The Wellington Files

  • Lollapuzzoola!

    Owl Chatter friend Boston Don apprised me of a grievous error in yesterday’s post. I had John Hiatt dead and buried but he lives! In fact, Don tells me he’s turning 71 tomorrow (Sunday), kinahora. Happy Birthday JH! Don surmised, rightly so, that I was confusing him with John Prine, who did pass away three years ago from Covid, at the age of 73. To honor his memory, please enjoy this remarkable song, Lake Marie. Standing by peaceful water. . . .

    Today’s poem from The Poetry Foundation is called Have You Prayed? When I first read it, I failed to notice the poet’s name, and I got the feeling while reading it that he must be Jewish, because he made me think of my father. But his name is Li-Young Lee and he was born in Indonesia to Chinese parents.

    When the wind
    turns and asks, in my father’s voice,
    Have you prayed?

    I know three things. One:
    I’m never finished answering to the dead.

    Two: A man is four winds and three fires.
    And the four winds are his father’s voice,
    his mother’s voice . . .

    Or maybe he’s seven winds and ten fires.
    And the fires are seeing, hearing, touching,
    dreaming, thinking . . .
    Or is he the breath of God?

    When the wind turns traveler
    and asks, in my father’s voice, Have you prayed?
    I remember three things.
    One: A father’s love

    is milk and sugar,
    two-thirds worry, two-thirds grief, and what’s left over

    is trimmed and leavened to make the bread
    the dead and the living share.

    And patience? That’s to endure
    the terrible leavening and kneading.

    And wisdom? That’s my father’s face in sleep.

    When the wind
    asks, Have you prayed?
    I know it’s only me

    reminding myself
    a flower is one station between
    earth’s wish and earth’s rapture, and blood

    was fire, salt, and breath long before
    it quickened any wand or branch, any limb
    that woke speaking. It’s just me

    in the gowns of the wind,
    or my father through me, asking,
    Have you found your refuge yet?
    asking, Are you happy?

    Strange. A troubled father. A happy son.
    The wind with a voice. And me talking to no one.

    I’m not going to be writing much tonight. My brain is tired from the Crossword puzzle tournament I attended in the city today: Lollapuzzoola. I loved it and did better than in the last one I went to, but I think the puzzles here were easier, and that was the consensus at my table — that most of them were a bit too easy. But there were five of them, plus the schlep in and out of the city, and you have to understand I haven’t done any real work since 1986. So I’m a little tired.

    It was lucky that I signed up a few days ago, because they reached capacity and stopped selling tickets at some point.

    The way it works is you earn points on each puzzle. You get a certain number for each correctly filled square with a 100-point bonus if they are all correct. And you earn a point for every second left on the clock. For example, if it’s a 20-minute puzzle and you finish in 15:35, you earn 265 “time” points — for four minutes (240 seconds) and 25 seconds under 20:00.

    They had an interesting side feature. Everyone got 8 tickets to use if you wanted to. Each could “buy” you an answer. Say you were stuck on 15 across and you needed it to open things up. You write 15A on a ticket and hold it up. Someone comes and gives you the answer. But it costs you 25 points to do that and you cannot earn the 100-point bonus if you do that. I didn’t use any of my tickets. There were 7 of us at my table and only one solver used a ticket once.

    I was able to complete all five puzzles and I earned the 100 bonus points on four of them. I had only one wrong on the other one, so pretty damn good, right? But I didn’t rack up enough points on time to really score high. Out of 170 solvers in my category, I finished at #97. But get this — I finished six slots ahead of Seth who constructed that puzzle we discussed that appeared in the WSJ this week. How the hell did that happen? Nancy — find out if he wasn’t really trying or if he was sick or something.

    This was very funny IMO — the fifth puzzle was a tuchas extravaganza — how great is that? The theme was PIN THE TAIL ON THE DONKEY, and there were a bunch of long answers all containing the letters ASS in circles (as part of other words). But they each had two clues and you had to answer it first normally on the paper, and then “pin” the alternate (second) answer onto the second S in the ASS (the “tail” of the donkey). They gave us little pin thingies.

    They gave away individually packaged OREOs — Oreo being the official cookie of Crossworld, for obvious reasons. So I grabbed a bunch and threw them in my bag. On the subway down to Penn Station the prettiest little 2-year-old girl got on with her mom and sat down next to me. I asked the mom if she was allowed to have cookies and gave her one of the little packages. It turns out Oreos are her favorite! Hooray!

    See you tomorrow — thanks for popping in! If you skipped the John Prine song, scroll back up and listen to it!

  • Big Ben

    I had an appointment with an oral sturgeon today. I’m having two wisdom teeth taken out. I like “taken out” better than “extracted.” Taken out sounds like they’re going on a date; extracted is serious shit with “implements.”

    He went over the x-rays with me and agreed with my dentist (Kevin) that it was wise to remove them. He said his assistant would set up the date, shook my hand, and left the room. She brought up the calendar on her computer and asked me if November 14th was okay — a Thursday, at 5pm. I said it was. Then she said she’d meet me out front with some papers.

    The papers said it would cost $625 per tooth and that it was scheduled for September 14th at 5pm. So I said to her, “Is it September? You said November.” And she said, “It is September. I may have said November in the room.” And I said “On purpose?” And she said, “No, why would I do that?” And I said, “Right.”

    Does stuff like that happen to you too, or am I just lucky?

    Trump’s lawyer was making the rounds of the Sunday TV news shows trying out defenses – trying to find one that doesn’t bring on howls of laughter. I think my favorite was that Trump was only being “aspirational” and not conspiratorial. When he asked Georgia’s Sec’y of State Ben Roethlisberger on the phone to find 11,780 votes, he was just “hoping” they could be found, you know, aspiring to them.

