The Wellington Files

  • Gong Xi Fa Cai

    Hey, everybody, today is the Chinese (Lunar) New Year’s Day! That expression (in the title) is what folks wish each other today. It means “May you enlarge your wealth.” Fittingly, it was the answer in the puzzle today at 51A. But let me back up a bit. The clue at 16A was “2024, e.g.,” and the answer was YEAR OF THE DRAGON. Then, at 51A, the clue was “Celebratory greeting for 16-Across,” which, of course, was gong xi fa cai. The other clue/answer on the topic came at 24D: ”Common gift during Chinese Spring Festival,” which is ORANGE. We picked up some of these stamps at the Chatham Post Office this morning. Scary dragon!

    At 45A, the clue was “Cry after a motion,” and the answer was I SECOND. Like, to “second a motion.” Take it Smokey!

    But not everyone is happy on this new year’s day. At 21A the answer was TEAR STAIN. Oh no! And the clue was “Evidence of crying.” What’s the problem, sweetheart? Phil — work your magic — cheer her up.

    Here’s a sweet piece by Sarah Hanssen from tomorrow’s Met Diary, followed by a gorgeous song called “Tear Stained Eye” by Son Volt.

    Dear Diary,

    I was walking down the street on a Sunday afternoon with my headphones in. It was the end of what had been a rough weekend. 

    I was caught up in a song that was soothing my recently broken and rejected heart. I was wondering if I would ever meet someone new who would love me or if I should prepare to live a solitary life.

    A beautiful young woman walked past me. She seemed to be saying something to me, so I took out my headphones.

    “You are so beautiful,” she said. ”I just had to tell you.”

    “Wow!” I said, “And here I am having a rough day.”

    “Well, if you want one,” she said, “I’d give you a hug.”

    And we hugged.

     

    Roo Monster shared this memory:

    Speaking of DRAGONS, back in my GEN X days, circa 1986?, my dad had a 1978 F-150 pick-’em up truck, it was in really good condition, it was green and white, had nice chrome wheels, and a chrome rollbar, plus it was a 4 speed manual. He put a bug shield on it, and had “Green Dragon” painted on it, with two Dragons on opposite ends. They took a trip to Hawaii, and it was my truck for two weeks! I was 17 and felt like King Shit. 

    This isn’t it, but it will have to suffice.

    Speaking of King Shit, it’s about time they got off Matt Gaetz’s neck, don’t you think? What’s this country coming to when a respected Congressman, or, in this case, Gaetz, can’t have sex with an underaged girl without taking shit for it, we ask you? ”How many times do I have to lie my way out of this?” Gaetz is wondering. 

    According to the NYT, last year the Justice Dept. quietly closed the inquiry after investigators concluded they could not make a strong enough case against him in court. (Not exactly name-clearing.) It’s the House Ethics Committee that’s looking into it now, and word is the Congressman’s former friend Joel Greenberg is cooperating with the investigation. According to the Times, Greenberg has told investigators he witnessed Gaetz having sex with a 17-year old girl. Greenberg’s no angel either — he’s serving an 11-year sentence for charges that include sex trafficking. Not an ideal witness? Hey nobody’s perfect.

    Here’s a shot Phil got for us of Matt with a vampire woman.

    Have you heard the expression CAT DAD? If so, that makes one of us. The clue was “Man with a Manx, say.” There was a documentary “Cat Daddies” about different types of men who love cats. They are coming out into the open more. Sensitive types. Here’s one! We love cats at OC — still miss poor Hank and Sophie.

    When we shared Ted Kooser’s poem about his dog Hattie yesterday, we promised to share the one he wrote about Hattie’s death today. 

    Here it is. It’s called “Death of a Dog.” Thanks, TK!

    The next morning I felt that our house
    had been lifted away from its foundation
    during the night, and was now adrift,
    though so heavy it drew a foot or more
    of whatever was buoying it up, not water
    but something cold and thin and clear,
    silence riffling its surface as the house
    began to turn on a strengthening current,
    leaving, taking my wife and me with it,
    and though it had never occurred
    to me until that moment, for fifteen years
    our dog had held down what we had
    by pressing his belly to the floors,
    his front paws, too, and with him gone
    the house had begun to float out onto
    emptiness, no solid ground in sight.

    See you tomorrow. Thanks for dropping by.

  • Dust and Dog Hair

    As the nation careens towards Super Bowl LVIII, do we really need the distraction of Brittany Mahomes (QB Patrick’s wife), posing so suggestively on the cover of Sports Illustrated’s swimsuit issue that even our drunk and depraved Phil was aghast? We won’t reproduce it here, for decency’s sake. Go ahead — call us prudes. 

    Brittany, btw, is quite an athlete in her own right — she played professional soccer in Iceland — and we are happy that Patrick and she have two beautiful kids. We wish them the best. And she does look very pretty in SI.

    As for the game, we are pulling for KC. We didn’t appreciate how SF treated our Detroiters in their game. We’d like to see them get their comeuppance.

    How about those Pistons!! Two wins in a row for the first time since October! This time the victim was Portland, again with a late-game surge. We went into the 4th quarter trailing by 13, but tied it and dominated in overtime, 8-2. We’ll be taking on a very tough Clippers team in LA tomorrow night. Keep it up, men!

    Headline in The Onion: Bank Repossesses Brain Of Man Who Defaulted On Student Loans.

    Today’s puzzle set the tone from the get-go. 1A was “Beaming,” and the answer was ALL SMILES. 

    Here’s Caity’s Leon — he’s six and a half now! Kinahora.

    At 55A, the clue was “It makes a spin around a dance floor,” and the answer was DISCO BALL. You know, – this thing:

    It brought up some painful memories for egs, who wrote: ”I used to stay at the clubs til dawn, dancing to the likes of Donna Summer and Gloria Gaynor. Had to quit when I developed a case of DISCOBALLS.” Ouch!

    The puzzle was by Christina Iverson, who is on the NYT puzzle staff, and it’s nice and crisp. Other good clues/answers are:

    14A: ”Wind up alone?” Ans: FLUTE SOLO. The flute is a “wind” instrument and the soloist is up alone. Iverson shared that this was a favorite of hers among all the clues/answers she’s ever written.

    32A: ”Trend for unengaged employees:” Ans: QUIET QUITTING. You familiar with this? It’s when you just do what you need to do at work, but put in no additional effort.

    16A: ”Fuzzy exotic pet” is a TARANTULA. Wanderlust noted:  “My friends and I kept a TARANTULA in our dorm room in college. Her name was Buttercup, and she was adorable.” Seriously?

    12D: ”DC Comics weapons, one of which can be seen at the Smithsonian.” Answer: BATARANGS. Remember those? That was a long time ago. 

    You can buy them on Amazon. These go for just $8.03 (down from $11.95).

    At 24D, “Facial concealer” was VEIL. Wanderlust said she had “vein” before veil as the facial concealer, and thought “that would have to be a pretty big vein.” Yup.

    At 25A, ask me to come up with a clue for PLOW, and I’ll probably involve oxen in some fashion. But Iverson came up with: ”Yoga pose with arms extended and legs folded over the head.” What? Legs folded over the head? I don’t think Jews do that — There’s something in the Torah on that.

    It looks like parts of two different people, assembled incorrectly. A person from Ikea, with bad instructions.

    Don’t try that pose, TK! You’ll never get out of it! Hey, readers, Ted Kooser’s here today! Great to see you, as always Mr. Bigshot Poet Laureate. What do you have for us, to kick off this fine weekend?

    This is from Winter Morning Walks

    The weight of my old dog, Hattie — thirty-five pounds
    of knocking bones, sighs, tremors, and dreams —
    just isn’t enough to hold a patch of sun in its place,
    at least for very long. While she shakes in her sleep,
    it slips from beneath her and inches away,
    taking the morning with it — the music from the radio,
    the tea from my cup, the drowsy yellow hours —
    picking up dust and dog hair as it goes.

    Sadly, Hattie passed away since that poem was written. We’ll share the poem Ted wrote for Hattie upon her death tomorrow.

    Thanks for popping by!

  • Keep Your Hairy Beardtongue to Yourself!

