The Wellington Files

  • Circular Breathing

    Good morning, everybody. It’s a quiet Saturday at Owl Chatter headquarters. Our 450th post should go out sometime this week. They sure pile up. I can remember about 3 of them. Well, maybe more than 3, but they do recede into the past pretty quickly.

    It’s going to be a quiet celebration. Our dear friends Ana de Armas and Teddy Kooser will drop by — it’s been a long time since Ana’s been in a puzzle — and we’ll just have a quiet night with them, and, of course, Phil and George. Georgie has promised to whip up a cake. Yum! Hey GS! — when you go out later — we’re low on Diet Dr. Pepper — there’s a twenty in the jar near the door.

    Meanwhile, this wonderful piece by Nancy Klein from tomorrow’s Met Diary made my morning:

    Dear Diary:

    I was on the subway one day, and the train wasn’t very crowded. I happily found a seat, and there was an empty one next to me.

    At the next stop a woman who was maybe in her 60s got on and saw the empty seat. She walked over, turned and lowered herself down carefully — right onto my lap.

    Before I could say anything, she got up and turned around as carefully as she had sat down.

    “I am so sorry,” she said. “I seem to have miscalculated.”

    In a letter to the NYT today, Lois Platt, of Oak Park, IL, raised a question with tax season coming up. “Since frozen embryos are now considered children in Alabama, will Alabama parents be able to claim them as dependents on their state income tax returns?

    I’m surprised Alabama even has a state income tax, but it does. Just like a real state.

    Well, I’m certainly glad the Allies defeated the Germans in WWII. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to hear Richard Strauss’s Concerto in D Major for Oboe and Small Orchestra down in New Brunswick tomorrow afternoon. It surely would be my loss.

    Strauss wrote it in 1945 at the suggestion, even noodging, of John de Lancie who was only in Strauss’s town of Garmisch, Germany, as an occupying American soldier. de Lancie was a member of the Pittsburgh Symphony during peacetime (and later became the Principal Oboe of the Philly Orchestra).

    Anyway, he was able to converse with Strauss in French and noted that Strauss had written many fine oboe solos but no oboe concerto. Strauss essentially told de Lancie to f*ck off, but he persisted and Strauss caved and banged out a doozie. The soloist tomorrow will be Robert Ingliss, Principal Oboe of the NJ Symphony. Ingliss says the work is rarely performed despite its brilliance because it’s very hard and requires much stamina. Amazingly, Ingliss himself has never heard it performed live except for his own performances and in rehearsals. The opening segment is 55 measures long so the breathing has to be carefully worked out. In a few spots, “circular breathing” is used: air is forced out with the cheeks while fresh air is taken in through the nose. I’ll try to look for that — I’ll be sitting pretty close. I’m going to keep a steady eye on Ingliss’s cheeks and nose. I hope I don’t freak him out.

    BTW, the expression “elbow room” came about from an orchestra that was seated too closely by the stage crew. The oboe player was complaining that he needed more “oboe room” but years of playing the oboe wreaked havoc with his pronunciation, and he was misunderstood. The mistake soon spread to the other instruments. So it’s not uncommon for a flutist who requests more “flute room” to be asked — “Oh, you mean elbow room?”

    Baseball great Honus Wagner was born on this date 150 years ago in what is now Carnegie PA. How great? He was one of the five original inductees into the Hall of Fame, along with Cobb, Ruth, Christy Mathewson, and Walter Johnson. Only Ty Cobb received more votes than Wagner, who was tied for second place with Ruth. Cobb called Wagner “maybe the greatest star ever to take the diamond.”

    His name was Johannes, but his mom called him Hans and it later morphed into Honus. He played for 21 seasons starting in 1897, almost entirely for Pittsburgh. He won the NL batting crown 8 times, a feat equaled only by Tony Gwynn. He was one of nine children and dropped out of school at age 12 to help his dad in the coal mines. He and his brothers played ball in their free time and three of his brothers became pro ballplayers too.

    Wagner won the World Series with Pittsburgh in 1909, beating Ty Cobb’s Tigers. There is a legend that Cobb, standing on first base, called the German-ancestored Wagner a “krauthead,” told him he was going to steal second, and was not only thrown out but that Wagner tagged him in the mouth, ball in hand, drawing blood from Cobb’s lip. However, the play-by-play shows this never occurred. It’s attributed to an overly creative press. Wagner and Cobb were actually on good terms.

    Honus married Bessie Smith. Their first child was a daughter who was stillborn: Elva. They had two daughters who survived: Betty and Virginia. After his playing days ended, he was the batting coach for the Pirates for 39 years, coaching, among others, Pie Traynor, Ralph Kiner, and Hank Greenberg.

    I have two cards signed by Honus in my collection, valued, I’d say, at around $1,000 each.

    ??

    My favorite clue/answer today was at 50D. The clue was simply “Who says?” The answer has five letters and I was at sea until it came to me. I’ll give it to you later.

    At 50D: Fashion items that may be a bit steep: STILETTOS.

    Taylor! — darling — hate to ask. We know you’re in over your head with the concerts in Australia, Travis with you, etc., but Phil is on his way down there– can you throw on a pair of stilettos real quick and let him take a few shots for us? It was in the puzzle today and all of my tax students are busy studying for the quiz. I can’t bother Yvette again — she just helped us out with the tankini,

    Wow, thanks T! Stunning, as always. We owe you one. (Georgie says hi.)

    OK, so the clue was “Who says?”

    Answer: SIMON.

    Incredible dinner tonight at Jozanna’s in Middlesex NJ, with Owl Chatter friends Dan and Mary. Break your neck to get over there — massive portions of home-made Italian food for, like, no money. Great staff and bare bones Jersey atmosphere — across from some warehouses or something. One of our dishes was “3-Way Parmigiana”- veal, chicken and eggplant stacked and topped with melted mozzarella and gallons of rich home-made tomato sauce served with 2 massive ravioli. $24 — could serve a village. Call ahead, though — we had to eat at 4pm to get a table. BYOB.

    I think this shot is of a seafood dish. You get the idea.

    Good night everybody! Thanks for stopping in.

  • Panda-Monium

    China says it will lend pandas to the U.S. again. Hooray! The only ones currently here are in Atlanta and they were slated to return later this year. New ones will be coming to San Diego. Negotiations are also underway for their potential return to DC. There are less than 1,900 pandas in the world. They were close to extinction in the 1990s. They mostly live in the mountains of southwest China, drawn by the low rents and plentiful free parking. They eat bamboo and need between 26 and 84 pounds a day — literally, a shitload of bamboo.

    The absence of pandas in the U.S. has opened the door for a thriving panda-impersonator industry. It remains to be seen how their return will affect that market. Some of the impersonators look so much like the real ones it’s eerie.

    You know how when you’re watching a ballgame and a call goes against your team but it’s being reviewed so you’re drowning in hope and the official comes back and invariably says the call was upheld? It’s about as deflating as a Tom Brady football, amirite? It doesn’t help that the announcement is always dry and robotic – “Upon further review, the call on the field is upheld.”

    Well, get this — in last night’s Blues/Islanders ice hockey game in NY, a goal scored by the Islanders was disallowed and the call was being reviewed. And when referee Garrett Rank had to relay the bad news to the home crowd he said: “You’re not going to like this: the call on the ice stands.” You’re not going to like this! Love it.

