KABLOOEY! What a great word to have in a puzzle! The clue was simply “Shot.” Tough puzzle, at least for me. Right off the bat, the clue at 1A was “Fire-breathing antagonist of Mario in the Mario universe,” and I had no idea the answer was BOWSER. Compounding the crime, the clue at 16D was “Turtle-shelled flunky of 1-Across.” I was supposed to know that’s KOOPA TROOPA. And did you know ANGELICA is a “Sweet wine of California?” That’s what it is on a Saturday — on a Monday it/she might be ANGELICA Huston. The clues make a puzzle easy or hard; not the answers. That’s why at tournaments the different levels of difficulty can have the same answers.

Hi Babe — Wow — looking good, AH! Doesn’t seem like you’re getting in, Phil. Just back away buddy.

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This story is a paean to bad jokes. It’s from tomorrow’s Met Diary and is by Joanna Decamp.

Dear Diary:

The Museum of Modern Art beckoned that late fall day, but it was packed. My favorite pieces were obscured by the crowds.

Stopped in front of Matisse’s “Dance” for a quiet moment, I noticed a young man standing slightly behind me. I don’t remember what he said but we began walking through the gallery together before circling back to the Matisse.

Would I join him in a cup of coffee” he asked.

I nodded.

A wry smile emerged on his otherwise serious face.

“I don’t know if I can find a cup big enough!” he said.

I laughed.

Fifty-two years later, the dance continues.

Just a smidge to the right, fellas! Easy does it!

And here’s a joke:

So this woman passes away and her husband calls the minister of their church, and the minister says he’ll take care of setting up a beautiful service. And he does. The choir sings beautifully, the minister makes a lovely eulogy, and six handsome young men from the congregation take up the coffin to carry it out the back of the church. But they have to carry it through a narrow hallway, and there’s a turn in it, and they bump the coffin into the wall. The bump knocks the top off and the wife’s body is thrown forward, and, miraculously, she comes back to life!! Incredible! It’s written up in the local papers and viewed as a miracle.

Eight years go by. She dies. I guess we can say she dies again. So the minister sets up another service. The choir sings beautifully again, and the minister makes another lovely eulogy, this time including the amazing story. Then, again, six handsome young men (a different six) pick up the coffin to walk it out back. When they get to the turn in the hall, the husband jumps out of his seat and yells: “Careful around that turn, fellas! Easy does it now!!”

Enough was enough.

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Scottish actress/filmmaker Karen Gillan was in the puzzle, a newcomer as far as I can tell. But redheads are always welcome. Thanks for stopping by, KG. Can’t offer you a Diet Pepsi for about seven years. Sorry. Our soda man George is in jail. But sit down — take a load off. Thanks for dropping in.

What was Phil doing for this shot? Jeez Louise. If looks could kill . . . .

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Have you noticed that every once in a while, life picks you up by your neck, hurls you against the wall, and gives you a good kick in the ribs? Our beautiful grandson Isaac, Caity’s and Dan’s youngest, was in the ICU the last two nights with infected kidneys and soaring blood pressure from an undetected case of strep throat. But the latest report is that he’s responding well to treatment. And Caity sent us this shot of him with the caption “Just chillin’.”

We love you Izzy! Please don’t scare us again. I’m running out of heart pills.

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Here’s another piece from tomorrow’s Met Diary. It’s by Richard Younger and is a paean to the subway.

Dear Diary:

The lady with butterfly eyelashes is tapping furiously at her phone. The motorman is singing “I’ve been working on the railroad” in a rich basso.

The local mariachis are playing “La Bamba” for the third time, so I give them my last dollar and board the N.

It’s half past Canal Street and a quarter to Union Square. Of course, I’m running late.

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Are these what he meant by butterfly eyelashes? Maybe not.

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I’m going to team up with the veteran Rex commenter Egs now for some wordplay in the service of a few seriously bad jokes. Here’s a bunch of answers from today’s puzzle with their clues in parens: TO DATE (So far); SARONG (Bit of unisex attire); AWLS (Some tools for saddlers); CASES (Hungarian has 18 of them (yikes!)).

This is what we came up with:

Egs:

Friend 1: Hey, have you found any interesting girls on eharmony?
Friend 2: None TODATE. But, say, do we have enough beer for the party?
Friend 1: We’ve got more CASES than the Hungarian language!
Friend 2: 19?

Me:

AWLS well that ends well.

One SARONG may be a bit of unisex attire, but two SARONGs don’t make a saright.

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So what does two sarongs make? A good time, judging by these ladies.