    I am so thankful that I blundered my way into Crossworld years ago and am able to hang on by my fingertips enough to appreciate the extraordinary craftsmanship of many of the puzzles. I advise newcomers (newbs or noobs (it’s a battle)) to start with the NYT on Monday and/or the New Yorker on Thursday, and work up to the NYT on Thursday. Those are the most fun — there’s always some trick to it, often brilliant wordplay.

    E.g., today’s is by Sam Donaldson. He good! The “revealer” was at 40A: “Dating axiom,” and the answer was OPPOSITES ATTRACT. Then, at four places in the puzzle, this happened: At 18A the clue was “Highway crossing,” so you’d think OVERPASS. And right next to it, at 19A, the clue was “Fail,” so you’d think GO UNDER. But if you look at them it’s: OVERPASS GO UNDER. The opposites — OVER and UNDER are “attracted” to each other. So the answers you need to fill in on the grid are PASSOVER UNDERGO. Get it? Over and under come together. That happens three more times. Where the answers should be IN ORDER and LAYS OUT, the “out” and the “in” are attracted to each other so they become ORDER IN and OUTLAYS. Where the answers should be OFF HAND and LEAVE ON, the “off” and the “on” are attracted to each other so they become HAND OFF and ON LEAVE. (I’ll spare you the last one — you get the idea (I hope).) 

    And, get this — I completely missed it when I completed the puzzle. I noticed the answers were reversing themselves (overpass to pass over) but didn’t see how the opposites were attracted to each other until I read Rex’s blog. (Duh.) That happens now and then.

    After over 400 posts on Owl Chatter, I am no longer amazed at the amount of delicious nonsense that is available in our lives on a daily basis. Yesterday, a heated (and protracted) debate arose over the well-known song “Lola” by the Kinks. The issue was whether they are singing LA-LA-LA-LA-LOLA, or LO-LO-LO-LO-LOLA. The clue was “Refrain in a 1970 hit by the Kinks” and the puzzle wanted you to put in LA-LA-LA-LA-LOLA. Rex started things off by saying: “yeah, OK, is it LA- LA- LA- LA- or L- L- L- L- or LO- LO- LO- LO- …? The original Kinks’ version sounds kinda LO-ish. I’ve always heard LA- or a kind of flat LUH. Honestly, I’ve never really thought about it. But I’m fine with the LAs.”

    The Commentariat tore into it like a starving vegetarian lion with a pile of fresh tempeh. DPF got the ball rolling at 6:05 am: It’s definitely “Lo-Lo-Lo.” At 6:29 am, Adam concurred: ”I also had LoLoLoLoLOLA, which is correct. Maybe you could get away with LuLuLuLuLOLA, but it is most certainly not LALALALALOLA. L O L A Lola. LOLOLOLOLOLA.” Barely six minutes later, Anony-mouse added: Yes, my dog is Lola and I sing this a lot and it’s Lo lo lo lo Lola.

    Commenter Andy got a little technical: ”Another hand up for LO, not LA, though I suppose any vowel will do for a schwa.” At that point Alice sort of cheated by actually looking for some authority: ”I have been wrong since 1970. I had LoLoLo…. Read the constructor’s comments, he says the official Kinks Sheet music and lyric sheet has LALALA. He [the constructor] originally had LoLoLo in there and had to change it.”

    Twangser chimed in: ”I am a huge Kinks fan and also have been singing it as lo-lo-lo-lo-Lola for 40 years. But I just pulled out my original LP and it does say la-la-la-Lola, which is super weird.”

    [Note: It was only 8 am and already my cup was overflowing with this exquisite nonsense. O, glorious day!]

    mmorgan was all over the place with it: ”I am sure the final chorus alternates a bit between LA LA LA and LO LO LO. and sometimes even LA LA LA LO LOLA and other variations.”

    Mack kicked in this good point: ”Worth pointing out that ‘official’ lyrics often bear little resemblance to what is actually sung on a recording. While the constructor was probably right to go with ‘LA’ based on how the clue is written, it could have easily been clued as ‘Refrain sung by the Kinks…’ and ‘LO’ would have worked fine.” [Hmmmm, so much for “authority.”]

    Another anony-mouse added a personal note: ”Makes sense to me that it is lo-lo-lo-Lola. BTW, my mother’s name was Lola. She disliked that song.”

    Yet another anony-mouse wrote: Mandela effect: we all remember it as LO. [Mandela effect: Briefly, a situation in which a large mass of people believes that an event occurred when it did not. It’s named as it is because, oddly, many people wrongly believed Nelson Mandela died in prison in the 1980s.] 

    Here’s Dr. R’s take: ”Even the lyrics sites have a difference of opinion on LA vs LO. If you listen to the song they sing LALALALALOLA a few times and LOLOLOLOLOLA a few times. Also there are different recordings with different interpretations including LUHLUHLUHLUHLOLA. I figure the dress is both blue and white. LOL LOL LOL LOL.”

    [I knew we’d get to LOL eventually.]

    The next note on the matter was by Daniel Mauer — the puzzle’s constructor. How nice that he was reading Rex and chimed in! That does happen from time to time. He wrote: ”As for LA/Lo: I could be convinced either way, it seems Ray Davies sings it both ways in various recordings, but it’s the NYT, so probably best to go with the ‘Official’ version [i.e., LA}.”

    Well, by this time Mike in Bed Stuy had heard enough and exploded:

    “Whatever anyone hears, or thinks they hear, Ray Davies wrote “la” not “lo,” and that’s all there is to it. That being said, there’s actually a lot more to it, musically and, in particular for me, semantically. I will limit myself to a couple of points. First off, someone in another comment said the repeated vowel sound is a shwa, so it doesn’t matter how you spell it. I disagree. I would argue that in the other three themers in this puzzle, which include the phonemic refrains (in music called *non-lexical vocables*) “ch,” “g” and “p” yes, the sound is a schwa. But not in “Lola.” Neither, however, is it the first syllable of Lola’s name, as most commenters here seem to assume. It is, rather, “la” as in “tra la la” and “la la la.” The phrase so indelibly penned by Ray Davies was “La la la Lola,” almost as if “la la la” were an epithet. If it sounds like I am overthinking this, that’s because I AM! I suspect Ray Davies did not think about schwas or non-lexical vocables or epithets when he jotted down that lyric. He just thought “La la la Lola” sounded really great and was totally appropriate to the vibe he was creating for this trailblazing song about gender-nonconformity.”

    Whew. Now my brain hurts. Still, we must go on!

    A last word from Nial: 

    Found an interview from 2020 where Ray Davies talks about writing the song, to wit, “Next, he searched for an irresistible chorus hook, then road-tested it at home. ‘I had a 1-year-old child at the time,’ Davies said. ‘She was crawling around singing ‘la la, la la Lola.’ I thought, ‘If she can join in and sing, Kinks fans can do it.’”

    Nancy (like many of you, I presume) had had enough and wrote: 

    “Like everyone else, I have a limited amount of time on this earth, and I refuse to fritter it away on utttttter nnnnonnnnssssenssse. SPLAT!!!!!!” [Puzzle hurled at wall.]

    OK, Nance — we hear ya. Let’s put it to bed.

    The scene, or incident, that took place at the lesbian bar Cubbyhole in NYC recently wasn’t all that remarkable by itself — it wasn’t even a bar fight by any stretch, but the splash it made on Tiktok brought a big question to light. Who is welcome there?

    It happened on January 21. Lexi Stout, a woman who is not gay, and who had visited male gay bars often in the past, made her first visit to a lesbian bar. She was invited by a lesbian friend. All was well until another friend of hers – a straight male – popped in briefly to say hi.

    As she recounted it (in a video she posted), a woman at the bar soon approached her straight guy friend to ask him what he was doing there, “basically saying that my friend didn’t belong there.”

    Stout went on to complain that the bar patron seemed weary of straight men’s presence in the space, despite “the amount of very obviously flamboyantly gay men that were in that bar that were not being approached and yelled at.”

    “She was not having it. She did not want him in that bar at all, and I get it,” Stout continued. “But, like, there’s no rules against that… But I was just curious. Are straight males not allowed to go to a lesbian bar?”

    [Let me back up a moment and note that there are only 30 lesbian bars in the U.S., only three in all of NY State, and Cubbyhole is only 200 square feet in size.] 