    I had to fill out a form for the doc today and it asked for my height and weight. In that spirit, I added an inch and subtracted ten pounds. I was being aspirational.

    And, btw, Mr. or Ms. Smarty Pants, I know the Georgia guy’s name is Brad Raffensperger. Here’s Big Ben.

    Anais NIN was in the puzzle today, clued with “‘Little Birds’ eroticist.” She’s a popular puzzle presence for obvious reasons. She was born in France in 1903 to Cuban parents: her dad the composer Joaquin Nin, and her mom a classically trained singer, Rosa Culmell.

    She started keeping journals at age 11 and kept them her whole life. They detailed her private thoughts, including those about her two marriages, many affairs, and personal relationships. She also published novels, essays, and the collections of erotica, Delta of Venus and Little Birds. She was one of the earliest, and is considered one of the finest, writers of female erotica, not that I would know. Nin was a friend, and in some cases lover, of many literary figures, including Henry Miller, John Steinbeck, Antonin Artaud, Edmund Wilson, Gore Vidal, James Agee, Tom Brady, and Lawrence Durrell. (Alright, maybe not Brady.) Many of her diaries were published, of course, and Delta of Venus was made into a movie with the actress Audie England.

    Nin married Hugh Parker Guiler, a banker and artist, in 1923. But things got a little sticky when she met actor Robert Pole in 1947 in an elevator when she was 44 and he was 28. They married eight years later but she was kinda sorta still married to Guiler. So, get this — things hit the fan when both husbands claimed her on their tax returns. You can’t make this stuff up. The second marriage was annulled. She died of cervical cancer in 1977, but lives on with great popularity in Crossworld.

    On the diamond, Jon Singleton of the Astros homered last Friday, which is no big deal, except that it had been eight years and thirteen days since his previous home run, the longest gap for a non-pitcher since Rafael Belliard went ten years and 144 days between dingers back in ’87 – ’97. Here’s what’s amazing about Singleton, though. He hit another one 26 minutes later!

    Singleton spent much of the time between HRs in the minors, or suspended for failing drug tests. He’s admitted to being addicted to marijuana. Owl Chatter hopes he makes it. He’ll be 32 next month.

    Teams like to win their series. For example, the Gnats just played Boston three games in a row, and it was a goal for them to take 2 out of 3 (as they did, surprisingly). Similarly, you very much want not to be swept in a series — you know, lose all of the games. Which brings us to the Orioles, who are having a very good year this year. As of this weekend, they have avoided being swept 78 series in a row. That’s the best streak since 1944 and the fourth best streak ever, in MLB history. The ’42-’44 Cards went 125 series without being swept; the 1903-1905 Giants went 106 series; and the ’22-’24 Yanks went 83 series. Here’s an oriole like you don’t usually see them: taking off. And, then, below, a finch, a zebra finch, not in olive drab.

    This poem is from Winter Morning Walks, by Ted Kooser.

    Our finch feeder, full of thistle seed
    oily and black as ammunition,
    swings wildly in the wind, and the finches
    in olive drab like little commandos
    cling to the perches, six birds at a time,
    ignoring the difficult ride.

    Tomorrow’s the Lollapuzzoola tournament in the city. Getting nervous. Thanks for popping by.

  • Close Your Eyes

    Philip L. Sherman, who died last Wednesday in his home in Englewood NJ at age 67, loved his work and was very very good at it. He was a mohel, pronounced moyle, i.e., he performed ritual circumcisions, around 26,000 of them, according to his website emoil.com, which was also his license plate.

    According to his obit in today’s NYT by Sam Roberts, a circumcision would normally take him only 15 seconds and he’d be out the door in about ten minutes, especially if he was illegally parked with a sign on his windshield saying: “Mazel Tov! Bris in progress — please don’t ticket!”

    The most he performed in a day was eleven, which included two pairs of twins. That’s a lot considering they need to be performed during the daylight (a requirement I wasn’t aware of). He was an equal opportunity mohel, happy to work for Muslim and Christian infant boys too. He circumcised the son of a man he had circumcised as an infant, and the grandsons of two Israeli prime ministers. He performed circumcisions in Hong Kong, the Cayman Islands, and a bar on Third Avenue (for a family who lived upstairs: L’chaim!).

    His services did not come cheap. “You pay $800 for a steady hand and a good reputation,” Scott Stringer, the former NYC comptroller, told The NYT after his son was circumcised by Sherman. “It’s not the kind of thing where you’re looking to save money.” But Sherman said he did not turn away families who could not afford his fee.

    He also occasionally worked as an actor. He played a judge on Orange Is the New Black and appeared in an episode of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. He was also cast in the Paul Rudd movie Our Idiot Brother. “I played a mohel, but the scene was cut,” he said. [We’ll just tiptoe away from that line.]

    When the actress and comedian Whoopi Goldberg told him that she hated attending a bris, Sherman offered her a suggestion. “The next time you go to one,” he advised, “do what I do: Close your eyes.” (Just kidding, he added.)

    Sherman is survived by a daughter and two sons from his marriage to Naomi Freistat, which ended in divorce; his brothers; and six grandchildren. His marriage to Andrea Raab also ended in divorce. Sherman performed the brises for his sons and his grandsons. Voo den?

    He was riding the subway once, late at night, and looked up to find himself surrounded by three knife-wielding thugs who asked him for money. He told them he had to get it from his satchel and then reached into it. [You can finish that story as well as I can — try not to make it too bloody.]

    I had to get this photo from the NYT. It’s the only assignment Phil ever turned down from us. He just crossed his legs and said, “Uh-uh.”

    Getting back to Seth’s WSJ puzzle from yesterday a bit, here’s a rocking tune from the late John Hiatt for us.