    While we’re on the topic, here’s a fascinating story from The Onion that appeared in 2013:

    Scientists Believe Hockey Players May Communicate By Banging Sticks Against Boards

    PALO ALTO, CA—Shedding light on how hockey players convey information without an advanced verbal language, a study published this week by Stanford biologists found that players communicate by banging their sticks against wooden boards surrounding the rink. “We found that hockey players use stick-banging to indicate anything from disagreement with a referee to encouragement of their teammates,” said lead researcher Dr. Margaret Cundiff. She explained that players typically strike the boards a single time with force when they want to display anger, or use multiple softer taps in order to display approval. “Sometimes, an entire bench full of players will begin banging the boards in unison—either signaling that a goal has occurred, or that the players want a goal to occur. This actually lets hockey players ‘speak’ to each other, if you will, in surprisingly complex ways far beyond what was previously believed possible.” The study also concluded that hockey fans’ common behavior of pounding their hands against the glass while emitting a series of guttural grunts serves no discernible purpose.

    This poem is called “Wifery” and is by Suzanne Matson. It’s from today’s Writer’s Almanac.

    After the gentle click of the latch behind him
    the house readjusts to a new order,
    its details trembling on a string of lists:
    walk to the market, walk to the cleaners, start stew.
    She is testing a life as readymade for her
    as love, how the shape of someone’s
    shoulders suddenly come to mean this much;
    this far and no farther. With utter
    certainty she crushes the iced slush underfoot
    in a morning as wide-open and delicate as
    the mouth of a teacup: she must have
    twelve small white onions, she must have
    bleeding cubes of stewing beef, and cream
    of tartar for biscuits. The summer night they met
    she said, I can’t cook, I don’t cook.
    Now in winter the blade makes neat work
    of her lie, quartering potatoes
    glistening in their nudity, filling the simmering
    pot to its fragrant hissing lip.

    In the puzzle at 15D today, we had a visit from the venerable Lesley STAHL: “Longtime TV news colleague of Pelley, Cooper and Whitaker.”

    ‘Sup, Girl? So glad you stopped by. Please forgive the mess — Diet Pepsi? Georgie — see what’s in the fridge for our guest!

    Lesley was born in Lynn, MA, and just turned 82. She’s Jewish. She majored in History at Wheaton College. Her first marriage: not so hot. But she was married to Aaron Latham (also a journalist) from 1977 until death did them part in 2022. They had a daughter Taylor who has two kids, about whom Lesley wrote a book on grandparenting.

     The puzzle got a little sexy today with TANKINI, ARE YOU DECENT? and ASSES all side-by-side with SLUMBER PARTY nearby. The clue for ASSES was “tuchuses” and the clue for SLUMBER PARTY was “Occasion when one might choose truth.” Do they still play “truth or dare” at those things? Hard to imagine. A TANKINI is a portmanteau, combining tank-top with bikini. It’s less revealing than the latter, grumbles our Dirty Old Man Dept. Let’s see if I can get one of my tax students to help us out.

    Here we go. Thanks, Yvette!

    Ghostoflectricity shared this note with us: “Gilda, are you decent?” is a classic line of dialogue from one of the best film noirs, “Gilda,” from 1946, directed by Charles Vidor (no relation to the legendary film director King Vidor) and starring Glenn Ford, Rita Hayworth, and George Macready. MacReady is Mundson, a shady businessman with organized crime ties, who hires drifter/gambler “Johnny” (Ford) as his new right-hand man. Mundson proudly introduces Johnny to his new wife Gilda (Hayworth). He knocks on the door of Gilda’s boudoir as Gilda is dressing, saying that classic line. Gilda stands up, beautiful in her dressing gown, tossing her head and her lovely hair, and smiling suggestively as she answers. It turns out that (naturally, this being a noir), Gilda and Johnny have a history long preceding her becoming Mundson’s wife. The film also has Hayworth as Gilda doing a knock-’em-dead rendition, singing and dancing, of “Put the Blame on Mame.” Got 2 minutes?

    The Pistons hit the ground running after the All-Star break, falling behind 72-43 by halftime to the Pacers and losing 129-115. They are 8-47 now on the season. Oy. Next up is the 31-25 Orlando Magic tomorrow and then it’s on to NY to face the Knicks Monday night. I should be able to watch part of that on local TV. Can’t wait!

    Good night, everybody. See you tomorrow.

  • A ’52 Vincent and a Red-Headed Girl

    At 39D today: “What some people are dyeing to be?” was REDHEADS.

    Here’s a song about one. You can follow along with the lyrics, below. It’s quite a tale.

    Oh, says Red Molly to James, “That’s a fine motorbike
    A girl could feel special on any such like”


    Says James to Red Molly, “My hat’s off to you
    It’s a Vincent Black Lightning, 1952
    And I’ve seen you at the corners and cafés, it seems
    Red hair and black leather, my favourite colour scheme”
    And he pulled her on behind
    And down to Box Hill they did ride

    Oh, says James to Red Molly, “Here’s a ring for your right hand
    But I’ll tell you in earnest I’m a dangerous man
    For I’ve fought with the law since I was seventeen
    I robbed many a man to get my Vincent machine
    Now I’m twenty-one years, I might make twenty-two
    And I don’t mind dying, but for the love of you
    And if fate should break my stride
    Then I give you my Vincent to ride”

    “Come down, come down, Red Molly,” called Sergeant McRae
    “For they’ve taken young James Adie for armed robbery
    Shotgun blast hit his chest, left nothing inside
    Oh, come down, Red Molly to his dying bedside”
    When she came to the hospital, there wasn’t much left
    He was running out of road, he was running out of breath
    But he smiled to see her cry
    And said, “I give you my Vincent to ride”

    Says James, “In my opinion, there’s nothing in this world
    Beats a ’52 Vincent and a red-headed girl
    Now Nortons and Indians and Greeveses won’t do
    Ah, they don’t have a soul like a Vincent ’52”
    Oh, he reached for her hand and he slipped her the keys
    Said, “I’ve got no further use for these
    I see angels on Ariels in leather and chrome
    Swooping down from heaven to carry me home”
    And he gave her one last kiss and died
    And he gave her his Vincent to ride

    Here’s a Black Vincent (1952)

    And a red-headed girl.

    The Onion today had a feature on celebrities who are controlled by Satan. They include Anne Hathaway, Billy Joel, and Rachael Ray.

    In the puzzle, many found fault with 19A: “Rich sources of beta carotene.” Answer: KALES. It does seem like a clunky plural. Beezer noted:  I avoid KALE because you are supposed to massage it to make it less “chewy,” and I don’t like to engage in that much intimacy with my produce.

    At 34A, “Singer Williams who founded the Temptations,” was OTIS. He’s 82 years old, has been married to his (second) wife Arleata since ’83, and has a son who is also named Otis — what are the odds?

    Got sunshine on a cloudy day? Need money, fortune or fame?

    Earlier today, Nazi County Executive Bruce Blakeman signed an executive order — whoa!, sorry — that’s one helluva typo! Sorry, let me start again.

    Nassau County Executive Bruce Blakeman signed an executive order today barring Jews from participating in sports activities at facilities run by the county. Wait! OMG — I don’t know what’s wrong with me today with these typos. Sorry! Let me just take it from the start again and give you the story as it appeared in The Gothamist.

    Nassau County Executive Bruce Blakeman signed an executive order today barring trans women from participating in any women’s sports teams at facilities run by the county.

    There — that’s better. Sorry.

    “Requiring girls who are trans to compete on boys’ teams effectively bars them from sports altogether,” said the NYCLU. “Participating would mean being outed and being denied the same opportunities other girls enjoy. At its heart, this order is an attempt to shut trans people out of public spaces.”