    “The response from the lesbian community was sharp. Are straight males allowed in?, one said — “No, they are not. And straight women who prioritize a man’s comfort over lesbian safety are also not welcome at the lesbian bar. I hope this helps!”

    Another comment said: “Politics of straight people being in queer spaces at all aside, you can’t see why it would be a problem in a space as small as Cubbyhole for you two to be occupying what is otherwise space for queer women?”

    Yet another likened being invited to a queer space as a straight person to attending a wedding as a plus-one, adding “Baby, you need to realize these places were not made for you. When you come to a gay space, you are a guest, and you need to behave accordingly.”

    Feelings were summed up well by this woman’s post: “You cannot say that you are an ally to a marginalized group of people and then, when someone who represents the oppressor shows up in a space that is solely dedicated as a safe space for that marginalized community, act confused when people within that marginalized community show aggression or hostility and maybe even a little bit of suspicion towards that person that represents the oppressor,”

    Alright, but wait a minute. We haven’t heard yet from the woman who confronted the guy. Well, two weeks after the big hoopla started exploding on social media she came forward, identifying herself as Katie. She was there to celebrate a friend’s birthday and first encountered Stout’s straight male friend while waiting in line for the bathroom.

    After tapping the man on the shoulder to let him know that he was standing in the way of the bathroom, Katie noted that he seemed “a little bit grumpy” and that she asked him, “Okay, dude. Are you even here with anyone? What are you doing at this bar?”

    After the queer friend who had invited Stout to Cubbyhole confirmed that he was with their group, Katie says the man came back up to her and asked, “Well, if I wasn’t here with someone, would that be a problem?”

    When Katie replied that it would be a problem, she said that Stout and some other girls at the bar with her “all [jumped] at me, like, ‘What? Why would you say that? That’s so messed up.’”

    “I want literally nothing to do with straight people, which is why I’m in Cubbyhole in the first place,” Katie continued, pointing out the uniquely queer space that bars like Cubbyhole provide to her and the rest of the community. “I have seen a lot of straight guys come into this bar and cause problems. It’s a known thing… There are straight dudes that come into these bars specifically ’cause they’re trying to pick up girls. So I wasn’t trying to instigate anything. I was just trying to safety check.”

    Stout was rattled by the meanness she encountered, fairly or unfairly. Her last word was “I have learned my lesson, and I will never be returning to a lesbian bar ever again, for good reason. It’s plain and simple: It’s not a space for me.”

    Hrrrrumphhhh!, she added.

    Hrrrrumphhhh!, Katie replied.

    Phil! — any more pics?? 

    Thanks, Buddy.

    Pistons Win! The 6-43 Detroiters took on the 29-20 Sacramento Kings last night out in California — and gave them a good shellacking — 133-120. A terrific road win. The Pistons outscored the Kings 36-21 in the decisive 4th quarter — the mark of an excellent team, or, in this case, not. Up next, the 15-35 Portland Trail Blazers, in Portland, tonight. Go ‘Stons!

    Below are three verdant sentences written by OC friend Massachusetts Jenny about her garden: 

    To lure sweat bees, I plant meadowsweet.  [Let’s take a look!]

    Meadowsweet:

    And here comes a sweat bee!

    To coax long-tongued bumblebees, I plant lupines and bee balm.

    Lupines:

    Bee balm:

    I fill my yard with milkweed vetch, rough-stemmed goldenrod, and hairy beardtongue.”

    Milkweed vetch:

    Rough-stemmed goldenrod:

    Hairy beardtongue:

    Thanks Jenny! Such beautiful sentences. And we can’t wait to see all the bees!

    I’ve been noodling around with that songstress (Leslie) Feist I learned about the other day. Her clue referenced her song “1-2-3-4.” It’s joyous.

    To no surprise, Sesame Street snapped it up. I like this version even more. One two three four, monsters walking ‘cross the floor . . . chickens just back from the shore. . .

    I had to bring the Honda in to Marvin’s today. It was having trouble starting. (Who isn’t?) I said: ”We’re having trouble with the Odyssey; the Iliad’s been fine.” That’s mechanic humor. He came right back with a few cracks about Euripides. Low-hanging fruit.

    Anyway, he called me back after a few hours and said: ”You needed a new battery. No charge.” I said, “Yeah, I’m not surprised. What do I owe you?” He said “No charge.” I said, “Yeah, you just said that.” He said, “No — I mean it’s covered by the warranty — there’s no charge.” Oh, okay. Great! I bought some excellent Magic Hat #9 not-quite-pale ale with my winnings.

    Burp! See you tomorrow! Thanks for popping by!

     

  • Don’t Bogart that Joint, Fido!

    Dorothy Parker must have had a good sense of humor, judging by this poem of hers from the Poetry Foundation today. It’s called “Love Song.”

    My own dear love, he is strong and bold
    And he cares not what comes after.
    His words ring sweet as a chime of gold,
    And his eyes are lit with laughter.
    He is jubilant as a flag unfurled—
    Oh, a girl, she’d not forget him.
    My own dear love, he is all my world,—
    And I wish I’d never met him.

    My love, he’s mad, and my love, he’s fleet,
    And a wild young wood-thing bore him!
    The ways are fair to his roaming feet,
    And the skies are sunlit for him.
    As sharply sweet to my heart he seems
    As the fragrance of acacia.
    My own dear love, he is all my dreams,—
    And I wish he were in Asia.

    My love runs by like a day in June,
    And he makes no friends of sorrows.
    He’ll tread his galloping rigadoon
    In the pathway of the morrows.
    He’ll live his days where the sunbeams start,
    Nor could storm or wind uproot him.
    My own dear love, he is all my heart,—
    And I wish somebody’d shoot him.

    And then there’s this one by Christopher Marlowe: ”The Passionate Shepherd to His Love.” It was in today’s Writer’s Almanac. It’s Marlowe’s birthday today too — Chris is 560! (Doesn’t look a day over 425.)

    Come live with me and be my love,
    And we will all the pleasures prove
    That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
    Woods, or steepy mountain yields.

    And we will sit upon the rocks,
    Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks
    By shallow rivers, to whose falls
    Melodious birds sing madrigals.

    And I will make thee beds of roses
    And a thousand fragrant posies;
    A cap of flowers and a kirtle
    Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;

    A gown made of the finest wool
    Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
    Fair linèd slippers for the cold,
    With buckles of the purest gold;

    A belt of straw and ivy buds,
    With coral clasps and amber studs.
    And if these pleasures may thee move,
    Come live with me and be my love.

    The shepherds’ swains shall dance and sing
    For thy delight each May morning.
    If these delights thy mind may move,
    Then live with me and be my Love.

    Ever get one of those nagging symptoms and nothing seems to help? Plucking your feathers out? Pacing obsessively and biting your tail? It may be time to light up that joint my friend.

    A long article on the front page of the Science section in the NYT today discusses the remarkable curative powers of cannabis for animals. Nidia the elephant was sinking fast, tormented by fissures in her foot pads and cracked and ingrown toenails you shouldn’t know from, believe me. She was hardly eating and was clearly depressed. Her doc — Quetzalli Hernandez — was at her wit’s end. In desperation, she started Nidia on a low dose of cannabis and the results were remarkable. First, her appetite came back. In the words of the Times: ”Nidia developed a serious case of the munchies.” Within five weeks she gained 555 pounds (that’s not a typo) — which comes close to eclipsing my record. She went from grumpy to happy (switched dwarves), and the anti-inflammatory effects of the drug helped her feet heal. Wow — good move Dr. Q!

    Vets around the world are starting to turn to it, with excellent results in many cases. Colombia is taking the lead. But outdated laws make it illegal in many locales. In the U.S., e.g., in Georgia and Alabama, vets are not even allowed to discuss its use with pet owners. Soon, no doubt, women who are leaving a state to get a legal abortion will be taking their pets with them to score some weed.

    Here’s a happy story. Patricio, Dr. Monica Lozano Garza’s Old English sheepdog, sometimes woke up gasping for breath. Nothing traditional was helping, so she turned to cannabis. ”You have no idea how much it helped; he could breathe again,” she said. It gave him 2 and a half more years of life.”

