The Wellington Files

  • Malaika’s Thirteen

    Bridgette Watkins was training for the Iditarod back in 2022 when the attack occurred. Perhaps she was aware that a 71-year-old man was killed in such an attack — trampled to death on the U. of Alaska campus. Moose typically weigh over half a ton and stand over six feet tall. Fatal moose attacks are rare, but she was right to be worried.

    “That moose had a look in his eye,” Watkins said. “He just wanted death to occur. Like he just wanted to kill us.”

    We married men have seen that look from time to time in the missus. It sends quite a chill, amirite fellas?

    In Watkins’s case, four of her dogs were seriously injured and one later died of its wounds.

    And that brings us to this year’s Iditarod, specifically to last Monday, when Dallas Seavey, a 5-time champ, shot and killed a moose in self-defense after it got tangled up with his dogs. His dad Mitch, 57, says this has only happened three or four times in the four decades he has competed in the race.

    Moose are generally friendly, but when food is in short supply they can get as testy as the rest of us, and they are not particularly fond of dogs, truth be told.

    Under the rules of the race, the actions Dallas took were proper. An animal can be killed in self-defense or to protect property. But he was required to gut the moose and save any salvageable food for charity. In this case, the body parts and organs were donated to the UJA.

    Alaskans love their moose, so this was a sad day.

    This poem from today’s Writer’s Almanac is called “Boy at the Window,” and is by Richard Wilbur.

    Seeing the snowman standing all alone
    In dusk and cold is more than he can bear.
    The small boy weeps to hear the wind prepare
    A night of gnashings and enormous moan.
    His tearful sight can hardly reach to where
    The pale-faced figure with bitumen eyes
    Returns him such a god-forsaken stare
    As outcast Adam gave to Paradise.

    The man of snow is, nonetheless, content,
    Having no wish to go inside and die.
    Still, he is moved to see the youngster cry.
    Though frozen water is his element,
    He melts enough to drop from one soft eye
    A trickle of the purest rain, a tear
    For the child at the bright pane surrounded by
    Such warmth, such light, such love, and so much fear.

    Rex’s guest blogger today, Malaika, says Twitter is engaging in a “thirteen albums to know me by” discussion. You pick 13 albums off the top of your head — you’re not supposed to agonize over it (but how could you not?).

    Here is her list, below. I have at least heard of all of the artists, except for Miguel. But I only know three of the albums. Needless to say, Malaika is much younger than me: I’d guess in her 20’s?

    • Pure Heroine (Lorde)
    • Jagged Little Pill (Alanis Morissette)
    • Let Go (Avril Lavigne)
    • Come Away With Me (Norah Jones)
    • Lemonade (Beyonce)
    • Bridge Over Troubled Water (Simon & Garfunkel)
    • ANTI (Rihanna)
    • SOUR (Olivia Rodrigo)
    • Speak Now (Taylor Swift)
    • Rumours (Fleetwood Mac)
    • Tapestry (Carol King)
    • Wildheart (Miguel)
    • 19 (Adele)

    It’s only March, but here’s Avril. Phil — you’ve outdone yourself — stunning.

    And here are my 13:

    Rolling Stones     Let It Bleed

    Dylan  Blonde on Blonde

    L. Cohen    Live from London

    Beatles    Rubber Soul

    James Taylor    Sweet Baby James

    Taylor Swift      1986

    Four Tops     Greatest Hits

    Neil Young     Prairie Wind

    Ramones      The Ramones

    Bob Marley    Uprising

    Van Morrison Moondance

    Bruce Born To Run

    Alasdair Fraser    Fire and Grace

    [Honorable Menschen: Phil Ochs, The Clash, Simon & G’funkel, Cream, Tom Rush/Joni Mitchell/Judy Collins, Silk City/Tony Trischka, Klezmer Conservatory Band]

    Josh Allen is a great quarterback for the Bills. Any team would be happy to have him. The Jets? Don’t start me weeping. That sort of guy gets the pretty girls and Josh is no exception. Exhibit A: Hailee Steinfeld, actress/model.