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Speaking of good times, did somebody say “mariachi band?” Ever see one? I mean a real one? Years ago Sam and I were down in Laredo Texas for my nephew Jared’s wedding (Hi Sam!), and Jared’s work buddies surprised him by having a mariachi band suddenly appear in the middle of the reception. They were fantastic — the horns, the outfits — best wedding gift ever. It was an outdoor wedding but they blew the roof off the damn place.

That was the same trip we spent time in San Antonio and visited The Alamo. I remember!

Check out this band. Turn it up! Wake up the neighborhood!

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Was talking to friend who said his kid went to a really tough school. It’s the only high school he knows where the school paper has an obituary section. At parent-teacher night, some guy pulled a knife on him. He knew it wasn’t a pro, though — there was butter on it. He asked a cop how long it took to walk to the subway and the cop said “I don’t know — no one’s ever made it.”

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Whew. That does sound like a tough school. See you tomorrow.

If you are old enough, did you like Ike? I was only six when he defeated Adlai. What a descent from Ike down to You-Know-Whom for the GOP. Anyway, I mention Ike to illustrate a new word millions of people learned from Carolyn Davies Lynch, the constructor of today’s NYTXW. The clue was “Hypocorism for Harold,” and the answer was HAL. So we learned that hypocorism is one fancy-ass word for “pet name.”

Ike is one of the few non-sports figures whose autograph I have in my collection. I read in some collector’s newsletter that DDE was signing autographs for folks who wrote to him at his farm in Pennsylvania to which he retired. So I wrote a nice note to him and he sent a nice hand-signed reply. Here he is with wife Mamie.

I have Nixon, too, which I got in person!! I was at a Yankee game and waited outside the players’ exit for autographs after the game. I noticed that a circle had formed on the sidewalk around someone who was signing, so I wormed my way in, put my Yankee program and a pen in front of him and got the signature. It was Nixon! It was after his time as Governor of CA and before he became Prez. He was with a law firm in NY and happened to go to the Yankee game that day. My brush with history.

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Another new word from today’s puzzle was “syzygy.” The clue was “Half of a Jungian syzygy,” and the answer was ANIMA. Syzygy, I learned, is mostly used in astronomy to describe the relationship of three or more astronomical bodies in a gravitational system, e.g., the Earth, Sun, and Moon during an eclipse.

Of course, that clue today, above, has nothing to do with astronomy, so I didn’t know what the hell was going on. But Deb Amien looked it up for us and wrote this in today’s NYT Wordplay column: A syzygy is a pair of opposites that are connected in some way, such as yin and yang. In Jungian psychology, the ANIMA and the animus are syzygies. Put simply, the ANIMA is the unconscious feminine side of a man, and the animus is the unconscious masculine side of a woman.

Uh, okay.

And “Rooibos,” if you must know, from 23A, is a RED TEA from South Africa. Lots of weird sh*t in the grid today.

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At 17D, “Ladle cradle” was SPOONREST, which generated this vituperative comment from Les S. More:

“I have cooked almost all of my life. At age twelve I was the chief cook for a family of seven. Both my parents worked full time, my mother often taking on 2 jobs. We kids had to chip in and I chose to cook. At university my soon-to-be-wife and I would host dinners for fellow students with menus supplied by Gourmet and Bon Appetit magazines. I’ve taught my kids to cook.They are all better than me and one of them is a professional chef. None of them, nor I, would ever be caught dead with a SPOONREST on the counter beside our stoves. You’ve got to put that spoon somewhere, why not just place it on the counter. If your counter is so fragile that it can’t take that kind of horrendous abuse, place a cutting board there and plop your gunky utensils on it. Have a cloth handy to wipe up as you go. SPOONRESTs are the doilies of the kitchen. Get rid of them.”

SRSLY? I replied: “Saddened by this blatant display of antispoonrestarianism. Can’t we all just get along?”

Here’s a syzygy of spoonrests.

The very first clue today, at 1A, was “Toy that’s often quadrilateral with symmetry across its diagonal.” (4 letters.) Got it? KITE. So the next time someone tells you to go fly a quadrilateral with symmetry across its diagonal, you should feel miffed.

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Our group, and Linda and I personally, suffered a very big loss this week with the sudden passing of Dan Reynolds. I met Dan in the Fall of 1971 when we were assigned rooms on the same floor in the law dorm at Penn. So Dan was a friend for close to 54 years. He was the most decent of men, always a steady hand on the wheel. He was very sharp, but never a show-off. He loved a good (or bad) joke, and we cherish the memory of him laughing. When Linda and I ran into a very dark period, Dan and Mary were a constant, vital support until the darkness finally lifted.