    Hey! Don’t bogart that joint, Fido!

    This gorgeous portrait of the NYC owl Flaco was shared with me by the artist Massachusetts Jenny. It appears here in OC without her permission — I was afraid to ask in case she said no. 

    Headline in The Onion:

    Introverted Cowboy Struggling To Round Up Posse

    The word BOFF hogged the spotlight yesterday. The theme of the puzzle was FIGHTING WORDS. That was the answer at 37A for “Wanna take this outside?” And the four long answers had “fighting words” embedded in them:

    scuBA Masks; pizZA Pie; ruB OFF on; and polKA POWer.

    So that’s BAM, ZAP, BOFF, and KAPOW. 

    But Rex had big problems with BOFF, to wit: ”You can BOP someone on the head, and that’s kinda violent, but BOFF just doesn’t register as a comic-book ‘fighting word’ the way the others do. Feels like a huge swing and a miss. A fundamental flaw in the execution of the theme. So the core concept works fine, but BOFF mars the execution pretty bad.”

    He also noted there is a definition for BOFF that is “to have sex with someone.” He said BIFF is more of a fighting word than BOFF.

    Lewis disagreed: ”I learned that BOFF is a legitimate cartoon fight sound effect after learning that in the 120 episodes of TV’s Batman, that word flashed on the screen in 24 of them.”

    And Sailor found an article from which he extracted:

    The top 5 most-used Batman fight graphics:

    Kapow (50 times)
    Pow (49 times)
    Boff (43 times)
    Zap (42 times)
    Sock (41 times)

    Today’s puzzle played on how phrases may have two ways of being read. E.g., MOVEDOVER, can be “moved over” or “move Dover.” It inspired this memory and story for Cdilly52:

    It reminded me of a big fat Sunday puzzle decades ago. I was about ten and wasn’t close to solving anything but most of a Monday by myself and I was always reluctant to even think that I might have seen something that my Gran (my true parent, life guide and lifelong person I relied on as I grew up) had missed or not yet figured out. But I did see “something” and Gran saw that I did. It’s been 6 decades and I can’t remember the exact puzzle or the theme answers, but I remember Gran looking at me and saying “have you gotten it? You see something I missed.” I reluctantly said something like “Well, um, er, do you see that the long ones actually spell two things?” And from that little experience I remember two things.

    The two things are not the clue answers, those are too far back, but I remember Gran clapping her hands (just once as always when she was excited) and gleefully saying “You figured it out and now we can finish!” But before she went back to the grid with her trusty Parker ballpoint, she took my hands in hers and said, “Don’t ever be shy about sharing a well-reasoned opinion, but always do so respectfully and with clarity, so others will listen.”

    Once, many years later, after a particularly long and contentious month in Federal Court, after the case finally settled rather than going all the way to a verdict, the judge asked to see me in chambers. That puzzle came to mind when the judge thanked me for my “reasoned, calm professionalism,” (my opponent being a ranter got on her nerves repeatedly). She continued: “your demeanor and delivery are always exceptional and people listen to you.”

         “It’s too late for Greg. The tchotchkes have him now.“

    It’s looking more and more like the tchotchkes have all of us. See you tomorrow!

  • Say Hey

    On the brain surgery/rocket science business from yesterday’s puzzle, here’s a short bit shared by commenter Nancy. It will start us off today with a chuckle.

    Special thanks to Vermont Lizzie for sharing this shot of godson Mason who was in goal last night for Babson, facing Skidmore in Saratoga Springs, NY. The Beavers were no match for the Thoroughbreds, perhaps the toughest team name to spell in all of college sports. Skidmore skidded to a 5-1 win. But Mason, in his first year, made a career-high 33 saves. 

    He’s the handsome one (#30), standing in front of the goal.

    Also from Vermont Lizzie — her beautiful daughter Bridgette, in search of the perfect wave in Indonesia. The 12-hour time difference is making it hard for them to share their wordle results, Liz reports.

    The great Willie Mays is 92 years old and lives in Atherton, CA. He’s the oldest living Hall of Famer. The mayor of San Francisco, London Breed (not kidding), declared today Willie Mays Day because Willie’s number was 24 and today is 2/4/2024.

    Several SF landmarks — including City Hall, the Ferry Building and Salesforce Tower — will be lit up in orange and black lights. Oracle Park will also be illuminated, with a decorative banner hanging from the 24 palm trees in Willie Mays Plaza.

    On June 20, the Giants will play the Cardinals at Rickwood Field in Birmingham, Ala., the former home of the Negro Leagues’ Birmingham Black Barons, where Mays played as a teenager. The Giants will also give out 20,000 bobbleheads featuring Mays in his Black Barons uniform in honor of African American Heritage Day at Oracle Park on May 31.

    Willie got his nickname “The Say Hey Kid” when he was a rookie because he said “Hey” a lot when greeting people. (Duh.) He is considered among the best to have ever played the game and it’s hard to imagine anyone taking more joy in it than he did. He was an All-Star for 20 years.

    Willie’s love of kids is well-known and he did much charitable work for them. His first marriage ended in divorce in 1963, but he has his only child from it — an adopted son Michael. Wilt Chamberlain gave Willie the number of Mae Louise Allen, a child-welfare worker, and they married in 1971. In 1997, she was diagnosed with a cognitive disorder and Mays cared for her devotedly until her death in 2013.

    Enjoy your day, Willie — and many more.

    There’s some follow-up material to our discussion of My Sharona from Friday. As discerning OC readers will recall, the song was clued in the puzzle via its stuttered title. And I noted The Who’s My Generation featured stuttering as well. Well, according to The Stuttering Foundation (which is real), there have been numerous songs of the rock era that feature stuttering vocals.  A list on the internet entitled “The Top Ten Stuttering Songs” includes those two as well as Foolin’ by Def Lepard, Changes by David Bowie, Jive Talkin’ by The Bee Gees, You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet by Bachman-Turner Overdrive, Bad to the Bone by George Thorogood, Benny and the Jets by Elton John, Sussido by Phil Collins and Lola by The Kinks. (Some other tunes are conspicuously absent such as Too Much Time on My Hands by Styx.)

    The Foundation singled out BTO’s You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet for special recognition. Here’s the story. The group was led by Randy Bachman, and featured his brothers Robbie and Tim, along with Fred Turner. The band’s first manager was another Bachman brother, Gary.

    The song was never intended to be released with stuttering vocals. Randy sang the stuttering vocals to poke (well-intentioned) fun at his brother Gary. The plan was to give it to Gary and no one else. But Mercury Records loved it and insisted it be released. It became the first song with stuttering vocals to hit #1 on the charts. The Foundation also notes it’s unique as the only song with stuttering vocals to be written about a real person who stutters.

    Happily, Gary conquered his stuttering through therapy and had a successful real estate career in Winnipeg.

    Today’s grid features Leslie FEIST at 3D: One-named indie singer with the 2007 hit “1234.” Word of her had not reached me under my rock until now. She’s from Canada and is turning 48 next week.

     This pretty song takes off at about the one minute mark.

    Proving there’s nothing that can’t be haggled over, there was a bit of a flap today over whether hell is hot or cold. The clue at 65D was “Hot spot,” and the answer was HELL. Rex (a literature prof) said: HELL isn’t even hot. Read Dante. It’s a damn lake of ice down there! 

    Hold on, folks — he had proof!

    Burtonkd, replied: Seems hardly worth mentioning that HELL is commonly understood as hot, Dante notwithstanding. 

    This is something we should be able to get a definitive answer on, no? Quora’s assessment seems reasonable (defining “reasonable” very loosely here):

    “Most of his (Dante’s) Hell is actually hot, but the lowest levels are cold, getting colder as you go down. The final level is actually frozen over. Satan is there, keeping it cold with beats of his six giant wings. He has three heads, in each mouth is an infamous traitor. This is the traitor’s level of Hell.”

    Makes perfect sense to me.

    Finally, try to fit this into your conversation today: At 60D: ”Salamander named after an Aztec deity.” It’s AXOLOTL, of course.

    They’re adorable.

    See you tomorrow, everybody!

