The Wellington Files

  • Quilt Cookies

    Merry Christmas, Owl Chatter guests. It’s so quiet here in our New Jersey headquarters. I slept very late, for me (9:30), and Wilma the owl is still out, with hubby Welly by her side, watching over her with his big kind eyes.

    The poem by Maxine Kumin in today’s Writer’s Almanac is called “Rejoicing with Henry.”

    Not that he holds with church, but Henry goes
    Christmas morning in a tantrum of snow,
    Henry, who’s eighty-two and has no kin
    and doesn’t feature prayer, but likes the singing.

    By afternoon the sun is visible,
    a dull gun-metal glint. We come to call
    bearing a quart of home-made wine a mile
    and leading Babe, our orphaned hand-raised foal.

    This gladdens Henry, who stumps out to see
    Babe battle the wooden bridge. Will she
    or won’t she? Vexed with a stick she leaps across
    and I’m airborne as well. An upstate chorus
    on Henry’s radio renders loud
    successive verses of “Joy to the World.”

    In spite of all the balsam growing free
    Henry prefers a store-bought silver tree.
    It’s lasted him for years, the same
    crimped angel stuck on top. Under, the same
    square box from the Elks. Most likely shaving cream,
    says Henry, who seldom shaves or plays the host.

    Benevolent, he pours the wine. We toast
    the holiday, the filly beating time
    in his goat shed with her restive hooves. That’s youth
    says Henry when we go to set her loose,
    Never mind. Next year, if I live that long,
    she’ll stand in the shafts. Come Christmas Day
    we’ll drive that filly straight to town.
    Worth waiting for, that filly. Nobody says

    the word aloud: Rejoice. We plod
    home tipsily and all uphill to boot,
    the pale day fading as we go
    leaving our odd imprints in the snow
    to mark a little while the road
    ahead of night’s oncoming thick clubfoot.

    There was a lovely back-and-forth among the comments to Rex’s blog today. At 12:27 am, okanaganer, after some puzzle chatter, wrote: ”Alone tonight, but hopefully tomorrow night will be spent with what remaining family I have.”

    At 8:59, Anonymous posted: ”Never alone when you have the blog. Merry Christmas my friend.”

    [Am I getting soft? That has me near tears.]

    Rex was effusive about his daughter being home (from college in NYC) for the holiday. He reported (with three pics) on his wife’s and her “ridiculously complicated cookie-baking.” ”Why quilt cookies? Who knows how the girl thinks? I just eat.”

    He also noted that he re-watched “Rear Window,” his favorite movie of all time. (“Edith Head + Grace Kelly = me fainting, every time.”) I suggested a good puzzle clue for Rear Window: Pane in the ass.

    The puzzle theme today was “THAT’S MY JAM!,” which means that’s my song. And then three long answers were song titles with types of jam in them. ”CHERRY BOMB” by the Runaways was one of them.

    It’s a very racy song, by a sexy girls band. (Have a look/listen.) I wonder if the NYT was aware of what it was offering us on this Christmas morn. Was it a little subversive plant by constructor Amie Walker? I bet she’s not telling.

    The second “jam” song was STRAWBERRY WINE by Deanna Carter. Wow — it’s a beautiful, wrenching song. And the third was RASPBERRY BERET by Prince. 

    Yacouba Sawadogo passed away earlier this month, at the age of 77, in Ouahigouya, a northern provincial capital in Burkina Faso. A lean, taciturn man who never learned to read or write, he developed a water-conservation strategy that enabled him to create a forest with more than 60 species of trees and shrubs that had no equal in the Sahel, the semidesert region stretching across Africa’s upper third.

    Sawadogo transformed the practice of what local farmers called zai — digging small pits to capture precious rainwater. The farmers typically waited until the rainy season, at the beginning of summer, to dig the zai. But Sawadogo began well before, when the earth was bone-dry. And he dug the pits wider and deeper. He put manure and rocks in the bottom. He used termites to help break up the land. The manure contained seeds. When the rain came, the rocks helped retain the water, and the water turned the seeds into seedlings, which he nurtured. The soil stayed moist for several weeks after the rainfall. The results were striking; the soil improved along with his crop yield. Sawadogo eventually helped the process along, planting trees himself. Trees protected crops from the wind.

    When arsonists, jealous of Sawadogo’s success, torched his forest several times in the 2000s, his cousin Arouna said he was “an old man with a sad face; he stayed in the ashes for several days.” But he always bounced back. He told his son “Even if I have a little bit of force left, even for one minute, if there is a tree to plant, I will do it.” He had an almost mystical relationship to his trees — the marula, the acacia, the gum arabic, the desert date tree — he treated them like humans.

    Farmers using his techniques have more than tripled their grain yields. Sawadogo won the UN Champions of the Earth award in 2020, as well as the Right Livelihood Award in Stockholm, which honors social and environmental activists.

    Mr. Sawadogo is survived by his three wives, Safiata, Khaddar Su, and Raqueta, and 27 children (!), all of whom are well-hydrated.

    Rest in peace, Yacoubo. You deserve it.

    Troubles continue to mount for beleaguered Harvard Prez Claudine Gay. Photos have been released of Gay performing a pole dance at a local strip club, hardly appropriate conduct for an academician. Plus, you could pull something and wind up in a wheelchair, and for what? Here she is, disguised in a wig that, seriously, isn’t fooling anyone. 

    At 1D today “Physicist Ernst” was Ernst MACH, a major figure in 19th century physics, philosophy and psychology. He is probably best known for his MACH number for the speed of sound through air. He was also part of a group that studied the relationship of physical stimuli and our sensations and perceptions of them, an area known as psychophysics. He discovered that our visual system exaggerates the contrast between the edges of lighter and darker areas to enhance object detection and illustrated this with his MACH Bands illusion, below.

    Although every bar is filled with one solid level of gray, we perceive narrow bands at the edges with increased contrast which does not reflect the physical reality of solid gray bars. Quod erat demonstrandum!

    Good night. See you tomorrow!

  • Silent N

    The very beautiful MING-NA Wen visits with us today. What a delight! ”Actress Wen of The Mandalorian.” I was only familiar with her voice before — she’s Disney’s Moana.

    Ming-Na recently turned 60 — can it be? She’s of Chinese descent and was born in Macau. Her mom and stepdad moved the family first to NYC and then to Pittsburgh, where they opened a Chinese restaurant (which is still in business). Ming-Na earned a degree in theater from Carnegie Mellon.