Dan and I were roommates for a year after law school. We had a great apartment in Upper Montclair NJ. Dan was clerking for a judge and I was in the tax program at NYU Law. When, years later, I taught law classes in the accounting program at Hunter College, Dan was a guest lecturer in my class once a semester on the topic of Torts. He was paid with a burger and beer after class. We both had fond/horrifying memories of studying Torts at Penn Law with a very acerbic professor, Filvaroff. I sometimes introduced Dan to the class by noting that we had been roommates and that “he was the best roommate I ever had — including my wife.” Dan got a kick out of teaching the class, and I urged any students who were “foolish enough to be considering a career in law,” to take advantage of talking to Dan, who was a “real lawyer,” as opposed to a professor. Dan last taught the class last Fall, my final semester at Hunter before retiring.

Needless to say, as great a friend as Dan was, the best thing about him, by far, was Mary (and their boys). We guys all staggered our way through law school towards our eventual mates, and Dan got really lucky when he hooked up with a certain dark-haired Minnesotan. (We all, somehow, miraculously, got lucky.) Those of us who were draft age in the Vietnam era recall the night of the draft lottery when our birthdays were randomly assigned numbers that would determine our chances of being drafted. Up to 120, you were a goner. Over 240, you were safe. Between 120 and 240, you would test the power of prayer. We were sitting around one night, reminiscing about our numbers. Mine was 121, but I flunked my physical. When we got to Dan, he said his number was (something like) 350, and a hush fell over the room. Then he said, “If I never get lucky again in my life, that’s okay.” But he did get lucky again, when he met Mary.

Now we wish you the strength to ride out the storm, Mary. And rest in peace Dan. Your friendship was deeply appreciated and very much enjoyed.

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Thanks for dropping in. See you tomorrow.

Today’s post will be awash in beautiful young women, all quite willing to break your teeth with a stick if the situation calls for it without the slightest increase in their pulse rates. I am referring of course to the Pro Women’s Hockey League (PWHL) draft which took place last night in the nation’s capital: Ottawa!

Our NY Sirens copped three of the first nine picks, and selected nine players overall. Thanks to the work of our sports consultant, the beautiful Sarah Fillier of the Sirens, we’re able to provide in-depth coverage of the new Sirens, and thanks to Phil, who glued himself to Sarah for the event, we’ve got a whole bunch of droolingly gorgeous shots of the ladies too.

But first — hockey aside — does this look like a cold-blooded killer to you? Maybe around the eyes? If you watched the series Killing Eve, you’ll recognize her as the assassin Villanelle played by the actress Jodie Comer.

The reason she came up today is I just learned what a villanelle is. Poets.org sent me one as their “poem of the day.” It’s a highly structured poem made up of five tercets followed by a quatrain, with two repeating rhymes and two refrains. So then the question is, what’s a tercet? It’s a set of three lines of verse rhyming together or connected by rhyme with an adjacent tercet.

Here are the rules for a villanelle: The first and third lines of the opening tercet are repeated alternately in the last lines of the succeeding stanzas; then in the final stanza, the refrain serves as the poem’s two concluding lines. Using capitals for the refrains and lowercase letters for the rhymes, the form could be expressed as: A1 b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 A2.

Got it? Me neither. No hope.

“Mad Girl’s Love Song,” by Sylvia Plath is an example of a villanelle.

“I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell’s fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan’s men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you’d return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)”

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The Sirens first pick (and the first overall pick) was Kristýna Kaltounková who is a lock to lead the league in funny little thingies above the letters in her name. KK is from the Czech Republic and skated for Colgate in college. Should provide some of the offensive firepower the Sirens sorely need.

They traded a defensewoman for Toronto’s first pick, third overall, and grabbed Casey O’Brien. Yikes, who wouldn’t want to grab her?

Casey, another forward, is from Milton, MA, and played college hockey at Wisconsin. She received the Patty Kazmaier Memorial Award, given to the top female college ice hockey player in the U.S. Casey led the Badgers to the NCAA National championship last year. Brace yourselves, fellas, here she is with her teammates and their trophy in those sexy hockey uniforms.

Anne Cherkowski and Makenna Webster were two later-round picks who should provide more firepower. Anne’s Canadian and played for Clarkson in college.

Makenna is from St. Louis and played college hockey at Wisconsin and Ohio State.

Dayle Ross, a defensewoman from Spirit River, Canada, was a later-round pick. She played her college hockey at St. Cloud State. (There was a saint named Cloud?)

And the Sirens dipped into the Ivy League for Eli standout Anna Bargman from Boxford, MA.

Last, Kaley Doyle, a goalie from Livonia MI, played college hockey at Brown and Quinnipiac. Don’t try to put anything past this girl, fellas. She will stop you cold.