  • Wide Right

    Correction: The word game I recommended yesterday (Squeezy) is at imsqueezy.com. I mistakenly wrote mysqueezy.com yesterday. (I have since fixed it.) Sorry about that — give it a try!

    This story is from tomorrow’s Met Diary. It’s called “Table for Two” and is by David Kramer.

    Dear Diary:

    I was in the East Village and went to Veselka, planning to get a quick lunch. I was disappointed when the hostess said it would be15 minutes for a table for one.

    As I considered what to do, an older woman who was in front of me in line leaned toward the hostess.

    “If we’re together, can we be seated now?” the woman asked.

    “I guess so,” the hostess said, looking momentarily confused.

    I said I was game, and we were led to a table. On our way, my new companion turned to me.

    “Conversation is optional!” she said.

    That, of course, kicked off an hour of nonstop chitchat. It turned out that we lived about 10 blocks from each other in the same Brooklyn neighborhood and that our children had gone to the same school.

    We talked about our families and shared travel tips. By the time lunch was over, we were splitting dessert.

    “One check,” I said to the waitress when it was time to pay. I then turned to my lunch date. “It’s my treat.”

    With the Super Bowl nearing, I caught snippets of some old interviews, in particular several involving the game the Giants won in 1991 when Buffalo’s kicker Scott Norwood missed a decisive 49-yard field goal as the clock ran out. Giants coach Bill Parcells was asked to describe his experience as the kick was taking place.

    “Well,” he said, “I was standing between our two kickers, one of whom was Matt Bahr, the kicker I would have chosen to make the one make-or-break kick for us. I had full confidence in him. I turned to him and didn’t have to say a word. He knew what I was asking and he said: ’He’s going to miss. It’s on grass, he has to over-kick. He hasn’t made any like this all year.”

    Parcells was then asked: ”And you believed him?” And he said, “Yes, he was my go-to guy. I took his word completely. So I expected to win.”

    Lawrence Taylor was asked about it next. Taylor is the Hall of Fame linebacker who defined that era for the Giants. Perhaps the greatest linebacker of all time. Taylor was asked “Where were you for the kick?”

    Taylor said “Where was I?”

    “Yes.”

    “When the kick was missed?”

    “Yes.”

    He smiled broadly. ”I was halfway to Disneyworld,” he said.

    Norwood’s kick was 33 years ago last week. Wide right.

    This poem, “Jack + Judy,” is by Doreen Fitzgerald. It’s from The Writer’s Almanac:

    She was stuck on him like a three-cent stamp
    on a postcard showing a roadside diner
    shaped like a hat;
    stuck like a stool on a chrome stem
    waiting to swivel a customer,
    or the naked thigh on a summer day
    clinging to the vinyl seat.

    He could read her like a two-bit cook
    reads a scribbled order
    jammed on a spike,
    fluttering under the greasy fan;
    like egg on a fork between the tines,
    or a hot beef sandwich between the teeth.

    Together, they’re waiting on the night,
    halfway between Peoria and Baton Rouge,
    where the word OPEN, in red block letters,
    hangs under the words, EAT HERE,
    spelled out in perfect blue.

    The genius behind Rex’s blog is his “discovery” that the puzzle should not just be solved and discarded, like a defeated foe. It can be “read,” like a novel, and appreciated — at least the better ones. It can lead you in different interesting directions. There may be nuances to unveil.

    Today, for example, was it just coincidence that at 22A, for “Sir Georg who conducted 999 Chicago Symphony concerts,” the answer was SOLTI, and the clue for GIRLS at 9D was “Ones running the world, per Beyoncé?” What’s the link? Well, Solti won 31 Grammy awards, the most won by any artist UNTIL 2023 when he was overtaken by, hmmmmm, let’s see — Beyoncé. 

    It was a good solid Saturday puzzle — not a breeze, but not exactly rocket surgery either. Wait, what? Those were the two long answers: The clue for both was “What it’s not, in a saying,” and the two answers were ROCKET SCIENCE and BRAIN SURGERY, crossing at the central S.

    If those are what it’s not, then what is it? Well, Steve Forbert says it is what it is (and that’s all).

    Fell for this dream girl in Danville
    Just in the Central Time zone
    I used to kill hours to meet her on time
    And then lost one as well drivin’ home

    In the “my, the old gray lady has certainly loosened up department” the clue at 32D was “In an intimate way, in a way,” and the answer was CARNALLY. Yikes, really? Okay, Shortz, if that’s the way you want to go, fine.

    There was a bit of progression to that from 40D: “It may leave you speechless,” SHYNESS, and 36A: START OUT SMALL, and then 19D: ”Develop feelings for:” TAKE TO. 

    My favorite clue/answer was at 25D: ”Compatriot,” — PAISANO. Hey - Paisano!

    See you tomorrow!

  • The Sharona

    Some heavy hitters are celebrating birthdays today. James Joyce (1882, Rathgar, Ireland), and Ayn Rand (1905, St. Pete, Russia). Rand’s name at birth was Alissa Rosenbaum. Had no idea.

    This poem is called “The Past Is Still There.” It’s by Deborah Garrison and was in today’s Writer’s Almanac.

    I’ve forgotten so much.
    What it felt like back then,
    what we said to each other.

    But sometimes when I’m standing
    at the kitchen counter after dinner
    and I look out the window at the dark

    thinking of nothing,
    something swims up.
    Tonight this:

    your laughing into my mouth
    as you were trying
    to kiss me.

    If you enjoy little word games like Wordle, you might enjoy a new one I just learned about called Squeezy. It’s by Jeff Chen and it’s at imsqueezy.com.

    It’s about time we had some “real” owl chatter, amirite? It’s the first anniversary of Flaco the owl’s escape from the Central Park Zoo to freedom. The Gothamist took the occasion to chat with David Lei about Flaco. He’s a wildlife observer and photographer, based in Manhattan, who specializes in urban owls. David estimates he’s taken tens of thousands of pictures of Flaco. His favorite is one of Flaco sitting on a park bench. ”It speaks to how he is an owl of the city.” I can’t get a copy of that one, but here’s another.

    Here’s how David describes Flaco:

    First of all, Flaco is beautiful. Just absolutely majestic and magnificent. He looks much like our native great horned owls, but quite different with beautiful orange plumes and orange eyes. He’s got a massive 6-foot wingspan, and it’s just a delight to behold him.

    He was able to watch Flaco gain strength and get better at flying, hunting, and hooting. He was born in the zoo and thus never flew or hunted, and he was not known to hoot much. 

    “He initially wasn’t very good at flying. He’d get exhausted quite quickly, flying a short distance from one tree to the next, crashing into branches when he went to land, but he kept at it. He got better very quickly, and before long, he was quite graceful in flight.”

    He went on:

    “I last saw Flaco on the Upper West Side around 90th and Broadway two nights ago. He was hooting from what’s become a favorite building, and he looked great. The hooting appears to require a fair bit of energy to project that sound two blocks away, and to keep at it for perhaps hours on end. He seems to be doing really well.” 

    Owl Chatter Math Dept. (Hi Judy!). At 47A today, the clue was “N-_______ (mathematical sets)” and the answer was TUPLES. But judging from the outcry it elicited, tuples in fact are not sets. Here’s one note: Tuples and sets are distinct: tuples are ordered, and sets are not. The 3-tuples (2, 3, 5) and (3, 5, 2) are not equal, while the sets {2, 3, 5} and {3, 5, 2} are. 

    OK, got it. Thanks!

    I had not heard of tuples. Sets, vaguely, but had forgotten what they are.

    At 18A the clue was New Delhi’s ________ Temple, and the answer was LOTUS. Here’s a picture of it. It looks like a giant origami creation.

    Are you familiar with the SUNK COST FALLACY? The clue at 8D was: Rationale for “throwing good money after bad.”

    A “sunk cost” is a cost that has already been incurred and cannot be recovered. Economists say it should not be taken into consideration in making decisions. At any moment in time, the best thing to do depends only on current alternatives. Thus, if a new factory was originally projected to yield $100 million in value, and after $30 million is spent on it the value projection falls to $65 million, the company should abandon the project rather than spending an additional $70 million to complete it. Conversely, as a rational actor, if the value projection falls to $75 million the company should continue the project.