    But you know, he’s also human, and stuff happens. They were in Paris for Fashion Week. After dinner, they emerged from a car and Hailee stuck around for some pictures with fans while Josh rushed off. WTF Josh?? He later explained: “My pants ripped at dinner 🙁🤣 Didn’t want cheeks out… I love Paris 😁”

    Excuse accepted.

    See you tomorrow, everybody!

  • The Hands of a Government Man

    In yesterday’s puzzle, the clue at 51A was “Not digital, as a clock,” and the answer was ANALOG. Via a commenter, it opened quite a door.

    I’ve never had an interest in tribute bands. They just seem like bar bands that perform covers limited to one group. Not to diss any of you who enjoy them. And there’s a good chance if I were dragged to one I’d enjoy it. But the Analogues are something else, and they’re mesmerizing.

    They are a Dutch group of accomplished musicians formed ten years ago. But let me back up a bit. The Beatles, you may recall, never performed their last clump of albums live: Abbey Road, The White Album, Sgt. Pepper, to name a few.

    Well, the Analogues buried themselves in the music and perform brilliant renditions on stage. They don’t try to mimic the look — but they capture the sound brilliantly, down to the smallest detail. This is from Wikipedia:

    To sound as close to the original recordings as possible, the Analogues have amassed a collection of musical instruments, such as a black-and-white Rickenbacker guitar similar to John Lennon’s, a light blue Fender Stratocaster similar to George Harrison’s, and a Höfner 500/1 bass. Exotic musical instruments from India are also used in their performances, including a dilruba, a swarmandal, a tanpura, a tabla and a sitar. Further special instruments include a one-metre-long harmonica for “The Fool on the Hill” and a clavioline for “Baby, You’re a Rich Man.”

    The band’s primary analyst is bass guitarist and producer Bart van Poppel. After a thorough analysis of an album’s arrangements, they find the necessary equipment such as a 1965 Lowrey Heritage Deluxe organ, or one of only thirty known existing mellotrons in a particular series, used in the intro of “Strawberry Fields Forever.”

    I listened to half of their version of Abbey Road last night, agog. But don’t take Owl Chatter’s word (ever) — have a listen to this sample, especially the guitar “conversation” towards the end, with the sudden drop back to the keyboard:

    Today’s puzzle had a brilliant revealer near the bottom that pulled it all together after driving us nuts. It’s by Christina Iverson, who’s on the NYT puzzle staff. Here: you try to find the connection: The four theme answers were: LOGICAL FALLACY, EMPTY SPACE, PIG STY, and FRUIT DRINK.

    So? You got it? What connects those four? The revealer was at 54A: The clue was “Spring-loaded office device,” and the answer was THREE-HOLE PUNCH. So, the first three are the “holes.” A “logical fallacy” is a hole in an argument. An “empty space” is a hole. And a “pig sty” can be thought of as a hole — a mess. Then, “fruit drink” is the punch, so you get three holes and then a punch. Ta da!

    Iverson said she was inspired by Jim Halpert’s Halloween costume on “The Office.” He always tried for costumes that involved no effort to put together. His three-hole punch was just three black dots on his white shirt.

    Another year he went as “some guy named Dave” and his whole costume was a nametag on which he wrote “Dave.”

    Got 4 minutes? Here’s a song called “Born Under Punches” by Angelique Kidjo. Original version was by the Talking Heads. It’s been said of Kidjo, “when she gets her hands on a song she feels it VERY deeply and performs it from a very powerful place in her soul.” Yup.

    This poem by Carl Dennis is called “String Quartet,” and it was in today’s Writer’s Almanac.

    Art and life, I wouldn’t want to confuse them.
    But it’s hard to hear this quartet
    Without comparing it to a conversation
    Of the quiet kind, where no one tries to outtalk
    The other participants, where each is eager instead
    To share in the task of moving the theme along
    From the opening statement to the final bar.

    A conversation that isn’t likely to flourish
    When sales technicians come trolling for customers,
    Office-holders for votes, preachers for converts.
    Many good people among such talkers,
    But none engaged like the voices of the quartet
    In resisting the plots time hatches to make them unequal,
    To set them at odds, to pull them asunder.

