The Wellington Files

  • Beating a Dead Horse Around the Bush

    What a wonderful Gnats game! The pre-paid parking worked and we got by the stadium security hitchlessly. It was CJ Abrams bobblehead day, so we each snapped one up, and found our way to our seats in the upper upper between home and first, with a great view of the entire field. Hey, CJ, looking good! Nod, or bobble, if you agree.

    The weather was perfect. Each team was pitching its ace: Logan Webb for the Jints and Jedidiah Gray for the Gnats. Play Ball!

    Gray started out by pitching 8 straight balls so it was first and second with no outs in like three seconds. Gulp. But a crisp double play followed a strikeout and it was no harm done. Webb set us down easily in the first. Trouble again for Gray in the second: man on second with no out. But a couple of pop outs helped quell the fire and we went to the bottom of the second tied at nil. And that was when all hell broke loose. A flurry of hits including a scorching triple by Alex Call to right center gave us a 4-0 lead, and Abrams (Mr. Bobblehead) lined a shot into the seats — so it was 6-0, sweet, but early. And Webb was gone. Bye, bye.

    Sure enough, the Jints began what is universally known in baseball and sculpting as “chipping away.” They got one back quickly, so our lead was down to five going into the bottom of the fourth. But then we got four more, pounding SF into submission. That’s how it ended: 10-1. Most of the crowd stayed for the whole game which is nice. With the new speed-up rules, it only took about 2.5 hrs. Gray pitched seven and got stronger as the night wore on. A very satisfying win with many excellent defensive plays on both sides.

    On Sunday, a short hike followed by a terrific crabmeat omelet for lunch ended our very nice stay in Charm City. Perfect for a three-night getaway.

    The Gnats may have won but I was thoroughly defeated by the puzzle yesterday. Among several blunders, I had no idea that “‘Victory!,’ in internet shorthand” is the initialism FTW. It stands for “for the win.” I won’t bore you with my other errors. Instead, I’ll bore you with 67D, TAMALES, the clue for which was “Steamed food items eaten with the hands.” Well, the commentariat exploded with as searing a battle as I’ve seen in a long while.

    The first blow was struck by SharonAk at 2:46AM who wrote: “I have eaten many tamales, but never with my hands without a fork in them. Nor have I seen them eaten thus. I have made tamales, rolled by hand – nearly 70 years ago.” An anonymous poster chimed in at 6:15AM with: I agree on the tamales. Burn your fingers eating by hand. And Mack piled on with: Count me as another who has never eaten tamales by hand. I can’t imagine how that can even work. Seems like trying to eat meatloaf with your hands. Joaquin got personal: Wanta a swift rebuke from my Mom? Eat your TAMALES as suggested in 57D (by hand). “No churros for you until you learn some manners.” It was still only 8:33AM.

    [As an ASS-side, before the battle began to rage, Southside Johnny said he was happy to see ASS in the grid again [who isn’t?], clued as “Real so-and-so,” and noted it was wonderfully paired with the nearby CHEEKY, clued with “Fresh.” Ha!]

    After 11, a smattering of Anony-mice said you gotta eat ’em with your hands because they are served to you in corn husks which make it perfect for holding. But Simon Says shot back: you need a fork because they are dripping with delicious chili-based sauces.

    A different Anonymous posted a video, which I enjoyed and learned from! Take a look: You can see which side of the matter it comes down on, fairly authoritatively.

    Finally, bocamp conferred with ChatGPT and came up with: “Yes, tamales can be eaten by hand! In fact, eating tamales by hand is a traditional and common way to enjoy them in many Latin American countries. The corn husk serves as a natural wrapper for the tamale, making it convenient to hold and eat without utensils.”

    I’ll leave it at that, and I hope to have one soon. Not sure yet how I’ll eat it. BTW, as the matter was batted around, it emerged that the proper term for a single one of them is not tamale, it’s tamal. Good to know.

    I loved yesterday’s puzzle, despite my DNF (did not finish). It was called Aural Surgery and it playfully took the sounds of two separate words to answer the clue, which was an entirely different word. E.g., for the clue “Nocturnal bird known for its distinct calls, informally,” the answer was comprised of WHO and TOWEL. Get it? Hoot owl, aurally. Here are the rest of them:

    “Some outdoor seats,” LAUNCH HEIRS

    (My favorite) “Equivalent of one gallon.” FORK WARTS

    “Secret lairs,” HIGH DOUBTS

    “‘Anything you want!’” NEIGH MITT

    “Former magazine that featured male nudes,” PLAGUE EARL

    “2 vis-à-vis 8, 3 vis-à-vis 27, etc.” QUEUE BRUTES

    “Lollygagger,” SLOPE OAK

    Another good (nontheme) clue was “One crying ‘Help!’?” The answer was BEATLE.

    Last, several Brooklynites noticed another themer could have been the duo POCKS and SLOPE (as pronounced by a Bostoner).

    The newsletter of historian Hayley Cox Richardson two days ago (7/22) focused on the new education requirements in DeSantis’s Florida. She notes that middle school instruction in African American history includes “how slaves developed skills which, in some instances, could be applied for their personal benefit.” Puh-leeeze.

    Here’s a poem by Faith Shearin from today’s Writer’s Almanac called “Directions to Your College Dorm.”

    All hallways still lead to that room
    with its ceiling so high it might have been

    a sky, and your metal bed by the window,
    and your crate of books. First,

    you must walk across the deep
    winter campus to find your friend

    throwing snowballs that float
    for years. Then, open our letters:

    shelves of words. You will find
    our coats, our awkwardness, the tickets

    from the trains that witnessed
    our confusion. Love was the place

    where we became as naked
    as morning; it was dangerous and

    dappled and we visited its shores
    with suitcases and maps from childhood.

    I remember our shadows growing
    on your wall while a candle

    swallowed itself. You kept a single
    glass of water on a desk and it trembled

    whenever we danced.

    Once a month Rex turns his column over to a friend. Here’s how she started it off today:

    Hi Barbies and Kens, it’s Malaika here with a guest write-up! Solving Snack is Ben & Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk (straight from the pint so I don’t have to wash a bowl) and Solving Music is the new Taylor song “Castles Crumbling.”