    Even though economists argue that sunk costs are not relevant to rational decision-making, people often consider previous expenditures, e.g., when deciding whether to repair a car or house. And that is the sunk cost “fallacy.” ”Concorde fallacy” derives from the fact that Britain and France continued to fund the joint development of the costly Concorde supersonic airplane even after it became apparent that there was no longer an economic case for the aircraft.

    At 61A, “1979 hit whose title is stuttered,” is not The Who’s “My Generation,” as first came to mind, although the “my” is correct. Have a listen to the correct answer: the debut single of The Knack. Turn it up!!

    It’s My Sharona, of course, one of those songs everyone emerging from that era knows. It was written by Doug Fieger and Berton Averre of The Knacks. Fieger sings it as well. It reached #1 on the charts where it remained for six weeks.

    Come a little closer, huh, ah, will ya, huh?
    Close enough to look in my eyes, Sharona

    Sharona is Sharona Alperin who was 17 when Fieger, 25 at the time, met her. Fieger recounted that “It was like getting hit in the head with a baseball bat; I fell in love with her instantly. And when that happened, it sparked something and I started writing a lot of songs feverishly in a short amount of time.” My Sharona, he claimed, was written in 15 minutes, recorded at the first run-through, and took only 15 minutes to mix. 

    They dated for four years and were engaged at one point but never married. After splitting up they married others but remained great friends. She was by his side often when he fought his losing battle with cancer at age 57. She spent a lot of time at the memorial service and felt good seeing how well respected he was in the music business, which was his life’s passion (after Sharona, of course). 

    Sharona did not go into music. She went into real estate; her domain name is Mysharona.com. She says being “the” Sharona has been overwhelmingly positive. She gets at least one message a month from friends who just want her to know the song is on. Family members recently called her from a Dodgers game: “They’re playing your song!”

    “About 70 percent of the people I meet, as soon as I introduce myself as Sharona, they say ‘My‘ Sharona. And another 20 percent, you can tell, they’re thinking it. It’s so funny.”

    Here’s the happy couple. Cue it up again, Phil! And kick it up a notch or two this time.

    This beautiful young woman, below, from Japan is Akane Shiga. She is from Hokaido and is 22 years old. As we said about Ella Shelton a month ago, she will knock your teeth out with a stick if the situation calls for it.

    She fell in love with ice hockey when she was just 6 years old and has never let go. She played on Japanese national teams with much success. Still, when the Professional Women’s Hockey League held its 15-round draft, she was overlooked. Undaunted, she flew 6,000 miles to Ottawa, tried out for the team, and blew their socks off. She’s the youngest player in the league and the only one born in Japan. She’s played in six games so far and is doing well. 

    Knock ’em dead, Shiga. Owl Chatter’s in your corner.

    I’ll close with an exchange between Rex commenters that got me laughing out loud. First, you should know there is no trolling in Rex’s blog. Once in a while there is a comment that might come across as obnoxious but that’s rare and is often followed by an apology. One of the long-time commenters is Gary. He chats about the puzzle a bit each day, and this and that, and then he makes a list of what he calls “uniclues.” He puts together several of the answers from the grid and makes up a clue connecting them. Has maybe 10 of these a day. It’s an attempt to be funny. Rarely works, but harmless. Some folks like them. I just skip the list. No biggie. 

    But today, a commenter calling himself No Parking very rudely posted:  For the love of sweet baby Jesus, I find your uniclues to be an annoying waste of space.

    I thought Gary would just let it go. But he didn’t. About two hours later he responded: No Parking, OMG! Thank you so much. I was worried the internet was almost full and we need to worry about how much space remains. I will stop writing uniclues immediately. You’re the best.

    No, you’re the best, dear readers. See you tomorrow.

  • Bad Blood

    Not only was yesterday exhausting with a 2.5 hour law class at 11:30, and then Taxation for the Dead for 1 hour 15 min at 5:30, but my train was canceled so I got home at 9 instead of 8. Argggh. No energy for Owl Chatter. That may happen a lot on Wednesdays this semester.

    There was a big to do among the commentariat yesterday involving our University of Pennsylvania, but, thankfully, unrelated to the dreadful goings -on there that have been a topic in the regular news lately. It started (voo den?) with the puzzle. At 62A the clue was “Philly school,” and the answer was UPENN.

    jberg started things off calmly enough with:  “I have a couple of friends on the faculty of that Philly school, and a grandson attending as a student, and its informal name is PENN. No extraneous letters.”

    Northwest Runner got a little snippy with: “Can someone please tell the Big Ten alumni at The NY Times that there’s no such school as UPenn? UMass, yes, but for that other state with lots of syllables it’s just Penn.” (mmorgan then noted:  As someone who went to Penn and taught at UMass, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!!)

    Elena ramped things up a bit: ”As a Penn alumna, it really gets my goat every time I see ‘UPENN’ in this puzzle. Dear Mr. Shortz: The school is called Penn or the University of Pennsylvania. It is not ‘UPENN.’ That is its email address.”

    Hrrrrumph!

    Anony-mouse responded with: 

    “Elena, Fight on Pennsylvania!! And though I appreciate any Quaker fighting the good fight, the battle has been lost. And as you note, it’s strictly owing to the email address. I feel your pain. It’s awful. But I take solace in the fact that at least I’m not a Cornell man. Or, God forbid, a Brown grad. Anyway, hurrah, hurrah, hurrah, hurrah for the Red and the Blue.”

    But the final word was had by a commenter Penna Resident:

    “Every time UPENN appears there are complaints that it isn’t a thing. My wife has a PHD from Penn and worked there, and while most people do not say ‘U Penn’ it is used (not just as in upenn.edu which was her email), especially when talking to people from other parts of the state/country who automatically think Nittany Lions football when you say ‘Penn.’ I understand that some people may not like it, just like some people are offended by ‘philly,’ but that doesn’t make the answer incorrect. the clue was not ‘most commonly used abbrev for a philly school.’

    My wife worked in the office that controls intellectual property, and:
    “The University’s online style guide says that while Penn is the officially sanctioned term, UPenn is permissible … in situations where it may help to distinguish Penn from other universities within the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.”

    wikipedia also disagrees:
    “The University of Pennsylvania (Penn or UPenn) is a…”

    Sexism in the NYT puzzle department? It’s hard not to notice that many of the great New Yorker XW puzzles these days are by women. Robyn Weintraub is the most beloved of them, but there are also Aimee Lucido, Anna Schectman, Brooke Husic, Elizabeth Gorski, Caitlin Reid, Wyna Liu, and others. But Rex noted that in the NYT, in January, there wasn’t a single puzzle constructed solely by a woman, and only six involved a woman as a co-constructor. (There were 23 solo male constructors.) What gives?

    Some commenters thought it was absurd to insinuate Will Shortz, puzzle editor at the Times, is discriminating. He’s gay himself, and has plenty of women on his staff. 

    Andrew wrote: ”Calling (or clearly implying) someone is a racist/sexist/homophobe/transphobe/xenophobe is all too common about those with whom we disagree/misinterpret. These are serious aspersions on one’s basic character (not their ill-conceived posts or bad one-off judgments; it’s condemning their basic unchangeable essence!)”

    dgf replied:

    “Andrew, Not speaking for Rex, but to say that criticism on the subject of sexism is automatically a major attack on someone’s character is demonstrably wrong. Researchers have shown time and time again that sexism, and of course also racism, is often unconscious. Happens all the time. Bias is an extremely difficult problem to deal with precisely for that reason.
    I am sure Shortz et al are not consciously biased against women constructors but the odds are very high that they are unconsciously biased. That’s not a character attack.
    On the other hand, refusing to accept the idea that you may be biased, is a legitimate subject of criticism.”

    Nancy chimed in: 

    “Andrew, thank you for the voice of sanity you provide and for your refusal to condescend to or patronize those of us who Rex seems to feel are ‘the weaker sex’ — in that we’re unable to stand up for ourselves.

    “You pose the question: ‘Have any female constructors encountered such resistance?’ Well, I’m a woman — albeit one who works with a male collaborator — and while, like all constructors, I may feel the NYT has made a mistake in turning down a given puzzle, I have never once remotely entertained the thought that it was because of my gender. Not even once.