    NY Gov. Kathy Hochul: “There is nothing lower than trying to score cheap political points by putting a target on the backs of some of our state’s most vulnerable people: Trans kids.”

    Phil refused to take a photo of Blakeman for us. He’s got a real bug up his ass on some things.

    *******

    From New York to Oklahoma.

    Nex Benedict did not see themselves as strictly male or female. Under an Oklahoma law passed in 2022, Nex was required to use the bathroom assigned to their birth gender. On February 7, in a girls’ bathroom, Nex was confronted by three bullies and beaten pretty badly after standing up to them. Nex was taken to a hospital by relatives and sent home, but complained of a sore head. The next day Nex collapsed at home and was rushed to the hospital. Nex died on the way.

    Look how beautiful, how sweet.

    We are heartbroken.

    “Nex did not see themselves as male or female,” Nex’s grandmother explained. “Nex saw themselves right down the middle. I was still learning about it. Nex was teaching me that.”

    According to the Times, Oklahoma’s policies on gender have led to more reports of confrontations in schools, and “policing of bathrooms by students.” Students who do not present themselves as obviously male or female find themselves questioned by other students. “There is a sense of, ‘do you belong in here?’”

    The virulently anti-trans policies of GOP governor Kevin Stitt and Schools Superintendent Ryan Walters have steeped their hands in blood. And if you think it’s just in states like Oklahoma, take the LIRR out to Nassau County.

    There are monsters in our house.

    Rest in peace Nex.

  • Lava Cake

    Look at this shayna punim. What a beautiful young man:

    He’s from India, is 8 and a half years old, and just became the youngest person ever to defeat a chess grandmaster in a tournament. His name is Ashwath Kaushik. He beat Poland’s Jacek Stopa, 37, in round four of the Burgdorfer Stadthaus Open in Switzerland. Ashwath went on to finish 12th in the tourney.

    Ashwath’s father says neither he nor his wife have a history of playing chess and it was a surprise to see his son, who he says practices around seven hours a day, become such a talented player. “It’s surreal as there isn’t really any sports tradition in our families. Every day is a new discovery, and we sometimes stumble in search of the right pathway for him.”

    Well, you’ve got something special there, buddy. Take good care of him.

    At 36A today, the clue was “Effect of secondhand pot smoke,” and the answer was CONTACT HIGH. I thought that meant you were in a room where so much pot smoking was going on that you inhaled enough pot to get high even though you never took a puff. And that’s what the clue/answer implies.

    But a comment on Rex’s blog today says that thinking (and thus the clue) “is dead wrong. The whole thing about a CONTACT HIGH is that you get it without ingesting or inhaling anything other than the good mood of your companions. My friend Dana doesn’t touch the stuff but when she gets around people who are high she gets all giggly and laughs at the same stupid jokes as anyone else. If you get high from second hand pot smoke, that’s just called ‘high.’”

    Wikipedia agrees: “The term is sometimes incorrectly used to describe the high experienced by a person who has inhaled secondhand marijuana smoke.”

    [Ed’s note: Where else can you get vital information like this. I ask you.]

    The puzzle’s theme today was things that are, in a sense, HALF BAKED. CONTACT HIGH was one of them. The others were WILD IDEA, LAVA CAKE, and BIKINI TAN. I agree with Rex, who thought it was a little off.

    egs noted: Being a pessimist by nature, I always see something that’s HALFBAKED as half raw. But I think this puzzle was well done.

    And several folks reminded us of the line from The Graduate. Ben (Dustin Hoffman) is told that his plan to marry Elaine seems half baked. And he replies: No, it’s fully baked.

    There were a lot of names in the puzzle. Two were Shakespearian: OSRIC (from Hamlet) and TIMON (of Athens). Also ASLAN (hero of Narnia), Mel TORME, CARL JUNG, ANDY (from Toy Story), author Ted CHIANG, ELIE Wiesel, MAD MAX, and STAN (clued with “uber fan”).

    I knew them except for ASLAN and CHIANG, but the crosses worked for me so I didn’t have a problem.

    Some people blame the constructor when there are too many names they don’t know — “crappy puzzle — who ever heard of Mel Torme?” But almost always, I consider it a failing of my own — my cultural reach should be broader. As Lewis noted yesterday, it’s okay to have a tough name if the crosses are fair. Sometimes, I’ll concede, the name is just too off — e.g., yesterday’s Adrian Fenty, ex-mayor of DC. I can see crying foul over him.

    Commenter Mike expounded on this today, a bit testily:

    I was surprised by all the complaints about names and quaint old vocabulary. I mean, it’s a crossword puzzle. You’d think there would be some appreciation for language per se, and an interest in expressions from the past (MOOLA, lah-di-DAH, NERTS). As for names, I mean, it’s the New York Times, where literature, arts, and fashion are right up there with politics, economics, and world events. Until recently, I suppose, its readers would have been expected to know “TIMON of Athens” and LAERTES/OSRIC at a very minimum. ASLAN is a crossword staple and C.L. Lewis and the Chronicles of Narnia are epochal. Mel TORME stands beside Sinatra, Bennett, Ella, and Billie among classic voices of the American songbook. MAD MAX??? That movie—which I saw when it was first run in 1979—put Mel Gibson on the map and virtually invented the dystopian genre in contemporary film. Oh, and the term STAN was in an Eminem song, and is thought to be a portmanteau of “stalker” and “fan.” There’s a Pet Shop Boys song called “The Night I Fell in Love” in which a gay fan goes home with a pop star after meeting him backstage after a concert, and the star at one point says in jest, “Hey, man! Your name isn’t Stan, is it?”

    Ilya Kaminsky was born in Odessa, Ukraine, in 1977, so he’s 46. When he was 16 his family was granted asylum by the U.S. on the grounds of anti-Semitism in Ukraine. His poetry has won many awards. In 2019, the BBC named Kaminsky among “12 Artists who changed the world.” He teaches at Princeton now.

    His poem “We Live Happily During the War” was The Poetry Foundation’s poem of the day today.

    And when they bombed other people’s houses, we

    protested
    but not enough, we opposed them but not

    enough. I was
    in my bed, around my bed America

    was falling: invisible house by invisible house by invisible house.

    I took a chair outside and watched the sun.

    In the sixth month
    of a disastrous reign in the house of money

    in the street of money in the city of money in the country of money,
    our great country of money, we (forgive us)

    lived happily during the war.

    ***********

    In an interview, he said this about Odessa: Odessa architecture is scaled down, “human sized,” and there was an opera house before there was potable water. Odessa loves art, and it loves to party. In the summer, huge cages of watermelons sit on every corner. You break them on the sidewalk and eat them with friends. The city has an especial affinity for literature. There are more monuments to writers than in any other city I have ever visited. When they ran out of writers, they began putting up monuments for fictional characters.

    The most important holiday in Odessa isn’t Christmas, it is April 1, April Fool’s Day, which we call Humorina. Thousands of people come to the street and celebrate what they call the day of kind humor. All of Ukraine has a sense of humor – think of the man who offered to tow the Russian tank which had run out of gas back to Russia. Humor is part of our resilience.

    He was asked what he heard from people back there. (This was when the war had just started.) He told about “this conversation I’ll never forget with an older friend from Odessa. After I asked him for any way I could help him, he responded: ‘Putins come and go. If you want to help, send us some poems and essays. We are starting a new literary magazine.’ In the first days of war. Imagine.”

    See you tomorrow!

  • Ballyvaughan

    Sorry, fellas — this was the sexiest shot Phil could get of basketballer Sabrina Ionescu, who is having her moment in the sun.