We look forward to all of these newcomers taking to the ice in the fall. Gotta get Zoey to a game this year.

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Today’s puzzle was perfect for the heatwave we’ve been having. The theme was “central air conditioning.” The letters “AC” were squooshed into four squares in the grid: in the exact center of the 8 words formed around them. For example, at 23A, “‘Dream a Little Dream of Me’ singer of 1968, familiarly” was MAM[AC]ASS, crossing 10D, “Healthful snack brand,” TERR[AC]HIPS.

55D drew on an MLK, Jr., quote: “____ got some difficult days ahead.” Answer: WE’VE. [Ya think?]

Have you heard the expression California SOBER? It means “abstaining from everything but cannabis, say.” New to me. What would New Jersey sober be? Abstaining from everything but meatball subs?

At 32D, the clue for OPI was “Nail polish brand with a MillenniYUM shade.” OPI is known for great shade names, including: Polly Want A Lacquer, Pastel Me You Love Me, It’s In Your Jeans, Blue Them All Away, and Chopstix and Stones.

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There’s a scary twist to the old viola joke. First, here’s the joke: After a late night rehearsal, the violist forgets to take his viola out of his car, which is parked on the street overnight. He runs down the next morning to find his worst fears confirmed: someone broke into the car and left him a second viola.

Here’s who’s not laughing: David Lopez Ibanez. Dave is a member of the Philharmonia orchestra based in London. The violin he plays is on loan to him by its owner, a German businessman named Sebastian Kutscha. It was made in 1740 by the master craftsman Lorenzo Carcassi in Florence, and is worth about $200,000. Ibanez has been playing it for eight years. Here they are together.

So after a rehearsal, Dave goes to a pub with a friend, and sets the instrument down right next to him. But you just have to be distracted for an instant, right? He was, and it’s gone. Stolen. It’s insured but Ibanez is devastated. Instead of blaming him, Kutscha, who sounds like a mensch, is worried about how hard Ibanez is taking it. Ibanez worries about how it’s being treated, as if it were a kidnapped child. “Are they putting it next to a radiator?”

They are still hoping it can be recovered. It will be hard for the thief to sell it because it’s a distinctive item: it has a tiny heart-shaped hole on top of its scroll, as David is showing you here.

In case you’re as ignorant as me, this is the scroll of a violin:

Anyway, keep an eye out for it.

While we’re on the topic, our classical music station WQXR in NY surprised me when they played Beethoven’s Eighth Symphony earlier this week. It was beautiful. I was aware of his famous Ninth Symphony (Ode to Joy), of course, but had no idea he had written an Eighth as well.

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May have to take tomorrow off. We’re bringing Isaac to the library to hear Guitar Bob — a favorite of Sam’s about 30 years ago! Full report to follow.

Thanks for popping in!

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Every once in a while a matter of such urgency arises that it demands our immediate attention. This is not one of those times.

David Troman, of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) posted: Was looking at the wear on the floor in my local petrol station. Pondering why the right foot position shows more wear. My assumption is that there is a dominance of right-footed people who put more pressure on their lead foot. Also people pivot to the right once they have paid so would expect that to add to the wear and tear.

To no surprise, it hit quite a nerve. Here are some of the 71 comments it generated.

Ian James Seale: Where is the ware?

Brian Greehhalgh: You mean where is the wear on the wares?

Avi Liveson: It’s thare.

Kate Hawkes: I guess that the left foot’s position is limited by the display counters and right depends on the distance between people’s feet when they are standing at the counter.

Piers Phillips: I suspect it is because they swivel on their right foot to leave. If they swiveled on their left foot they would stumble into the confectionery counter.

Rohan Thorne:  This is obviously where I am going wrong, I usually stumble into the confectionery counter.

Dougie Lee: In a shop, where its wares are on the left, a customer at the counter would be aware to pivot on their right foot away from where the next in line would likely be standing. This would cause the floor to wear more there.

Susan Massey: Approximately one in 10 people is left handed, so 9 in 10 are right handed. A person’s dominant hand indicates ‘footedness’ as well.

[Footedness?]

Richard Holland: I’m left footed, if you tell me where it is, I’ll go and even it out.

Eric Armitadge closed with this lovely artwork:

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Mick Ralphs passed away this week at the age of 81. A guitarist, he was a founding member of Bad Company and Mott the Hoople. I liked MTH, back in the day. Rest in peace, Mick.