    Her first marriage was a bust, but she married Eric Michael Zee in 1995 and they have two kids and are going strong. Look how beautiful they all are — they brighten up the scene for us today.

    Ming-Na’s daughter Michaela is older now and voices Princess Jun in Disney’s animated series Sofia the First. Ming-Na was playing a doctor on ER when she was pregnant with Michaela, and the pregnancy was written into the script. Please, guys, make yourselves at home. I’ll see what’s in the fridge. Phil! We have company!! Where is he??

    We can all breathe a little easier today — the Pistoffs tied the all-time NBA single-season consecutive loss record last night at 26. Bravo, gentlemen! This loss was to Brooklyn, 126-115. They pulled to within two in the third period, but Brooklyn ran off a flurry of points and never looked back. Only two other teams have lost 26 straight in one season: the 2010-11 Cavs who were reeling from LeBron’s departure, and the 2013-14 76ers who were trying to lose (to secure a high draft pick). 

    You may be wondering how their coach has survived these historic drubbings. Well, it’s Monty Williams and he was signed to a six-year contract for $78.5 million in June. He’s currently the highest-paid coach in the NBA. Sheesh.

    Williams has known personal tragedy, which probably helps him keep things in perspective: Here he is with 4 of his 5 beautiful children, but their mom was killed in a car crash in 2016 when she was only 44. (Williams has since remarried.) Owl Chatter shares your hopes that she rests in peace, Coach.

    At 61A today, the clue was “End of autumn?” It was a trick!! The answer was SILENT N. It set Rex off as follows:

    “The only SILENT- answer I really like, or can tolerate, is SILENT E, as that is a thing you learn when you are first learning the basic rules of pronunciation as a child. SILENT N … is not such a thing. Nor is SILENT B (“thumb”). Or SILENT M (“mnemonic”). Or SILENT L (“colonel”). Or SILENT T (which could’ve at least been made relevant today ([Christmas feature?])). But wordlists have every possible SILENT- permutation in them now (probably), so here we are. Any letter can be SILENT if you want it to be (well, F, G, J, Q, V, Y, and Z have not appeared after SILENT … yet).”

    [What about invisible letters? Remember Lech Walesa? It was always pronounced with an invisible “N” in there, before the S. But that’s Polish, so I guess all bets are off.] 

    Here’s Tom Lehrer, courtesy of Rex:

    If you’re wondering what the bunch of lunatics who comprise the NYT puzzle department looks like, here you go. This is from an article about them in Vanity Fair.

    Or here:

    That’s Will Shortz in the brown leather jacket. The young Asian woman on the right is Wyna Liu, who writes the Connections puzzle which I do daily and love. As I mentioned a while ago, I met her at an XW tournament in NYC; she was seated at my table for several puzzles. When I noticed her name tag, I told her how much I enjoy her puzzles and she blushed.

    The Tiny Love Story in The Times today is by Becca Kuperschmid:

    I can’t help but think of my first love’s coffee order when the barista asks me for mine. My friends tell me to give it time. One day I will forget the little things. I will break free from the pain of remembrance. I will start anew. But I hope I never do. Ingrained in my brain’s many folds are memories of everyone I’ve ever loved. I’d rather remember than forget. She liked her coffee black.

    The Modern Love story is by Richard Morgan and it’s about his 93-year-old grandmother. When her faculties started to diminish, he refused to give in to “grayspeak” or “elderspeak” that “treats them less than sages and more like toddlers or pets.” He visited more often, even though she lived in England and he in NY. 

    “During my visits, I started throwing her curveballs: What did you do with your first-ever paycheck? What did you think about when you were hiding in caves during the war? What was the best invention of your lifetime?

    “Her answers: Buying electricity for her parents’ house so she wouldn’t have to scrape candle wax off the stairs. Eating oranges. Running water (with microwaves a close second). More than answers, they were springboards into unexpected conversations.”

    He delighted in how funny she became:

    One day after I made us coffee, I asked her: “What’s the secret to being successful in your 90s?”

    “Just try, dear. So many people are old at 60. They just want to sit all day. You won’t make it to 90 like that. You have to try.”

    “Try what?”

    “Try walking,” she said. “Try gardening. Try cooking. Trying doesn’t require a lot of trying. Just try a little. Like, with this coffee you’ve made us. I know you tried.”

    What a wonderful woman.

    Here’s another Tom Lehrer song. You may be familiar with it: it’s about birds, well, poisoning them. If you’re not familiar with it, please have a listen.

    It’s in Owl Chatter today because a taxi driver in Japan was arrested and faces up to year in jail or a fine of $7,000 for killing a pigeon. And that ain’t chicken feed. 

    Under Japan’s wildlife laws, residents may not kill or remove even the peskiest of birds without approval from the local authorities. And drivers are supposed to drive slowly while pigeons cross the road, even against the light. [Pigeons are notorious jaywalkers — ever worse than jays!]

    Anyway, so this 50-year-old cabdriver sped up when the light turned green and plowed into a flock of pigeons. Just like that! One was killed. An autopsy was ordered [I’m not kidding] that determined that it died of traumatic shock. Police said the driver said: “Roads belong to humans, so pigeons should have dodged out of the way.” Of course, that’s hardly how the pigeons see it.

    Legal experts said that the arrest of the taxi driver appeared to be less about the fate of the single pigeon and more about the social harm caused by the deliberate decision to kill a living creature.

    “The driver drove over a pigeon at a high speed,” said Kazuaki Ishii, a lawyer who specializes in animal rights, “which violates the social order that the wildlife protection and management act aims to protect.” 

    We’re closing tonight by bidding goodbye to Essra Mohawk, who passed away in Nashville two weeks ago at the age of 75. She was born Sandra Hurvitz in Philly, and was a well-respected singer-songwriter in the “flower child” era. Her song “Change of Heart” was recorded by Cyndi Lauper, and “Stronger than the Wind” by Tina Turner. Her second album (Primordial Lovers) was well-received by the critics. She worked with Frank Zappa for a while. She was married three times. She is survived by no immediate family. Here she is young — a pretty face of the 60s. Rest in peace, Essra.

    Can’t close so sadly. Here’s a holiday cat pic from Rex today. Hi Theo!  Meow.

    Merry Xmas Eve everybody! 