    And Seth’s clue for SAX was “Lisa Simpson’s instrument.” Here she is (a short clip):

    Today’s NYT puzzle included EFFA MANLEY, the only woman inducted into the baseball Hall of Fame. She was co-owner of the Newark Eagles in the Negro Leagues with her husband. I was able to fill in the answer because I have a bobblehead doll of her.

    She worked effectively to improve the pay and conditions of Negro League players. She was very active on civil rights issues, staging a major boycott of hundreds of stores in Harlem that wouldn’t hire Blacks (they caved). In 1939 she held an “Anti-Lynching Day” at Newark’s Ruppert Stadium, selling buttons that read “Stop Lynching,” to support efforts to pass federal anti-lynching legislation. Here’s her HOF plaque in Cooperstown:

    Today’s constructor was Erik Agard, whose puzzles are always very good. He had a few cute ones: “Wow, that’s upside down!” was MOM (Get it?) And “( and )” was ARCS. That was tough. Each of “(” and “)” is an arc.

    Did you know that “Chuffed” means GLAD? Me neither. Last, “Make out sloppily in the library?” was MISREAD. What were you thinking? Does that one jar any memories?

    I’m going turn out the lights now and let those two enjoy themselves. See you tomorrow!

  • Exoneration!

    Owl Chatter friend Delaware Nancy texted us last night with the news that Wendy and Simon’s son Seth has an XW puzzle of his in today’s Wall Street Journal. If you go to WSJ.com/puzzles you should be able to find it. It’s called “In the Can.” There’s good stuff in it, but I’m only going to chatter about it later (below) in case you want to take some time and work on it. Just one point — the answer at 44A is amazing.

    In case you thought there might be one tiny shred of decency or sanity in Giuliani from his early days as a prosecutor or when he was “America’s Mayor” on 9/11, his statement yesterday on his indictment in Georgia leaves no doubt that that isn’t the case. Here it is:

    “This is an affront to American Democracy and does permanent, irrevocable harm to our justice system. It’s just the next chapter in a book of lies with the purpose of framing President Donald Trump and anyone willing to take on the ruling regime. They lied about Russian collusion, they lied about Joe Biden’s foreign bribery scheme, and they lied about Hunter Biden’s laptop hard drive proving 30 years of criminal activity. The real criminals here are the people who have brought this case forward both directly and indirectly.”

    Is “permanent, irrevocable” redundant?  

    Trump’s calm and reasoned response is even funnier. It makes you want to live until Monday.

    He promised on Truth Social that next Monday he will present “A Large, Complex, Detailed but Irrefutable REPORT on the Presidential Election Fraud which took place in Georgia,” saying the report “is almost complete.” He went on: “Based on the results of this CONCLUSIVE Report, all charges should be dropped against me & others—There will be a complete EXONERATION!”

    He just has to put the finishing touches on it. For Monday. I guess we should reserve judgment until we see it. You know, to be fair.

    Today’s NYT puzzle was all about the Taj Mahal. Remember what it looks like?

    Well, the grid tried to portray it.

    You can see the TOMB on the bottom, and the circled letters spell TAJ MAHAL on top, forming the dome. There’s a lot of info on it in the puzzle as well, e.g., the builder was SHAH JAHAN, at 38D, which was news to me.

    To no surprise, it also conjured up the blues singer Taj Mahal for many in the gang. He was born in Harlem, is still living, and is 81. He shares his birthday with my Caitlin, who hit the planet 44 years after he did. This version of him singing Corrina was taped just 7 and a half years ago.

    After watching a zillion ballgames starting when I was seven or eight, I love that I still often learn new rules, or see things I’ve never seen before. That happened twice this week.

    First, let me remind you that if there are runners on first and third, or the bases are loaded, and the batter hits a ground ball to short which is turned into a traditional double play by the infielders with the runner scoring from third, the batter is not credited with an RBI. That I knew. Here’s what happened in the Gnats-Red Sox game last gnight. (I may be off on some of the details.)

    The bases were loaded with Bostoners with no outs. The batter flied out to right field and the runner tagged up and scored from third. But another runner also tagged up and was thrown out. It was a double play, but on that type of double play, the batter is credited with an RBI. Neat, eh? The second out does not diminish the batter’s accomplishment of plating the run.

    The second occurrence was in the Mets game against Pittsburgh on Monday. Let me remind you that if a runner runs out of the base path to avoid a tag, the ump should call him out for doing so. OK, the Pirates had the bases loaded with no outs. The batter hit a ground ball to Pete Alonso, the first baseman. The runner from first ran around Pete and was called out by the ump for leaving the base path. Alonso then rifled the ball home where the runner from third was tagged out. Ouch! if you’re the Pirates — two outs and no runs.

    But the Mets’ announcers (the excellent Gary Cohen and Keith Hernandez) explained that the Pirates were robbed (hmm, that’s a reversal). Even though the runner from first ran around Alonso (i.e., and out of the base path), Alonso never tried to tag him. And the runner should only be called out if he’s “avoiding a tag.” Hernandez (a Gold Glove first-baseman in his day) said Alonso was supposed to make some tagging gesture towards the runner but didn’t. Wow — that was all new to me. And to the ump, apparently. The Pirate manager argued the point but it was not reviewable and the out stood.

    BTW, I mentioned above that Hernandez was a gold glove winner — well, he won it eleven years in a row, the most gold gloves by any first-baseman in MLB history. (Don Mattingly is second with nine.) [Who never won one. (Get it?)] Here’s Hernandez responding to one of Phil’s terrible jokes. Don’t encourage him Keith! You have no idea what we go through here at OC.