    “I’ve had the pleasure of a friendly and good-natured email relationship over the years with Will Shortz — and even a phone call many years ago. He is the nicest and warmest person you can possibly imagine. He’s responsive and completely approachable. I cringe for him ever time Rex makes a mean and gratuitous comment.

    “I do think the NYT was misguided when they turned down [a recent submission of mine], which was one of my personal faves, but never in a million years would I think they turned it down because I’m a woman.”

    Dr. A gets the last word:

    “As per the gender imbalance and the commenters complaining that Rex is mentioning it over and over, it’s very important to women. The puzzles that Aimee Lúcido and Brooke Husic and Robyn Weintraub are constructing are incredible and seemingly everywhere EXCEPT the NYT. It’s a huge issue because they are apparently purposefully discriminating against these and other excellent constructors for the very reason that they are in fact women. There are way too many of them for this to be some kind of coincidence and given the poor quality of the puzzles that ARE making it through in the NYT lately (and there are some really really bad ones) that makes it even more astounding. I still do this puzzle because I love the blog and it is not really something I would get without doing the puzzle. But other places are publishing much better puzzles and many of them are by women.”

    Here’s Shortz, simpsonized. Does he look like a sexist to you?

    S. J. Perelman was born on this date in Brooklyn in 1904. He was a very funny man. He started as a cartoonist, turned to essays, and then Groucho Marx coaxed him to write screenplays, including those of some Marx Brothers movies. He hated Hollywood, though, and later returned to essays.

    He wrote: ”There are nineteen words in Yiddish that convey gradations of disparagement, from a mild, fluttery helplessness to a state of downright, irreconcilable brutishness. All of them can be usefully employed to pinpoint the kind of individuals I write about.”

    Perelman had two kids but regarded children as a nuisance. His son Adam committed several robberies, was accused of attempted rape, and ended up in a reformatory for wayward boys. The two things that brought Perelman happiness were his MG (automobile) and a mynah bird, both of which he pampered like babies.

    Our Pistons lost to a strong Cleveland squad last night, 128-121, in Ohio. But Cade’s back and the boys are at least making their games competitive. The Owl Chatter sports department will take an up-close look at the team when they come to Brooklyn to face the Nets in April. Phil picked up some tix for us. Thanks, Buddy! First five beers are on us!

    According to a front page story (!) in yesterday’s NYT, with Taylor and Travis exploding the boundaries of pop-star and pro sports mega-stardom, the right-wing lunatics of the MAGA world are starting to panic over the damage their potential endorsement of Biden could wreak on Trump. Dipping their toes into the pools of idiocy, they already disparage Trav for his pro-vaccine ads. And Taylor endorsed Joe B. in 2020, why wouldn’t she do so again? She has long been active in pro-choice and pro-LGBTQ circles.

    Of course, rather than simply concluding reasonably that the couple may support the progressive causes that a majority of Americans favor, MAGA world is instead coming up with typically insane conspiracy theories: that Tay is a secret agent of the Pentagon, or that the couple are “contrived” to boost the dreaded Covid vaccines or other nefarious causes. Taylor is reviled and, more notably, feared, since that time she exhorted her followers to register to vote and 35,000 promptly did. Like that’s a bad thing.

    According to the NYT article, pro-Trump broadcaster Mike Crispi claimed the NFL is “rigged to spread Democrat [sic] propaganda.” 

    Some of the attacks on Swift are hysterical: she’s after Kelce for his money. (I’m not kidding.) And Fox News host Jesse Watters actually said this on the air: “Have you ever wondered why or how she blew up like this? Well, around four years ago, the Pentagon psychological operations unit floated turning Taylor Swift into an asset during a NATO meeting.”

    Owl Chatter’s question for Watters: What color is the sky in your world?

    To be sure, though, they can’t be happy about these statements of Swift’s:

    “I always have and always will cast my vote based on which candidate will protect and fight for the human rights I believe we all deserve in this country. I believe in the fight for L.G.B.T.Q. rights, and that any form of discrimination based on sexual orientation or gender is WRONG.”

    “I believe that the systemic racism we still see in this country towards people of color is terrifying, sickening and prevalent.”

    As things heat up it’s hard not to expect some bad blood.

    You tell ’em Taylor!

    See you tomorrow.

  • Hi, Taylor’s Dad!

    This is an example of how sports — even commercialized pro sports — can surprise and delight us. The Pistons were welcoming the Oklahoma City Thunder to their Motor City home on Sunday. Detroit’s record was 5-40, and OKC’s was an impressive 32-13 and they were riding a 5-game winning streak. Classic mismatch, right? On top of which, our star Cade Cunningham, was back on the bench nursing an injured knee. 

    So what happens? We pound the crap out of them for a 120-104 win. Detroit was down by 7 after the first quarter but scored an amazing 46 points in the second to take a nine-point lead into halftime. And we outscored them in both the 3rd and 4th quarters. Bravo, gentlemen.

    The poem in today’s Writer’s Almanac is called “Eager,” and it’s by Kim Garcia.

    Above the snow, a single maple holding forth
    its dying flame. Among the feats of Nature:
                             the wild
    greening from dry bulb, sour alchemy of rot, a rusty
         handprint of lichen;
                             the eager
    space-seeking species springing up after fire,
    as though they took no lesson from destruction
    but to begin again, twice as joyful.

    The puzzle was good today with a jaunty theme. The “revealer” was at 63A: ”Bodies of advisory experts … or, when reinterpreted as an imperative, a hint to 17-, 24-, 38- and 52-Across.” The answer was THINK TANKS, but you were supposed to read it as an order to think about different types of tanks. And the theme answers were: COMBAT VEHICLE (the most obvious); SLEEVELESS TOP (a “tank” top); HOLDS WATER (a water tank); and DROPS LIKE A STONE (when something “tanks,” or fails). The clue for SLEEVELESS TOP was sharp: ”Garment that may have spaghetti straps.” 

    Here’s one of my tax students modeling spaghetti straps for us. That’s a good color for you, Ms. Camilli. Thanks!

    Owl Chatter friend Miriam Webster treated us to a special gift today, knowing how much we enjoy a fine ale in the evening. Nine unusual words related to beer.

    An aleconner, in England, is a town official in charge of tasting and testing beer and ale. He also had the power to bring a brewer to court who had beer or ale to sell, but refused to sell it to his neighbors.

    An egghot is a hot drink consisting of beer and eggs sweetened and seasoned with nutmeg. No, thank you.

    A nuncheon is a light snack between breakfast and lunch or lunch and dinner consisting of bread, cheese, and beer.

    A rumfustian is a hot drink composed of strong beer, wine, gin, egg yolks, sugar, and spices. Ooooh — not for me.

    A shandygaff, also known as a shandy, is beer diluted with a non-alcoholic drink such as lemonade.

    Taplash is weak or stale beer. I’ve become obsessed with freshness for my beer. I check the “packaged on” or “best by” date and only buy fresh. I had a terrible experience with a fancy ale I splurged on that was way over its date (I hadn’t checked when I bought it) and it tasted terrible. I ended up dumping it out. On the other hand, I had an ale last month on niece Tamar’s farm that was months past its date and it was fine. So, go figure. But when buying now I don’t take the risk. If I can’t find a date, I won’t buy it, or I ask the seller if he or she can help me locate it. 

    Cock ale. It’s ale fermented with fruits, spices, and the jelly of mincemeat of a boiled cock. I was going to just tip-toe away from this one, for obvious reasons, but I must share this recipe from Eliza Smith, The Compleat Housewife (1729). (Pam — I think you should make it.)

    To make Cock Ale. Take ten gallons of Ale, and a large Cock, the older the better, parboil the Cock, flea him, and stamp him in a stone mortar till his Bones are broken (you must craw and gut him when you flea him), then put the Cock into two quarts of Sack, and put to it three pounds of Raisins of the Sun stoned, some blades of Mace, and a few Cloves; put all these into a Canvas-bag, and a little before you find the Ale has done working, put the Ale and Bag together into a Vessel; in a Week or nine days time bottle it up, fill the Bottles but just above the Neck, and give it the same time to ripen as other Ale.

    Yup — I think I’m going to give it a lot of time to ripen. And then throw it out.