  • Rikishi

    If you’re at all like me, not a day goes by without you worrying whether you used enough chicken-related expressions in your writing and speech. I know — right? Part of it is it can be hard to keep them in mind. Happily, our friend Miriam Webster listed seven for us along with her word of the day today. Here they are: fly the coop, pecking order, put all your eggs in one basket, walk on eggshells, mother hen, no spring chicken, and rule the roost. If you can think of any more, please let Miriam and me know. 

    And Miriam’s word of the day today was interesting: nobby. It means chic, or cleverly stylish, and is sometimes used in a negative way: “Robert, let me tell you, I didn’t like the feel of the lobby in Berkowitz’s building. It was a little nobby. It was a nobby lobby, Bobby.”

    That bowl game I ran off to watch last night was a good one: The Gasparilla Bowl. It used to be called the St. Petersburg Bowl, but was renamed in 2017 as a nod to the legend of José Gaspar, a mythical pirate who supposedly operated in the Tampa Bay area and who is the inspiration for Tampa’s Gasparilla Pirate Festival. Anyway, when I arrived it was all tied up 17-17 at the half. Georgia Tech (for whom I was rooting) received the kickoff and ran the ball effectively for a whole bunch of plays to get to within striking distance. But on a fourth-and-one, at about the 20, they elected to take the field goal rather than go for it. I thought they should go for it — they were running so well, and I made a mental note to blame that call on the loss, if they ended up losing by four points or less. Central Florida was reputed to have a high-powered offense, and I thought we’d need more points.

    But, surprisingly, the GT coach had a better grasp of the game than me. (Hrummmph.) He knew his boys could stop UCF and was in the “let’s just start amassing points” mode. Georgia Tech went on to add a TD and another field goal, while shutting out the Knights. Final score 30-17. Since I missed the first half, I wasn’t aware that GT fell behind early 14-0 and was losing 17-3 in the second quarter. Cool.

    GT running back Jamal Haynes, a good-looking young man, was named the game’s MVP on the strength of his 128 rushing yards on 18 attempts. He’s majoring in Business Administration. He certainly gave UCF the business last night.

    I don’t read many novels these days, and back when I did most recently, I limited myself to Icelandic murder mysteries, so it’s no surprise that I hadn’t heard of ERIN Morgenstern in the puzzle today at 21A, clued as the author of The Night Circle, described in Wikipedia as “a phantasmagorical fairy tale of magic and romance set in an ahistorical late 19th century London.” She’s 45 and has a BA from Smith College.

    Hi Erin! Phil! — give her a chance to get settled! Jeez Louise!! Sorry. Love the pearls.

    I also hadn’t heard of Amanda BYNES, who popped in at 10D (“Actress Amanda”). She’s 37 now. She’s had serious emotional/mental problems. Her parents provide much support. Here’s how she looked at her best, IMO. Hang in there, AB. Things can’t be that bad if you made it into a Saturday puzzle in the goddamn NYT.

    But you know who won’t make it into the NYT puzzle? Hitler, that’s who. Even if he were clued with something like “Genocidal maniac,” he’s barred. And speaking of the genocidal maniac, he’s been in the news a lot lately, have you noticed? Yes — it’s come to this already — Trump’s language has become so Hitlerish that conservative commentator Hugh Hewitt asked him about it on Friday (as have others). Trump said: ”I know nothing about Hitler. I’m not a student of Hitler. I never read his works.” But according to the NYT (which devoted a third of a page to the story today):

    “Trump has long had a documented interest in Hitler. A table by his bed once had a copy of Hitler speeches called “My New Order,” a gift from a friend that Ivana Trump said she had seen him leaf through occasionally.”

    I don’t know — no disrespect to the deceased former wife, but it’s hard to picture Trump leafing through a book.

    The nitpickers were out in force today. The clue at 22A was “Heavyweight wrestlers,” and the answer was SUMOS. That disgusted a few commenters. Apparently they are never called sumos — only sumo wrestlers. It would be like calling baseball players “baseballs,” one noted. Then someone got even more technical and pointed out that a sumo wrestler is called a rikishi.

    OK, thanks.

    BTW, did you know that there are women rikishi too? Here are two, pictured below — can you tell which is real and which is fake?

    Enough. Tired. See you tomorrow.

  • Cranston High

    Just when it looked like things couldn’t get any worse for beleaguered Harvard University president Claudine Gay, security footage released by local police on Thursday shows her holding up a Seven-Eleven at 4 College Avenue in Somerville MA late Wednesday night. The videotape shows Gay pointing a small handgun at a terrified female cashier and saying “Hurry, bitch.”

    In Owl Chatter’s endless pursuit of nonsense and idiocy, we sometimes come across a story so ridiculous, so idiotic, that it’s nothing short of exquisite, a thing of pristine beauty. And so today, we have the full-page story (!) in the NYT about Cranston High School West in Rhode Island that is besieged by the sound of gunfire all day long from a police shooting range less than 500 yards away. Here’s the school.

    For example, on a typical day, shots ring out at 8:13 am from an AR-15 style rifle with .223-caliber bullets at 94 decibels and continue nonstop for 49 minutes. The following is the third paragraph in the story, verbatim:

    “Some days they shoot Glock pistols, like the weapons used in the mass shootings at Virginia Tech, the Charleston church and Thousand Oaks, Calif. Other days, they use AR-15-style semiautomatic rifles, similar to the ones used in the killings in Newtown, Conn.; Las Vegas; Parkland, Fla.; Buffalo and Uvalde, Texas.”

    The students are freaked at first — freezing, diving under desks — but they quickly get so used to it that it becomes normal background noise. The obvious result is they won’t react in the event of an actual shooting incident (for which they train incessantly, of course). 

    Parents are up in arms (oops, sorry), demanding the range be moved or enclosed, but the police are opposed, maintaining the facility is necessary for them to fulfill their mission of protecting the public. (Ya mean the public that is screaming its head off at you? That public?) During the pandemic, adults who stayed home instead of commuting to work couldn’t believe what they were hearing. (Play the short clip, below.)

    Incidents occur that would seem funny if the situation weren’t insane: a new art teacher diving under her desk and calling for a lockdown; visiting athletes at a track invitational “hitting the turf.” (You cannot make this stuff up.)

    Under pressure, the police applied for a $1.6 million grant to enclose the range but the request was denied. They reduced the number of outside groups that use the range and put in some sound-absorbing panels and shrubbery to dampen the noise, with laughable results of course. ”These are our last efforts,” the police told the mayor. ”We will not be making any further accommodations.”

    Owl Chatter’s advice: DUCK!!!

