or the Netherlands. I stepped in to one of the train cars, though, that carried people to the camps. They have one at the Holocaust Museum in DC. It was less horrifying to me than I thought it would be, maybe because of the not unpleasant environment, or because I steeled myself for it. This poem is from today’s Poetry Foundation email. It’s called “Anne Frank Huis” and is by Andrew Motion.

    Even now, after twice her lifetime of grief
    and anger in the very place, whoever comes
    to climb these narrow stairs, discovers how
    the bookcase slides aside, then walks through
    shadow into sunlit rooms, can never help

    but break her secrecy again. Just listening
    is a kind of guilt: the Westerkirk repeats
    itself outside, as if all time worked round
    towards her fear, and made each stroke
    die down on guarded streets. Imagine it—

    four years of whispering, and loneliness,
    and plotting, day by day, the Allied line
    in Europe with a yellow chalk. What hope
    she had for ordinary love and interest
    survives her here, displayed above the bed

    as pictures of her family; some actors;
    fashions chosen by Princess Elizabeth.
    And those who stoop to see them find
    not only patience missing its reward,
    but one enduring wish for chances

    like my own: to leave as simply
    as I do, and walk at ease
    up dusty tree-lined avenues, or watch
    a silent barge come clear of bridges
    settling their reflections in the blue canal.

    One “rule” of crosswords that I wasn’t aware of before I started taking them more seriously, is the rule against “dupes,” or duplications. It says that the same word should not be used more than once in a puzzle, especially in answers, but even in clues/answers. So, e.g., if a puzzle had “growing up,” and “toss up” as two answers, it might be pointed out by Rex or in a comment as a flaw. But it so often occurs that the rule may be fading away. Dupes never bothered me. I don’t usually even notice them until someone complains.

    I enjoyed this back-and-forth from Tuesday. MAC (the computer) appeared in the clue at 1A, and the answer at 10D was IMAC. It led commenter Mike to post: “What about the horrible duplicate of Mac in the 1A clue and the answer to 10D??? Yeesh!”

    And this was Gary’s response:

    I suppose we all set the bar for what “horrible” means. Feels like some set it at family members dying, putting pets to sleep, war, famine, oppression, or anything to do with a political opinion of the opposition. Others find “horrible” when their hot dog falls on the ground at the fair, when the wind musses a highly orchestrated Dippity-Doo-ism, or when grampa expresses an opinion gleaned from his media savvy TV watching all day. Maybe the boy your daughter is dating is horrible. For us here on the blog, KIVA crossing KEG is horrible, ARSES magically vanishing when a new editor is promoted is horrible (for me), and for some, puzzles shaped like pizzas are horrible (or not). So when you ask, “What about the horrible dupe…” I guess I need to ask the circular question, “What about it?”

    And, BTW, Gary’s avatar is a photo of himself. He looks just like you’d think he looks, it seems to me.

    A story in the Style section of today’s NYT discusses London’s Victoria and Albert Museum, in particular, a new exhibit featuring clothing and other stuff of Taylor Swift’s, carefully placed among historical artwork and artifacts to which they relate thematically.

    The first two paragraphs tell the tale:

    “Disappointed Love,” painted in 1821 by the Irish artist Francis Danby, is a scene of eternal teenage wistfulness, its visual codes as readable now as they were back then. A young girl sits by a river, tearful and heartbroken, her head in her hands, her white dress pooling around her legs. In the water, pages of a torn letter float among the waterlilies. By her side are props of femininity: a straw bonnet, a bright red shawl and a miniature portrait of the man who wronged her.

    The work hangs in the collection of the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, in a red-walled gallery tightly packed with Georgian and Victorian paintings. As of recently, Danby’s weeping beauty has a new neighbor: a ruffled cream Zimmerman dress worn by Taylor Swift in the music video for “Willow,” from her 2020 album “Evermore.”

    Over a dozen items are strategically (and thematically) placed so that a Swiftie (or non-Swiftie, I suppose) will follow a trail through the museum to catch them all. Here’s another pairing:

    Kate Bailey, the curator, placed the red puff-sleeve Tadashi Shoji gown Ms. Swift wore in the video for “I Bet You Think About Me” next to a colossal velvet-draped four-poster bed, commissioned by the Earl of Melville in 1700 to convey status and political success.

    Well, duh — where the hell else would you put it?

    Of course, once our Phil caught wind of the show, he talked Taylor into sneaking in with him after hours so he could get a shot of her in the Zimmerman dress. They ended up getting chased by a 60-year-old museum guard who had trouble climbing stairs, so they made it out safely. Nice shot, Philly.

    Our Gnats have fallen on hard times. Not only did they lose Jesse Winker, as discussed a while back, but Lane Thomas is gone now too. We loved him. I’m not saying they can’t adjust, but since the departures of Wink and Lainie, they had a no-hitter thrown against them by the Padres, and lost to ‘Zona 17-0. Ouch. Double ouch.

    Let’s give Lucy Brown, of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) the last word tonight. Here’s what she posted:

    “I have used the same hair towel for 30 years. It no longer has any colour to it, some parts are threadbare and it has started to lose the shape. I have tried to use different towels and I can’t.”

    Here are some comments:

    Your description of your hair towel matches my description of my hair.

    Have to ask this. What is a hair towel?

    It’s a towel made from hair. Like a hair shirt, it’s used by Penitents.

    I’m approaching 60 and am currently on my second hairbrush, I estimate this one has another 15-20 years in it.

    I have used the same hair for over 50 years.

    I use the tellytubby towel my son got when he was 4 months old. He’s 27 next week

    For the love of god get some bleach

    And, last, wisdom from Annette Wilkinson: Always know where your towel is.

    Hard to argue with that. See you tomorrow!

  • Cedar Poles Adzed Flat

    This poem makes me feel young. It also makes me feel what Owl Chatter maybe is all about. Are words magical, or what?