    OK, did I leave you enough time to do Seth’s puzzle? It’s called “In the Can” because it stars OSCAR THE GROUCH, a long answer, and includes the GARBAGE PAIL KIDS, a LITTER BOX, a JUNK MAIL FOLDER, and TRASH TALK. It also includes great old time folkies John HIATT and Bonnie RAITT — the kid was raised right! But my favorite answer was at 44A. It was DAAE. What? Can’t be right, right? But it is — It’s Christine Daae, a character in “The Phantom of the Opera” — a fictional character. Great find, Seth!

    Here she is played by Mary Philbin in the 1925 film.

    And here’s a more recent portrayal by the exquisite Emily Rossum.

    I can see the resemblance.

    See you tomorrow! Thanks for popping in.

  • Zadie’s Lager

    T-shirt seen at Penn Station today, on a Black guy around 35 or 40: “In my defense, I was left unattended.”

    So, wow, Wander Franco has been accused of doing some improper “wandering.” He’s the 22-year-old superstar shortstop the Tampa Rays signed to a $182 million 11-year contract last year. He’s from the Dominican Republic, one of the leading exports of which is shortstops. He is married with one son. The concern is whether he has been consorting with a 14-year-old girl. The girl is Loredana Chevalier, below, quite a mouthful. [The name, the name.]

    Owl Chatter photographer extraordinaire Phil was able to snare one of the few known photos of the young lady before being thrown out of the apartment by her dad. (Phil would like us to know he’s been thrown out of much finer places than that. We’re with you buddy!)

    For everyone’s sake, we hope there’s no truth to the story. It does, however, give new meaning to the notion of working your way up the minors.

    I’m going share two plays of Franco’s with you. The first one (click the link) shows you how good he is, and the second (the video) shows you he’s a bit of a hot dog.

    https://www.mlb.com/video/steven-kwan-grounds-out-shortstop-wander-franco-to-first-baseman-yandy-di

    This poem is called “Home Movies: A Sort of Ode,” and it’s by Mary Jo Salter. It’s today’s Poem of the Day from The Poetry Foundation. It rewards rereadings, IMHO.

    Because it hadn’t seemed enough,
    after a while, to catalogue
    more Christmases, the three-layer cakes
    ablaze with birthday candles, the blizzard
    Billy took a shovel to,
    Phil’s lawnmower tour of the yard,
    the tree forts, the shoot-’em-ups
    between the boys in new string ties
    and cowboy hats and holsters,
    or Mother sticking a bow as big
    as Mouseketeer ears in my hair,

    my father sometimes turned the gaze
    of his camera to subjects more
    artistic or universal:
    long closeups of a rose’s face;
    a real-time sunset (nearly an hour);
    what surely were some brilliant autumn
    leaves before their colors faded
    to dry beige on the aging film;
    a great deal of pacing, at the zoo,
    by polar bears and tigers caged,
    he seemed to say, like him.

    What happened between him and her
    is another story. And just as well
    we have no movie of it, only
    some unforgiving scowls she gave
    through terrifying, ticking silence
    when he must have asked her (no
    sound track) for a smile.
    Still, what I keep yearning for
    isn’t those generic cherry
    blossoms at their peak, or the brave
    daffodil after a snowfall,

    it’s the re-run surprise
    of the unshuttered, prefab blanks
    of windows at the back of the house,
    and how the lines of aluminum
    siding are scribbled on with meaning
    only for us who lived there;
    it’s the pair of elephant bookends
    I’d forgotten, with the upraised trunks
    like handles, and the books they meant
    to carry in one block to a future
    that scattered all of us.

    And look: it’s the stoneware mixing bowl
    figured with hand-holding dancers
    handed down so many years
    ago to my own kitchen, still
    valueless, unbroken. Here
    she’s happy, teaching us to dye
    the Easter eggs in it, a Grecian
    urn of sorts near which—a foster
    child of silence and slow time
    myself—I smile because she does
    and patiently await my turn.

    If you’re looking for a beer with that “old-timey, oy-my-back-hurts” taste, try some of this. It’s by the Union Craft Brewery in Baltimore. You can see it says “For Drinking” on top, in case you forgot why you went to get one.

    From the Dirty Old Man Sports Department, word has reached us that devoted female Green Bay Packer fans have supplemented the “cheesehead” with the “cheese bra.”

    For the discerning Owl Chatter reader who just has to have one, and who isn’t lactose intolerant, our exhaustive research has uncovered a used one selling for $80 on eBay, and one that will run you just $20 on Amazon.

    In today’s puzzle, I learned the word RETCON. The clue was “Literary device that revises a previously established narrative, for short.” The full term is retroactive continuity. It’s when a show uses some gimmick to completely reverse what was happening so that it can return to something, e.g., Frank’s death turned out to be a dream of Ella’s so the last ten episodes never “really” happened, so the actor who played Frank can return to the show.

    I also learned GODDESS LOCS (29A): “Crocheted hair extensions.” I had trouble with the K missing from LOCS. They can be pretty amazing.

    The nitpickers grumbled about 51A. The clue was “Remove from its husk, as a peanut,” and the answer was UNSHELL. Some preferred SHELL, but technically unshell is correct.

    The Hindu Spring festival (HOLI) crossed the gymnast Suni LEE. I didn’t know them, so I crashed. Ouch — a DNF on a Tuesday — not very impressive as I head towards the tournament Saturday. Here’s Suni (short for Sunisa) Lee. She did very well in the Tokyo Olympics.

    We’ll let Sunisa’s pretty smile send us off tonight. See you tomorrow. I have to go order Linda one of those $20 cheese bras now. Seems like the perfect Labor Day gift, no?