    So with Colorado tossing Trump off the ballot because the United States Constitution (remember that?) says his support for the insurrection disqualifies him, the Republicans are all screetching that the voters should decide – not a court. Note that they’re not saying he didn’t support the insurrection: just that the voters should decide. But the Constitution specifically takes it out of the hands of the voters in this case. That’s the whole point of the provision. Apparently, in Crazyland, it’s okay to sanctify the Constitution to support the “originalists” on the Supreme Court when they take away basic rights, but ignore it completely when it comes to Trump. 

    One to go! The Pistoffs lost a close one to the Jazz last night, but a loss is a loss. That’s 25 in a row. Tomorrow they play Brooklyn and a loss ties the all-time single-season consecutive loss record. I’ll be honest, guys — I’m getting nervous. The game’s in Brooklyn, which is a shame. It would be nice if they could tie the record in front of their fans.

    Today’s puzzle! It’s by two top-notch constructors, Brooke Husic and Brendan Emmett Quiqley, and Rex rated it “challenging.” So I’m quite proud that I was able to complete it. There was all sorts of trickery involved but I shoulda known I’d be okay when my goddam Hebrew school background helped me at 1A: ”Numbers can be read in this.” Ans: TORAH. The stuff I didn’t know filled itself in from the crosses. Like LEONA Lewis, who “played Grizabella on Broadway.” What? Who? Oh, hi Leona — nice to meet you.

    Are you thinking 5D: HOW DO YOU DO IT? (“Question expressing amazement?”) I loved 26D: ”Didn’t you just leave?” Ans: BACK SO SOON? And 21D: ”Take my word for it, you’re going to love this.” Ans: THANK ME LATER.

    At 45A, “Texter’s ta-ta” was CYA, which was new to me: It’s textspeak for “See ya.” Some folks thought it would work better as the initialism for “cover your ass.” In fact, I commented that an alternate clue could be: ”The converse of moon.” There were in fact a couple of tuchases in the puzzle! The first was at 19A with a great but hard clue: ”Emphatic suffix.” Ans: ASS. Get it? Like when you say it was a big-ASS affair, or that was some hot-ASS chili. The ASS is added for emphasis. And then 47D referenced it: ”19 across to a Brit” was ARSE. That’s why it would have been nice if CYA was used to continue the mini theme, or mini-ASS theme, if you prefer.

    OK, folks. I have to go watch the Georgia Tech-Central Florida bowl game. I have some in-laws in GA with an interest in it. So let’s end with a holiday cat pic Rex posted today. This exquisite cat is Barney. He’s a senior citizen and a professional model — this shot is from a spread he did for AARP.

    Can’t beat that for a closing. Meow.

  • Blank Space

    These are the saddest days at Owl Chatter, when our intrepid photographer Phil is off on some distant assignment. We miss combing the local streets with the cops in a police cruiser each morning, looking for his drunk, half-dressed body snoring it off in a gutter somewhere. “I think I see his other shoe up there, Officer.” How often that little delight falls to me!

    Anyway, as soon as we let him know that the town of Grindavik in Iceland was evacuated due to the threat of a nearby volcano’s erupting, he jumped on a plane to get over there. “I lava good volcano,” he punned. “Bring your camera this time!,” we yelled after him, recalling many of his previous jaunts.

    Anyway, he got some good shots for us. Here’s the dump, I mean hotel, he stayed at.

    On his way to the scene.

    Watch your feet, buddy!!

    Yikes!

    And here he is back in Grindavik, regretting where he left the rental car. ”You waived the extra insurance!!?? Oh, no!!”

    Hey, Georgie! — Frank Bruni used a great line about you in his “For the love of sentences” feature. It’s by Herb Scribner and Anne Branigin in WAPO.  “If we’ve learned anything about Santos . . . it’s that when life hands him lemons, he stuffs them into a Hermès bag filled with cash, or something.” Ha! I think they nailed you, buddy.

    Hey Puzzlers — it’s the 110th anniversary of the first published crossword puzzle. It was by Arthur Wynne, an Englishman who moved to NY, and it appeared in the New York World.

    Here’s a prettified copy:

    There are differences between it and modern puzzles, e.g., both the first and last squares of each answer are numbered. If you want to try your hand at it, jump into the grid and travel back in time. 

    (The answers appear below). 

    It was originally called a Word-Cross, but a typo turned it into Cross-Word and it stuck. The NYT scoffed at them for years and only published its first on February 15, 1942, with respected cruciverbalist Margaret Petherbridge Farrar the first editor.

    Puzzles have become very popular over the years. Even the brightest stars of Hollywood turn to them often for amusement and edification. (Sorry about this photo — I’m winging it while Phil’s off in Iceland.)

    Today’s puzzle’s theme is “Go Down in Flames,” and the constructor (David Steinberg) must be a Swiftie because he’s aware of her line in her song “Blank Space:” ”So it’s gonna be forever, or it’s gonna go down in flames” because he refers to her in a clue at 42D: “Taylor Swift’s record-setting ___ Tour.” Rex thought it was pretty brilliant because the answer (ERAS) does fill in “blank spaces.” But now my brain is starting to hurt.

    The song and video (says Taylor) are take-offs on the image some in the media created for her as an insane man-eater. NPR ranked it the #43rd greatest song by a female (or nonbinary artist) in the 21st century. The lyrics are sharp, IMO.

    Oh my god — look at that face: You look like my next mistake.

    I get drunk on jealousy
    But you’ll come back each time you leave
    ‘Cause, darling, I’m a nightmare dressed like a daydream

    Got a long list of ex-lovers: They’ll tell you I’m insane
    But I’ve got a blank space, baby, — And I’ll write your name.

    Take a look (and listen):

    Constructor Steinberg is only 27 but he’s had over 100 puzzles in the Times. He says he’s retiring from crosswords, though, and the commentariat was loudly bemoaning its loss today. 

    Here’s one of his neat, if macabre, clue/answers today: 40A: ”Socket inserts.” Answer: GLASS EYES.

    And PAM from The Office was in the grid. What a wonderful character and actress. It’s Jenna Fischer. She’ll be 50 in March. Ouch.

    Hey, Norrie — get this — Fischer is passionate about animal rescue, and she is involved with the LA organizations Kitten Rescue and Rescue Rover. Before The Office, she worked for three years doing hands-on rescue work for the organizations.  She regularly fosters cats and hosted Kitten Rescue’s annual “Fur Ball Gala” for three years.