    He tried to sneak into her bedroom, but her fiance, Hroniss Grasu, is an offensive lineman for the LA Raiders and he chased poor Philly halfway down the block. We warned you you’d get in hot water some day, Phil! We’re not paying for that busted camera, by the way.

    Here’s Hroniss:

    Yup. I’d run too. Hroniss Grasu — now there’s a name that could give crossword solvers fits. He’s of Romanian descent (born in the USA), as is Sabrina. The name Hroniss represents creativity, curiosity, charm, friendliness, cheer, and social life. Grasu, unfortunately, means “fat man.”

    So, where were we? Oh, yeah. As part of the NBA All-Star weekend festivities, Sabrina faced off against Steph Curry, — widely considered the greatest shooter ever — in a 3-point shooting competition. And she more than held her own. Curry won, but only by 29-26.

    Both she and Hroniss played their college ball at Oregon. Sabrina has a twin brother and growing up played a lot of ball with boys. This paragraph comes straight off of her Wikipedia page:

    Ionescu attended a middle school that did not have enough players to field a girls’ team, and her school refused to allow her to play on the boys’ team. She recalled, “My middle school said I should be playing with dolls. Seriously, word-for-word.” She responded by recruiting enough girls to enable her school to have a team.

    Ionescu was the first overall pick in the 2020 WNBA draft and has been starring for the NY Liberty. She is big enough to have a shoe/apparel endorsement contract with Nike.

    Phil snuck back when Hroniss was away and got another shot for us. Thanks, Buddy! Love the smile.

    This poem from today’s Writer’s Almanac is by Billy Collins and is called “Home Again.”

    The black porcelain lamp
    painted with boughs of cherry blossoms
    still stands on its end table,
    unlit, the little chain untouched,
    just the way I left it,

    just the way it remained while I was off
    leaning into the prow of a boat,
    doused with spray, heading for a limestone island,
    or sitting at the base of a high Celtic cross
    eating a green apple.

    While I balanced a pan of hot water on a stone wall
    and shaved outside a cottage
    overlooking the Irish Sea,
    this stack of books, this chair, and paperweight
    were utterly still, as they are now.

    And you, red box of matches on the floor,
    you waited here too, faithful as Penelope,
    while I saw the tiny fields
    disappear under the wings of my plane,
    or swarm up and down the flowing Corrib River.

    As I lay in a meadow near Ballyvaughan,
    ankles crossed, arms behind my head,
    watching clouds as they rolled in—
    billowing, massive, Atlantic-fresh—
    you all held your places in these rooms,
    stuck to your knitting,
    waited for me to stand here again,
    bags at my feet, house key still in hand,
    admiring your constancy,
    your silent fealty, your steadfast repose.

    The puzzle today had some tough entries for a Monday. It wanted us to know the first name of Fenty, a former mayor of Washington, DC. (ADRIAN). Since it crossed an actress I didn’t know (Uzo ADUBA, of “Orange is the New Black”), I suffered the indignity of a Monday DNF. Please don’t tell anyone.

    Most solvers have strengths and weaknesses. Rap stars and popular song names kill me. Game of Thrones and Harry Potter references do too. I’m okay on sports and strong on The Simpsons. Sometimes an old timer complains that a puzzle skews too young — text speak, pop references, etc. Sometimes it’s the reverse — a young solver kvetching about too many boomer-era names or terms. It led the wonderful Lewis to post the following today:

    A crosswords-in-general comment.

    There was a piece in yesterday’s Times about the value of fostering intergenerational understanding by bringing older and younger people together – which results in benefits for both.

    I see that in crosswords. When I solve a puzzle made by one in their teens or 20’s, say, it provides a glimpse into the world as they see it and into the way they think. I find that so enriching; it broadens the way I see things.

    In the puzzle comments, I often hear the olds complaining about puzzles by the youngs, and vice versa, and it makes me sad. This promotes us-them thinking and begets tension and stress.

    Thing is, when unfamiliar not-part-of-my-generation words appear in a grid, the Times puzzle team is so good, that they make sure that these answers are fairly crossed.

    These words can be bridges rather than moats. They, in my view, are precious gifts, and may they continue!

    Now there’s a problem I’ve never had to face: Where to put my Olympic Women’s Ice Hockey Gold Medal while holding a flag and a bouquet?

    (No suggestions, please! Ouch!)

    That’s Jamie Lee Rattray, 31 years old, and there was a nice story about her in the NYT today. She plays for Boston in the PWHL (Professional Women’s Hockey League). Boston could not believe she was still on the board when it was their time to make their third-round pick in the draft. Since she grew up in Kanata, a suburb of Ottawa, the assumption was she’d play for Ottawa. Boston wasted no time in making the grab. She’s outstanding on the ice and lights up the locker room. As Indigenous and openly gay, she views herself as a role model too.

    On the ice, she’s one of the team’s top scorers, and she’s a leader off the ice too. At the start of training camp, she hosted all the non-local players at her apartment to celebrate American Thanksgiving (which is not even her holiday). She made the turkey and the others brought sides.

    Here she is with girlfriend Whitney. The date for their wedding is August 10th. Mazel Tov ladies!

    This story appeared in The Onion today:

    WASHINGTON—Ignoring his better judgment so as not to be called a chicken, President Joe Biden reportedly fell through a sheet of ice and plunged into dangerously cold water Monday after his buddies dared him to walk on the frozen Capitol Reflecting Pool. Sources confirmed the commander-in-chief’s chums had bet him $5 he couldn’t make it across the pool without chickening out, to which Biden responded, “Oh, yeah? Watch this.” The president is said to have taken only a few steps before breaking through the thin ice, sinking below the surface, and failing to reemerge for quite some time. According to reports, his friends’ playful laughter quickly dissolved into concern, at which point everyone in attendance scattered home so as not to get in trouble.

    But the following story is not from The Onion. I am not kidding. As you know, after the death of Putin’s nemesis Alexei Navalny, whose blood is all over Putin’s hands, Biden issued a strong condemnation of Putin. Trump’s silence was noted. Eventually, as reported by Brett Samuels in The Hill, Trump posted the following:

    “The sudden death of Alexei Navalny has made me more and more aware of what is happening in our Country. It is a slow, steady progression, with CROOKED, Radical Left Politicians, Prosecutors, and Judges leading us down a path to destruction. Open Borders, Rigged Elections, and Grossly Unfair Courtroom Decisions are DESTROYING AMERICA. WE ARE A NATION IN DECLINE, A FAILING NATION!”

    As loyal (or disloyal, for that matter) readers of Owl Chatter should know, we welcomed former Congressman George Santos (D-NY) to our staff as soon as he was done with his Rep gig. He’s been great — absolutely invaluable. (Wait, does that mean “not valuable?” Well, whatever.) For one thing, the office fridge is never short of diet soda thanks to GS. (We’re a little low on Fresca, by the way, Georgie. No rush! (Though it is a favorite of Ana’s.))

    Anyway, where were we? Oh, yeah, so OC is 100% behind our George in his lawsuit seeking $750,000 from Jimmy Kimmel for fraud, copyright violations, and other stuff we can’t remember. The suit is based on videos Kimmel ordered from George through “Cameo” under admittedly false pretenses. False post-tenses too, btw! Kimmel then used them to ridicule our Georgie on the air for commercial gain!! Owl Chatter is with you George!! You can count on our support one hundred billion zillion percent! We love you!

    Exhibit A: Please advance the following video to the 6:52 mark to witness Kimmel’s perfidy.

    Whew! That falls under the “you can’t make this stuff up” department for sure. No way to top that. See you tomorrow!