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Travis Kelce was down in Nashville with other NFL tight ends at the Tight End University (TEU) that he founded. We hope he wasn’t too distracted by Taylor’s joining him for partying after work. She asked Phil to say hi to us, and he sent in this shot. Green’s a good color on you, Babe! (Like, what isn’t?)

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The New York City writer Pete Hamill was born in Brooklyn on this date in 1935, and died at the age of 85 in 2020, also in Brooklyn. He was a friend of Bobby Kennedy’s and was with him when he was shot. Hamill helped tackle the gunman. He was devastated by the event and hit the skids, wandering around New York and Mexico, no longer able to write. But he was snapped out of it by the Irish-American politician Paul O’Dwyer, who told him, “You’re not important enough to have writer’s block.” Hamill laughed and agreed, and went back to writing.

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It’s about 500 degrees in Jersey today. Linda left me for a bag of ice. I have to admit, it was pretty good-looking. Our poor air-conditioning unit for the second floor is in over its head and can’t make a dent in the heat up there. We slept on cushions in the living room. I got a solid 10-15 minutes of sleep. It’s a good thing I’m so even keeled, or it might have made me cranky.

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Learned a new word today from the puzzle. Very cold: GELID. Nothing to do with jelly or gel. And the great Patrick Berry constructed today’s New Yorker puzzle. At 13A, the clue was “Take a second?” (REMARRY). At 34A, “People who avoid being checked out.” (SHOPLIFTERS)

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I hope that’s enough nonsense for you for today. See you tomorrow!

Boy, can Frank Bruni write. I was reading his newsletter to find candidates from his For The Love Of Sentences feature for OC, but his own opening words caught me:

When an American president makes an especially weighty decision, there’s some small comfort in knowing that seasoned, steady aides were in the mix, complementing the commander in chief’s instincts with their expertise.

President Trump dropped 15-ton bombs on uranium enrichment sites in Iran with Tulsi Gabbard as his director of national intelligence and Pete Hegseth as his defense secretary.

I, for one, am not comforted.

By some reports, Hegseth wasn’t consulted all that much — which, I suppose, is its own perverse solace. Trump apparently learned his lesson when Hegseth decided that a Signal group chat was the proper venue for an emoji-laden pep rally about imminent military strikes against the Houthis; clue Hegseth in on the Iran plan, and he might wind up divulging it in the form of charades on “Fox & Friends.”

[“Perverse solace!”]

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And there were a couple of items from FTLOS I liked.

In The Times, Sam Anderson on NBA star Nikola Jokic: “He dominates games with a weird combination of force and delicacy. He’s like a car accident that can play the flute.” 

Also in The Times, Jeannette Catsoulis reviewed an ultraviolent new movie: “A luxe orgy of mass murder, ‘Ballerina’ dances from one bloody melee to another, its back-of-a-matchbook plot driven solely by arterial motives.”

BTW, that’s the new movie co-starring our beautiful Ana de Armas. Audiences gave it a 93% score on Rotten Tomatoes. Way to go, girl! Phil got a hold of this sneak preview for us. You like Elton John?

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This poem by William Stafford from today’s Writer’s Almanac is called “Old Blue.”

Some day I’ll crank up that Corvette, let it
mumble those marvelous oil-swimming gears
and speak its authority. I’ll rock its big wheels
till they roll free onto the drive. Nobody can
stop us then: loaded with everything, we’ll pick up
momentum for the hill north of town. Mona,
you didn’t value me and it’s too late now.
Steve, remember your refusal to go along on
those deals when you all opposed me?—you had
your chance. Goodbye, you squealers and grubbies;
goodbye, old house that begins to leak, neighbors
gone stodgy, days that lean casually grunting
and snoring together. For anyone who ever needs
the person they slighted, this is my address: “Gone.”

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Clarence!

Never gets old. You know, there’s a whole bunch of books and CDs by and about The Big Man, Clarence Clemons, alav hashalom. Amazon could run a Clarence sale.

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I shared this joke on OC before but I have to repeat it because there has been a development. Here’s the joke:

Max says to Sid, “Here’s a riddle: What’s green, hangs on the wall, and whistles?”

Sid says, “I give up.”

“A herring.”

“But a herring isn’t green.”

“You could paint it green.”

“It doesn’t hang on the wall.”

“Well, you could hang it on a wall if you wanted to.”

“It doesn’t whistle.”

(Max, exasperated.) “Alright, so it doesn’t whistle.”