    Lamb’s wool. A sugared and spiced hot ale beverage containing the pulp of roasted apples.

    Posset. A hot drink of sweetened and spiced milk curdled with ale or wine.

    Burp!

        “I’m blanking on what I came in here to tell you.”

    The above brief video needs to be addressed. I don’t think Taylor has anything to worry about.

    First, you may notice something odd. The Chiefs are going through their pre-game warmups but Justin Tucker, kicker for the Ravens, is right there among them. What gives? This is Tucker talking:

    “The way it works is each team’s kicker goes to the other team’s designated warmup area on the field. For me, it’s usually 90 minutes before kickoff. I’ve been doing the exact same thing for 12 years, never really had a problem with anybody. That’s just kind of the way we’ve always done it and the way kickers around the league have always done it. I saw Patrick there trying to warm up and get some dropbacks.

    Here’s where it starts to get dicey.

    “He asked me while I was on the ground stretching, if I could move my helmet. So I happily got up and I moved my helmet out of the way. At least, I think it was enough out of the way. And then Travis comes over and just kicks my stuff and he throws my helmet. I just thought it was all some gamesmanship, all in good fun. But it seemed to be taken a little more seriously.”

    The sentence in italics about Travis makes him sound like an a*hole. And, of course, Taylor can’t be going out with someone like that. But that’s not how Owl Chatter sees the incident. (And former player and commentator Pat McAfee agrees.) As noted above, QB Mahomes was doing his “dropbacks” in the area. He can’t have stuff on the ground near him — he could trip over it. So Travis moved it away for safety. You can see he wasn’t angry or annoyed: just clearing the area. We don’t see the slightest hint of a*holism at play. It’s all cool, Tay.

    Hey, on a related note, did you know that Travis’s coach, Andy Reid, knows Taylor’s dad and met Taylor too, years ago? Taylor’s dad Scott Swift played football at U. Delaware and is a big Eagles fan. So he (and Taylor) met Reid back when Reid was coaching the Eagles. Taylor grew up on a Christmas tree farm in West Reading, PA, not far from Philly. When she first met Travis she said, “Hey, I know your coach.”

    Here are Taylor and her dad.

    My favorite Rex commenter, egsforbreakfast, shared with us that he’s on a vacation in Austria but wound up in the hospital with a bad case of bronchitis. Many in the commentariat wished him well. Here’s what one fellow wrote:

    “I think I personally am less interested in you getting out of there than I am in hearing a description of your nurses. I am assuming tall, blonde, capable of yodeling, lederhosen, mugs of beer rather than saline drips, possibly an Alpenhorn in tow? And the female nurses are even prettier?”

    Are you crazy about a Mercury? Owl Chatter friend and guitar aficionado Gladstone Chris tipped us off to another version of “Mercury Blues.” This one’s by Johnny Hiland. It’s worth a listen, for sure. (Turn it up.)

    We’ll let Johnny play us off tonight. See you tomorrow, everybody!

  • Tallulah

    As soon as the on-the-field celebrations died down after the Chiefs great win against the Ravens yesterday, the phone rang at Owl Chatter headquarters. It was Taylor asking for Phil. We explained that he had just fallen down two flights of stairs, drunk, and we thought it might be good to let him sleep, at least until Tuesday. Of course, she agreed. So, instead, she asked George and me to help her look into how she might make it to the Super Bowl in Vegas from Tokyo where she’ll be on tour. “We’re on it, Tay!”

    We called her back with the good news that it can be done and explained how, but her response was exactly what we expected: “Oy, it’s quite a schlep.” She’s right. Here’s what we told her:

    Your last show in Japan is on Saturday, Feb. 10, the day before the game. If you start at 6 pm, you should finish at 9:30. Haneda Airport is about a half hour’s drive from the Tokyo Dome. Building in time for traffic and checking in, you could be up in the air as early as 11 pm.

    Now, of your two private jets — the Dassault Falcon 7X and the Dassault Falcon 900LX — you’re going to have to use the 7X. It’s a 4,800 nautical mile trip and the 900LX only has a range of 4,750. The range of the 7X is around 5,900. Flying time should be 10 to 10.5 hours, BUT you’ll gain 17 hours due to the time difference, so you should arrive late afternoon on Saturday, Feb. 10, a good day ahead of the game.

    Here’s the problem, though, and it’s a big one. The airport in Vegas is so booked up for the Super Bowl that there are no slots for landing a plane. It turns out, it had to be arranged months ago. We’re going to keep trying to squeeze you in (there must be some Swifties in the airport management), but you may have to land in LA and drive from LA to Vegas. This would save about 45 minutes of flight time, but add a 4-to-5 hour drive. You’d still arrive in plenty of time, but, as you say, it’s a real schlep.

    Taylor thanked us profusely (Awwww — happy to help girl, as always), and said she’d decide soon. She told us to give Phil a big fat kiss for her when he comes out of his coma, but we’re going to pass on that.

    Here’s hoping this scene will be repeated after KC topples the Niners in two weeks!

    This is a pic Caity sent me this morning. 

    I’ve always loved impressionists: I mean the comedian kind, not the artist kind. My favorite growing up was Rich Little. He’s from Canada and I saw him once imitating Canadian political figures. Makes no sense, of course, nobody knows them here, but he was funny. He’s 85 now, kinehora.

    Anyway, if Little were to develop a routine on, say, George Carlin, he’d work on copying his voice and mannerisms, and put together Carlin-esque material to perform. The only complaint anyone would have would be if it weren’t funny. But Will Sasso and Chad Cultgen say they did the same thing, sorta, for their podcast “Dudesy,” and they’re being sued by Carlin’s estate. Ouch! The difference is Sasso and Cultgen used AI to sift through Carlin’s material and create a character sounding like Carlin and performing like Carlin in a podcast: ”George Carlin: I’m glad I’m Dead.”

    The estate is suing for copyright infringement and for using Carlin’s name and likeness illegally. Carlin’s daughter, Kelly, said: “It is a poorly executed facsimile cobbled together by unscrupulous individuals to capitalize on the extraordinary good will my father established with his adoring fanbase.”

    Arguing for the other side:

    “George Carlin: I’m Glad I’m Dead” begins with a voice saying, “Hello, my name is Dudesy, and I’m a comedy A.I.” It goes on to say, “I just want to let you know very clearly that what you’re about to hear is not George Carlin. It’s my impersonation of George Carlin that I developed in the exact same way a human impressionist would. I listened to all of George Carlin’s material and did my best to imitate his voice, cadence and attitude as well as the subject matter I think would have interested him today.”

    So whose side are you on? I know one thing: I’m not glad he’s dead.

    It’s not the only case of its kind. We’ll keep an eye out for what the courts have to say.

    Here’s your Owl Chatter Zen question of the day: If a man says something in the forest, and his wife isn’t there to hear him: Is he still wrong?

    A man training for the London Marathon was stopped and questioned by the police recently, the Hertfordshire Constabulary to be more precise. They actually put on their twirly lights and stopped traffic and everything. What piqued their interest was the refrigerator he had strapped to his back. They thought he may have stolen it. He hadn’t stolen it: he just decided to run the marathon with a refrigerator strapped to his back, so it seemed logical that he should train for it the same way.

    His name is Daniel Fairbrother and he’s 34. He’s running to raise 10,000 British pounds to fight diabetes because a friend of his came down with the disease. He didn’t think running normally would be much of a draw for fundraising. So when he heard about a marine who ran a marathon with a refrigerator strapped to his back, he thought, Aha — that’s the ticket!, or something like that. Once the police were informed of the reason the refrigerator was strapped to Fairbrother’s back, they shook his hand and wished him good luck. One of the officers said jokingly: “You do know if you order from Currys, they will deliver it for you?”

    Fairbrother named the refrigerator “Tallulah,” after the bobsled of the Jamaican team in the movie Cool Runnings.

    The opening tax class was okay, but dead. The energy level from the kids in classes meeting late afternoons or evenings is rock bottom. It’s been that way since the pandemic. They are young — I don’t get it. Is it me? I shouldn’t have more energy than they do. It’s a good thing I’m not a complainer or you’d hear from me about it.

    See you tomorrow!