    I love the movement where the cello is occupied
    With repeating a single phrase while the others
    Strike out on their own, three separate journeys
    That seem to suggest each prefers, after all,
    The pain and pleasure of playing solo. But no.
    Each near the end swerves back to the path
    Their friend has been plodding, and he receives them
    As if he never once suspected their loyalty.

    Would I be moved if I thought the music
    Belonged to a world remote from this one,
    If it didn’t seem instead to be making the point
    That conversation like this is available
    At moments sufficiently free and self-forgetful?

    And at other moments, maybe there’s still a chance
    To participate in the silence of listeners
    Who are glad for what they manage to bring to the music
    And for what they manage to take away.

    The commentariat raised the issue of what “begs the question” means, and I think I’m finally starting to understand it. Its incorrect (but popular) use is as a way to say it “inspires you to ask a question,” or “it raises a question.” But its correct use is to note that your conclusion was stated in your premise, similar to circular reasoning. It is begging the question to say “opium induces sleep because it has a soporific quality.” Soporific means sleep-inducing, so your point begs the question.

    At 24D, the clue was “Like a tightrope, ideally,” and the answer was TAUT. egs asked: If you’re full of tension solely because of your own anxieties, are you self-TAUT?

    The Car Talk duo once asked a caller how long he was unemployed (because he had so much time to work on his car). The caller was a bit taken aback and said: “Actually, I’m a consultant.” And Tom or Ray said: “Oh, so you’re self-unemployed.”

    Research on the 2017 Trump tax cut has been released, says the NYT. Trump officials predicted workers would come out ahead by $4,000 to $9,000. The average gain was $750. The corporate tax cuts were promised to pay for themselves. Instead, they are adding $100 billion a year to the deficit. Just sayin’.

    “Chirp your heart out — we’re back, baby!”

    See you tomorrow, everybody!

  • Georgie’s Great Cake!

    Here’s a question for you — If a horse could talk (Hi, Mr. Ed!) — would he be a NAYSAYER? The answer at 26A today was naysayer — the clue was “Skeptical sort.”

    The theme was BANANA SPLITS: At four places, the word BANANA was “split” between two side-by-side answers, e.g., caBANA NAysayer.

    There is a kids group called the Banana Splits and they have a theme song called “The Tra La La Song.” Rex shared a version by Liz Phair that’s worth a listen, especially if you live under a rock like me and are unfamiliar with Liz Phair.

    And here’s Liz, quieter:

    I had another Monday DNF. What is wrong with me! This time I got snagged on 38D. The clue was “Gimlet or screwdriver.” The answer was four letters long, started with T and ended with L, and I had no idea. Turns out to be TOOL. Did you know the gimlet is a small boring tool? Not boring like my tax classes — boring like through wood. Live and learn (and forget, in most cases).

    Crossworld is a little on edge. Will Shortz suffered a stroke on Feb 4 and is in recovery. He says he’s doing well and we all hope he’s back on the job, torturing and infuriating us, soon.

    Will is 71 and has been the puzzle editor at the NYT for 30 years. A spokesperson for the Times says a full recovery is expected and Will will return when he is ready ready. He comes under a lot of criticism for many of his puzzles, but that’s just puzzles — everyone wishes him well — 100%. And it’s hard not to admit the NYT puzzle department has had much success during his reign.

    Wanna see another cute redhead? Seriously. Who wouldn’t? Here’s grandniece Cordelia Anastasia Russell in some serious California snow and a head that has never been redder.

    We’re all a little tired from our very successful midwest tour. So we’re going to have a very quiet celebration of this Owl Chatter Post #450. George slaved over the stove all morning, and came up with this great cake: (You’re cleaning that mess up, btw, buddy! This isn’t Congress.)

    It’s just the owls, George, Phil, Ana and us. We’re not even having any alcohol, except for Phil, of course, who needs it for his nightly stupor. Ana — no need to dress up for us slobs. So glad you’re hanging with us tonight.