    Speaking of cats, here’s a cutie Rex posted today. It’s Bean! Say good night, Bean. Good night everybody.

  • Through the Woods

    DK Metcalf did not have an opportunity to sign Monday night since he did not score a TD in the Seahawk’s upset of the floundering Eagles. But he led Seattle in catches and receiving yards and was spectacular. Here’s one of his gems, in double coverage:

    In other sports news, the Detroit Pistoffs kept their streak alive with a brilliant 130-124 loss to the mediocre Atlanta Hawks (11-15) in Atlanta. That’s 24 losses in a row. The boys actually opened the season 2-1. Now (you can do the math), they are 2-25. Next up: The 10-17 Utah Jazz, in Motown, on Thursday.

    This poem, by Thomas R. Smith, is called “Housewarming.” It’s from yesterday’s Writer’s Almanac.

    In my dream I was the first to arrive
    at the old home from the church. Wind
    and night had forced through the cracks.
    I pushed inside, turned on the lamps,
    lit a fire in the stove. Frozen oak
    logs stung my fingers; it was good
    pain, my hands reddening on the icy
    broom-handle as I swept away snow.
    On Christmas Eve, I prepared a warm
    place for my mother and father, sister
    and brothers, grandparents, all my relatives,
    none dead, none missing, none angry
    with one another, all coming through the woods.

    OK, everybody — now let’s be honest. We’ve all had sex at work countless times, amirite? Any of us get fired for it? Of course not. So, WTF, Senator Cardin? — why’d you have to fire him? I’m referring of course to 24-year-old Aidan Maese-Czeropski who was an aide to the Democratic Senator (or Democrat Senator if you’re a Republican and an idiot). Aidan had sex with some guy in a hearing room, Hart 216, and it was filmed and word got out. The upshot: Goodbye Aidan. He’s upset: ”This has been a difficult time for me, as I have been attacked for who [sic] I love to pursue a political agenda.”

    Incidentally, the room they chose was the setting for several notable moments, including James Comey’s testimony about Trump in 2016 and the 9/11 commission hearings. That stuff can be quite a turn-on. I can see it.

    These are the moments when I am so thankful we have George Santos on our staff to unpack stories like these, with his own special “insider’s” point of view. This is how GS sees it, and he’s not very sympathetic:

    Having sex in a United States government building and filming it is the reason you got heat. You being gay and having gay sex NO BODY gives a rats ass… No one is perusing [sic] a political agenda, we are just disgusted about your VILE behavior as a staffer to a United States senator. Now you do put a new definition to “Fuck around and find out”! Aidan you will forever be remembered as the Democrats favorite sloppy bottom…

    [Note: That is the actual post that Santos posted. I didn’t make any of it up. No one is perusing a political agenda!]

    What a nice surprise — it’s the Pointer Sisters everybody! Today’s puzzle was about advice columns (Dear Abby and Ann Landers) so of course — it’s about giving “pointers,” and (did you know?) — Abby and Ann were sisters! So the Pointer Sisters just had to stop by at 52A. Their clue was “Grammy winners for “Jump (for My Love)” (1984),” but Rex treated us to their version of Bruce’s song “Fire” (which they turned into a hit). And I’m stealing it for OC too. I’m ridin’ in your car . . . . Turn it up!

    Unlike the Ramones, the Pointers were all actually Pointers. All but one were sisters, too. One who came on later was a daughter.

    Did someone say Ramones? Hey ho, let’s go!

    Here’s a comment from Rex’s blog today:

    “As a socially-awkward kid in the 90s, I enjoyed reading the Dear Abby and Ann Landers columns. If you know your friend’s spouse is cheating on them, should you tell the friend? Answer: No… especially if his or her spouse is cheating with you.”

    Another one:

    “Abby (Van Buren) was a neighbor of ours in California in the ’50s. Locals said she and her sister (Ann Landers) never got along. Supposedly Abby was resentful that Ann had stolen her idea for an advice column, and was more successful at it. How could they be advising others about relationships when they couldn’t get along themselves?”

    One more:

    The best advice I ever saw in Ann Landers (or was it Dear Abby?): After a long, truly awful letter about someone’s horrible husband and whether the advice seeker should leave or stay, Ann (or Abby?) gave this timeless advice: Would my life be better with him or without him?

    How’s this for a back-and-forth —

    First comment: When I was a lad, Ann Landers was the column run by our local paper. All I remember about her column was what seemed to be a years-long debate about the correct way to hang toilet paper.

    Response: THIRTY SEVEN YEARS (that’s 37! ) my wife hangs toilet paper any which-a-way like a, like a, aaah, crazy person, as if the fate of the universe plays no role in our destinies. Toilet paper engineers and designers make one side pretty on purpose. I quietly fix her maniacal hanging job for her hoping to clean up our kharma. I fix it at friends’ houses too. Somebody somewhere has to care or society goes to the dogs.

    Trivia du jour: Ann Landers was grandmother to Dean Phillips, Democratic representative from the 3rd district in Minnesota, who is running for President.

    The clue at 5D was “Egyptian sun god,” and the answer was AMONRA. Whenever this god appears, there is grumbling about how it’s spelled. Apparently it can be spelled three or four different ways. And today this note appeared:

    “There’s a football player for the Detroit Lions, a wide receiver, named AMON-RA St. Brown, maybe we can substitute him for the Sun God in future clues. He has a brother who is a wide receiver for the Chicago Bears, named Equanimeous, so when that name comes up. . . “

    So I did a little digging:

    Eq’s full name is Equanimeous Tristan Imhotep J. St. Brown. His bro’s full name is: Amon-Ra Julian Heru J. St. Brown. They have another brother, Osiris, who was also a wide receiver (at Stanford), but is not in the NFL. Their parents’ last name is Brown, but the boys all have the last name of St. Brown. Their dad was a professional bodybuilder and was a two-time amateur Mr. Universe.  

    Here are, first, Amon-Ra the all-powerful sun god, and, next, Amon-Ra, the all-pro wide receiver, back-flipping over a defender.

    We’re ending on a very sad note today — in close to 400 Owl Chatter posts (I know, hard to believe), this is the most upsetting story I’ve encountered. Take a look at this beautiful English schoolgirl, 16-year-old, Brianna Ghey. 

    Brianna was transgender and was murdered by two sociopathic 16-year-olds last February, one boy and one girl. They were convicted this month. The jury took under four hours to reach their verdict. Brianna was lured into a park. The killers planned her death in detail. She was stabbed with a hunting knife 28 times in her head, neck, chest and back. In messages between them, the killers wondered if she’d scream as a boy or a girl.