    On someone else’s estate
    running through it to avoid
    the outdoor wedding there is a grave
    in a little copse of trees
    so panting  we hide out there

    How beautiful to lie down
    not to be the dead ones there
    whose eye sockets are filled with dirt
    nothing is theirs anymore
    you pass me a crumpled joint

    swaying a little like a poem
    while black birds wail in the air
    and the commuter train wails
    all we have to do is make tacos
    tonight and be friends

    Matthew Rohrer, “Poem for Friends”

    You think you’re having a bad day?

    Yesterday, in 1890, Vincent van Gogh died. He had shot himself in the chest in a wheat field two days before, and managed to make it home to his own bed. His brother Theo rushed from Paris to Vincent’s bedside and reported that van Gogh’s last words were “The sadness will go on forever.”

    Ouch! Lighten up Vinnie. Not helpful!

    On the plus side (very plus), Owl Chatter’s style and culture director, ANA de Armas popped by the puzzle yesterday at 47D (“Actress de Armas”). Darling! So good to see you! Gorgeous as ever. George! — see if Phil left any of that hummus for us, with the pine nuts. And a cold Fresca! Sit, sit — how’ve you been? You like Harris?

    Yesterday’s puzzle? It is what it is. That is to say, it contains phrases that double back on themselves. ENOUGH IS ENOUGH, SORRY NOT SORRY, NEVER SAY NEVER, and LITTLE BY LITTLE. I like how each of the connecting words is different: is, not, say, and by.

    Rex was unimpressed: “Just a depressing offering, all around. The theme concept isn’t restrictive enough to be interesting in the first place. FIRST THINGS FIRST. HEART TO HEART. BLONDE ON BLONDE. GAME RECOGNIZE GAME. I’m not even trying yet and I can rattle off alternative themers no problem. For days. What are we doing here?” 

    Then he shared an Eddie Rabbitt song: “Step by Step.”

    Game recognize game? That’s new to me. Here’s what it means: It’s when someone who “has game” sees it in someone else. This is from the Urban Dictionary: “An esoteric catchphrase of the urban male pimp, playa, rapper or wannabe that carries the weighty implication that only someone who has their game tight can have the appropriate respect and admiration for someone else’s doubtlessly tight game.” But it has spread to have a wider application as an appreciation by anyone who has his sh*t together that someone else has theirs together too.

    – Person A: “I can’t believe how well Sarah handled that difficult customer.”
    – Person B: “No doubt, game recognize game. She knows how to handle any situation with grace and professionalism.”

    There were some cool folks in the puzzle, in addition to our ANA. SARAH was clued via “Comic Silverman,” and DANA via “Agent ___ Scully of “The X-Files.” I’m watching her in the creepy “The Fall” now. Still a knockout.

    But ENOS was clued from the bible instead of as ENOS Slaughter, baseball Hall of Famer who played for the Yankees in the 1950s, but mostly for the Cards. A ten-time All Star, he scored the winning run in Game 7 of the 1946 World Series for STL with a famous “mad dash,” and had a lifetime batting average of .300.

    “My Father As House Builder” is by Robert Peters. It’s from today’s Writer’s Almanac. I had an English professor (Josef Summers) who said that when poets get together they talk about sounds.

    Cedar poles skidded by horse
    from swamp to highland, stripped
    of bark, hauled to the house-site
    on a knoll near the county road.
    A pattern in the sand
    for two rooms and kitchen, drawn
    with a sapling and a string.
    Cedar poles adzed flat,
    other Poles notched for walls.
    We chinked logs with swamp moss
    secured by slats, then plastered.
    We puttied the windows.
    Scrap lumber for the roof and floors.
    A cellar hole in the living room,
    the sand fetched up by buckets
    and dumped in a marsh hole
    filled in for a garden plot.
    The upper story, hip-roofed, low,
    built without plumb lines.
    Tin smoke-pipe leaning north,
    tied by guy wires to the roof.
    We nagged Dad to finish the walls,
    but he never did.
    The studs, he said,
    were good for hanging pots and clothes.
    The walls we insulated
    with flattened cardboard boxes
    and decorated them with pictures
    cut from Hearst’s American Weekly Sunday News.

    In today’s puzzle, at 6D, ANNA was “Soprano Netrebko.” She’s an opera singer from Russia who was branded a traitor by Putin for a statement she made supporting Ukraine. She lives in Austria.

    Son Volt shared this neat old song with us, in her honor.

    The puzzle had one of the best clues of the year in it: “Use non-lead pipes?” The answer was SING BACKUP. Get it? Using your pipes is slang for singing. And if you’re not the lead singer, you’re backing up.

    VING RHAMES was also an answer (for “Actor who plays Luther Stickell in the ‘Mission: Impossible’ franchise”). He was great as Marcellus in Pulp Fiction. Here’s what Rex says about him in that role:

    “what I remember most about his performance in that movie is the back of his neck. The first time you see him, the camera is trained on the back of his very thick neck and bald head for a very long time, as he sits at a table in a bar. Makes him seem very cool and imposing. His neck has a band-aid on it, which apparently inspired a ton of fan theories (“the devil takes your soul from the back of your neck” “he cut himself shaving” etc.).”

    You must know these very important additional facts about him:

    His given name is Irving. I am not kidding. He studied acting at SUNY Purchase. It was fellow student Stanley Tucci who shortened it to “Ving.”

    He has appeared in a film in 34 out of the 38 years from 1986 to 2024.

    Now get ready for me to blow your mind: It’s his voice saying “We have the meats” in the Arby ads.

    Here’s my Pulp Fiction story:

    I saw Pulp Fiction late in its run, in a seedy theater near Times Square. I was alone and there were only about 8 of us in the place.

    At one point in the movie, Willis and Travolta meet in a bar and Willis says something that I just missed. I couldn’t hear it. There was no one near me I could ask. But Travolta says to Willis on the screen: “What did you say?”