    Happy 450th everybody! See you tomorrow!

  • Zsa Zsa Gabor’s Sixth Husband

    Broadcasting today from Owl Chatter’s satellite office in Bloomfield Hills, MI. Spent yesterday in Annie Arbor after a sensational lunch at Boneheads BBQ in Willis. Ribs out of this world. Family platter through the roof with brisket, beans, et al. Crooked Tree Ale. Phil got this neat shot of the owner who was up on the roof for some reason.

    Ever wonder what a good Celtic rock band would sound like with bagpipes and a fiddler? Me neither. But if you ever do, check out the Toronto group Enter the Haggis. They tore the roof off of The Ark last night. Here’s a sample, sans fiddle however.

    Nassau County Executive, the right-wing bigot Bruce Blakeman, was ordered by NYS Attorney General Letitia James, to reverse his anti-trans edict barring trans women from participating in women team sports. Of course, Blakeman refused. Blakeman has engaged in culture wars in the past, for example, refusing to enforce the state’s mask mandate during the pandemic. It’s unclear how many lives his right-wing idiocy cost. His current hate-drenched cause is in clear violation of NY’s anti-discrimination laws. Courts should have no trouble reversing it.

    As usual, the puzzle today, by Natan Last, had so much wonderful material in it. Do you baseball fans remember this? The pitcher who claimed to have thrown a no-hitter on LSD in 1970: Dock ELLIS. And how about this for you old-time TV fans: “The comedian who played Louie the Lilac on the old Batman show?” I had no idea – Milton BERLE! Hey, Uncle Miltie – good to see you!

    Here are two quotes of his:

    My wife and I have a perfect understanding. I don’t try to run her life and I don’t try to run mine.

    I feel like Zsa Zsa Gabor’s sixth husband. I know what I’m supposed to do but I don’t know how to make it interesting. 

    Yesterday, this was a good clue: “One who has ways of making you talk …” The answer was SPEECH THERAPIST. And “They who shall not be named,” was a good clue for OTHERS. Rex commented on the “faux-folksiness” of the puzzle. Then he wondered about this portmanteau: fauxksiness. Not bad!

    My beautiful daughter Caitlin, from whom emanated five of my gorgeous grandchildren, is an RN in oncology. She sometimes shares stuff from work with us, about her amazing patients. Then, yesterday, she posted this writing by one of her patients, who, very sadly, is no longer with us. Her name was Carolyn Messina. Caity called her a beautiful cancer warrior.

    People with cancer are supposed to be heroic.

    We fight a disease that terrifies everyone.

    We are “strong” because we endure treatments that can feel worse than the actual malignancies.

    We are “brave” because our lab tests come back with news we don’t want to hear.

    The reality of life with cancer is very different from the image we try to portray.

    Our fight is simply a willingness to go through treatment because, frankly, the alternative sucks. Strength? We endure pain and sickness for the chance to feel normal down the road. Brave? We build up an emotional tolerance and acceptance of things we can’t change. Faith kicks in to take care of the rest.

    The truth is that if someone you love has cancer, they probably won’t be completely open about what they’re going through because they’re trying so hard to be strong.

    For you.

    However, if they could be truly honest and vulnerable, they would tell you:

    1. Don’t wait on me to call you if I need anything. Please call me every once in a while and set up a date and time to come over. I know you told me to call if I ever needed anything, but it’s weird asking others to spend time with me or help me with stuff I used to be able to do on my own. It makes me feel weak and needy, and I’m also afraid you’ll say “no.”

    2. Let me experience real emotions. Even though cancer and its treatments can sometimes influence my outlook, I still have normal moods and feelings in response to life events. If I’m angry or upset, accept that something made me mad and don’t write it off as the disease. I need to experience and express real emotions and not have them minimized or brushed off.

    3. Ask me “what’s up” rather than “how do you feel.” Let’s talk about life and what’s been happening rather than focusing on my illness.