  • Yentl Floss

    YENTL was in the puzzle today, Barbra Streisand’s role. I never saw that movie. Streisand is 81 years old now and has been married to James Brolin for 25 years. She has one child from her previous marriage to Elliot Gould: Jason Gould, who is 56 and an actor/singer. He came out as gay to his parents when he was 21, and was outed by tabloids when he was 25. A few years later, Streisand said this of him in an interview in The Advocate, an LGBT publication:

    “I would never wish for my son to be anything but what he is. He is bright, kind, sensitive, caring, and a very conscientious and good person. He is a very gifted actor and filmmaker. What more could a parent ask for in their child? I have been truly blessed. Most parents feel that their child is particularly special, and I am no different. I have a wonderful son. My only wish for my son, Jason, is that he continues to experience a rich life of love, happiness, joy, and fulfillment, both creatively and personally.”

    Thanks Mom!

    Here’s Jason. Phil caught up with him before he had a chance to shave. (Phil! WTF!) And you know his mom, below.

    Here’s something you have to see to believe. The clue at 30A was “Part of a sawfish that’s shaped like a chain saw,” and the answer was NOSE. First of all, kudos to constructors Simon Marotte and Trenton Lee Stewart for coming up with a neat clue for a pedestrian word. And check out the schnozz on this fellow. Amazing.

    They are also known as carpenter sharks and can be as big as 25-feet long. They are endangered and are found mostly now in Northern Australia and Florida.

    I remembered to try to solve the puzzle today using only the down clues and I got through most of it and enjoyed it. It’s a different solving experience. If you find the Monday puzzles too easy, give it a try.

    If, like me, you are having trouble getting Hernando’s Hideaway out of your head since I made Fernando’s Hideaway the title of yesterday’s post, it might help actually to hear the song. Phil doesn’t usually shoot videos, but he was kind enough to film Linda and me dancing to it.

    So, get this — as I was leaving my train today in the city, I noticed a wallety-clippy sort of thing under one of the seats so I picked it up. It was some sort of credit card/cash holder and had about 15 cards in it plus a wad of cash! At first I thought I would seek out the person’s info and call him or her or mail it, but then I remembered there is a lost-and-found at Penn Station right near the escalator I take to get out. I could just drop it off there. So I went up to the woman and plopped it down in front of her and said, “I found this on the train from Dover.” And she gave me the biggest smile for a good deed and thanked me very sweetly.

    Wait, what? Are you actually wondering if I stooped so low as to grab a twenty or two as a “reward?” I’m hurt that the thought even crossed your mind. Seriously.

    But if you can make it to the Owl Chatter Cafe later, the drinks are on me!

    Good night Chatter fans. I’m still a little under the weather from a cold. Gotta get some sleep. See you tomorrow.

  • Fernando’s Hideaway

    Hi everybody. It’s Welly and Wilma, the owls behind Owl Chatter. We don’t often appear here in person (in owl?), but we have a message on a topic that’s important to us.

    The movement for racial justice that was spawned by the George Floyd murder in May of 2020 reached into the Audubon Society. Chief Executive David Yarnold called for a long conversation on how the Society could become antiracist. But in the past three years, that conversation has degenerated into shouting. Complaints about workplace conditions and the treatment of minorities have arisen, as well as whether John James Audubon should be removed from the Society’s name. Yarnold has since quit along with several board members. Local chapters and donors are pulling away. As birds, we are heartsick over these developments.

    There is no question that Audubon contributed more to ornithological study than any other American ever, through his paintings and cataloging. But he was also a slave owner and a very active anti-abolitionist who argued strongly against emancipation. He was not a mensch. We know Washington and Jefferson owned slaves too, but they didn’t actively promote slavery as an institution.

    Local chapters in Seattle, NYC, and Chicago dropped Audubon from their name and the national board took up the question. But older, white donors, were miffed. One said:

    “If there was even the remotest thought of changing the name of National Audubon because John James Audubon, in a different time, in a different world and a different century owned, whatever it was, six slaves, I would resign from the Audubon. There’d be no further gifts from me for the Audubon.” [He owned nine.] Sadly, and gutlessly, the Board caved and voted against the name change. Looks to us like they elevated money over principles.

    The Society canceled its annual fund-raising gala, fearing protests, and the publishers of its field guides have weighed in with complaints, with Knopf saying they would remove the name Audubon from the guides it publishes.

    The Society has pledged to raise $25 million to support “marginalized communities,” and says “the vast number of donors and staff continue to stay with us — our name is just part of our identity.”

    We say “Hrummmmmph!”

    C’mon humans — get your act together — this shouldn’t have been a tough one. What the hell is wrong with you?

    Fernando Valenzuela, the Mexican pitcher who spent most of his career with the Dodgers, is the only player in MLB history to win the Cy Young Award and Rookie of the Year in the same year (1981). The Dodgers won the World Series that year too. Valenzuela pitched a complete game shutout on Opening Day and went on to win his first eight starts. “FernandoMania” had begun. The Mexican-American community exploded with love. He was the youngest of twelve children born to parents who were poor farmers in Etchohuaquila, a small town in the state of Sonora, Mexico. He’s 62 now.

    Valenzuela threw 107 complete games for LA in 320 starts, but so much pitching may have led to his early decline. The Dodgers released him when he was only 30. His lifetime record is 173-153, with an ERA of 3.48, and 2,074 strikeouts. Carl Hubbell famously struck out five consecutive batters in the 1934 All-Star game. Valenzuela tied that record in the 1986 All-Star game, whiffing Don Mattingly, Cal Ripken, Jesse Barfield, Lou Whitaker, and Ted Higuera. Both Hubbell and Fernando were known for their screwballs. Hubbell’s five victims were a little more impressive — all future Hall-of-Famers: Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Jimmie Foxx, Al Simmons, and Joe Cronin.

    We mention Fernando in Owl Chatter today because the Dodgers officially retired his number (34) this week. Kudos ‘Nando! Junior Gilliam and he are the only Dodgers not in the Hall of Fame to earn that honor. Here’s a shot of the autographed card of his in my collection.