    Here’s her note on LOL, clued as “‘That’s hilarious,’ in a text.” I get that it’s boring to say “Will Shortz (70 yrs old) has a different frame of reference from Malaika (26 yrs old)” but here I am, beating a dead horse around the bush, or whatever the saying is. That is simply not what LOL means anymore because language changes and evolves etc etc okay I’m done now.

    And so am I. Thanks for stopping by!

  • We Approve This Message

    I thanked our host (Guy) for recommending Joe Squared and told him how much we loved the pizza. He said the director Martin Brest (“Scent of a Woman”) stayed at the Inn once and when he recommended the pizza, Brest said, “I’m from NY and I’ve been everywhere, so I’m not easy to impress with pizza.” Brest insisted they go together to try it and after his first bite he said “You’re right.”

    Not to dwell too much on it, but I visited the website and discovered that the very pie we had (Bacon and Clams) was featured on Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives. I challenge you to watch this without drooling.

    It was Ernest Hemingway’s birthday yesterday, Oak Park, IL, 1899. It was also the day, in 1925 that he began his first novel, The Sun Also Rises. Cheers fans may recall that this is the book, a first edition of which Diane borrowed money from Sam to buy. When Sam saw it, he scoffed and said: “The sun also rises — that’s profound.” I know I’m digressing badly but it was such a good episode. Sam eventually borrows the book, reads it, and loves it! But he took it with him to read as he was taking a hot bath and dropped it in the bathwater. So he brought it back all puffed up and bloated. Sorry, that’s all I remember.

    Back to Hemingway, when the novel was published, it got good reviews in the NY papers, but was not well-received elsewhere in the country, including his hometown Chicago. Get this — his own mother wrote to him: “It is a doubtful honor to produce one of the filthiest books of the year. […] Every page fills me with a sick loathing — if I should pick up a book by any other writer with such words in it, I should read no more — but pitch it in the fire.”

    A sick loathing! Ouch, Mom!

    It was published by Scribner’s with Maxwell Perkins as the editor. For Hemingway’s second novel, Perkins had to defend the colorful language to his boss, Charles Scribner, but was so uncomfortable saying the words that he had to write them on a memo pad for Scribner. In the end, three words were not included in A Farewell to Arms, and were replaced by dashes. Hemingway wrote them back in by hand on a couple of copies, including one that he gave to James Joyce.  You all know what he looked like, right? So here’s his granddaughter Mariel, born four months after his death by suicide just shy of his 62nd birthday.

    This poem from Today’s Writer’s Almanac is by Jane Kenyon, and it’s called “Coming Home in Twilight in Late Summer.”

    We turned into the drive,
    and gravel flew up from the tires
    like sparks from a fire. So much
    to be done—the unpacking, the mail
    and papers…the grass needed mowing….
    We climbed stiffly out of the car.
    The shut-off engine ticked as it cooled.

    And then we noticed the pear tree,
    the limbs so heavy with fruit
    they nearly touched the ground.
    We went out to the meadow; our steps
    made black holes in the grass;
    and we each took a pear,
    and ate, and were grateful.

    An amazing exhibit in Baltimore’s wonderful Visionary Art Museum is a series of over 30 embroideries by Holocaust survivor Esther Nisenthal Krinitz. She was a seamstress and dressmaker in her own shop, so was no stranger to needlework, but she didn’t view the embroideries as art — for her they were a way of telling her story. The museum ran a video of her discussing them. This one, the one I asked Phil to shoot for us, shows her family and neighbors leaving their homes under Nazi orders to walk to the train and their eventual deaths. Esther’s mom had her and her sister run to a gentile friend’s house who helped them escape. The rest of the people in the embroidery perished, including Esther’s family. She remembered the sky was black on that day, and vultures circled. At the bottom of most of the works, she embroidered the date and an explanation of what was portrayed. You can see the small letters, but they are not legible in this photo.

    This heartbreaking embroidery in retrospect is of her childhood home and family, before the war.

    Marjorie Taylor Greene is so divorced from reality that she had no idea that a recent speech she gave lambasting Biden would be viewed by most people on Planet Earth as praise. Biden’s campaign actually repeated it with the note: “We approve this message.” The speech said Biden “had the largest public investment in social infrastructure and environmental programs that is actually finishing what FDR started, that LBJ expanded on: programs to address education, medical care, urban problems, rural poverty, transportation, Medicare, Medicaid, labor unions.”

    OK Greene. Anything else?

    We drove up to Cockeysville, MD last night (it’s right next to Poopietown, Raffi would say) to see a romantic comedy called No Hard Feelings starring Jennifer Lawrence. Some of the scenes tried too hard and didn’t work, but we enjoyed it and liked how it resolved things. Matthew Broderick was sensational in a secondary role. There was one excellent line that I am about to spoil for you — so if you plan to see the movie, skip down to the next separation bar. Jennifer Lawrence is applying to adopt a dog, and the guy is interviewing her to make sure she’s a suitable pet owner. He asks her – “Why are you adopting a dog?” and she says, “Because I can’t have my own.”

    Tonight is our last night of what has been a very good getaway so far, kinahora. Good weather, good eats, nice people and activities. We’ve put this evening in the hands of the Nats — we have tix for their game against the Jints down in DC. Ace Josiah Gray is pitching for us (I call him Jedidiah), so we may have a chance. I prepaid for parking (it costs more than the tickets) so I’m a little worried about how that will work.

    Here’s a shot of Nats Stadium on the day Jesus came down to the game. They still lost. D’oh!

    See you tomorrow!

  • Cabbage Patch

    When Granddaughter #1 (Lianna) stays with us, the breakfast I make for her is either french toast, an omelet, a buttered roll, or cereal. Of the cereals we have, she always asks for Rice Krispies. But when I gave her the Rice Krispies the other day, I asked her if that was her favorite cereal overall and she said No, it’s Lucky Charms (which her mom keeps on hand). So being the good grandfather that I am, I ran out to pick some up. Incredibly, they were on sale: just $4 for two big boxes! That made my day. But then I realized I shouldn’t have been too surprised — after all, they are “lucky” charms. In any event, the next time she stayed over I poured a bowl for her to surprise her with when she came downstairs, and was impressed by how beautiful it looked. She enjoyed them! This is the actual bowl, pre-milk.