The issue arose from today’s puzzle as to whether pickles would be canned. At 15A the clue was “Can it?” and the answer was DILL PICKLE. Well, as you can imagine, it created an uproar with most comments noting that pickles would be “jarred,” not canned. My sentiment was “Well, pickles could be canned,” which led me to sharing the joke. And it received the following reply:

“Actually, ‘What’s green and hangs on a wall’ (Co zielony i wisi na siano) is a famous joke they would tell in Polish bars to root out informers and spies. The answer was some kind of fish, herring, pike, carp, Everyone would laugh uproariously and anybody who didn’t would be thrown out. During the communist days and probably going back centuries before that.”

I did some digging to look into it but so far have come up empty headed, I mean handed. My source for the joke was a pretty serious (scholarly) book on Jewish humor, but no mention was made of this part of the story. Oh, forgive my rudeness — care for some herring?

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Julia Togneri and hubby Billy are proud members of the Dull Men’s Club (UK). Julia shared this photo of Billy as they headed off for their vacation.

Mark Griffiths commented knowingly: Dullness is not something you can just put down.

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Can two baserunners score at the exact same time? Well, the runner in back cannot get ahead of the runner in front. But at the same time should be okay. Anyway, they can certainly score 0.31 seconds apart as two Phils did against the Metsies Friday night. It’s balletic, no? Note how the ump gives two quick safe calls. As he should.

I haven’t seen so much scoring so quickly since Marc Citron was single. Alav Hashalom. (Brandeis, Class of ’70)

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See you tomorrow Chatterheads. Stay cool.

Rodney D. was having trouble getting the superintendent of his building up to his apartment: “He won’t fix anything. So I tricked him — I invited him up for a party. He said “Great, should I bring anything?” I said “Yeah, a wrench and your galoshes.”

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Many serious crossword folks are geniuses in other areas: math, music, the arts, cultural matters. (Not me, of course. I don’t even know what a logarithm is.) So Rafael Musa, subbing for Rex today, shared this observation. The clue was “1099, e.g.” and the answer was TAX FORM. He pointed out that 1099 is not a prime number. Its factors are 157 and 7. So tuck that away somewhere. It’s bound to come in handy some day. Hey, it just did for me!

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Do you gamble when you’re in Vegas, Rodney?

Yeah, I enjoy it. I enjoy the slots. There are slots every where you go in Vegas. Even in the supermarket. Last week a gallon of milk cost me $238.

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Andy Spragg of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) posted this image:

Here are some of the duller comments:

Richard Hopkins: That’s somewhat recursive isn’t it? [characterized by recurrence or repetition]

Andy: I think more self-referential than recursive, although I suppose self-reference is a form of recursion.

[What? Please stop hurting my brain. I’m still reeling from the prime numbers.]

Greg Smith: That woman in the background seems to have very long fingers.

George Jackson: She does the prostate checks.

Greg: How much does she charge?

George: By the inch.

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Rodney: I asked my wife how she did on her driver’s test. She said she got 18 out of 20. Two of the guys jumped out of the way.

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How hot was it yesterday at the ballparks? Pretty damn hot. At the Cubs game in Wiggley Field, home plate ump Chad Whitson cashed in his chips after the fifth inning and the remainder of the game was played with only three umps on the field. Whitson threw up in the home dugout and was treated for heat exhaustion. Later in the same game, Seattle reliever Trent Thornton crouched down behind the mound after walking a batter. It was his third inning out there, and he crashed and had to be helped off the field.

And that wasn’t the worst of it. Brace yourselves, Chatterheads. In St. Louis, Cincy shortstop Elly De La Cruz actually threw up on the field when overcome by the heat. He drank a lot of water, generally a good idea, but gave it all back. The grounds crew came out for the cleanup. Amazingly, De La Cruz stayed in the game and later hit a two-run home run.

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Let’s all go to the wedding in Crossworld now! Today’s puzzle in the Times was called “Bringing a Plus One,” and it was by a mom/daughter team. How neat is that? Ruth Bloomfield Margolin and Hannah Margolin. Hannah says she and her mom have been solving puzzles together for years. Do you think your mom was/is protective? Hannah said her mom sent her puzzles when Hannah was at summer camp and would pre-fill in the answers she thought Hannah wouldn’t know.

Anyway, the theme answers were all wedding-related phrases but with one letter added for wackiness (the “plus one”). The two best were:

“Fancy headpiece garment?” FEATHER OF THE BRIDE

“Parent who foolishly wore stiletto heels to a garden event” MOTHER IN LAWN

Also decent, IMO, was “Cause of many headaches while planning the big day? WEDDING DURESS

On the topic, commenter Gary noted: “My wedding was basically a party for my mother-in-law’s friends.” Good thing he’s not still bitter.