    Great! What luck! He’s going to repeat it!

    But Willis just glared at Travolta and said: “You heard me.”

    D’oh!

    See you tomorrow!

  • Saving Nickels, Saving Dimes

    As you know, dear readers, one of my daily and favorite activities after completing the NYTXW is to read Rex Parker’s blog on it and the often wonderful comments it elicits. But it’s not everyone’s cup o’ tea. He often rates a puzzle “easy” after you’ve spent the morning tearing your hair out over it. And things you enjoy in it he may hate, and things that annoy you may amuse him. Thus, A. Nonny Mouse posted this note today:

    “I need to stop reading this blog because it just crushes my self-esteem. I found this to be challenging and frankly quite annoying. I had OLYMPIC RING instead of OLYMPIC FLAG and because I haven’t been studying my Chinese museum designers lately, I wasn’t able to figure out that section. I’m also not 80 years old so I don’t listen to Linda Ronstadt, and “range war” is not a thing.”

    Hey Mouse! No need to diss Linda!! There was a time when every man in America was hopelessly in love with her, head-over-heels-lessly in love. And most of us haven’t gotten over it yet. She appeared today via Blue BAYOU. Let’s give it a listen. And if it doesn’t still give you a jolt, you might want to have that looked into.

    The puzzle was by a wonderful young man I met once at a tournament: Paolo Pasco. Alright, I didn’t really meet him but we were both there at the same time. Fittingly, the puzzle is on the Olympic flag. It has five colored rings and the answers in those rings are color-dependent. So, e.g., for the clue “malevolent sorcery,” the answer is MAGIC, but it appears in the black ring, so you get “black magic.” Quite a feat of construction. Maybe a picture will help.

    Amusingly, at 81A the clue was “Supreme pizza topping” for OLIVE, which becomes “black olive,” revisiting the great topping controversy from earlier this week.

    And you can see now at 79A, the clue was “Signature hit for Linda Ronstadt” and the answer BAYOU in the blue ring, is thus Blue Bayou.

    Our photographer Phil spent a few years traveling with Linda back in the day, and has quite a few intimate shots of her. Good times.

    Here’s a tiny love story by Stephen Burns from today’s NYT. Brace yourself.

    It was the day my wife and I were going to meet, for the first time, the man who held parts of our daughter, who died at 16, inside him: her pancreas and her kidney. As we walked from our front door to the car, a hawk flew toward us and settled in the nearest tree. Maybe 30 feet away? The hawk just sat silently watching. In 15 years in our house, we had never seen a hawk in the yard. We waited, staring, and the hawk stared back. “Hello, Anna,” my wife said. The man is doing very well.

    We’re always delighted when the puzzle starts right out in our Dirty Old Man Dept. The clue at 1A was “Word following ‘push-up’ that anagrams to a word following ‘pull-up.’” (Three letters) Get it? It’s BRA, which anagrams to BAR.

    It led egs to comment: I guess we now know why the star of Funny Girl was nicknamed Pull up/push up Streisand.

    At 39D today the clue was “Rock climber’s handhold” and the answer was CRAG. A member of the American Nitpicker’s Association & League (ANAL) writes:

    As a rock climber, it’s always fun to see things referencing my hobby, but not so fun when the clue is just wrong! In rock climbing, the word “crag” refers to the area the cliffs are located, e.g. “yeah, I’m headed out to the crag this weekend,” not an individual climbing hold (e.g. crimp, jug, sloper, pinch).

    Okay, noted.

    This one really gets my goat. At 95D the clue was “Part of a woman’s anatomy named for Dr. Ernst Gräfenberg,” and the answer was G SPOT.

    And here’s a comment by Matt:  “It would be more appropriate to say ‘Part of a FEMALE’s anatomy…’ instead of ‘Part of a WOMAN’s anatomy…’ because we’re talking about biological sex here vs. gender, which is a sociological construct. In other words, not all people who identify as ‘woman’ would have ‘female’ genital structures.”

    Jeez Louise, you moron!! It’s a fucking crossword puzzle — not a scientific journal! Jesus H. Christ!

    [Okay. I’ve calmed myself down. George! — I could use a Diet Coke?]

    Gnats fans are very sorry to bid farewell to outfielder Jesse Winker, traded to the Mets last night for a good-looking pitching prospect. We loved the Buffalo-born 30-year-old who was a darn good hitter and excellent clubhouse presence. And he has a daughter named Wren!

    Happily, his last game with the Gnats was a 14-3 drubbing of the Cards, with Jesse going 2 for 3 with a ribbie. Knock ’em dead with the Mets, Wink! We enjoyed you while we could.

    This was posted in the Dull Men’s Club by Michael Henderson: “I’ve seen some strange implements for daily ablutions and having a daughter, sister, partner and mother, I usually ask the fairer sex what they’re for, and the answers are usually pretty dull. I lay in the bath wondering what this was for – the gold metal thing, not the yellow, organic, juicy thing.”

    Rosie Wren wrote: “Utterly disturbed at the idea of a juicy banana, couldn’t read the rest of the post.” And Tiffany Jerrell replied: “At least he didn’t say ‘moist.’” [Ha!]

    Rod Hay wrote: “It’s an eye socket reamer before you insert your false eye from the 1800s. It helps ’round’ the internal shape of the empty socket and avoids irritation.” And Cyrus Attoun asked Hay: “Is it terrifying living inside that brain?”

    Jenn Jenn states: When you find such items in the bathroom and you live with many females, the correct answer is not to ask any questions. Not a single one. You didn’t see it, it does not exist, there are no questions to be asked.

    Ross Craig: “A juicy banana? The hell is wrong with you, man?”

    But the consensus emerged: It’s for under the eyes. You dot some eye cream or serum and use the roller to absorb the cream/serum into the skin. 

    Of course! I think I need one. See you tomorrow!