    4. Forgive me. There will be times when the illness and its treatment make me “not myself.” I may be forgetful, abrupt or hurtful. None of this is deliberate. Please don’t take it personally, and please forgive me.

    5. Just listen. I’m doing my very best to be brave and strong, but I have moments when I need to fall apart. Just listen and don’t offer solutions. A good cry releases a lot of stress and pressure for me.

    6. Take pictures of us. I may fuss about a photo, but a snapshot of us can help get me through tough times. A photo is a reminder that someone thinks I’m important and worth remembering. Don’t let me say “I don’t want you to remember me like this” when treatment leaves me bald or scarred. This is me, who I am RIGHT NOW. Embrace the now with me.

    7. I need a little time alone. A few points ago I was talking about how much I need to spend time with you, and now I’m telling you to go away. I love you, but sometimes I need a little solitude. It gives me the chance to take off the brave face I’ve been wearing too long, and the silence can be soothing.

    8. Take nothing for granted. Enjoy the life you have right now. Take time to jump in puddles, hug your kids, and feel the wind on your face. Marvel at this amazing world God created, and thank Him for bringing us together.

    While I may not be thankful for my cancer, I need to be grateful for the physicians and treatments that give me the chance to fight this thing. And if there ever comes a time when the treatments no longer work, please know that I will always be grateful for having lived my life with you all in it.

    As we watch our amazing two-year old Morris run and play and eat and talk and sing, special thoughts go out for our recent losses: Susan, Hank, Bonnie, and Mitch.

    Thanks for coming by everybody.

  • Oreo Dirt Cake

    I’m trying to get to your “requests” as soon as I can, readers, but there are so many it’s hard to keep up. Happily, Tanya — today we will be able to meet the one you posed a few weeks ago in your note:

    Dear Owl Chatter,

    My husband and I love your blog. Phil cracks us up. Do you think you could find a video of snowmen in England dancing the Hokey Pokey? If it could include one snowman playing a musical instrument with his nose that would be good, but it’s not necessary.

    Thanks!

    Tanya Shakapopskov

    Well, TS, your wait is over (see below). In fact, HOKEY POKEY was one of the theme answers in the puzzle today. The clue was: “Participation dance in which you ‘turn yourself around.’” And the theme was WHAT IT’S ALL ABOUT. (It’s a reference to the line in the song — “and that’s what IT’S all about”)

    To no surprise, Rex exploded, as follows:

    Wow, I never realized how completely nonsensical that HOKEY POKEY song is before. What the hell is “It” ever referring to? All the left hand / right hand nonsense? But no, because you do the left hand right hand nonsense, and then you “do the HOKEY POKEY and you turn yourself around.” But The Lyrics Never Describe That Part (i.e. exactly what “do the HOKEY POKEY” means), and also, how can “it” refer to HOKEY POKEY, when “you do the HOKEY POKEY and you turn yourself around / And that’s what it’s all about”? So … the HOKEY POKEY is “about” the HOKEY POKEY? And we teach children this rhyme? No wonder my students have trouble with pronoun usage. Pronouns need clear antecedents / referents! The “it” in the HOKEY POKEY song has no idea what it (!) is pointing to. Thank you for attending my new segment, “Rex Parker Critiques Children’s Rhymes,” join me next time for a thorough take down of “E-I-E-I-O” (“No consonants!? Unlikely …”). 

    [BTW, the Hokey Pokey is known as the Hokey Cokey in England, Ireland, the Caribbean, and parts of Australia — I don’t know which parts, so just be careful.]

    Oh, Tanya — almost forgot your request! (Love the “beginner’s” Rubik’s cube at the end.)

    The other two answers for the “what IT’s all about” theme were SCARY CLOWN: What Stephen King’s book “It” is about, and COMPUTER SYSTEMS: I. T. (get it?). Pretty clever.

    egs suggested another one could be: “Sex in the road, according to the Beatles.” For you young ‘uns, that’s a reference to their song “Why Don’t We Do IT in the Road?”