    Yesterday’s puzzle was a bruiser. Even Rex rated it Medium-Challenging. There were Z’s all over the place for no apparent reason. They would make sense in one direction, e.g., “Polo competitor” was IZOD, but the Z made no sense in the crossing word. I couldn’t get any regions nailed down and just tried filling in as many answers as I could. Then I reached the “revealer.” “Accommodation for a long train trip … or a hint to entering a certain letter 14 times in this puzzle.” It turned out to be SLEEPING CAR and I realized the answer I, CLZZZZUS, had to be I, CLAUDIUS — the Z’s (sleeping) converted to a “car” — an AUDI. That happened three other times and I managed to finish: upFOR Debate; sKI Area; and iBM Watson.

    At 63D, the clue was “The Devil’s Lettuce,” and the answer was POT. It confused some because pot looks nothing like lettuce. So I did a little digging and was able to post: On “Devil’s Lettuce,” one theory is the name arose from an anti-pot government film that was called The Devil’s Harvest. Another is that it was confused with a plant that marijuana looks like called Amsinckia tessellata, a species of fiddleneck which has several nicknames including devil’s lettuce.

    In any event, I cautioned the gang not to confuse it with Trey Cabbage, a ballplayer for the Angels who made his MLB debut this year.

    Owl Chatter’s first day in Baltimore was excellent. It started with a nice picnic lunch on the Bay in Havre de Grace on the way down. Phil took this shot from the “promenade.”

    After checking in at the inn, we found a nice coffee place (Dooby’s) to get some reading done and went for a short stroll. Baltimore’s a tough town. Look at the name of this cafe/record shop. Ouch!

    Dinner was at a place recommended by our host, Joe Squared (that’s the place), and it was spectacular. Great music and art, real young vibe, terrific local beer and one of the best pizzas we’ve ever had: clam, bacon, and onion. Amazing smoky crust. If you are ever within 200 miles of Baltimore, it’s worth a stop.

    Art-guy-friend Bob recommended the Baltimore Museum of Art and it’s open late on Thursdays (and always free!), so we shot over there after dinner. Terrific collection including this one by Matisse.

    Whatever Phil did in getting that shot apparently broke some ridiculous rule, because he ended up being chased through the building by some of the guards. He’s quick but his equipment slowed him down and they caught up with him. We’ll have to see about bail. Maybe after lunch.

    Today’s puzzle was by everyone’s favorite constructor Robyn Weintraub, and it was universally loved, although some thought it was a little too easy for a Friday. Examples of her clever cluing: 22D “One who’s out and about?” SLEEPWALKER. 21D “Exchange rings?” PLAY PHONE TAG. And did you know that ALLIGATORS can regrow a lost tooth up to 50 times? That was 57A.

    Gotta go have breakfast! Another museum today (Visionary Art) and a walk around Fells Point. See you later!

  • To Be or Not To Be

    I wanted to strangle this woman on the subway today. A bunch of us were waiting on the platform for the train. It arrived and the doors opened, and she got on first and just stood there — blocking the way! Hello? Remember us? The ten other people you were standing with, like, four seconds ago? Did it not occur to you there was a good chance we wanted to get on the train too?

    So we walked around her. There is no sense confronting these assholes, or even saying something like “I’m sorry — I didn’t know you are the only person on the planet.” You have to assume (1) they are lunatics, and (2) they have guns.

    Hrummmph!

    I entered the New Yorker cartoon contest a few weeks ago and found out today that I wasn’t a finalist. Here’s the cartoon at issue:

    My entry was: “No, I’m fine with your mom’s visit. Why do you ask?”

    I like one of the three finalists: “You don’t have to say ‘Excuse me’ every single time.”

    I concede defeat.

    That issue (July 24) also contains a review of the production of Hamlet that is being put on in Central Park this summer, starring Ato Blankson-Wood. The review is respectable but not glowing. The description of one scene, though, caught my eye. It’s the scene, fairly early, where the ghost of Hamlet’s dad appears to Hamlet, and tells him of his murder. Here’s how the reviewer Vinson Cunningham describes it.

    “Instead of using another actor to fill the father’s figure, Leon [the director] shows Hamlet being possessed by his dead father—Blankson-Wood mouths the ghost’s portentous speech. His slinky physicality suddenly becomes regal and strange. His eyes roll back into his head. Fire might as well be spouting from the tips of his fingers. That’s another unexpected thing about grief, how it coaxes you into an attempt at becoming the other, taking on their tics and savoring how they used to talk, fishing a ring out of their jewelry box and stuffing it onto your finger—all evidence of a great hope that, by embodying those details, you might permanently save them.”

    [Wow.]

    Solea Pfeiffer portrays Ophelia “soulfully,” according to Cunningham. Break a leg, Oph!

    Cornelius (C. R.) Roberts died at age 87 in a care facility in Norwalk, CT on July 11. He was a “leapling,” born on Feb. 29, 1936 in Tupelo, MS. His mom felt they had to get out of racist Mississippi and told his dad: “Get our son out of Mississippi or they’re going to kill him.” So they moved to California. C.R. scored 65 touchdowns for his high school team as a running back and was recruited by USC, where he also excelled.

    Thus was set the stage for the extraordinary game in 1956 when USC went down to Texas to play the Longhorns. There were three Black players on USC, and Texas was having none of it. They told USC “the coloreds couldn’t play.” Fearing violence, the USC coaches suggested Roberts stay behind. But C.R. said he’d rather quit the team than stay home. Now get this — his teammates stood by him — they said (and I paraphrase) “F*ck that sh*t — if C.R. ain’t going, we ain’t going.”

    Negotiations were worked out for the entire team to play. Then, the hotel in Texas explained that the Blacks couldn’t stay there and made arrangements for them at a YMCA. USC said: “F*ck you very much,” and found a hotel where they could all stay.