    Today’s puzzle was all about pasta! Yum. The fun included: “Kitchen disaster with rotini?” — SPIRALS OUT OF CONTROL. “Self-serve spots at pasta bars?” — SHELL STATIONS. “Olive oil for a macaroni salad?” — ELBOW GREASE. “Aftermath of a farfalle dinner?” — BUTTERFLIES IN YOUR STOMACH.

    egsforbreakfast posted this wonderful adaptation of a Santayana quote:  “Those who forget the pasta are doomed to reheat it.” [Wow.]

    Apart from all the pasta dishes, an interesting clue/answer for me was at 6D: “Style of alternative rock with psychedelic influences.” The answer was SHOEGAZE. Have you heard of it?

    According to Rex and Wikipedia, SHOEGAZE belongs largely to a bygone era (late ’80s / early ’90s). Originally called shoegazing and sometimes conflated with “dream pop,” it’s a subgenre of indie and alternative rock characterized by its ethereal mixture of obscured vocals, guitar distortion and effects, feedback, and overwhelming volume. It emerged in Ireland and the UK in the late 1980s among neo-psychedelic groups who usually stood motionless during live performances in a detached, non-confrontational state. The name comes from the heavy use of effects pedals, as the performers were often looking down at their pedals during concerts. My Bloody Valentine is probably the biggest name in shoegaze. Here’s a selection:

    The clue at 7A was “Remove, as a cap,” and the answer was DOFF. Someone pointed out that putting a cap on is DON and noted the OFF/ON feature. In fact, doff comes from a contraction of “do off” and don from “do on.” Admit it readers — you are so much smarter since you started reading our Owl Chatter nonsense. A little? At all? Alright, never mind. Grumble, grumble.

    This story is from today’s Met Diary. It’s by Ali Pearlman and is called “Laundry Time.”

    Years ago, I lived in the East Village, in a walk-up on Sixth Street with an air shaft window above the Bangladeshi restaurants that lined the block.

    To do my laundry, I had to schlep to Launderette on Second Avenue. Under the harsh fluorescent lights there, I would see the same man every week, washing his restaurant’s heap of blue cloth napkins.

    The man had a patch of thinning hair. He was usually in an undershirt and chewing on a betel pepper. He would give me a red-toothed smile, and I would respond with a head-nod hello. He always looked tired.

    Seasons changed. The cost of time on the dryer went up 25 cents. It seemed like new owners had taken over. There was art on the walls.

    Then one day, the man with the napkins spoke to me.

    “My restaurant is closing,” he said, a bulging laundry sack at his feet.

    “I’m sorry to hear that,” I replied.

    He reached into the sack and dug out a bottle of wine.

    “For you,” he said, handing it to me. “My special laundry friend.”

    I just signed up to embarrass myself at this year’s Lollapuzzoola, a crossword tournament in NYC this Saturday. It’ll be my second in-person tournament. I finished in the bottom third in the first one, but loved it. I may have been the oldest person there. There are two levels: Express (for Superstars), and Local (for Earthlings). I asked them what level I should choose, noting that I pretty much can always finish the NYT Saturday puzzle. They suggested “Earthling” unless I normally finish it in around ten minutes. Ouch! — it usually takes me 25-30 min. Glad I asked! I’ll let you know how it goes.

    Your waitress tonight in the Owl Chatter Cafe is SARA. If you did today’s puzzle, you saw her at 97A, clued with “Singer Bareilles.” She sings stuff between shifts.

    That’s a pretty note to end on tonight. See you tomorrow!

  • Nock Nock Jokes are Perfectly Cromulent

    It was a good, tough puzzle today, as it should be on Saturday. It defeated me at two points, but so what? How tough? The first two words in the NE were CROMULENT and OUROBOROS. Ouch — amirite? I’ll get back to them later.

    One of the words that did me in was NOCKED. The clue was “Ready to fly, as an arrow.” A nock is the notch at the back of an arrow that lets you fit it against the bowstring (see below). It’s also the verb meaning to fit the arrow against the string. It led me to post the following on Rex’s site:

    I’m not knocking NOCKED (8D), I just never heard of it and it knocked me for a loop, especially since it crossed that serpentine thing that was also foreign to me (OUROBOROS).

    NOCK NOCK

    Who’s there?

    No, not that kind of knock!

    OK, go away then.

    My g’son Leon, who is six, works knock knock jokes like this:

    Leon: Knock knock

    Me: Who’s there?

    Leon: Who’s there?

    Me: Hey, that’s my line! but we’re already roaring by then.

    Regarding NOCK’s connocktion to bows and arrows:

    Knock knock

    Who’s there?

    Archery

    Archery who?

    Archery tree produced a ton of cherries this year.

    (Needs work.)

    Are you familiar with CROMULENT and its origin story? The writers on The Simpsons were challenged to make up two new words. So they had an episode that started off with a film about the founder of the town, Jedidiah Springfield. At the end he says: “A noble spirit embiggens the smallest man.” In the back of the room one teacher says to another that she hadn’t heard the word “embiggens” before moving to Springfield, and the other says “It’s a perfectly cromulent word.” And cromulent has entered the lexicon.

    Rex noted that cromulent “is as familiar to me as the air I breathe (the first decade of ‘The Simpsons’ being as close to a Holy Book as I have).” Amen to that, RP. I could happily live my life restricted to lines from The Simpsons and The Honeymooners.

    BTW, Springfield was chosen as the town for the Simpsons because there are so many of them. Matt Groening wanted everyone to think it was “their” Springfield. But he eventually admitted the “real” Springfield is the one in Oregon. And “giveaways” are the fact that many of the characters, e.g., Flanders, are named after streets in Portland OR.