    McCartney wrote the song after witnessing two monkeys enjoying each other “in the road” in India. He found it liberating. It must have been when the Fab Four were starting to fray because Lennon was miffed that Paul didn’t ask him to record it with him. Paul shot back that Lennon did the same to him on “Julia” and “Revolution #9.”

    Mom! He started it!

    At 30D, the clue was “One may dominate a conversation,” and the answer was TALKAHOLIC. Rex was very dismissive of it, but I took issue with him via a comment I posted. Here’s Rex:

    TALKAHOLIC, ugh, I would’ve shut my computer right there if I weren’t contractually obligated to go on. Just a ridiculous non-word. What’s next, GUACAHOLIC?! (mmmm, guacaholism …). Your acceptable punny -aholic prefixes are SHOP- and CHOC-. TALKAHOLIC is gratingly cutesy and not really used. Never seen it. Never heard it. If people don’t use it, you don’t use it, that’s the rule.

    But he’s wrong about that. I posted:

    There is a real condition in which people can’t stop talking. I’ve met someone like that — you don’t want to be near them. We used to joke that her husband must be deaf. (He wasn’t. In fact he was a very nice guy.) Another joke is they seek help from On and On Anon. But it’s serious. Wikipedia calls it “compulsive talking” or “talkaholism.” Studies of college students show about 5% are talkaholics.

    Reminded me of a New Yorker cartoon I may have referenced before. Two guys at a bar, and one says to the other: “I’m like a workaholic, but with alcohol.”

    Soul singer Bridges, was LEON. Anybody hear of him? Word hadn’t reached me under my rock. His real name is Todd Michael Bridges and I don’t know where the Leon came from. He’s 34, born in Atlanta and raised in Ft. Worth. He’s quite successful and performed at The White House for the Obamas.

    Bridges’s style is primarily soul, but resembling 1960s rhythm and blues. WSJ described him as a “throwback to ’60s-soul a la Otis Redding and Sam Cooke.” He performs in vintage clothing; Fort Worth Weekly described him as someone whose “music sounds like he looks.”

    “I’ll send you a silver bird, baby.”

    If I may qvell a bit, this drawing is by Granddaughter #1 (Lianna). It’s one of her OCs — original characters. She’s on the creative side of the family.

    Big news in Crossworld! Favorite cookie OREO is getting two new flavors which should be in stores on Monday (3/4). The first is Oreo Dirt Cake: the company’s take on the nostalgic mud-pie dessert that reminds people of childhood. [Except for me. For me, cholent reminds me of childhood.]

    On the outside, it features the classic chocolate cookie with gummy worm-inspired sprinkles on top; and on the inside, it’s got a layer of brownie-flavored creme atop a layer of chocolate creme with Oreo wafer crumb.

    The second new flavor is Oreo Thins Tiramisu. The classic thin cookie is stuffed with a layer of tiramisu-flavored creme filling.

    Last December the company introduced Oreo’s Black and White cookies as well as (finally!) a gluten-free Oreo, both of which are golden not chocolate. Also, a peanut-butter flavored Cakester Oreo — the “cakesters” have soft (cakey) cookie parts instead of the usual.

    Oy, that’s enough nonsense for now. More tomorrow!

  • Mahershalalhashbaz

    Hey, do you like ukulele music? Who doesn’t, right? Well UKES were in the puzzle yesterday (“Hawaiian instruments, informally”) and this tune by a sorta weird-looking dude was shared with us. Have a listen. It’s a nice way to open today, after Sunday’s sad post.

    I saw you in my dream.

    We were walking hand in hand. . .

    Sadly, the performer, Israel Kamakawiwoʻole, passed away at the young age of 38 in 1997. In 2010, he was named the “voice of Hawaii” by NPR.

    Kamakawiwoʻole struggled with obesity throughout his life, at one point weighing 757 pounds. The cause of death was respiratory failure.

    On July 10, 1997, the Hawaiian flag flew at half-staff for Kamakawiwoʻole’s funeral. His koa wood casket lay at the state capitol building in Honolulu, making him the third person (and the only non-government official) to be so honored. Approximately 10,000 people attended his funeral. Thousands of fans gathered as his ashes were scattered into the Pacific Ocean at Mākua Beach two days later.