    Be all that as it may, as game-time approached, tensions were sky high and C.R. found himself wondering if he’d make it out alive. He had received death threats and thought he might be taken out by a shotgun blast from the stands. The hatred was pouring down from the crowd — the N word and whatever else they had.

    But C.R. could run, and he ran. A 73-yard touchdown run in the second quarter was followed by a 50-yard TD run. He scored again on a 74-yard run in the third and finished with 251 yards, a USC record that stood for 19 years. Chances are he would’ve broken 300, but the coaches pulled him shortly after his last TD, fearing for his safety. Final score: USC 44 Texas 20. The LA Times described Roberts as an “explosive bolt of searing speed.”

    Roberts played pro ball for 6 years: two in Canada and four with the 49ers, a modest career. He had earned a business degree at USC and ran several businesses after football. His two marriages ended in divorce. He is survived by three children and four grandchildren, none of whom roots for Texas. Throughout his lifetime, the Texas game and the emotions it stirred up remained vivid. In an interview he gave the LA Times years later he said: “I didn’t give a damn who we played. We were going to beat them. Everybody had a chip on their shoulder. We played our best game.”

    C.R. is a first-ballot inductee into the Owl Chatter Hall of Fame. Rest in peace, Roberts.

    In the puzzle today, 4D was “Big _____ (serious favor)” and the answer was ASK, with ask serving as a noun. It ran right up LMS’s alley.

    “Loved the clue for ASK, forcing its nounness, a big thumb in the eye to the language police. Y’all seem to hate watching a shift occur in real time. But since language is one ever-shifting, ever-morphing wonder, anything that comes out of our mouths these days is the result of shifts from Old to Middle to Modern English. APRON was originally napron, but we started dividing a napron to an apron, et voilà! (See also umpire and adder.) A similar mis-dividing is occurring right now, right under our feet, and we’re creating a new word. An other is shifting to a nother in “That’s a whole nother story,” and the word has reached the Holy Grail of wordship: it’s in the dictionary. (See also notch, nickname, and newt.)”

    And Judy — did you see your old pal EULER was in the grid today, clued with “Pioneer in calculus notation.” I learned (from Rex) it’s pronounced OILER. Whew, amazing I haven’t made a fool of myself all these years. (On that.) Rex was reminded that he criticized a constructor way back in ’06 for using EULER, whom Rex referred to as “obscure” only to be lambasted for his math ignorance. A comment today chipped in with:

    “As a mathematician I definitely don’t think of EULER as obscure. He’s arguably one of the three greatest mathematicians in the last millennium, along with Newton and Gauss. If you work with almost any kind of mathematics beyond arithmetic you run into some formula, theorem, or method named after him. Even the constant e is named for Euler.”

    And kitshef added: “There is another slightly famous EULER, Carl, who will be known to birders thanks to the Euler’s flycatcher. That ‘Euler’ is pronounced ‘yoo-lur’.’” [And it’s a bird, not a swatter.]

    That’s a nice image to end on. See you tomorrow (unless I can’t broadcast from Baltimore).

  • OMG

    The puzzle today tested your knowledge of Greek and Roman gods and goddesses, or, in my case, my ability to recall their names desperately from the crossing answers. It was beautifully constructed by a husband-wife team, Karen and Paul Steinberg. The center answer was GRECO-ROMAN and each corner contained a god/goddess with his or her across name in Greek and the crossing (down) name in Roman. So, e.g., at both 1D and 18A the clue was “Trident-wielding god of the sea,” and the answer at 1D was NEPTUNE and at 18A was POSEIDON. Quite an adventure! The others were ARTEMIS and DIANA (hunter); DEMETER and CERES (harvest); and DIONYSUS and BACCHUS (party-time (burp!)).

    And I learned something. APOLLO is the only one of these gods whose name is the same in both Greek and Roman. Can you guess what it is? It’s Apollo — what’s wrong with you? Apollo did not appear in the grid but was in two of the clues. Here’s a nice shot of him, followed by his place.

    And here’s Diana, who seems to get her hair done at the same saloon Apollo uses. Tell ’em less gel next time, D. Just sayin’.

    Re: yesterday’s puzzle answer “running joke,” Pabloinnh posted this sweet story:

    I wasn’t thinking that I would start a RUNNINGJOKE years ago when my son said something innocuous like “I’m going to the bathroom” and I would say “I’ll alert the media.” I guess he never forgot it and carried on the tradition because one day a while ago I said to his daughter, then four, something like “I’m going out to the car to get my glasses” and she of course said “I’ll alert the media”. As ye sow, so shall ye reap.

    Life-With-Seniors Dept. There must be a lot of us old timers in the commentariat on Rex’s blog because the clue today for 9D was “Nonvegan fat in a pie crust.” (The answer was LARD.) And a good half-dozen commenters noted that they read the clue as “Norwegian fat.” Ha! What would Norwegian fat even be — whale blubber?

    Crossworld meets the real world. The clue for 49D today was “Brand for water fun,” and the answer was SEADOO — a Canadian recreational watercraft company. Commenter Anoa Bob reported:  

    Ukraine used an Uncrewed Surface Vessel (USV)—essentially a drone—to attack the Rooskies’ Crimean bridge. The propulsion system is composed of parts from the Canadian SEA-DOO jet ski company. Whatever it takes!

    The Rex group has become a true community. When someone mentions an illness or problem, many express support or try to help. Today, jberg noted that he did the puzzle while waiting for his wife’s radiation treatment to finish. And he noted she was doing fine. I don’t usually chime in with good wishes —- I feel that I’m too new to the group. But I had something I wanted to share today. So I wrote:

    jberg. I hope this brings your wife a smile. When I was undergoing radiation treatments, I was sometimes met at the door by a big Black guy, one of the technicians, and he’d break into a smile and ask me: Table for one?

    I’m glad to hear she’s fine.

    Others expressed their good wishes too (albeit without a brilliant line like mine), and he posted a nice thank you for us later, saying: Thanks for the kind comments for my wife. The radiation oncology staff are wonderful; all happy and supportive, and when someone finishes their treatment they ring a bell and applaud as they leave.