    Our Phil was able to reproduce this iconic family pose, careful to include the little mouse-hole but unable to get all of Marge’s hair into the shot — he’s the best, but he’s not a miracle-worker. Good work getting the cat to sit still, Philly!

    The clue for OUROBOROS was “Serpentine symbol of rebirth, from the Greek for ‘tail-devouring.’” Here’s where I often post a photo, but I don’t like snakes and it’s too creepy.

    The second word I missed was COPYPASTA. I know, seriously, right? WTF? The clue was “Block of text duplicated and reposted online, in internet slang,” and that’s exactly what it means. It’s a block of text you highlight and copy, but instead of pasting into a document, you paste it online and it spreads. A related term is “creepy pasta” which is a scary story spread around the internet. (I’m not kidding.)

    A surreal example of copypasta (from Wikipedia) is “A drive into deep left field by Castellanos,” a phrase spoken by Thom Brennaman, a play-by-play announcer for the Cincinnati Reds, during a baseball game against Kansas City on August 19, 2020. Brennaman was replaced in the middle of the broadcast for a microphone gaffe in which he described an unnamed location as “one of the fag capitals of the world.” [Yikes!] While he apologized to listeners on the air, Reds outfielder Nick Castellanos hit a home run, which caused Brennaman to interrupt himself to deliver a home run call, describing the hit as a “drive into deep left field” before continuing with his apology. The surreal nature of the apology gave it notoriety in baseball internet culture, and has led to the phrase’s use as a copypasta.

    The actual quote was:  “I pride myself and think of myself as a man of faith, as there’s a drive into deep left field by Castellanos, it will be a home run. And so that’ll make it a 4-0 ballgame.” He’s on the Phils now, Castellanos, and he’s a dangerous hitter.

    If Seinfeld had (or was) the “show about nothing,” the Japanese have applied that concept to candy. One of Japan’s major candy companies, Kanro, produced a flavorless candy with no taste. On purpose. Its name was Flavorless (?) Candy. The “?” was part of the name. It was developed for people who wanted to moisten mouths that had gone dry from all-day mask wearing but without a sugar rush. But it remained popular even when mask-wearing declined. It was a conversation topic and was described as a marble in your mouth that slowly melts and disappears.

    It has moved the Japanese to Zenlike reflection on what the “taste of nothingness” is like, if anything. One likened it to “ice that is not cold.”

    “I asked myself: Why do you pay for this product?” said Ms. Kinoshita, who runs a vegetable pancake restaurant in Hiroshima. “The answer is maybe to put myself into a state of ‘nothingness.’”

    Candies generally have a short life in Japan and the tasteless candy is no longer on the market. As reported in the NYT, at a convenience store in Tokyo the other day, there were lots of candy flavors to choose from, including apple, mixed fruit, peach and soda. But there was one overarching similarity: They all tasted like something.

    Is Owl Chatter the blog about nothing? — Nonsense! See you tomorrow.

  • Falling

    Could you use a love poem today? Who couldn’t? This one is by Jane Attanucci and is from The Writer’s Almanac. It’s called “Falling.”

    I’ve fallen many times:
    the usual stumbles
    over secret schoolgirl crushes,
    head-over-heels for teen heartthrobs.
    I loved them all.

    I’ve fallen so many times:
    tripped down the aisle
    over husband, daughter, son.
    Madly and deeply,
    I love them all.

    I’ve fallen again and again:
    new friends, a mentor, a muse,
    numerous books, a few authors,
    four dear pups and a stranger, or two.
    I loved them all.

    I’ve fallen farther,
    fallen faster,
    now captivated, I tumble—
    enthralled with my grandchildren.
    I love them each, ever and all.

    Owl Chatter dedicates that poem to Zayde Hank Shrager, alav hashalom, who had a couple, and then some more, and then a few more. He’s the one who told me, before I had any, that grandchildren are one thing that isn’t overrated. He got that right. Miss you Buddy.

    Alex Haley was born on this date in 1921 in Ithaca, NY. He lived to the age of 70. He dropped out of college and joined the Coast Guard, eventually becoming their Chief Journalist. After that, he conducted interviews for Playboy. In that capacity, he interviewed Ali, MLK, Jr., Miles Davis, and others. His interview of Malcolm X turned into the book, The Autobiography of Malcolm X.

    In the 60’s, Haley began researching his genealogy and traced his family back to Gambia, where he interviewed tribal historians. But he felt removed from the experience of the people who were captured and sold into slavery. “I asked myself, what right had I to be sitting in a carpeted high-rise apartment writing about what it was like in the hold of a slave ship?” he said. So he booked passage on a Liberian ship bound for America, and slept on a board in the hold wearing nothing but his underwear.

    Ten years of travel and research resulted in Roots: The Saga of an American Family, which covered seven generations of his family starting with a slave in the 18th century. It won the Pulitzer Prize, and the TV adaptation became the most-watched show in history, at that time.

    On the darker side, Haley paid out $650,000 to settle a plagiarism charge by Harold Courlander (3 million in today’s dollars), admitting material from Courlander’s book was used in Roots. And some of Haley’s research was found to be fudged. Haley and his work have been excluded from the Norton Anthology of African-American Literature, despite his status as the best-selling Black author in the U.S. 

    Which reminds me — get this — you know Brahms’ Variations on a Theme by Haydn? Sure you do. Well, it turns out the theme is not by Haydn! We’ve been duped!! So was Brahms!

    Brahms composed the work on a theme entitled “Chorale St. Antoni,” which he found in a wind ensemble composition attributed to Haydn. Naturally, Brahms credited it to Haydn. However, music publishers in the early nineteenth century often attached the names of famous composers to works by unknown or lesser-known composers, to make the pieces more saleable. Subsequent research concluded that the wind piece does not fit Haydn’s style and it remains without clear attribution. Brahms’ piece is sometimes referred to as the Saint Anthony Variations today.