  • Chutzpah With A Capital Chutz

    There’s so much going on in today’s puzzle. First, at 78D, the clue was “1994 single by Hole whose cover art depicts a miniature wedding dress and veil.” The answer was DOLL PARTS. Apparently it was a big hit and a major cultural moment that sailed right by me. I’ve never heard of Hole, let alone any of their songs.

    This is from Rex’s write-up, quoting Wikipedia. (He made it his “word of the day.”)

    “Doll Parts” is a song by American alternative rock band Hole, written by vocalist and rhythm guitarist Courtney Love. It was their first single to be released following the death of bassist Kristen Pfaff in June 1994. Love wrote the song in late 1991, soon after she met Kurt Cobain, and has admitted that its lyrics were about her insecurity of his romantic interest in her. (The album it was on came out the same week Cobain died.) It became one of the band’s most popular songs, peaking at number 4, and is considered one of Hole’s signature tracks. Rolling Stone ranked it #208 in their list of the 500 Greatest Songs of All Time.

    The music video for “Doll Parts” was directed by Samuel Bayer, who said that he wanted it to “evoke the feeling of death” and used ideas conceived by Love throughout the video: a large amount of doll imagery, herself “in a babydoll dress looking demure while playing guitar on a bed” and “walking in a bleak backyard passing a children’s table set for a tea party.” Bayer designed the garden scenes to be “decaying” and added “a hundred plaster-wrapped dolls dangling from trees.” Other scenes feature a young blonde boy, meant to invoke Cobain. It was nominated for Best Alternative Video at the 1995 MTV Video Music Awards but lost to “Buddy Holly” by Weezer.

    I want to be the girl with the most cake . . . .

    I am doll parts, bad skin, doll heart.

    The puzzle was not nearly as dark. In fact, it was clever and fun. The theme was revealed in two long linked answers: I HEARD IT THROUGH and THE GRAPEVINE. And the print version (which is the one I do on Sundays) had a pretty green vine running all the way down the center column of the grid. You were supposed to fill in (writing over it) three grape varieties: MERLOT, CONCORD, and MUSCAT. Last, crossing those grapes were blocks of letters in shaded squares comprising words sounding like gossip: e.g., ROOMER (rumor); DERT (dirt); TOCK (talk), and NUES (news).

    Here’s CCR’s treatment of the great song. Rex shared Gladys Knight’s. I came close to going with Marvin Gaye. And did you know the very first recording of it was by Smokey Robinson? I was just about to lose my mind!

    At 72A, the clue was “Like Loki,” and the answer was NORSE. Commenter SJ lamented: “It didn’t help that I don’t know if Loki is a NORSE god, a suburb of Oslo, or something they might eat there for dessert.” As a god, Loki was a shape shifter, but that can backfire from time to time. According to Wikipedia, “in the form of a mare, Loki was impregnated by the stallion Svaðilfari and gave birth to the eight-legged horse Sleipnir.” God, I hate when that happens.

    Last Thursday, the funeral of Cecilia Gentili, an activist transgender individual identifying as a woman, was held in St. Patrick’s Cathedral in NYC. Gentili was an atheist and former sex worker. It was an unusual funeral. Archdiocesan spokesman Joseph Zwilling said that “a funeral is one of the corporal works of mercy,” which are “a model for how we should treat all others, as if they were Christ in disguise.” 

    Over 1,000 mourners, several hundred of whom were transgender, arrived in daring outfits — glittery miniskirts and halter tops, fishnet stockings, sumptuous fur stoles and at least one boa sewn from what appeared to be $100 bills. Mass cards and a picture near the altar showed a haloed Ms. Gentili surrounded by the Spanish words for “transvestite,” “whore,” “blessed” and “mother” above the text of Psalm 25.

    Throughout the liturgy, the presider, Father Edward Dougherty, referred to Gentili with feminine pronouns and “our sister.” During the prayers of the faithful, one reader prayed for gender-affirming health care, while attendees frequently and approvingly referred to Gentili as the “mother of whores.”

    Later in the day, several people who attended a Mass at the cathedral said they were pleased it had hosted Ms. Gentili’s funeral. Carlos Nunez, 43, who lives in Manhattan and works in customer service, said he thought the funeral was proper. “Why not?” he said, leaving the cathedral. “Everybody has the right to come to church. Everybody is a child of God.”

    It didn’t take long for the backlash to hit and it was very ugly. The church took time off from its busy schedule of molesting children placed in its care for moral upbringing (and then protecting the abusers) to rail against the outpouring of love and tolerance that the funeral engendered.

    According to today’s NYT, the RC Archdiocese of NY, of the church whose priests throughout the world molested thousands, if not tens of thousands, of innocent children, condemned the funeral as “an insult to the Catholic faith,” thus raising the notion of chutzpah to a new level.

    CatholicVote called the funeral “unbelievable and sick” and said it was “a mockery of the Christian faith.” The Rev. Nicholas Gregoris, a co-founder of the Priestly Society of Saint John Henry Cardinal Newman, called it “revolting,” a “blasphemous & sacrilegious fiasco” and “a deplorable desecration of America’s most famous Catholic Church.”

    OK, but how do you really feel about it, Rev?

    The Gentili family was incensed by the church’s criticism and accused the archdiocese of “hypocrisy and anti-trans hatred” in a statement. “Cecilia’s heart and hands reached those the sanctimonious church continues to belittle, oppress and chastise,” the family said. “The only deception present at St. Patrick’s Cathedral is that it claims to be a welcoming place for all.”

    You tell ’em, folks! Hrrrrrrrumph.

    What a beautiful woman. Rest in peace, Cecilia.

    You may recall, we attended a women’s basketball game at Oregon State U last month in Corvallis. Well, the #11-ranked Lady Beavers were in a hell of a predicament Friday night against #9 UCLA. The Bruins had just sunk a big basket to take the lead 77-76. Not insurmountable, you say? But there was only 1.1 second left. What are the odds? Take a look.

    From Oregon to New Hampshire. How do you pronounce the capital of NH: Concord? Do you have it rhyme with “bored?” Or do you pronounce it “conquered?”

    New Hampshire folks pronounce it “conquered” and state Rep. Eric Gallager, a Democrat from Concord (voo den?), is seeking to amend state law to provide for that as the official pronunciation. While he’s at it, he’s also seeking to codify the pronunciation of New Hampshire to end as “shure” and not “shire.” He proposes including the official pronunciations written out according to the international phonetic alphabet in a section of law that lists state symbols such as the official state sport (skiing), song (10 different tunes including “Old New Hampshire”), and spider ( daring jumping spider ). (Don’t tell me you didn’t know NH has a state spider — that’s like not knowing what a logarithm is.)

    Rep. Dianne Schuett, a Democrat from Pembroke, asked Gallager if he discussed his bill with “old Yankee folks” who pronounce the capital as “Con-kid, New Hamp-shah.”

    “I’ll tell you, I’m fearful that some of them may be offended if we mandated a specific pronunciation that doesn’t jibe with their heritage,” she said.

    Gallager said his bill would not be a mandate, just as the other state symbols are not universally embraced.

    “Even though the state fruit is the pumpkin, you can still grow other fruits besides pumpkins, which I’m sure our apple growers appreciate,” he said.

    Gallager conceded the legislation may appear trivial to some.

    Ya think?

    Wait — grow fruits other than pumpkins? Unheard of! Unthinkable!!

    See you tomorrow folks!

  • Two Italians, Hot

    Karen Rappensperger wrote this story for Met Diary. It’s called “At the Corner.”

    As I got to the corner at 59th Street and First Avenue, a man and a woman were standing there talking. They were disagreeing about whether they should cross the street.