    Owl Chatter is taking to the road on Thursday — we’re spending a long weekend in Charm City (Baltimore), including scooting down to DC on Saturday for a Nats game. Our official OC photographer Phil is joining us, of course (we have a king-sized bed), so I’m looking forward to having some good shots to share.

    See you tomorrow, everybody!

  • Mrs. Katz

    A couple of war horses from (roughly) my neck of the woods visited the grid today: Jersey Girl Meryl STREEP, and Gertrude STEIN who was born near Pittsburgh. Stein was clued with “Poet Gertrude,” which was a bit of a surprise. I knew she was a writer and hosted a Paris salon for artists and writers, but I wouldn’t have called her a poet.

    As LMS put it: “I was also happy to learn that Gertrude STEIN wrote poetry. I mean, I know she is considered an author, but I couldn’t tell you one thing she wrote. I always imagine her just as a community organizer, the den mother for all the Lost Generation writers.”

    The theme was cute, based on the expression ARE YOU OKAY? All the long answers contained the letter-pairs RU and OK. E.g, RUnning jOKe and instRUction boOK.

    For “running joke,” I posted the following for the Rex gang. (It got one nice response.) Some of you may be very well aware of it already.

    OK, you wait until the topic of cats comes up, and at the right moment you say: “Do you know who sleeps with cats?” They will either say No, or look at you funny. In either case, you say “Mrs. Katz.” The joke is they thought you were saying “cats” but you were actually asking about some old Jewish guy named Katz. Now this is the important part: You can’t let the fact that it’s not funny at all deter you. Time goes by. Months, maybe years. You are with those people and maybe the topic of cats comes up again, or maybe the moment just feels right, and you say, “Hey, do you know who sleeps with cats?” They may or may not remember, it doesn’t matter. Again you say “Mrs. Katz.” Years go by. Your children grow up and disappoint you. Uncle Louie gets out of jail. You repeat the Mrs. Katz joke from time to time and then, when you feel that the moment is right, you spring — you say “Do you know who sleeps with cats?” By now they know to answer “Mrs. Katz,” but you say — “No! Mrs. Schwartz!! It’s a big scandal!!”

    In honor of that joke, we had a beautiful calico cat years ago whom we named Mrs. Katz, may she rest in peace.

    BTW, I tried to get life insurance for a cat once — they made me take out nine policies!

    I love LMS’s stories about her mom. This one was inspired by 29D: ROSEBUSHES.

    Yesterday I helped Mom up the three steps outside in the “garden” area of our little backyard. She wanted to check the weed situation next to her knockout ROSEBUSES after she had someone lay some of that plastic stuff and then put mulch on top. For the bajillionth time, I vaguely wondered what a knockout rose was, but I didn’t ask. Listen. It was about 93 and muggy as hell, and I’m lacking the gene that affords me any interest whatsoever in plants and gardening. I should have acted more interested, should have offered to walk her over to other areas, but it was just too hot, and I had a headache. Back inside I started feeling guilty and hated myself for my plant indifference. So this morning, I’m going to cut a couple of those roses, and put them in a bud vase on the counter to greet Mom when she gets up. They don’t really look like the long-stemmed roses you get from a suitor, but they’re red and smell faintly rosesome. Is a knockout rose the kind of flower you’d put in a vase? I’m not gonna overthink it; a rose is a rose is a rose, right?

    The clue for 40D was “Yawn inducing,” and the answer was the very odd BORESOME. Rex blew up — hated it! Called it the world’s stupidest word. I’d say he was in the majority too. But a smattering came to its defense. It is in the dictionary, after all, and Lewis felt it was less, well, boring than boring. And some were happy to learn (for them) a new word.

    The clue for 22A was “2016 Denzel Washington/Viola Davis film whose title refers to real and metaphorical barriers.” Did you see it? FENCES. Not an easy watch. Here they are in a rare happy moment:

    I remember an old Chris Rock bit about seeing Denzel dating a white woman. “Oh, no!” he moaned. “Not Denzel!! He’s one of the good ones!! We only got eight!”

    But here’s Denzel with his wife Pauletta, to whom he is very devoted. They have four gorgeous kids.

    Good to see you DW — Loved you in Philadelphia! Don’t be a stranger!

    Good night, everybody. See you tomorrow.

  • Pneumatic Drills

    The clue at 53D today was, boringly, “Health class topic, in brief,” and the answer was SEX ED. But LMS shared a different reading of the word via her veterinarian daughter and took a fun departure from it.

    My daughter (vet) recently used the word SEXED, but as a real verb. She was talking about some puppies or kittens or whatever, and she said that they hadn’t been SEXED yet, meaning they hadn’t checked the genders. I could reimagine using that ED as an abbreviation for education all day. Ya know, classes that people take:

    big headed – for the therapist specializing in narcissism
    broken hearted – for the future cardiologist.
    birdbrained – for the avian neurologist
    large breasted – for the plastic surgeon
    rear-ended – for the budding proctologist

    I tried to come up with some of my own, but it ain’t easy. Parroted — for the ornithologist? Closeted — for the home organizer?

    The puzzle today was a punfest called “The Game is Afoot” and the theme clues each used a type of footwear punnily. E.g., “1970s-era sneakers” was the clue for WATERGATE BURGLARS. (Get it?) “Custom-fitted pumps” was ARTIFICIAL HEARTS. “Fresh pair of loafers” was BEAVIS AND BUTTHEAD. Cute, right?

    It lead to some shoe-y comments:

    Joaquin wrote: This puzzle reminded me of my 11th-grade biology class where we each had to deal with an “open toad.”

    From egs: It’s just as well that the 12th president died in office. Most historians feel that, had he not, the electorate would have decided to “chuck Taylor.”

    Here’s a snazzy “Chuck Taylor Converse Hi-Top All-Star:”

    And from me: I see the FBI’s Footwear Division uncovered another terrorist slipper cell.

    Friday night in Texas, Clevelanders Josh and Bo Naylor, who are brothers, both homered in the same inning (the third). Both homers were two-run jobs, and they gave the Guardians (nee Indians) a 4-0 lead. Cleveland went on to lose 12-4, but who cares?