    Deputy chief crown prosecutor Ursula Doyle said: “This has been one of the most distressing cases I have ever dealt with.”

    Here are Brianna’s mom and sister:

    Brianna’s mother described her daughter as fearless. “She wanted to identify as a female and she wanted to wear the girl’s school uniform and yeah she just did it. It wasn’t a hurdle at all for her.”

    Meanwhile, here in the States, anti-trans legislation continues its steady ride through Republican legislatures.

    Rest in peace, Brianna. 

  • Standing on Business

    So, you know how snake oil salesmen symbolize fraud (related to fake cures)? Well, it turns out snake oil is actually good for you — it’s high in Omega-3 fatty acids. The Chinese use a snake oil to treat joint pain. A 2007 study showed that mice that were fed snake oil attained significant improvement in swimming endurance and their ability to solve mazes over mice that were fed lard. (It didn’t help them with crossword puzzles.) The fraud connection comes from the many sellers of “fake” snake oil who arose. BTW, that mouse study was ended early because of how hard it was getting them into those little bathing suits.

    It all came up because of the clue at 30A today: ”Snake oil salesman’s offering.” ANS: QUACK REMEDY.

    I didn’t even know mice could swim. Do guinea pigs whistle? That was a question on Hollywood Squares several hundred years ago. Paul Lynde’s answer was: “When brought to a boil.”

    Rex’s holiday cat picture campaign has brought out some unusual material. First, I liked how he referred to this gal, Misha, as a Hanukkitty.

    Then there was a comment today from a guy who hadn’t commented since Sept 2022. He had been a regular (and well-liked, apparently) commenter up until then. The reason he stopped was he shared what he thought was a cute kitten photo, but it was deleted (along with his comment), by the Rex blog moderators. He was so miffed he stopped posting, until yesterday. I guess the stream of cat pix brought him out. In any event, this is the kitty that was “banned in Boston.” It made it by the mods today, obviously, and, really, should never have been cut.

    The clue at 33D was “Colorful symbols of hope and happiness.” It’s BLUEBIRDS, of course. But did you know there are three types? Eastern, Western, and Mountain. 

    (1) Eastern bluebirds have a royal blue back and head, a reddish-brown chest and throat, and a white belly.

    (2) Western bluebirds look similar to Eastern Bluebirds, except that the reddish-brown color of their chest extends to cover their shoulders, and the royal blue color of their back also covers their throat.

    Male Western Bluebird on Bobwire.

    (3) Mountain Bluebirds, the bluest of all three bluebird species, have a bright royal blue covering their back, head, and throat, and a soft patch of white on their stomach.

    The females of all three species look similar to the males, but are a duller blueish-gray in appearance.

    Here’s a comment I enjoyed:

    “Eastern Blue Birds beat out Western Blue Birds, but I would guess (I’ve never seen one) that the Mountain Blue Bird beats them both. I remember the mistake I made when I told a co-worker that I had seen my first Blue Bird, and damn, was it blue. He insisted for another hour to explain to me that I had been seeing Blue Birds all my life, and wondering what kind of an idiot I was that I didn’t know that. I explained otherwise, but he insisted he was right. I finally told him I wasn’t talking about a Blue Jay but a Blue Bird, and that if he ever once in his life considered that, in a disagreement between peers, he might, just might, be the one who is wrong not everyone would consider him the asshole they do.”

    Wow. Where’d that come from?

    [There is also the fourth type: The Jewish Bluebird. It’s the “Bluebird of Happiness?-Are-You-Kidding?-With-My-Back?” Very rarely sighted.]

    The sex-scandal-tarred Zieglers are still in the news! Mr. Z (Christian) is the head of the GOP in Florida who stands accused of raping a woman with whom his virulently anti-gay wife (and school board member) admitted (to the cops) to having gay sex via a threesome with Mr. Z. Mrs. Z was asked to resign in a 4-1 vote by the Board, the one nay vote being her own. But she refused. The vote was all for show, though. The Board is taking no real steps to remove her because her open seat could lead to control falling out of the hands of right-wing lunatics. God forbid.

    Christian meanwhile has had his salary reduced to $1 and has been stripped (pardon the pun) of his powers as party head. 

    Evan Power, the GOP vice chairman, said that party members considered the sexual assault charges against Mr. Z very serious. Here’s my favorite part: He said: “You cannot morally lead the Republican Party forward.” Hello? Knock, knock? Does anyone remember that Trump was actually found liable for sexual assault pretty recently? ”Moral leadership” may not be your best argument, Evan. 

    Here’s pretty Mrs. Z again, who, believe me, no matter what happens, will land on her feet. Like a Hanukkitty.

    DK Metcalf is an outstanding wide receiver for the Seattle Seahawks. He turned 26 just last week. He’s from Oxford, MS, and went to school at Ole Miss. In his five pro seasons, he’s averaged over 1,000 receiving yards per year — consistent excellence. DK is short for DeKaylin Zecharius. He’s a very good looking young man (and not married, ladies).

    With much less flare (how could it not be less?), he is doing for the deaf community what Taylor Swift is doing for her fans, i.e., introducing many to pro football.  DK is not deaf himself, nor is anyone close to him deaf. So what’s going on? When he was in college, he took a summer class in signing (ASL). It was a way to exercise his mind and provide a break from football.

    He resumed studying it this season online and is taking it very seriously. The instructor did not even know DK played football when they started, and he described DK as “an inquisitive and open-minded student, dedicated to learning sign language.” Deaf folks resent it when someone tries to learn to sign to use it for personal gain, or just to learn fun or dirty phrases. But there is much enthusiasm for DK’s embrace of it — it’s become a hot topic among the deaf.

    At first, the joke was he was learning it just so he could trash talk without getting fined. But he’s using it on the field in a much cooler way — he signs as part of his touchdown celebrations. The first time he did it, he directed his message to the defensive back he just beat and signed “44, my son.” ”44” represents spiritual strength, or, in this case, the ability to outrun the coverage.

    The next time was against Dallas. After scoring, he signed “Standing on business.” That means sticking by your principles and getting things done. It exploded (in a good way). The deaf community was “on fire” with it and can’t wait to see what comes next. DK said the “standing on business” idea came to him from his teammate Boye Mafe who also signs: He signs “I love you” to the sky before every game to honor his mom who died in 2018.