    On September 20, 2003, hundreds paid tribute to Kamakawiwoʻole as a bronze bust of him was unveiled at the Waianae Neighborhood Community Center on Oʻahu. His widow, Marlene, and the sculptor Jan-Michelle Sawyer were present for the dedication ceremony.

    The Pistons fell behind the Knicks in NY last night by 13 points in the third quarter, but kept up the fight very impressively and took the lead in the waning moments of the game! It could have gone either way as the ball rattled around with the clock ticking down. It looked like Detroit would have a pair of foul shots and the win! — but the whistle never blew. Pistons lose again, 113-111. Get this though — after the game, the refs came out and apologized: they conceded they blew the call. We wuz robbed, but what are you gonna do? It happens.

    Bottom line — they are a young feisty team — should be pretty decent pretty soon. They’re a lot of fun to watch with a lot of fight in them.

    What a surprise! Owl Chatter’s dear friend, the beautiful ANA de Armas popped by a few days early. She is going to help us celebrate Post #450 later this week. She was in yesterday’s NYT puzzle and an LA Times puzzle I did on the train home yesterday.

    Of course you can crash here till the party, babe. Always welcome. Settle in in Sam’s room upstairs — towels are in the bathroom closet. Let Georgie know what you need. See you at the party!

    There was no specific “revealer” in the puzzle today, letting us know what’s going on, but two answers side by side might be the tipoff: INKED and INCA. It’s the silliest puzzle with six long answers all rhyming with “INKY” in the first part. Here they are:

    • SLINKY DOG (18A: “Toy Story” dachshund with a springy body) 
    • WINKY FACE (20A: This emoticon: ;-)) 
    • STINKY TOFU (35A: Vegetarian street food known for its distinct smell) 
    • KINKY BOOTS (40A: Tony Award-winning musical with the song “Sex Is in the Heel”) 
    • PINKY RING (56A: Little finger adornment) 
    • RINKY DINK (59A: Small-time)

    There was a great clue at 43D: “Wallow moodily.” Rex’s guest blogger, Clare, called it a “perfect clue.” The answer was SULK. I’m going to consider that for my tombstone now: BELOVED HUSBAND, FATHER, ETC., WALLOWED MOODILY.

    The clue for 1D was “Disapproving look.” See if you find the answer in this note on it by commenter egsforbreakfast:

    “The USC Administration recently announced they were dropping the Trojan mascot and adopting a nocturnal bird instead. The students, accordingly, started painting the new mascot on their cheeks before football games. As a result, they would show up with a SCOWL on their face.”

    Mahershala ALI was in the puzzle, prompting Kitshef to comment: I’ve always thought it would be cool to work Mahershala Ali’s full first name of ‘Mahershalalhashbaz’ into a puzzle. [Had no idea that was his full name. It’s the name of the prophet Isaiah’s second child.] On shortening it to Mahershala, Ali said:

    “I think if you have any desire to be a leading man or to really carry some of these stories, there’s this relationship that has to be cultivated with an audience. People have to be able to say your name. I didn’t want a couple of syllables to get in the way of me having the fullest experience as an actor.”

    He also changed his last name from Gilmore to Ali when he converted to Islam.

    Get this – he attended St. Mary’s College of California on a basketball scholarship, but grew disenchanted with sports and turned to acting.

    I’m not sure the clue cited above for STINKY TOFU quite captures it: “Vegetarian street food known for its distinct smell.” It’s fermented tofu. According to Wikipedia, “from a distance, the odor of stinky tofu is said to resemble that of rotten garbage or smelly feet.” Yum!

    The traditional method of producing stinky tofu is to prepare a brine made from fermented milk, vegetables, and meat; the brine can also include dried shrimp, amaranth greens, mustard greens, bamboo shoots, and Chinese herbs. The brine fermentation can take up to several months. Our feeling is: no rush.

    In connection with the “inky pinky” theme, Whatsername treated us to this “Ringy dingy” clip.