    Back in April of 2013, brothers B.J. and Justin Upton homered back-to-back for the Braves. The only other brothers to homer back-to-back were Hall of Famers Lloyd and Paul Waner, for the Pirates on Sept. 15, 1938, 75 years earlier. The Naylors’ HRs were in the same inning, but not back-to-back.

    On Sept. 14, 1990, the Ken Griffeys, Senior and Junior, hit back-to-back home runs for Seattle against the Angels — the only time in MLB history a father and son accomplished this. In looking this up, I learned that the Griffeys were both born in the same small town (Donora, PA) in which the great Stan Musial was born, and, get this — Ken Jr. has the same birthday as Musial, November 21st.

    Here’s Stan the Man’s 1961 Topps card:

    Regular Owl-Chatter readers can probably guess how thrilled we are at all the hoopla surrounding the Barbie movie. For one thing, Margot Robbie, who plays the doll, is quite a doll herself. She has charmed OC photographer Phil, who might as well sublet an apartment near her home (in Venice Beach, CA) for all the time he’s spending out there on the assignment. (It’s okay with us, buddy — just check the local anti-stalking laws.) Here’s one he’s sent in, for starters. (Yikes! Could you plotz?)

    The NYT Style Section today has a front page story on the various elements of Barbie that make her Barbie. Vanessa Friedman was assigned Barbie’s measurements, which “are unlike anything ever made in nature.” It’s not surprising given that the original Barbie was “based on a German doll meant to be enjoyed at bachelor parties.”

    Friedman says: “Her pneumatic bosom, teeny waist and endless legs are just the most obvious distortions.” Scaling her up to adult size clocks her in at about 39-18-33. According to a report in Rehabs.com on Barbie’s effect on girls’ body image, the odds of finding someone with that ratio are in the billions. Her neck would be too thin to support her head, and her torso would have room for only half a liver. For you liver freaks, that would be a deal-breaker, no?

    Barbie got a new body in 1998 with a slightly wider waist and smaller chest and hips, and since 2016 fans have had a choice of petite, tall, and curvy Barbies. But Friedman says “impossible Barbie” remains the standard for many.

    Hold on a sec. “Pneumatic bosom?” You ever hear pneumatic used like that before? Me neither. So I checked with our old friends Merriam and Webster and, sure enough, definition #3 is: having a well-proportioned feminine figure, especially having a full bust. Then, to confirm, I checked with the Britannica dictionary and it was even more exciting, I mean informative. It said: US, informal, of a woman : having a body with full, pleasing curves.

    I’ll never be able to look at a street crew in the same way again.

    Here’s curvy Barbie. You can really see the difference.

    Back to the puzzle (sorry, fellas), the answer at 28A was RUE, which is almost always clued with something like “regret.” But today the clue was “Plant also called herb-of-grace.” (Not to be confused with “herb of Alpert.”) Heard of it? Here’s what it looks like:

    According to a comment on Rex’s blog, “rue” is in Hamlet:

    Act IV, Scene 5. Ophelia says to the Queen, “There’s rue for you; and here’s some for me. We may call it herb of grace a Sunday’s. O, you must wear your rue with a difference.”

    Apparently rue (which is quite bitter) was a symbol of repentance. Also a symbol of adultery, hence the gift to the Queen.

    Good night, everybody! See you tomorrow.

  • Sulyhivka

    I couldn’t finish the puzzle today and then I tuned in to Rex’s blog and saw that he rated it “easy.” D’oh! I was done in by two names: Wolfgang PAULI, a Nobel Prize-winning physicist who’s been dead since 1958, and EARL Boykins, the second-shortest-ever NBA player, who stopped playing in 2012. Gimme a break! I demand a recount! Hang Mike Pence!

    Wait, what?

    Pauli was a helluva physicist. Einstein called him his “spiritual heir.” He was famously a perfectionist and was known as the “conscience of physics.” He could be scathing in his dismissal of any theory he found lacking, often labelling it ganz falsch, “utterly wrong.”

    But he reserved his most severe criticism for theories or theses so unclearly presented as to be untestable, and thus not properly belonging within the realm of science, even though posing as such. They were worse than wrong because they could not be proved wrong. Famously, he once said of such a paper: “It is not even wrong!”

    I know exactly what he means. The very first semester I taught, I had a student who had no idea what was going on. He got a three on the first test (out of 100). He came to beg for a passing grade and I remember saying that his answers bore no relation to the questions. I said “You would have to improve a lot just the get the questions wrong.” At the time I had no idea that observation was “Paulian.”

    Here’s a piece on young love by Laila Hartman-Sigall from Met Diary:

    He carried the box while they held each other’s hands, their sweat stuck between warm, tanned palms.

    They walked down the cobblestone street, and she kept her heels out of cracks in the ground. New York heat held her neck. It smelled like new deodorant, smoke, like summertime.

    She put her head near his ear.

    They sat at the bottom of a Brooklyn stoop–the lights were on–and he passed her a slice.

    Their elbows touched.

    She wiped the corner of his lip and put her leg over his.

    He traced constellations between spots of orange oil on her scabby knees.

    “It tastes good,” she said.

    “The cheese?” he asked with a laugh.

    “Yeah.”

    He whispered in her ear.

    “But we’re on the street,” she said.

    “Come on,” he said, and took her hand again.

    How many cruciverbalists (crossword solvers) does it take to change a light bulb? ANS: Eleven — six across and five down. (I just made that up — can you tell?)

    Sulyhivka is a very small town in Ukraine that had a population of just 50 before Russia invaded. It emptied out when it was occupied and then it was destroyed. It was liberated in September but only two men have come back: Victor Kalyberda, 61, a tractor driver, and Anatolii Solovei, 52, a landowner-farmer. They had a cordial relationship before, but didn’t know each other well.

    Victor is staying in a neighbor’s kitchen now (see photo), and Anatolii in a plastic shelter he set up in the ruins of his home. There are no utilities. There is water in the village well, and volunteers drop off food.

    As described in the NYT, at least once a day Victor walks to see Anatolii, past the war’s detritus of armored vehicles blasted open and destroyed farm equipment. The overgrown cemetery where both men’s families are buried is littered with small land mines that can blow a person’s foot in half.