  • It’s One For You, Nineteen For Me

    There was a Doberman in yesterday’s puzzle so Rex played a song called “I Mock Joggers” by Big Special because of the picture on it, see below.

    The clue for Doberman was “Breed once known as the ‘Tax Collector’s Dog,’” which was news to me. Here are the opening lyrics to the song:

    I mock joggers coz I’m insecure about me weight
    I should be out runnin but I’m always runnin away or runnin late.

    Here — have a listen.

    This explanation is from Wikipedia:

    Dobermanns were first bred in the 1880s by Karl Friedrich Louis Dobermann, a tax collector who ran a dog pound in Apolda, in Thuringia in central Germany. With access to dogs of many breeds, he got the idea to create a breed that would be ideal for protecting him from disgruntled taxpayers. He set out to breed a new type of dog that would exhibit impressive stamina, strength, and intelligence.

    Speaking of tax collectors, in the mid-1980s, Britain enacted a 95% “supertax” on some of its wealthiest citizens, including The Beatles. They responded with their song “Taxman” which includes the line: “Should 5% appear too small, be thankful I don’t take it all.” And “one for you, nineteen for me.”

    Recently, we discussed the position taken by the NYTXW that olives are a “divisive” pizza topping. Rex maintained anchovies were divisive, and Owl Chatter agrees, but questioned whether any other topping could be controversial enough to qualify as divisive.

    Commenter Mack posted this: OLIVES are absolutely divisive toppings on pizza. It’s one of those ingredients that oblivious people include on everything they order, assuming everyone eats them. Ditto mushrooms and pineapple. I once had a grandparent order about eight pizzas for a family party, all of which had mushrooms. She was confused when none of the children wanted to eat any. They’re kids! No kids like mushrooms.

    Several commenters opined that pineapple qualifies as divisive. I would agree with that, if they pass the hurdle of being considered a topping at all. They seem a little specialized to me. They are often accompanied by ham. This one looks good, I have to admit. An outstanding crust makes up for most deficiencies.

    And then there was this: EVERYTHING about pizza is divisive! Thin crust vs thick. NY vs Chicago (I prefer the square Detroit style from my childhood.) Haters gonna hate the frou frou Cali style with artichokes, and asparagus. There’s the never pineapple crowd, and those that can’t stand mushrooms. Whether you pick it up with your hands or eat with a fork and knife. And the dreaded sardine! I have a friend who makes it with brie, caramelized onions, and orange marmalade. So the clue could have really gone anywhere.

    Finally, Gill wrote: I don’t eat pizza and I found this crazy hard.

    Did you know that, according to the NYTXW, MOIST is the “adjective that’s been called ‘one of the most hated words in the English language?’” I had no idea. What’s so bad about it? Well, we took a look at this article: https://www.mentalfloss.com/article/64984/science-behind-why-people-hate-word-moist

    It says that when The New Yorker asked readers to nominate a word to scrub from the English language in 2012, the overwhelming consensus was to ditch moist. And a Buzzfeed post on the topic got over 4 million hits.

    Researchers found that around 20% of the population studied was averse to the word, but that it didn’t have anything to do with the way it sounds. Rather, it’s the association with bodily functions that seems to turn most people off. It seems to be associated with sex. It’s less hated when associated with food. Although a Rex commenter said that some food companies are starting to avoid the word, describing a cake, e.g., as “plush.”

    People magazine tried to rescue moist via a video in which their “sexiest men alive” say “moist” — trying to make it sound hot. It does not seem to have worked. On the other hand, it’s probably for the best that they didn’t try that stunt with sexy women — half the men in the country would have a stroke.

    And what the hell is this about?

    Yesterday, for the clue “Les _____,” the answer was MIZ. There was a bit of a flap over whether it should be MIS, not MIZ. One cheeky bloke ranted: It might be culturally correct in the US, but not in the rest of the world that knows how to spell… I’ve certainly never seen it spelled like that in the UK, and I’ve seen the show dozens of times as a close friend played Valjeans in the west end (albeit as understudy and in matinees). Terrible clue. Just wrong 🤷‍♂️

    But this fellow set him straight, IMO: The last time I checked, the US is not part of the UK. In THIS country LES MIZ is perfectly acceptable. Nothing wrong with the answer. Every country has its idiosyncrasies. By the same logic, the English pronunciation of valet , accent on the first syllable and the second syllable ending with a T sound is also wrong. That’s the way language is, especially when you borrow a word from another language.

    Hrrrumph!

    Here’z a very pretty mizz from the cazt.

    From the sublime to the disgusting. Here’s a note from the Owl Chatter You-Can’t-Make-This-Stuff-Up Department, Trump division.

    Speaking last night at an event hosted by the Christian organization Turning Point Action in Florida, Trump said, “Christians, get out and vote, just this time. You won’t have to do it anymore. Four more years, you know what, it will be fixed, it will be fine, you won’t have to vote anymore, my beautiful Christians.”

    “I love you Christians. I’m a Christian. I love you, get out, you gotta get out and vote. In four years, you don’t have to vote again, we’ll have it fixed so good you’re not going to have to vote,” Trump said.

    I can’t quite put my finger on it, but something about that seems a bit jarring, no?

    He also called Harris a bum and said she doesn’t like Jews. I am not kidding. Who’s briefing him? Has no one told him about the husband? Here he is wearing a yarmulke and lighting a menorah.

    For the clue “Letters of coverage,” the answer was SPF. One commenter said she never heard of it and received the reply: You’ve never heard of SPF? Do you only go outside at night?

    Here’s sunburnt Barbie.

    This is important: At 44A, the clue was “Birds that can emit a ‘teakettle, teakettle, teakettle’ call” and the answer was WRENS. But kitshef says: Most WRENS don’t sound anything like teakettle-teakettle-teakettle. It’s just Carolina wrens, and really they sound more like trubily-trubily-trubily.

    Here — you decide. It just sounds like birds to me.