    The man was arguing that no cars were coming, and the street was empty, so they should go.

    That would be jaywalking, the woman replied in a shocked tone.

    As she was speaking, another man passed.

    “Here, we just call it crossing the street,” he said.

    This poem is by Jessica Goodfellow and was in today’s Writer’s Almanac.

    In Praise of Imperfect Love

    Courtesans of tenth century Japan knew
    the keening of the caged copper pheasant,
    solo double-note aria for a missing mate,
    could be silenced with a mirror

    The ideal of a love that completes
    masks a yearning for homeostasis,
    a second umbilical, island fever,
    harmony tighter than unison —

    dull as a solved equation;
    like the ex-lover who said,
    “Being with you is like being alone.”
    He meant it as a compliment.

    One nice thing Owl Chatter has done for me, among many, is get me to read the obituaries in the NYT. [My old Estates professor at Penn, Mr. Aronstein, once told us how you can tell who the estate lawyers are in Philadelphia: “They wear pin-striped suits, ride in on the local from Paoli, and smile as they read the obituaries.”] I look for one small hook that’s interesting. Plus, it’s nice to say a few parting words to good people. And without realizing it, I think I’ve gained an appreciation for a well-crafted story from reading so many. The most important element is that you get to know the person’s character, at least a little bit. For Lt. Taylor yesterday, what caught me was his comment: “It needed doing.”

    As I read the obit for pitcher Don Gullett today, by Alex Williams, I thought that it was perfect. I remembered Gullett for his dominance on the mound, first against the Yankees, and then for them. But I had no idea what he was like as a person. Williams filled me in.

    He was the ace for Cincy during their Big Red Machine era, with a lineup featuring Johnny Bench, Joe Morgan, Tony Perez, and Pete Rose, among other solid bats. Gullett’s fastball earned him the nickname Smokin’ Don, and he drew comparisons to Koufax. How fast was it? Pirate Slugger Willie Stargell said Gullett “could throw a ball through a carwash without it ever getting wet.” In seven seasons with the Reds, he went 91-44 with a 3.03 ERA. That’s smokin’ alright.

    He was the 14th overall pick out of HS in the 1969 draft, appeared in only eleven games in the minors, and reached the big leagues at the age of 19. He earned saves in Cincy’s two wins over Pittsburgh to help them win the pennant in 1970. He said afterwards he wasn’t nervous up there on the mound. He said it was tougher facing all the reporters than it was facing Clemente or Stargell.

    In ’75, ’76, and ’77, he started Game 1 of the World Series, the first two for Cincy and the third for NY. ’75 was Cincy’s classic 7-game win over Boston, which included Fisk’s historic Game 6 home run. In ’76, the Reds blew by the Yankees in four straight games, prompting Steinbrenner to lure Gullett to NY with a mammoth offer. And the Yanks did win the Series in ’77, beating the hated Dodgers — their first crown since 1962.

    On leaving Cincy for NY, Bench said it was the hardest decision Gullett made in his life. But it was the right move for his family’s security, Bench noted. After a strong year for NY in ’77 (14-4 with a 3.59 ERA), Gullett tore his rotator cuff and his career was over at the age of 31.

    Once he was out of baseball he grew tobacco and other crops with his wife Cathy on their farm near his hometown in Kentucky, near the Ohio border. They had three kids. He was a smoker, and had heart attacks in 1986 and 1990, and triple bypass surgery after the second one.

    Get this — About 800 Cannabis plants being cultivated on his farmland were discovered by the Kentucky State Police in August of ’77. He denied any knowledge of the plants. The farmland’s caretaker was his brother Jack, who was indicted on a charge of trafficking in a controlled substance the following month. In addition to the marijuana, 100 cases of potato chips were found stashed in the barn. [No they weren’t.]

    As for Gullett as a person, Bench said, “He was the nicest, nicest person. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a bad word ever said about Don.” On the injury, — It took him awhile to accept the end of his career. “I looked at myself and I was only 31, 32 years old,” he said. “It kind of bothered me mentally. It was mentally tough to watch games.”

    Always humble, he added “If I had stayed healthy, there is the chance I could have been very successful.”

    Ya think?

    Rest in peace, Smokin’ Don.

    Here’s another story from tomorrow’s Met Diary. It’s by Alisha B.

    I landed at LaGuardia Airport, thrilled to be greeted by the familiar skyline. I had been away for a year. It felt like a lifetime, but the rhythm of the city quickly came back to me.

    When the car I was in got stuck in traffic on 31st Street in Queens, I decided to make a call.

    “L & M Deli,” a familiar voice answered.

    “Two Italians, hot, add banana peppers,” I said. “To go, please.”

    There was a pause.

    “It’s you!” the familiar voice said.

    I knew I was home.

    “It is,” I said. “See you soon.”

    The puzzle today was a double pangram. A pangram is when every letter of the alphabet appears at least once in the grid. It only happens every couple of months. Rex doesn’t like them because he generally finds that the quality of the “fill” suffers as the constructor goes searching for that J or Q word. It’s a criticism that makes sense to me. So today’s “double” pangram means every letter appears at least twice. Rex is off today, so we didn’t get his view of it. I thought the fill was pretty sharp, but what the hell do I know? Lewis pointed out that back on 8/10/2016, amazingly, the grid was a record-setting quintuple pangram.

    There was a clever clue today at 61A: “Drinks are on me!” The answer was BAR MENU. (Get it?) Also I learned that T SWIZZLE is a nickname for Taylor Swift. Also learned that ZITI is a “traditional wedding dish in southern Italy, hence its literal translation (‘brides’).”

    We saw the Bob Marley movie today, One Love. It’s been panned by the critics (44% score on Rotten Tomatoes), but rated highly by the audience (94%). We liked it a lot. Great music (duh) and very good job by the actor who played Marley, Kingsley Ben-Adir. Some of the back-story was a little weak, but so what?

    We’ll let Bob send us off tonight. If you haven’t heard this song in a while, take a listen.

    See you tomorrow!

  • Messy Buns

    It didn’t take long for Hank Aaron to surpass Babe Ruth’s lifetime home run record in 1974. The season had just started. It was April 8th. Take a look:

    It’s a good memory to start with today because Spring Training is starting up. But I posted it more for the pitcher who gave up the homer than for Aaron. That’s Al Downing, whom I remember mostly as a terrific left arm for the Yankees for nine seasons, starting in 1961. I just read a short piece honoring him as part of Black History Month. He’s one of the fifteen “Black Aces,” Black pitchers from the U.S. or Canada who had 20-win seasons.

    He broke a barrier when he came up: He was the first Black pitcher to play for the Yankees. But Downing had his 20-win season with the Dodgers in 1971. He pitched 12 complete games that year and five shutouts. He came in third in the Cy Young Award voting behind Hall of Famers Ferguson Jenkins and Tom Seaver. He was a Dodger when he gave up Aaron’s historic shot too.

    Here’s a nice photo of Al with Sandy Koufax and Maury Wills in LA on Opening Day, 2016.

    Downing said Aaron was always gracious when discussing the historic home run he hit off of Downing. When a reporter tried to needle Downing about it years later, Aaron jumped in to defend him.

    “He said ‘I was going to hit that home run anyway, whoever was pitching. So, don’t make him out to be a bad guy,’” Downing recalled Aaron saying. “’That (home run) doesn’t take away from his career.’”

    Downing is 82 years old now. He’s from Trenton NJ and went to Rider College in Jersey and Muhlenberg in PA. A lefty, his lifetime record was 123-107 with an ERA of just 3.22, and he notched 1,639 strikeouts.