Most of our moms told us if we can’t say something good about someone, don’t say anything. Lewis’s mom must have gone further: say something good no matter what, godammit. No matter how badly Rex rips a puzzle, Lewis will always find something in it to praise. He took special delight in today’s puzzle and was not shy to gush:

There’s ha-ha happiness and there’s warm-the-heart happiness, and for me, today’s puzzle pulsed with both.

First of all, it’s wedding-centered, based on an event where the heart often swells with elation, where the eyes often fill with the best tears, where the air is filled with delight, merriment, and high spirits. Where love is palpable.

Then, it’s made by a mom and daughter. As I imagine them working side-by-side, laughing and high-fiving at coming up with finds that land, cocooning in earnest while brainstorming and chiseling their creation, well, that’s a mom-daughter relationship that touches my heart, that reminds me that so much good pervades this world.

Also, this is a puzzle whose purpose is more than just to create riddles to crack – it’s also to entertain. It wants to get us to smile and even burst out with a “Hah!” or giggle. Who doesn’t like that?

It succeeded with me, kept me in a jolly good mood throughout, punctuated by genuine laughs, while keeping my brain happy untangling clues and theme answers.

Crossword success in the highest. Started with an empty box, and exiting feeling, through and through, that life is good. Wow and thank you, Ruth and Hannah!

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Just as Mel Ott and Bobby Orr will forever be popular in Crossworld, the official cookie is OREO. And I was today years old when I learned there’s a new limited-edition Oreo on the shelves. Selena Gomez is spicing things up (quite literally) with an Oreo inspired by horchata, the refreshing Mexican drink made with rice, cinnamon, and sweetened condensed milk.

Looks like you’ve got a winner there, Babe. I’m going to limit myself strictly to five billion of them!

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See you tomorrow everybody. Thanks for popping by.

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In the puzzle yesterday at 41A the clue was “Torn” and the answer was RENT. A few folks had some trouble with it. Here’s one exchange:

Q. Why does torn = rent?

A. Because that’s one meaning of rent????

Carola wrote: I associate the word with the Bible – in the translation I grew up with, people would “rend” their clothes as a sign of grief and distress. Example: In Genesis 37:34, Jacob believes his son Joseph as been killed: “And Jacob rent his clothes, and put sackcloth upon his loins, and mourned for his son many days.” When I was growing up, my family read aloud a chapter of the Bible every evening, so I had many encounters with rent garments.

And I added: I had to rent a tuxedo when my daughter got married. That’s different, right? I managed to avoid crying during the ceremony until I saw the catering bill.

Today, for the clue “Average booster,” the answer was EASY A. (Get it?) Gary remarked that an Easy D would have boosted his average.

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The Yankees have a minor league pitcher in their system named Griffin Herring. At 6′ 2″ and 196 pounds, he is by far the largest Herring ever caught, er, drafted. The Yanks just picked him for the halibut, but he’s exceeding all expectations in his performances so far.

Surprisingly, he’s not Jewish, but Max Fried, who is Jewish, was quite excited to learn the Yanks have Herring in their system. While many pitchers submerge their pitching arms in an ice bath after their starts, Griffin keeps a large vat of cream sauce in the clubhouse instead.

Herring played college ball at LSU and excelled in the Florida State League with the Tampa Tarpons (not kidding) and was named the league’s Player of the Month for May! He’s been promoted to the Hudson Valley Renegades.

To avoid confusion, we are picturing, below, first a tarpon and then a Herring.

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In keeping with the theme, this poem by Louis Jenkins from today’s Writer’s Almanac is called “Fishing Below the Dam.”

On summer evenings the workingmen gather to fish
in the swift water below the dam. They sit on the
rocks and are silent for the most part, looking into
the water and casting again and again. Lines tangle,
tackle is lost and a fisherman curses to himself. No
one notices. It is simply a part of the routine, like the
backs of their wives in bed at night or short words
to the children in the morning. Only the water holds
their attention, crashing through the spillway with
enough force behind it to break a man’s back. And
the undertow could take you as easily as a bit of
fish line and toss you ashore miles downstream.
The men shout to be heard above the roar of the
water. ANY LUCK? NO I JUST GOT HERE.

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We had a rollicking good time with the Tartan Terrors over in Sellersville PA Thursday night. The opening announcement to turn off our cellphones, etc., included telling us that drinking milk in the audience was prohibited. The concern was that something funny might be said and we’d snort it out all over our neighbor. Makes sense.

What a tight good band! They wore kilts but none of them had nice legs except for the fiddler, who, as luck would have it, was the one woman in the band. She also did some mean step dancing when called upon. Most of them are Canadian. Here’s a sample of their work. They introduced the song by looking about the audience and asking if Martin were there. “We saw him earlier — ah, there he is. Martin — this song is for you. It’s called Kiss My Ass.”