    At 2D the clue was “Hung tough” and the answer was PERSISTED. I suggested a better clue would have been “What McConnell said Warren did.”

    Here’s Mitch now on the vice presidency.

    To honor the memory of Abdul “Duke” Fakir, the last member of the original Four Tops to pass away, here’s one of their classics. Fakir died in Detroit at the age of 88. He’s holding his lifetime achievement Grammy in this shot. Well-earned.

    He is survived by his wife, of 50 years; six of his children, a sister, and several grandchildren and great-grandchildren. He never tired of singing the old hits. He toured until late last year. Rest in peace.

    See you tomorrow!

  • You Need an Otter

    A special opening shout-out to Owl Chatter friend Pennsylvania Sandee, who is not at all blobby, but responded to our piece on this year’s Blobfest by noting she and hubby Jeff used to live near the Colonial Theater in Phoenixville. She recommends their backstage tour. (Phil! You hear that? Put it on your list.)

    At 63A today, the clue was “Divisive pizza topping” and the answer was OLIVES. I agree with Rex’s take: Hey, are OLIVEs really “divisive?” Anchovies, sure, that’s canon, but OLIVEs? More than other toppings? Weird. OLIVEs rule, though it’s true I rarely have them on pizza. If I found them on my pizza, however, I would not mind. “Divisive?” You folks are weird.

    Jeez Louise, this one looks good. We had excellent pizza at Nomad Pizza in Hopewell, NJ, last Saturday, especially the Pear and Gorgonzola pie.

    John Mayall died at age 90 on Monday, the godfather of the British blues, and mentor to Eric Clapton, Mick Taylor of the Stones, and many others. He’s in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in the “musical influence” category. Phil took this shot of him for us a few years ago when Mayall was performing in Seattle at age 85.

    And here’s some of his early sound.

    Mayall’s two marriages ended in divorce but he was married to his second wife for 30 years: a blues performer herself, Maggie Mayall, who helped manage John’s career. He had six kids and six grandchildren, all of whom, I would bet, are well-versed in the blues and probably play a pretty mean guitar. Rest in peace, John.

    This poem from today’s Writer’s Almanac by Dick Davis is called “A Monorhyme for the Shower.” It’s an intimate peek at a happy marriage that made me feel that I should maybe look away.

    Lifting her arms to soap her hair
    Her pretty breasts respond—and there
    The movement of that buoyant pair
    Is like a spell to make me swear
    Twenty-odd years have turned to air;
    Now she’s the girl I didn’t dare
    Approach, ask out, much less declare
    My love to, mired in young despair.

    Childbearing, rows, domestic care—
    All the prosaic wear and tear
    That constitute the life we share—
    Slip from her beautiful and bare
    Bright body as, made half aware
    Of my quick surreptitious stare,
    She wrings the water from her hair
    And turning smiles to see me there.

    So the wife steps out of the shower as the husband steps in and they hear the doorbell ring. The husband says, “Can you run down and see who it is?” so she wraps a big white towel around herself and goes down to see who’s at the door. It’s their neighbor, Bill. He takes one look at her and says, “I’ll give you $300 if you let that towel drop.” She thinks for a second and then, voila. He hands her the money, she wraps the towel around herself again, and goes back upstairs. The husband says, “Who was it?” and she says “Bill, from next door.” And he says, “Good. Did he say anything about the $300 he owes me?”

    Back to that Blobfest for a moment, Frank Bruni’s “For the love of sentences” feature includes this sentence from the NYT by Emmett Lindner:  “In Phoenixville, Pa., where much of ‘The Blob’ was shot, thousands of fans gathered at the 25th annual Blobfest over the weekend to celebrate with ooze and ahhs.”

    Also in the NYT, food critic Pete Wells wrote about his retiring and recalled a colleague’s caveat that every lofty Times job is rented formal wear, not permanent threads: “It’s time to return the tux. I’ve had the trousers let out a few inches, but a tailor can take them in again. As for the stain on the jacket, that’s just pork fat. I think it adds character.” 

    Hold on. D’oh! Can you just relax for a minute with Phil’s friend Larissa? I gotta go check on the soup. Larissa is from Brazil and is as talented as she is pretty.

    OK, thanks Larissa. I’m back. My brother and sister loved Jean Shepard. He told stories on the radio and infused my family with his personal style of off-beat humor. I’d be hard pressed to identify it among all the strands of nonsense here in Owl Chatter, but I’m sure it’s in there in good measure. He was born on this date in Chicago in 1925. The one story of his that was made into a movie was The Christmas Story (1983). It’s about a boy who wants a BB gun for Christmas, even though every adult in his life says he’ll shoot his eye out.

    For now, I’m just going to steal this material from The Writer’s Almanac. And I’ll see what George and I can dig up on him in the coming days.

    “The stories Shepherd told on-air were always improvised, but he later wrote them down and published them in collections like In God We Trust: All Others Pay Cash (1967) and Wanda Hickey’s Night of Golden Memories and Other Disasters (1972). He said: “Some men are Baptists, others Catholics. My father was an Oldsmobile man.”

    Happy birthday, Shepard.

    “Wrong window. I’m a sea lion. You need an otter.”

    Happy Anniversary, kids! Hard to believe it’s been a year already. Here’s a lesson on how to feel like you’re all alone with your babe while the eyes of the whole world are on you. Hold on tight.

    We’re going to let Larissa play us off tonight with Eric Clapton’s heart-wrenching song Tears in Heaven, about the death of his 4-year-old son Conor.

    See you tomorrow!

  • Horses Made of Sticks

    It was a bang-up puzzle today. Did you know that “Bang” is old-fashioned slang for an exclamation point? Me neither. According to Wikipedia:

    “In the 1950s, secretarial dictation and typesetting manuals in America referred to the mark as “bang,” perhaps from comic books – where the ! appeared in dialogue bubbles to represent a gun being fired – although the nickname probably emerged from letterpress printing. “

    So in the puzzle, at several places the across answer ended in an exclamation point which became the word “bang” (shmooshed into one square: a “rebus”) for the down answer. E.g., at 21A the answer was CHIPS AHOY!, and at 9D the ! becomes the end square for SHE[BANG].