    Metcalf is delighted by the response of the deaf community. He did not know they felt unseen or forgotten. Is it even a little bit a way to get some trash talking in? After all, DK has been fined about $100,000 over the years for his “colorful” conduct. ”I’m trying to learn a new language,” he said. ”Simply put.”

    You can keep an eye on the man tonight — the Seahawks face the Eagles in a battle of the birds. It’s on ABC at 8:15.

    Good night, everybody. See you tomorrow.

  • Do You Like Chocolates?

    On this date 120 years ago, the Wright brothers made their first flight. Wilber complained that his lunch was cold, and Orville was upset at having to pay extra for his bag. Low-hanging fruit, but sometimes the bad jokes just have to be told. The actual flight took place near Kitty Carlisle, NC, or, if you prefer the truth, Kitty Hawk. 

    Orville went first, got only ten feet off the ground, and landed right away. After two more tries, Wilbur got seriously aloft and traveled 852 feet. There was some damage to the plane, but the boys were overjoyed. There was no press coverage of the event. The brothers hired an amateur photographer, (it may have been Phil’s dissolute great grandfather), who took only one photo, when the plane was ten feet off the ground. This is it.

    Papers refused to run it, thinking it was a hoax. Only six years later, when Wilbur flew over Manhattan, were the boys given their place in history. 

    Both brothers married very late in life, joking that they spent a long time looking for Mrs. Wright. Orville’s wife Emmylou is on the left, and Wilbur’s wife Betty on the right. The brothers often confused the two until Betty had a restraining order issued. [This entire paragraph is false: the boys never married. I don’t know who these women are, but they’ve been very generous with drinks and salted nuts. So they’re welcome to stay, like, forever.]

    I was wrong about the Pistoffs schedule — I thought their next loss, I mean game, was tomorrow against Atlanta, but they managed to sneak in a loss to Milwaukee last night. So it’s 23 in a row. They seem to have settled into comfortably losing by 32 points, since that was the margin again, 146-114. They lost all four quarters. After the first they were down 43-20. Ouch. Let’s not dwell on it. Here’s a lighter topic — Jeffrey Dahmer.

    Remember Jeffrey Dahmer? The serial killer with the worst-selling cookbook in publishing history. He was killed in prison in 1994. But his dad Lionel died only two weeks ago, in Ohio, at age 87. If you’re wondering what it’s like to be the dad of a son like that, you can read Lionel’s book that was pretty well received: A Father’s Story. 

    Lionel’s parents were both elementary school teachers and he was a chemist. He married Joyce Flint, a telephone operator. How’s this for creepy:

    “She became pregnant days after the wedding. The coming months were a kind of ill omen. [Ya think?] Joyce Dahmer suffered from seizures and emotional fits. Her legs locked into place, she trembled, her jaw jerked to the right and became frighteningly rigid, and she foamed at the mouth. Sometimes the episodes would end only when a doctor injected her with barbiturates and morphine. She took as many as 26 pills a day.”

    Jeffrey was a happy little guy, but turned awkward as he grew up, and the rest is history. Lionel had been awkward as a child too, and he didn’t realize Jeffrey had become “serial-killer awkward.” They had a second child, who is still living, but the marriage failed and Lionel remarried. He visited Jeffrey in prison and recordings of those visits were used in a mini-series on the story. Lionel is survived by a sister, his son, and two grandchildren, none of whom look forward to Thanksgiving.

    Here’s Lionel at the trial, with his second wife, not Joyce.

    Remember what Garrison Keillor said when he spoke at his daughter’s graduation: ”The truth is, we would love you just as much, and be just as proud of you, if we were visiting you in prison today, instead of at your college graduation. But we’re grateful for the difference.”

    71A in the puzzle today was “Count on one hand?” and the answer was SIXTY. I had no idea why, but it turns out to refer to the hands of a clock which are counting sixty seconds and minutes. Commenter John X says:

    “The minute and second hands of a clock can count to sixty, and so can a human hand. This has been done since ancient times, and is the origin for the Base-60 system (that and 60 is divisible by more whole numbers than 100). This is why there are 60 minutes/seconds, 12 hours, 360 degrees, etc etc.”

    Okay, thanks. Wait, is that the Minister of Silly Walks on that clock? We’d have to change the clue to “count on one foot.”

    The clue/answer for the Dirty Old Man Dept. today was at 12A: ”They may be wireless.” The answer was BRAS. One commenter asked: ”Wait — so women use their bras to connect to the internet these days?” 

    The puzzle theme was “bridges.” In theme answers there were bridges crossing over various bodies of water. Rex questioned whether there is a “bog” bridge, but many pointed out that of course there is. When you take a hike over marshy areas, little bridges help you across the wetter spots. There was also a question about “ocean” bridges. But “trigger” noted: ”I think bridges to barrier islands or to Key West would qualify as ocean bridges.”

    And pabloinnh added: ”The bridge over the OCEAN made me think of an old Bob and Ray bit where one is interviewing the other, who is building a bridge over the Atlantic Ocean, which has just been started, and in the background you hear the sound of cars driving off the end and into the water because of course they do. Nobody beat those guys for absurd.”

    This poem from The Writer’s Almanac is by Louis Simpson and is called “Chocolates.”

    Once some people were visiting Chekhov.
    While they made remarks about his genius
    the Master fidgeted. Finally
    he said, “Do you like chocolates?”

    They were astonished, and silent.
    He repeated the question,
    whereupon one lady plucked up her courage
    and murmured shyly, “Yes.”

    “Tell me,” he said, leaning forward,
    light glinting from his spectacles,
    “what kind? The light, sweet chocolate
    or the dark, bitter kind?”

    The conversation became general
    They spoke of cherry centers,
    of almonds and Brazil nuts.
    Losing their inhibitions
    they interrupted one another.
    For people may not know what they think
    about politics in the Balkans,
    or the vexed question of men and women,

    but everyone has a definite opinion
    about the flavor of shredded coconut.
    Finally someone spoke of chocolates filled with liqueur,
    and everyone, even the author of Uncle Vanya,
    was at a loss for words.

    As they were leaving he stood by the door
    and took their hands.

                                    In the coach returning to Petersburg
    they agreed that it had been a most
    unusual conversation.

    Rex’s practice this holiday season of sharing pet pix his readers send in turned poignant today. He posted this photo of a reader’s cat named Oliver, dressed up as something silly:

    Then he shared this note he received two days after he received that photo:

    Hi, Mr. Parker! 