    Recently, Victor helped move some surviving farm equipment for Anatolii, who plans to start cultivating his fields after clearing the explosives himself.

    But often, the two men just sit and drink tea or coffee, saying little.

    “What’s there to talk about?” Anatolii asked.

    Pianist Andre Watts died on Wednesday in his home in Bloomington, IN. He was 77. I saw him perform twice: once a few years ago with the NJ Symphony, and once decades ago in a seat (not on the lawn), at Tanglewood with the BSO. He died as he wanted to die, from a piano falling on his head. [No he didn’t.]

    This beautiful paragraph is from his obit in The Times:

    “At the start of the pandemic in 2020, Mr. Watts, who was diagnosed with Stage 4 prostate cancer in 2016, had been planning a feat: He would play Ravel’s Piano Concerto for the Left Hand in a version that he had reworked for the right hand (his left was recovering from a nerve injury). As he practiced on his twin Yamaha pianos, he got daily inspiration from a one-legged starling that emerged outside his home in Bloomington.”

    Alas, health problems and the pandemic prevented the performance and he mostly stopped playing the piano, though he continued to work with students.

    He is survived by his wife Joan Brand Watts, two step-children, and seven step-grandchildren. Mrs. Watts said of him:

    “Music was how he endured and how he survived. When he actually played, then he was happy. It just really lifted up his soul.”

    He described music as a sacred space in which he felt he could breathe and flourish. “Your relationship with your music is the most important thing that you have, and it is, in the sense of private and sacred, something that you need to protect,” he said before a concert in Baltimore in 2012. “The dross of everyday life is very, very powerful and very strong. So you need to protect your special relationship with your music.”

    I get it, Brother — rest in peace.

    Whenever I get blood taken these days, I ask the phlebotomist if I’ll be able to play the piano afterwards. They always say “Sure,” and I say, “but I couldn’t play it before.” My funniest blood test was by a big Black guy. He took the needle, approached me with it, broke into a big smile, and said “This is my first time!” I was flattered he could tell I would love it, and I did.

    Remember Boris and Natasha from the Bullwinkle show? The puzzle wanted us to remember Natasha’s last name (I didn’t). It was FATALE. (Boris’s was Badenov, which is pretty funny as a play on composer Boris Godunov.)

    And here’s a cute clue/answer: “What might be said by successful bettors … or sesame seeds?” Answer” “We’re on a roll.”

    This was a WOE (what on earth?): “Plant genus named after the Greek goddess of nature.” Answer: ARTEMISIA. Fuhgeddaboutit, right? And from Owl Chatter’s Dirty Old Man Dept., I was hoping “Brand name associated with cups” had something to do with bras. But it was REESES. Boo.

    Oy, that’s more than enough nonsense for one day. Thanks for popping in.

  • Omaha

    Don’t you hate it when you’re assisting with surgery and one of those machines that beeps or whirrs every few seconds suddenly explodes and injures your leg? Kaboom!

    David White was a certified nurse anesthetist on Aug. 4, 2021 at MidState Medical Center in Meriden CT when, he said in a lawsuit filed against Hartford Healthcare, a limb-positioning machine installed by them exploded, mid-surgery.

    The spider limb positioner device is a hydraulic arm, used to manipulate and stabilize a patient’s extremities during surgery. I have one that I used to use on dates — they’re great.

    White claims that when the surgeon pressed on the pedal controlling the device, it “exploded or separated under pressure striking Mr. White’s left shin causing a deep laceration.”

    That explosion also resulted in a variety of other health issues. White contracted necrotizing fasciitis (also affectionately known as “flesh-eating disease”), cellulitis, scarring and disfigurement, multiorgan dysfunction, liver shock, chapped lips, nerve and tendon issues, as well as depression, anxiety and a “fear of loud noises.” [Sh*t! — I have that last one — it’s no fun!] [Alright, I added the chapped lips, but the other stuff is real.]

    The company denies legal responsibility. “Someone else must have f*cked up,” they said.

    Joyce Sutphen wrote this weather-appropriate poem in today’s Writer’s Almanac. It’s called “Carrying Water to the Field.”

    And on those hot afternoons in July,
    when my father was out on the tractor
    cultivating rows of corn, my mother
    would send us out with a Mason jar
    filled with ice and water, a dish towel
    wrapped around it for insulation.

    Like a rocket launched to an orbiting
    planet, we would cut across the fields
    in a trajectory calculated to intercept—
    or, perhaps, even—surprise him
    in his absorption with the row and the
    turning always over earth beneath the blade.

    He would look up and see us, throttle
    down, stop, and step from the tractor
    with the grace of a cowboy dismounting
    his horse, and receive gratefully the jar
    of water, ice cubes now melted into tiny
    shards, drinking it down in a single gulp,
    while we watched, mission accomplished.

    Here’s Joyce, on a day that called for a jacket.

    In the puzzle today, the clue for 6D was “Defense mechanisms?,” and the answer was ORALS. (Think dissertation defense.) It led me to share this story with the Rex gang. (Remember this, Don? I may be off on some of the details.)

    True story. Back in my student days, my friend Don and I ran into our friend Russ, whom we hadn’t seen in a while. I asked Russ “How’s school going?” at the same time Don asked him “How’s the new girlfriend?” Russ beamed and said “I passed my orals,” and Don said “Wow, she sounds tough.”

    The clue at 47D was “What might make one less likely to flip one’s lid?,” and the answer was STYE. (Think eyelid.) Rex and others complained that that was a little “icky.” It led me to comment:

    From the TMI Dept. I hate to break it to you kids, but once you cross that line and are looking down at 70, with prostate and bladder issues, any stye that pops up won’t even make the list. (I love it when I call the doc’s office and the receptionist says: “Urology. Can you hold?”)

    The answer at 52D was ANA. It wasn’t clued for Owl Chatter fave ANA de Armas, but it’s too long since we’ve had a visit from her. A de A — how ya been, girl? Breathtaking, as usual. We missed you at the 250th post bash. Pregozhin catered — say what you will about him being a murderous thug — the man can cook!