    I had forgotten how sexy Ricky Martin is.

    The best one was at 61A: “Slogan in the 2016 Republican presidential primary.” The answer was JEB! This clip is hysterical.

    The down answer for Jeb’s exclamation point was “Rocks out to heavy metal, say” and the answer was HEAD[BANG]S.

    ONE TWO THREE FOUR! Turn it up!

    Alright, Nance — we’ll let you close out this segment.

    ANNE Hathaway was in the puzzle (“Oscar winning Hathaway”), and someone noted she was right next to BARD (“Teller of tales”). Since Anne Hathaway was also the name of Shakespeare’s wife, that’s a nice little touch.

    Here’s a shot of Anne Phil took on their vacation together a while back.

    Another potential combo featured ALOUETTE, clued by “Classic children’s song about a lark.” Did you know the song was about plucking the feathers from a lark? In the puzzle, it crossed Willa Cather’s book: O PIONEERS!, which was a theme answer because of the (!) bang at the end. And someone noted Cather also wrote a book called “Song of the Lark.” Whoa — it’s freaking me out.

    Remember when Trump was just starting out his political career? Before we knew nothing he did or said could hurt him, I thought he was finished when he dissed John McCain. And, for sure, the Access Hollywood tape. But the first time I thought he did himself in was when he so crassly made fun of a disabled reporter. Remember that? He impersonated the deformities. We all saw it, but months later I heard Trump simply deny that he ever did it. “C’mon,” he said. “You know I could never do something like that.”

    Anyway, that all came back to me when I read about a book that’s coming out by his nephew, Fred C. Trump III, who is 61. Here’s how the Times tells it:

    Fred Trump’s son was born with a rare medical condition that led to developmental and intellectual disabilities. After Trump was elected, Fred Trump wanted to use his connection to the White House for good. With the help of others, he was able to convene a group of advocates for a meeting with his uncle. The president “seemed engaged, especially when several people in our group spoke about the heart-wrenching and expensive efforts they’d made to care for their profoundly disabled family members,” he writes.

    After the meeting, his uncle pulled him aside and said, “maybe those kinds of people should just die,” given “the shape they’re in, all the expenses.”

    The remark wasn’t a one-off, according to Fred Trump. A couple of years later, when he called his uncle for help because the medical fund that paid for his son’s care was running out of money, Fred Trump claims his uncle said: “I don’t know. He doesn’t recognize you. Maybe you should just let him die and move down to Florida.”

    “Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised to hear Donald say that,” he writes. “It wasn’t far off from what he’d said that day in the Oval Office after our meeting with the advocates. Only that time, it was other people’s children who should die. This time, it was my son.”

    Brian Drury of the Dull Men’s Club has called for help from the membership. Here’s his post:

    My neighbour has installed a ‘thing’ to the outside of his building and I wondered what it might be so have googled it with no success so far. Yes, I could and would simply ask him as we are good friends but I very rarely see him and thought it would be easy to determine what It is myself. Having failed so far I thought maybe I know a bunch of people who always rise to this sort of challenge so here it is.

    There have been 668 comments so far. [How could anyone not love this club??] Terry Horrocks says: “It’s a plastic box with a wire sticking out of it. Hope this helps.” A discussion then ensued as to whether the wire was running out of it or into it and about the color of the box: white, antique white, ivory, or grey. Remy Downer wants to know if we can really call it a “box,” since it has a rounded bottom.

    Richard Boaler said: “It’s a nosy neighbour deterrent. He’s obviously not switched it on yet.”

    A consensus was emerging that it’s a thermostat of some sort, but James Thomas said it was a toilet. And Ed Baldwin was fairly certain it’s a starling repellant.

    I could continue, but, . . . seriously.

    Let’s close with a few more nudie suits.

    See you tomorrow!

  • Blobfest

    I remember The Blob. It was 1958, so I was eight years old. I remember it started out blue and fairly small on a stick. But it turned red from the blood of its victims and grew enormous. Most of it was filmed in Phoenixville, PA, and the 25th annual Blobfest took place there on the weekend of July 12-14. How could I not have heard about these before? I really must be living under a rock.

    The festival centers around the Colonial Theater where a key scene in the movie features terrified moviegoers fleeing the theater into the street to get away from the blob. The “run out” is a highlight of the festival, recreated by attendees twice.

    Catherine Brodecki was a teenager when the Blob film crew came to town and she jumped at the chance to be an extra when she saw an ad in the local paper. You can see her fleeing the theater in the film. She’s 87 now and attended this year’s runout using a walker. Other highlights of the Blobfest include a showing of the film in the theater (voo den?), and a fire extinguisher parade. As you no doubt recall (I actually do), the only things that could stop the blob in the end were carbon dioxide fire extinguishers. Of course!

    Tired of the same old crappy wine and cheese parties? Jeez Louise — if I have to go to another one I’m going to shoot myself. Try something daring and different. Something bovine! Let us know how it goes!

    (Phil sent in that photo from Hopewell, NJ.)

    This poem from today’s Writer’s Almanac is by Theodore Deppe, and it’s called “The Russian Greatcoat.”

    While my children swim off the breakwater,
    while my wife sleeps beside me in the sun,
    I recall how you once said you knew
    a sure way to paradise or hell.
    Years ago, you stood on the Covington bridge,
    demanded I throw my coat into the Ohio—
    my five dollar “Russian greatcoat,”
    my “Dostoevsky coat,” with no explanations,
    simply because you asked.