    In any event, here’s a bunch of hacks from Germany fumbling their way through the damn thing. Towards the end, several of the female cellists tear their blouses off — otherwise, it’s a complete waste of time.

    Not much to chatter about in the puzzle today. The clue for 50A was “Name of three czars of Bulgaria,” and the answer was BORIS. Who? Czar Boris? That doesn’t ring any bells. And there were three of them. Rex said he had the first two letters: BO, so he starting thinking of 5-letter names that started with BO and quickly dismissed BOBBY. I don’t know — Czar Bobby sounds cool.

    The (tough) clue at 69A was “Fodder for a literature test,” and the answer was PASSAGES. I might have clued it: “Nasal _________.” At 36A, “Sole employer,” was COBBLER. (Get it? — think sole of a shoe.) And “Continental, e.g.,” was the clue for LINCOLN. When I was eleven (1961), they looked like this. Hop in, Babe.

    See you tomorrow — speeding off now.

  • Leggo My Ego!

    The puzzle was pun-centric yesterday. Hence, “Rule that forbids singing hymns to the devil?” was NO CHANTS IN HELL.

    Anoa Bob had an interesting comment: I never thought of CHANTS being the same as “singing hymns,” as clued. CHANTS seem more monophonically repetitive and meant to create an inward meditative state while I’ve always thought of hymns as polyphonic songs of praise and adoration sent outward to some divine presence. A quick peek online shows CHANT and hymn as synonyms so I sit corrected. (But I still think they are different.)

    Would this be a good clue/answer, or is it insulting to the Japanese? How do you ask for an “egg-white only” omelet in Tokyo? Ans: YOKO ONO.

    Today’s puzzle was Freudian. A clue for IMPULSE CONTROL was “A Freudian concept of resisting temptation.” And it was cleverly built into the grid in four squares where the letters for EGO had to be shmooshed into one square for the across answer, but ID was needed to replace it for the down answer.

    For example: The clue at 34A was “Dish near a water cooler?” and the answer was OFFICE GOSSIP. But it only fit into the available spaces if you put the EGO into one square (that’s called a rebus). And the clue at 6D (the answer for which crossed OFFICE GOSSIP), was “Title lyric that precedes ‘There’ll be days like this’ in a Shirelles classic.” The answer, of course, was MAMA SAID, but it only fit if you changed the EGO to ID in that square where the words crossed. And that happened four times in the grid. So, in a way, the ego was suppressing the id, hence the “impulse control.”

    Surprisingly, it all came to me pretty cleanly while Rex made a few missteps and struggled mightily with it. It took him a long time to see the trick, and at one point the EGO business was confusing him so much, he just screamed LEGGO MY EGO!

    At 65A, “Certain gastropod” (not be confused with gastropub (burp!)), was SEA SLUG. It sounds pretty disgusting, but take a look at these:

    If you saw the remarkable Oscar-winning documentary Searching for Sugar Man in 2012, you will be sad to learn that Rodriguez passed away on Tuesday at the age of 81. He had three daughters, and was Detroit to the bone.

    I won’t do justice to the story: you should try to see the film. Briefly, he was a singer/songwriter performing in clubs in Detroit and he got noticed. (Some compared him to Dylan, but personally I don’t see it.) Anyway, he produced a couple of albums but they didn’t sell. What can you do? It’s so hard to break through. This was in the 70’s. But it turned out that copies made it across to Australia and South Africa (which was then under apartheid). He became super popular, especially in South Africa where he sold more albums than Elvis. But the world was much less wired then, and word of his popularity did not reach the U.S. Rodriguez himself had no idea. In fact, as the years went by a rumor took hold that he was dead — that he died on stage. Of course, he hadn’t — he just slipped into obscurity, working in construction or office jobs in Detroit, still playing in small clubs.

    But then a record store owner in Cape Town, Stephen Segerman, developed an interest in him and started tracking down his story, thinking he was dead. He joined up with a journalist and they eventually found him, alive! A sold-out tour of six dates in South Africa followed (in 5,000-seat venues). This was in 1998. He also toured in Europe, and when the film came out, his popularity popped in the U.S. too. During his years of obscurity, he earned a BA in Philosophy at Wayne State. Our photographer Phil got a nice shot of him before he passed. And you can hear him performing Sugar Man below that. Rest in peace, son of Detroit.

    Bad gnews for the Gnats: they suffered an ignominious defeat last gnight — a gno hitter at the hands of Mike Lorenzen of the Phillies — the first gno-gno ever suffered in Gnats history! I watched the last few innings. Lorenzen was helped by a bad third strike call by the ump on Joey Meneses, the penultimate batter. But that happens — it’s part of the game. Lorenzen deserved it. Here he is: wet, cold, and joyous.

    Let’s close tonight with this poem by John Daniel called “After the Wedding.” It was in today’s Writer’s Almanac, and the poet dedicated it “for Marilyn.”

    After the white balloons were swept away
    on the wind that had swallowed
    most of our vows, after the embraces
    and tears, the flung rose petals,
    after new friends and old friends and aunts
    from everywhere, after you tossed
    the bouquet, and the cries of the children
    raised coyote cries on the rim,
    after chicken grilled on juniper coals,
    cold beer from the cattle trough
    and hours of hot dancing to Beatles and Stones,
    the last of us swaying arms on shoulders,
    singing ourselves hoarse,
    how good it is
    to find you now beyond all
    the loud joy, driving north in rain
    and the lovely ease of our silence.

    See you tomorrow, everybody! Thanks for popping by.