    The action shifts now from the ballpark to the jungles of Vietnam. On June 18, 1968, Lt. Larry L. Taylor was piloting a helicopter gunship supporting a four-man reconnaissance patrol northeast of Saigon. As described by The Times, the Rangers were trudging through a rice paddy on a moonless night when they were surrounded by about 100 Vietcong guerillas. They were toast. A rescue mission involving two other copters was aborted as “hopeless.”

    Taylor himself was coming under fire in his copter and was low on ammo and fuel. He was ordered to return to base. But it was an order he couldn’t obey. Taylor and his co-pilot James Ratliff couldn’t see leaving the soldiers behind like that, despite the seeming impossibility of rescue. They strafed the enemy as well as they could and used their landing lights as a diversion. They were going to employ a maneuver that had never been tried before. I should also note that Taylor and Ratliff were flying a Cobra, which has only two seats, one for the pilot and one for the co-pilot.

    Taylor landed the copter 100 yards away from the action, giving the patrol only seconds to run over to it. And they did. When they got there, they “clambered aboard the craft’s skids and rocket pods and clung to them as the copter flew off to a secure landing area.” From that spot, they vanished into the forest and made their way safely back to their base. The Cobra made it back safely too, riddled with bullet holes.

    Taylor was awarded the Silver Star for gallantry, but that didn’t sit well with Sgt. David Hill, one of the Rangers. He lobbied three times for Taylor’s medal to be upgraded to the Medal of Honor, the military’s highest award for valor. His third attempt was successful. Taylor was presented with the medal by President Biden in the White House on Sept. 5 of last year.

    Lieutenant Taylor passed away on January 28 at his home in Signal Mountain, TN at the age of 81, five months after receiving his medal. He is survived by his wife, two sons, his sister, five grandchildren, and that segment of our nation capable of appreciating his extraordinary heroism. In the obit in the Times, written by Sam Roberts, the final two paragraphs are:

    Taylor said he still relived the rescue every time people asked him, “What possessed you to do that?” His reply was always the same: “It needed doing.”

    “I was doing my job. I knew that if I did not go down and get them, they would not make it.” Then he added, “We never leave a man behind.”

    Rest in peace, Lieutenant.

    There’s a review in the NYT today of a documentary called “The Arc of Oblivion.” It’s about the question “what from this world is worth saving?” It’s “a query that takes [the filmmaker Ian Cheney] from the Sahara to the Alps, consulting a ceramics expert, a paleontologist, a speleologist (cave scientist), a dendrochronologist (scientist who studies tree rings) and many other specialists in fields I didn’t realize had their own names. Each provides a new way into thinking about why and how the human species tries to preserve its memories, alongside the futility of the task.”

    On the topic of ‘the permanence of things,” the reviewer, Alissa Wilkinson, notes: “I recently found a cassette tape in my childhood home containing a recording of my father, who died nearly 18 years ago, singing a song he wrote. I’ve been afraid to listen to it, but not really because of the emotion it might bring up. (Or because I’m not sure where to get a cassette player.) I’m more afraid that the tape, which has been in a box for at least two decades, might have disintegrated, leaving me without his voice. At the moment, I’d rather leave it unplayed than discover I’ve lost something precious.”

    It’s a positive review. Cheney has actually hired a carpenter to build an ark the size of a guesthouse in his parents’ backyard in rural Maine. He’s not expecting to save mankind, like Noah, but, as is the film, he is exploring the concept of preservation itself.

    In the puzzle today, which seemed easy to me for a Friday, the clue at 10D was “Casually chic updo,” and the answer was MESSY BUN. We sent Phil out looking for samples:

    The first one is a young Monica Lewinsky [no it’s not], the second is you-know-who, the third is a woman Phil was surprised let him talk to her, and I don’t know how that guy got in there, but it’s a MESSY BUN alright.

    It was nice to see MATT Groening in the grid at 36A (“Cartoonist Groening”), along with D’OH at 54A (“Cry from Homer”), since it was Matt’s 70th birthday yesterday, as OC readers know.

    As is typical for a Friday, there was no theme, but several pairs of clever clues/answers teamed up nicely: 19A, “Personal struggles personified” (INNER DEMONS), joined 57A, “I want to, but really I shouldn’t …” (DON’T TEMPT ME). And 6D, “Post-Thanksgiving meal drowsiness, familiarly” (FOOD COMA) worked nicely with 39A, “Trancelike state during a monotonous drive” (HIGHWAY HYPNOSIS).

    Other clever clues were “God on a mission” (APOLLO); “Northern hemisphere?” (IGLOO); “[Violin emoji]” (OH BOO HOO); and “Stand-up person?” (NO SHOW).

    Last point on the puzzle: 1D was “Sitarist Shankar” and the answer, of course, was RAVI. Did you know Ravi Shankar was Norah Jones’s father? He passed away in December of 2012 at age 92.

    Finally, you may have heard a NY judge found Trump and two of his sons to have committed massive fraud, to the tune of hundreds of millions of dollars. Here’s what Judge Engoron wrote in his decision:

    “Their complete lack of contrition and remorse borders on pathological. They are accused only of inflating asset values to make more money. The documents prove this over and over again. This is a venial sin, not a mortal sin. Defendants did not commit murder or arson. They did not rob a bank at gunpoint. Donald Trump is not Bernard Madoff. Yet, defendants are incapable of admitting the error of their ways.”

    Yup. Sounds about right. See you tomorrow.

  • Confetti Cupcake

    The theme of today’s puzzle was DOUBLE OR NOTHING, and it was pretty clever, IMO. For 10 answers (5 intersecting pairs) the same clue could be answered with either a double letter within it or by leaving the double letters out (thus, “double or nothing”). For example, for the clue “Results of some dating app matches,” the answer could be either FEELINGS or F[-]LINGS (flings). Get it? “Flower” could be BLO[-]OM (bloom) or BLOSSOM.

    And each double letter had to work both across and down. The constructors were a father/son team: Teddy and Rich Katz.

    In their notes, they shared some entries that didn’t make the cut.

    “What the ‘Shawshank Redemption’ hero did to his jailers” = F(OO)LED

    “Connected to, romantically” = W(OO)ED

    “They’re present at psychiatrist offices” = M(OO)DS

    “Where Duke plays: Abbr.” = NC(AA) [My favorite]

    “Like people you don’t want to talk to” = CRA(BB)Y [Cray = crazy]

    “Where you might see dead people” = CO(FF)INS

    “Difficult to pin down” = WI(GG)LY [Also my favorite]

    “Like some paper” = CO(LL)ATED

    We were pretty certain the editors would not have permitted “Venue for a crapshoot” = LO(TT)O. Maybe we should have considered “How hip crossword constructors spend their Friday nights” = CLU(BB)ING.

    Our Pistons have hit hard times since winning two in row. They dropped games on consecutive nights to the Lakers and Phoenix. Both were ugly. They trailed LA 71-48 going into halftime, and it was worse the next night: 70-41 at the half. Regroup men!! You can do this!

    I saw an interview with KC’s Defensive Coordinator Steve Spagnuolo. It was his fourth Super Bowl win. He talked about adjusting the defense to work man-on-man instead of zone starting in the second quarter. He said he had a lot of respect for SF QB Purdy. Purdy was picking apart their zone, with precision passes. Man-on-man gives you tighter coverage, and KC’s secondary was so strong they never got burned for long completions. So much of the game goes on without the average fan seeing it, or, in my case, sub-average. Here’s Spaggs. He’s 64 years old and is from Whitinsville, MA. Speaks with a solid Boston accent. Mazel Tov, Buddy!