    From that height, the man-sized coat fell
    in slow motion, floated briefly,
    one sinking arm bent at the elbow.
    At first, I evade the question when my wife asks
    as if just thinking of you were an act of betrayal.
    The cigarette I shared with you above the river.
    Our entrance into the city, your thin black coat
    around both our shoulders. Sometimes I can go
    weeks without remembering.

    Owl Chatter’s crack investigative team was the first to discover that the Trump shooter was not trying to assassinate him! Our sources reveal that the shooter, Thomas Crooks, was actually aiming at Trump’s ear and had no intention of killing the former president. As the truth makes its way into the mainstream media, remember you heard it here first.

    Shaun Phillips was the NYTXW constructor today and he had a great clue for NUDIE at 49D. I know where you mind is headed, but the clue was “Fashion designer Cohn with an eponymous rhinestone-encrusted suit.”

    Nuta Kotlyarenko was a Ukrainian-American tailor who designed decorative rhinestone-covered suits, known popularly as “Nudie Suits.” His professional name was Nudie Cohn.  Among his most famous creations was  Elvis’s $10,000 gold lamé suit worn by the singer on an album cover. Cohn’s customers included Elton John, John Lennon, Ronald Reagan, and Cher.

    And here’s a nudie of Taylor Swift’s:

    Special thanks to Owl Chatter friends, Judy, Pam and Norrie for their good wishes. And to Riverdale Joe. See you tomorrow!

  • Boo Hoo!

    `Z

    Hi everybody. We’re a little under the weather this week. May be skipping a few days. Believe me, you’ll live. Hope to see you soon!

  • True Scotsmen

    Barry Bridger, of the Dull Men’s Club (UK), writes: “I’ve never been in an Uber taxi, never been to a car boot sale, and I’ve never watched any of the Pirates of the Caribbean films.” [A car boot sale, I am guessing, is like a flea market in England, with crap sold out of people’s car trunks.]

    Megan David replied: “I’ve never watched Titanic. It seems almost disrespectful to.”

    Gareth Duckett: Spoiler alert — it sinks.

    Mark Ford: Just to bring you up to speed- £1.25 for steak, £2.20 for pineapple and ham, £1.65 for chicken. These are pie-rates of the Caribbean..😁

    James Rawlinson then asked (of Barry Bridger): Have you ever kissed a man? And Bridger replied: Not intentionally.

    In a separate post, Tom McMahon asks: Is sitting in the garden watching bats with a beer dull or just perfection?

    Keith Dilworth replied: What beer are the bats drinking?

    And Will Mee noted: There are way worse ways to spend a Friday evening. [But he didn’t specify, darn it.]

    Rex Parker is back from his vacation, and not a moment too soon. His guest bloggers were nice, but no one cuts up a grid like the man.

    The clue at 1A was “Bungee jumping might be seen on it.” The answer was BUCKET LIST. Here’s Rex:

     I floundered around the NW corner of this one like a total incompetent, though, to be fair, some of the clues were dumb (who has bungee jumping on their BUCKET LIST!? Is bungee jumping still a thing? Feels like an “extreme sport” from the ’90s—I wanted the answer to be ESPN … something—”Hey, you wanna watch bungee-jumping?” “No.” “Cool, I’ll just turn on ESPN X-TREME.” “I said ‘no.’”) (I think I also just hate the term BUCKET LIST, the way it sounds, the very idea of it … just do the things you want to do, you don’t need some mythical list, which almost certainly is not an actual “list” anyway). 

    [And get off my lawn!!]

    This Tiny Love Story from today’s NYT is so beautiful. It’s by Katrina Willis.

    Julie stood at the funeral home entrance, hugging my cousins as if she’d known them forever. In the span of three years, I’d lost my beloved mother, my only sister, my uncle, my cousin, my husband of 25 years, and my job. My past was shattered, but my future was safe in my new love’s gentle hands. Julie brought me water as I stood beside my sister’s coffin. “I’ve got you,” she whispered. I expect her to leave after so much sadness, but she stays. She is tiny and steadfast and true, and her love is bigger than the sun.

    In yesterday’s puzzle, at 16A, the clue was “___ Wood, portrayer of the Bond girl Plenty O’Toole in ‘Diamonds Are Forever.’” The answer was LANA. I had not heard of Lana Wood. Have you? She is the younger sister of the late Natalie Wood. She’s 78. Her parents came to the U.S. as child refugees from Russia. Her father’s family left Vladivostok after her grandfather, a chocolate-factory worker who joined the anti-Bolshevik civilian forces, was killed in a street fight in 1922. Don’t you hate when that happens?

    Wood has been married six times and had one child, who died in 2017, and has three grandchildren. Get this — between marriages, she dated Dean Stockwell, Adam West, Eddie Fisher, Warren Beatty, Sean Connery, Alain Delon and Ryan O’Neal, as well as talent agent Guy McElwaine, producer Jerome Hellman and composer Leslie Bricusse. In some bios of her, the writer found it easier to list the people she hasn’t married or dated.

    But, I ask you — what did all these men see in her?

    Rex opined that it’s time for the NYTXW to move away from “Bond girls of yore,” noting there are many Lanas to choose from. Then he shared this poem by Frank O’Hara called “Lana Turner Has Collapsed.”

    Lana Turner has collapsed!
    I was trotting along and suddenly
    it started raining and snowing
    and you said it was hailing
    but hailing hits you on the head
    hard so it was really snowing and
    raining and I was in such a hurry
    to meet you but the traffic
    was acting exactly like the sky
    and suddenly I see a headline
    LANA TURNER HAS COLLAPSED!
    there is no snow in Hollywood
    there is no rain in California
    I have been to lots of parties
    and acted perfectly disgraceful
    but I never actually collapsed
    oh Lana Turner we love you get up

    The theme of today’s puzzle was logical fallacies. Theme clues had statements about the puzzle that illustrated the various fallacies. For example, here’s the clue: Why was this chosen as today’s puzzle? Because it’s great! What makes it great? I mean, it was chosen for publication! And the answer was CIRCULAR REASONING.