    Headline from The Onion: Biden Gives Americans Nuclear Launch Codes In Case Anything Should Happen To Him.

    This cartoon had an “aha moment” for me. Took me a few seconds.

    “Has anyone turned in a pair of reading glasses?”

    Hey, The Supremes were in the grid today (the ones without Alito): well, Diana ROSS, actually, right next to Maharshala. Hey, she’s from Detroit — shoulda known that — Motown. She has five kids — yikes! And she’s turning 80 in March — kinahora! Still performing too — she’ll be in Newark on May 17.

    Hey, DR — Got a tune for us? Think it over. We’ll assign you the send-off today.

    Thanks for dropping by!

  • R. I. P., Flaco

    Some grief is simply unbearable. Some losses are incalculable.

    New York City lost Flaco the beloved owl yesterday. As The Gothamist put it, a city mourns. Our poor friend was found on West 89th Street. He had collided with a building — it’s a common cause of death for city birds.

    Flaco had made his transition to freedom from the Central Park Zoo brilliantly and was living off of rats he hunted down. But extending his territory outside the park was his undoing.

    New Yorkers gathered this weekend at one of his favorite trees to pay respect. They dropped off bouquets, poems, condolence cards, stuffed teddy bears and toy owls at an oak tree in the park’s North Woods and expressed their grief.

    What a beautiful owl. What an endearing spirit. The city is no stranger to gut punches; 9-11 and so many others. It will endure. But it won’t be the same.

    Rest in peace, beautiful friend. (Special thanks to Jenny for the artwork, above.)

    The puzzle was a series of terrible puns today, linked to doctors’ visits. Fine by me, but Rex hated it. E.g., I visited the podiatrist and now I … STAND CORRECTED. Or, I visited the dermatologist, who … MADE A RASH DECISION. Fun, right? Here’s Rex:

    Wow, this is so painfully corny. Why do people keep making these? I guess because Will [Shortz] keeps taking them. I absolutely Do Not Get It. These long pun stories, they’re a time-honored tradition, but they seem like the biggest cop-out. Just a huge non-theme. Ordinary phrases linked by only the most preposterous imagined scenarios, which turn the ordinary phrases into puns of some kind. And the puns aren’t even groaners. They’re either completely weak (i.e. obvious), like DIDN’T MISS A BEAT [cardiologist], or they are borderline inscrutable, like GAVE ME THE NOD [sleep specialist] (are we calling sleep “THE NOD” now?), or they are completely made up—nobody but nobody ever “visited the anesthesiologist.” [LOST MY TOUCH] That is not a doctor that you go to. That is a doctor that attends surgeries. I’ve only ever seen anesthesiologists at my actual damn procedures. I never “visited the anesthesiologist.” And what, just to get some numbing drugs? What the hell? That makes no kind of sense. Plus, the idea that anesthesiologists make you lose “your touch,” what? You go under. That is losing a lot more than your “touch.” Then there’s the fact that the themers change tense, and veer back and forth between the doctor doing things and the patient doing things. It’s a mess. An old-fashioned, unambitious, uninspired mess. Completely baffling. 

    *********

    Many folks enjoyed it more than Rex, including me. Commenter JohnK added a couple I liked:

    I missed two visits to the urologist,. . . . but I finally went.

    I went to the acupuncturist . . . . and he stuck me with a big bill.

    If you like Winnie the Pooh, you may appreciate 57A. The clue was “Sorry ass?” And the answer was EEYORE.

    The only guest of note was JENNA Bush, clued as the partner of Hoda on “Today.” She’s the daughter of W, the ex-prez. I didn’t know she picked up the Today gig. Here are the girls with mom, in stilettos! Jenna’s on the right.

    The NJ Symphony was on its game today. The oboe concerto we discussed in OC yesterday was gorgeous. We couldn’t catch “circular breathing,” but it was clear the oboist was very careful with his breathing. The applause was so enthusiastic, he played a beautiful encore from Bach for us (with a cello and flute popping in with assists).

    We’ll share this lovely oboe work to send us off on this sad night.

  • 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.