    Ana de Armas

    At 42A, the clue was “City where Gerald Ford and Malcolm X were born,” and the answer was OMAHA. I’m glad they didn’t use “Payton Manning’s signal.” He famously used to yell OMAHA OMAHA when signaling a play. In any event, Son Volt shared this Waylon Jennings tune with us:

    Omaha, you’ve been weighin’ heavy on my mind
    Guess I never really left at all
    I’m turnin’ all those roads I walked around the other way
    Coming back to you, Omaha

    Omaha, Nebraska wasn’t good enough for me
    I always thought I was the roamin’ kind
    With a pocket full of dreams and my one shirt on my back
    I left there looking for some things to find
    Rode my thumb to San Francisco, I worked down by the Bay
    Got some schoolin’ paid for by the law
    The hardest thing I learned there was there ain’t no easy way
    To get ahead behind those county walls
    So it’s so long, California, I reckon I’ll be movin’ on
    I’m leavin’ even if I have to crawl
    I’ve got some loose ends laying ’round that I left undone
    Waitin’ there for me in Omaha

    Omaha, you’ve been weighin’ heavy on my mind
    Guess I never really left at all
    I’m turnin’ all those roads I walked around the other way
    Coming back to you, Omaha

    Sticking with music, Woody Guthrie was born on this date back in 1912 in Okemah, Oklahoma. He died young, at only 55, in NYC. He was married and divorced three times and had eight children, sadly, five of whom died way young. The two oldest, Gwendolyn and Gail died at 41 from Huntington’s Disease, which they inherited from Woody. Bill was only 23 when he died in a train accident. Cathy Ann died in a fire around her fourth birthday. Too sad. And Lorina Lynn died as a teenager in a car crash.

    Arlo of course is still with us. He just turned 76 this week. His sibs Jody and Norah are still living too. Norah is President of the Woody Guthrie Foundation. All three are from Woody’s middle marriage to Marjorie Greenblatt Mazia who was a dancer in the Martha Graham Dance Company, and the daughter of Aliza Greenblatt, a well-known American-Yiddish poet. So they are all Jewish. I didn’t know there was such a close Jewish tie to the writer of This Land is My Land.

    Here’s Sara Lee Guthrie, Arlo’s daughter, who is also a musician.

    We’ll continue with more nonsense tomorrow. Thanks for stopping by.

  • Surf’s Up!

    I can usually tell from the first line if a poem is not for me. The simpler it is the better. The Writer’s Almanac shared this one by James Laughlin today, called “Her Sweet Deceit.”

    Love has many joys
    and best are the

    surprises as when
    you changed the col-

    or of your hair to
    make me think you

    were someone else
    not that you fooled

    me with your sweet
    deceit I had only

    to hear you laugh
    to know both girls

    were you & that I
    loved you both alike.

    Have any of you eaten a DURIAN? It was in yesterday’s puzzle: “Spiky fruit with a noxious odor.” Here’s what they look like:

    The smell is so bad that it’s banned in some hotels and on buses and trains in Southeast Asia. But it tastes delicious — a custardy, almond taste. I don’t recall ever seeing or tasting one. You can get durian chips on Amazon for about $12 for a 2.3 oz bag.

    Today’s puzzle hit the grid running with the exquisite ELSA Pataky right up there at 1 across. (“Pataky of the ‘Fast & Furious’ franchise.”)

    Elsa was born in Madrid and will be 47 next Tuesday. Her birth name is Elsa LaFuentes Medianu, but she goes by Pataky to honor her Hungarian paternal grandmother, Rosa Pataky. She has appeared in the “Fast and Furious” films and has been on the cover of Maxim. She’s married to actor Chris Hemsworth and they live in Australia with their three children.

    Don’t mess with her: She won €310,000 in a lawsuit in Spain against a group that published topless photos of her taken with a long lens while she was changing clothes during a photoshoot for Elle magazine. Da Noive!

    Sticking with beautiful women, a special Owl Chatter mazel tov goes out to Rikkie Valerie Kollé, who just won the contest to represent the Netherlands in the 2023 Miss Universe pageant. Rikkie is the first trans woman to win in the Netherlands, and the second overall. (A trans woman represented Spain in 2018, Angela Ponce, and was a finalist.)

    “I’m going to be an open book,” Kollé said, and she has already gone public with her experiences as a child and her treatments as a teenager and her gender-transition surgery. To no surprise, this has subjected her and her family to a great deal of hatred, abuse, and insults.

    “The ideal winner of a Miss Netherlands competition must have an impressive presence and make heads turn when she walks into a room. She also needs a message that can inspire others,” Monica van Ee said, the pageant director. “Beauty comes from the inside.”

    Ms. van Ee said that Kollé had been the strongest contender. “Throughout the whole process, she was the most beautiful woman.” “I was chosen for who I am and my story,” Kollé said, “and not because I’m a trans woman.”

    Nice shot, Phil — a real stunner.

    A female sea otter off the California coast near Santa Cruz, has been taking surf boards away from surfers and showing off her stuff. Seriously — surfing like a pro.

    She is called Otter 841 and is five years old. Last month, Noah Wormhoudt, 16, was catching some waves with a friend off Cowell’s Beach in Santa Cruz when 841 swam up. “I started paddling away trying to avoid it but it kept getting closer and closer. I jumped off my board and then it jumped onto my board,” he recalled.

    The young surfer watched from the water while the otter stayed atop his board as the swell rolled in. “The otter was shredding, caught a couple of nice waves,” Wormhoudt said. (Shredding is a surfing term for riding a wave in a “graceful, skillful, and flashy” manner.)

    The problem is the story is not always as nice. 841 has been unfriendly at times, has damaged some boards, and is viewed as a risk to surfers. She also poses a risk to herself because if she does bite a person, she will have to be put to sleep (she has sharp teeth and very strong jaws). So the California Fish and Wildlife people are trying to capture her and resettle her safely in an aquarium. So far she’s been managing to elude capture. California sea otters are endangered — there are only 3,000 left. A ban on hunting them has been in place since 1911. So we don’t want to lose 841.

    Let’s let these fellas play us off tonight. See you tomorrow!