    This one was new to me: All crossword fans love this puzzle; anyone who doesn’t love this puzzle can’t be a *real* crossword fan! The answer was NO TRUE SCOTSMAN. And here’s an explanation:

    Philosophy professor Bradley Dowden explains the fallacy as an “ad hoc rescue” of a refuted generalization attempt. [Wait. What?] The following is a simplified rendition of the fallacy:

    Person A: “No Scotsman puts sugar on his porridge.”
    Person B: “But my uncle Angus is a Scotsman and he puts sugar on his porridge.”
    Person A: “But no true Scotsman puts sugar on his porridge.”

    And did you know this one? What’s more, one of those friends won the lottery right after solving it — coincidence? I think not! The answer was POST HOC ERGO PROPTER HOC.

    The fallacy is based on the assumption that one thing caused another because it happened before the other thing. For example, “the dog barked right before the power went out, so the dog’s bark must have caused the power to go out.” 

    Woof, woof.

    My beautiful daughter Caitlin, who is a nurse who deals with this all the time, sent me the following:

    See you tomorrow! Thanks for dropping in.

  • Usha, Ismo; Ismo, Usha

    There was a lot of fun in the puzzle today. The LOVE POTION at 6D must have been potent. It was crossed at 13A by RARIN’ TO GO. At 53A, “Small time, as stakes” was PENNY ANTE, and it reminded me of my mom’s sister Penelope, whom we called Auntie Penny.

    At 43A HASSLED was “Gave a hard time.” egs noted it’s also on Santa’s business card: “HASSLED — Will travel.” But everyone’s favorite was at 10D. The clue was “What might prompt you to flip the bird?” And the answer was OVEN TIMER.

    I also liked 16A where “There are no words . . . ” turned out to be I CAN’T EVEN.

    At 35A, the clue was “Farmers business: Abbr.” and the answer was INS. Malaika, the guest blogger for Rex today confessed that it was a mystery to her and made no sense. And a lot of commenters explained about Farmer’s Insurance and all their TV ads. GG noted: “Farmer’s spent $98 million in advertising in 2020 including for the TV jingle that goes ‘We are Farmers dah da dah da dah dah dah.’ Apparently wasted on Malaika.”

    When we assigned Phil to cover Trump and the GOP convention, his response was “You’re kidding right? You expect me to stay sober for that?” But I assured him he could cover it drunk and that it was unlikely we’d use any of his shots anyway. But here’s Vance’s wife Usha.

    Usha graduated summa cum laude with a degree in history from Yale and then went to Yale Law School. She clerked for Roberts and Kavanaugh. Her parents immigrated from India. In the movie version of her husband’s book she was portrayed by the Indian actress Freida Pinto, below. I’m betting she did not complain.

    How she could marry that creep and have three kids with him is just one of life’s mysteries.

    I watched part of an old interview Bob Costas conducted with Hank Aaron and Willie Mays. Other celebs were in the audience. Billy Crystal was asked about his playing days and he said he tested positive for Maalox. Bob Gibson was chided as a “headhunter” by Mays, and Gibby explained that the outside portion of the plate belonged to the batter. But the area just off the inside portion of the plate was his. And occasionally he’d throw a pitch there and the batter, not knowing any better, “would hit himself with it.” Aaron said he once saw a batter hit in the neck by a pitch, and the pitch had been thrown so hard that the ball lodged in the batter’s neck. It had to be pried out and then you could see the imprint of the ball’s seams in the neck. (I didn’t know Aaron could be so funny.)

    When Aaron and Mays walked onto the stage, the audience gave them a prolonged standing ovation. Costas said he noticed that Gibson applauded but did not stand. “I’m not going to kowtow to those two,” he grumbled.

    Aaron was asked about the racism that accompanied his passing Ruth’s lifetime home run record. Was he worried something could happen as he rounded the bases for #715? He said he wasn’t worried about that particular event: two guys jumped out of the stands to run part of the way with him but he didn’t feel threatened. They patted him on the back.

    They were teenagers at the time, Britt Gaston and Cliff Courtenay. They did it sort of as a goof. They blame each other for the crazy idea now. They expected to go to jail and they were arrested and processed, but only fined $100 in part because Aaron interceded on their behalf. They were surprised security didn’t stop them. “All the guards were watching the home run,” they said. The only one to touch them on the field was Aaron, who gently elbowed them when they got close.

    Aaron said, “they are both doctors now.” Actually, Gaston became a successful businessman, Courtenay an optometrist. The three occasionally kept in touch and participated in charity reunions. They grew closer when Gaston was diagnosed with cancer. It’s amazing what can bring you together in life.

    They did not know how dangerous their stunt was. When the racist attacks on Aaron grew worse, the FBI assigned an undercover Atlanta cop to watch over him: Calvin Wardlow. He was seated with Aaron’s family and friends, with a gun at the ready. When the teens approached Aaron, he closed his grip around the gun and braced for action. Thankfully, he was able to see they meant him no harm and relaxed.

    In an interview in 2010, Aaron said he warned Wardlow before the game not to overreact. “I told him, ‘Now Calvin, you’ve got to be very careful when you pull that gun out on somebody. You know what to do, but so many times, these people are just having fun,’” Aaron recalled.  “And when these kids were running around the base path with me, he said he thought about what I’d said and he said he was so thankful that I did because it wasn’t nothing else but a bunch of kids having fun.”

    Long-time Owl Chatter readers may recall a period a while back in which the NYTXW seemed to toss an ASS into just about every day’s puzzle. One of Rex’s posters started keeping track of the various uses and formations the word assumed in the grid. Well, it reappeared today as part of LMAO (laughing my ass off, of course), and it inspired one of the commenters to share this funny Finnish comic with us. His name is Ismo.

    That’s as good-ass a closing as any. See you tomorrow!