    William Post died on Saturday, or should we say he “popped?” He was instrumental in the creation of Pop Tarts, billions of which are sold each year. Post was 96. They were originally going to be called “Fruit Scones.” Blah. An executive at Kellogg’s came up with Pop Tarts as a take-off on Pop Art. They have become part of our culture. Here’s a mural by Claes Oldenburg in Chicago.

    Post was married to his wife Florence for 72 years, until her death in 2020. He is survived by his son, Dan, his daughter, Rachel, four grandchildren, 10 great-grandchildren, and over 30 varieties of Pop Tarts, including Strawberry, Brown Sugar Cinnamon, Apple Cinnamon, Banana Bread, Chocolatey Chip Pancake, Cinnamon Roll, Strawberry Milkshake, Sugar Cookie Printed Fun, Eggo Frosted Maple Flavor, Blueberry, Boston Creme Donut, Cherry, Confetti Cupcake, Chocolate Fudge, Chocolate Chip, Cookies and Creme, Grape, Raspberry, Hot Fudge Sundae, Smores, Wildlicious Wild Berry, and Snickerdoodle.

    There are gluten-free Pop Tarts too, for all of you silly-acks out there. Here are a couple. Dig in!

    Rest in peace, Bill.

    LJ Rader has carved out an unusual niche for himself, and the results are perfect fodder for Owl Chatter, i.e., utterly ridiculous. And yet they were splashed across the front page of the NYT Style section today. What he does is identify works of art that correspond to sport scenes. 

    You may recall the image of Jason Kelce (Trav’s brother) shirtless and screaming as he clutches a can of beer. He was celebrating a TD catch of Trav’s. The NFL called Rader for the equivalent scene in a work of art. Here are the two, below. Can you tell which is Kelce and which is “The Feast of Bacchus” by Philips Koninck?

    Hysterical, right?

    This is this comparison of Dallas Coach Mike McCarthy’s head with a 19th century still-life by Antoine Vollon called “Mound of Butter.”

    Rader insists he’s not making fun of McCarthy’s size. “It’s just the same outline of his face,” Rader said, adding that butter is “bland like his play calling and, most important, melts like him each year in the playoffs.” Ouch!

    Rader’s formal background in art is minimal. He credits his grandmother with instilling in him an appreciation for art. And he took an art history course while a student at Vanderbilt. Yet he has developed an uncanny ability to pair sport scenes with classical artworks. Plus, he’s funny. He paired a shot of Jets coach Robert Saleh in his misery with Munch’s “Self Portrait in Hell.”

    Here is some more of his work.

    D’oh! It’s the birthday of Matt Groening today, creator of The Simpsons. He’s 70 and was born in Portland, OR. He had two sons with his first wife and seven more kids with his second. (Yikes!) His oldest child is named Homer, but goes by Will.

    In the show, he named Homer and Marge after his parents, and Lisa and Maggie after his sisters. Bart is an anagram of Brat. How popular was The Simpsons in our household when the kids were growing up? Well, Sam still quotes from it, when appropriate, and Caity had this family portrait of us made a few years ago.

    ??

    Here’s the birthday boy, with a couple of his buddies.

    Can’t top that. See you tomorrow.

  • The Wilted, the Shopworn, and the Free

    Here’s an Owl Chatter Valentine’s Day love story for you. Maud Gonne, the Irish Nationalist, was one of the most beautiful women of her time. In 1889, the poet William Butler Yeats fell in love with her the moment he met her. He described her face as “delicate in color as apple blossom.” He said the same about her bosom, but that’s none of our business. He asked her to marry him but she said she couldn’t because she believed they were brother and sister in a previous life. (Both she and Yeats believed in the occult.)

    I can’t tell you how many times that line was used on me back in the day:

    “Not so fast, Pedro — pull your pants back up, I think I’m your sister.”

    And I’d go, “Yeats, right?”

    Things worked out a lot better for Robert Louis Stevenson. He was walking by a house in France, glanced in a window, and fell madly in love with one of the women who was having dinner with friends. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, and finally opened the window, climbed in, and introduced himself. She was an American, Fanny Osborne. 

    Long story short: they married several years later. RLS was quite ill at the time. Fanny described him as “a mere complication of cough and bones, much fitter for an emblem of mortality than a bridegroom.” They honeymooned in an abandoned mining camp in Napa Valley north of SF on Mount Saint Helena. It’s near Robert Louis Stevenson State Park today.

    BTW, his middle name was originally spelled LEWIS. He changed it to LOUIS when he was 18. Just put that in your pocket — it’s sure to come in handy some day. 

    A headline in The Onion today said: ”Coughing Baby Aimed At Enemy.” This is from the story: While the mother had initially been trying to isolate the baby and contain his illness, something reportedly snapped deep inside her, causing the normally agreeable woman to engulf her enemies, bystanders, and even herself in a 10-foot-wide, deadly cloud of viruses guaranteed to infect them immediately. At press time, the woman could be seen packing up her stroller and walking away, but not before muttering, “You’ll be dead within the week.”

    The Onion also administered a memory test to President Biden and the results were not reassuring. He was unable to recall correctly “What is pi to the 20th digit?” And when asked how many months ago seven months ago was, he said “Seven months ago was five months ago.”

    These two answers eluded me in a challenging New Yorker puzzle by Natan Last this week: The first clue was “Hangs without dropping, perhaps?” The answer was TRIP SITS. I know — what? It means to stay with a friend who is taking an LSD trip to make sure he’s okay during it. So you are “hanging” with him, without yourself “dropping” LSD.

    The second clue was “Cracks in a small window?” The answer was TIGHT FIVE. Again — what? It turns out this is referring to a five-minute set a stand-up comic gets. It’s “tight” so he has to use his best material. So the “small window” is the five-minute time limit, and the “cracks” are jokes.

    Other neat clue/answers:

    “I’m in no mood to fight.” DON’T START

    “Prevents from stealing, say?” TAGS OUT

    “Perch for a bowler, perhaps” HAT TREE

    “Uses a powerful engine.” GOOGLES

    In 1986, Ted Kooser sent a Valentine’s Day poem on a postcard to 50 women he knew. He kept up the tradition for 21 years, but the list grew to over 2,500. You see, he’d be at a poetry reading or somewhere and mention the tradition and ask if any women there wanted to be added to the list. And, of course, who wouldn’t? It became expensive. His wife wasn’t jealous because she knew he was a lunatic and it was harmless fun.

    The poems were collected in a small volume called Valentines. This is one of them.

    In the Alley

    In the alley behind the florist’s shop,
    a huge white garbage truck was parked and idling.
    In a cloud of exhaust, two men in coveralls
    and stocking caps, their noses dripping,
    were picking through the florist’s dumpster
    and each had selected a fistful of roses.

    As I walked past, they gave me a furtive,
    conspiratorial nod, perhaps sensing
    that I too (though in my business suit and tie)
    am a devotee of garbage — an aficionado
    of the wilted, the shopworn, and the free —
    and that I had for days been searching
    beneath the heaps of worn-out, faded words
    to find this brief bouquet for you.

    Happy Valentine’s Day to all of you lovers out there — all of you handsome men and spectacularly gorgeous women — to Taylor and Travis, Wilma and Welly, my Caitlin and her Danny, my Sam and his Sarah. To Joe and Jill, Volodymyr and Olena, Patrick and Brittany. Treat yourselves to some chocolates, everybody — open your hearts.

    See you tomorrow! Thanks for stopping by.