    My wife, Courtney [W.], submitted a photo of our cat Oliver in the last day or two.  Oliver died yesterday, and part of her cat grief has been to regularly check your blog to see if her photo was posted. Sometimes it’s the little things? 🙂 

    To honor her memory, Rex followed up by posting additional photos of Oliver. Here are two of them.

    Rest in peace, little guy. 

    We’ll see you all tomorrow.

  • PHI 124, DET 92

    It’s Jane Austen’s birthday today: Happy Birthday, young lady! An author so popular that all the way across the ocean the people of Texas named their state capital after her. [No they didn’t.] Born in 1775, she’s 248, but, honestly Jane, you don’t look a day over 200. C’mon, take a load off, girl — just throw all that crap off the sofa — you like beer?

    For those of you who question the power of the written word, this note was in today’s Writer’s Almanac: After the First World War, Austen’s novels were prescribed to shell-shocked British soldiers for therapy, because the psychologists found that Austen helped them recover their sense of the world they’d known before the war. [Zelensky tells me Owl Chatter is serving the same purpose for the Ukrainians.] 

    Brava, Janie. Phil! — Run out and pick up some ice cream! Here’s a twenty — maybe a few Ben and Jerry’s.

    Did you know you’re a fashion trend, Austen? Whoda thunkit? Jane Austen dresses are definitely a thing.

    How’s that for a classy opening?

    Now let’s take a look at this gorgeous grid today, by Garrett Chalfin:

    Usually, the requirement of symmetry just results in black squares scattered here and there. Look at today’s climbing diagonals. And it’s so clean. The only construction flaw I can see is at 23D/36D the ASS is above the FLANK. 

    Of course, it only inspired dread for curmudgeon Rex. Here’s how he opened his writeup:

    “I could tell right away from the shape of this one that it was more likely to be a puzzle to endure rather than savor. That thick tube of 8s running through the middle would, at best, hold up OK, but would be unlikely to provide much sizzle, and the highly cut-off corners would play like puzzles unto themselves, with maybe one winner in each corner if I was lucky.”

    The puzzle had quite a bit of material for our dirty old man department. The clue at 13D was “Situations involving multiple romantic partners,” which turned out to be the tame GROUP DATES. But right next to it at 16D was “Portmanteau for poly relationships,” which was THRUPLES. And 17A was “Film unlikely to have a costume designer:” PORNO. And I think the constructor may be risking a little jail time when he throws in WEE LASS at 18A (“Young woman, quaintly”), with the emphasis on ASS at 23D (“Bottom”). Hot stuff coming from a constructor who just graduated high school last year. Has your mom seen this puzzle, young man?

    Egs noted: ”Based on my own experience, I immediately threw down OCTUPLES for poly relationships.”

    OC readers may be pleased to learn the streak is alive. The Detroit Pistoffs of the NBA lost their 22nd straight game last night to Pennsylvania (nee Delaware) Nancy’s Philly 76ers. Detroit lost by 32 points (124-92), but they were only down by 4 after the first quarter, and they played them even (30-30) in the fourth quarter. Those middle quarters musta been ugly. 

    Philly also won the funny name competition with bench players Mo Bamba and Furkan Korkmaz (I’m not kidding), which is an anagram of “Kafka’s mazourka” [no it’s not, but it should be]. Detroit has a Jalen, Jaden, Jared, James, and Joe for all the good it’s doing them. They’re playing like they were put together on JDate. Next up: Atlanta on Monday. OC will be on hand, for sure.

    Back to that THRUPLE. Rex struggled a bit with the spelling (throuple?) since he thought it was pronounced to rhyme with hoople, but it isn’t. In any event, it brought to mind (for him), Mott the Hoople. Remember that band? They did well with this song David Bowie wrote, below. And one commenter wondered if they were named Mott the Hoople to avoid confusion with Mott the Applesauce. 

    Re the holiday cat pix Rex is posting that are being sent in to him by his readers, okanaganer posted: ”I recall some comic had a bit about a guy who awakens from a 30-year coma. A nurse shows him her smart phone and says ‘you can look up any fact; watch movies; listen to any song you want.’ The guy says ‘That’s amazing! What are you looking at right now?’ She replies: ‘Cat pictures.’”

    Here’s a cute one from today (the cat’s name is Brady):

    With Lianna’s sleepover with friend Quinn canceled we were freed up to see Maestro in Cranford. Very nice theater we had never been to before. Independently owned. Very intense film. Cooper is spectacular. Whoever did the makeup should get an Oscar — he looked more like Bernstein than Bernstein did. (Wait, what?) Our favorite scene: Lenny conducting the performance in the cathedral. Wow.

    Let’s close with some more Jane Austen dresses. So lovely. See you tomorrow!

  • Emily

    So my plan is to live forever.

    So far, so good.

    (Stephen Wright)

    As you may recall, Rex Parker (of Crossword puzzle blog fame), is quite the cat lover. He shared a holiday photo of an adorable cat that one of his readers sent in and said if anyone else wanted to submit a holiday-themed pet shot, he’d post it. Dozens of us followed suit and today he posted my entry:

    It’s my Zozo with her fierce watch-cat Emily. Rex noted that he liked how Emily was staring directly into the camera as if to say: Are we done here?

    Made my day.

    Today’s puzzle was crisp and crackling with freshness. 14D was “One on the Israelites’ journey to the Promised Land.” Answer: CALEB. I had no idea, but egs posted: ”There is a wonderful show about one of the Israelites journey to the Promised Land. Unfortunately, you can only see it if you’ve got CALEB TV.” 

    With LMS in hibernation, egs has become my favorite Rex poster — good strong devotion to utter nonsense like that.

    The puzzle had a minor “crabbiness” theme. 14A: ”‘Knock it off!,’ in question form,” was CAN YOU NOT? and 27D: “Don’t even think of coming back!” Ans: AND STAY OUT! 

    At 28D “Nephalist” was TEETOTALER. (WTF??)

    At 18A “Number in a count,” was a great clue for BALLS. Think of count in the baseball sense — balls and strikes. 

    Actress Malick was WENDIE. She was very good in a very funny TV show Just Shoot Me! George Segal was in it, along with a perfect comic cast. That’s Wendie peering over the shades, below

    She auditioned for the role of Diane Chambers in Cheers, but, of course, lost out to Shelley Long. 

    Ok everybody. Keeping it short tonight. Too tired from my day in the big city giving an exam. See you tomorrow!