Turn it up!! (That motto they shout at the end is “England forever! — and Scotland just a wee bit longer.”)

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At 27D today there was a nifty clue, viz., “Vehicles seen in the films ‘Dazed and Confused’ and ‘Two-Lane Blacktop’” for GTOS. In the latter movie, “the sparse, existentialist plot follows a group of street racers during a cross-country race through the American Southwest.” Its Rotten Tomatoes rating is 92%/81%. James Taylor (yes, that James Taylor) is one of the stars. Also in it as the love interest was Laurie Bird, who had a small role in “Annie Hall” as Paul Simon’s girlfriend. She also IRL dated Art Garfunkel and, sadly, committed suicide in his apartment when she was just 25 via an overdose of Valium. Her mom also committed suicide around that age when Laurie was just a baby. Here’s Laurie.

Garfunkel was greatly affected by her death. She is pictured on his album “Breakaway,” and another of his albums is dedicated to her.

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Mitch Hedberg: “I saw a commercial that said: ‘Forget everything you know about slipcovers.’ So I did. And it was a load off my mind. Then they tried to sell me some slipcovers —- but I didn’t know what the hell they were.”

“I got a belt on, that’s holding up my pants. And my pants have belt loops that are holding up my belt. I don’t know what’s really happening down there. Who is the real hero?”

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I have a new dentist because Kevin retired. He seems good. When I paid his bill Rosie handed me some papers. They were different from the ones I was used to. I said “I can use these for my insurance? Because they look different.” She assured me that I can, that they contain all the required information. So I faxed in the claim and received a letter asking me for some information that was not included on the papers. Among the missing items were the dentist’s name and ID number. D’oh! Is it me, or does that seem like basic info?

See you tomorrow. Thanks for stopping in.

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The administration’s full scale assault on the trans community continues. New Jersey will remain a haven, as much as possible, but I think of Lianna’s friend Oliver whenever these dreadful developments are reported. The lead story in the NYT today was the Supreme Court’s ruling on Tennessee’s right to deny treatment to trans youth. Less prominent was its story on page A13 on Trump’s defunding the suicide hotline dedicated to LGBTQ+ callers. The administration’s statement referred to “LGB+ youth services,” apparently not even recognizing that the trans community exists.

And yesterday’s NYT front page featured the story of Major Erica Vandal, an extraordinary trans soldier who was awarded the Bronze Star, whom Trump is booting out of the military motivated solely by hatred. She grew up an “army brat.” Her father is a three-star general.

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At 23D today, the clue was “Bakery purchase” and the answer was LOAF. You hear of this band: Archers of Loaf? Son Volt shared their song: “Web in Front.” It contains the line: You’re not the one who let me down, but thanks for offering.

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I love it when a member of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) has a problem and turns to the membership for help. Here’s a pretty tiresome example”

Euan Ovenstone posted:

Conundrum.
We have a leaking pool.
How does one find the leak?
It’s not anywhere around the sides so has to be on the bottom somewhere.
Pool is 12 foot wide 30 inches deep.
And yes it’s filled or wouldn’t be leaking.
Any bright ideas?

Keith Dilworth: Build a larger Pool around it as a means of secondary containment, with a float controlled pump to return the water to the correct Pool.

Euan: Wonderfully helpful.

Ross Landale: Throw 2 bags of cement into it, give it a good mix first.

Phil Rogers: I remember my Dad used to mend leaks in his car radiator by cracking an egg into the hot radiator water. You could try a couple of dozen large hens eggs. Brown or white shouldn’t matter.

Ben Jones: Tickle it until it’s a gush then follow the stream upwards. Oh wait, I misread the question. Apologies.

C. Doyle: Work through the issue by process of elimination, it won’t be coming out the top, then work your way down from there… hope this helps.

Many of the other answers involved pool dyes and were boringly helpful.

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Frida KAHLO was in the puzzle, about whom Commenter Gary noted “I don’t think I’ve ever once spelled her name correctly the first time.” The clue was “Frida who portrayed her chronic pain through art.” The pain was from a bus accident that debilitated her for her entire life. She was riding home on a bus with her boyfriend, but got off to retrieve her umbrella. The second bus they got on was hit by an electric streetcar and she was impaled by a handrail.

Nevertheless, she married the great painter Diego Rivera who was 21 years her senior. He was also much larger than her causing her parents to describe the marriage as between “an elephant and a dove.” They both slept around a lot. (Artists!)

The couple spent a year in Detroit where DR was commissioned to paint murals for the Institute of Arts which Linda and I saw a few years ago and are pretty neat. (That’s as deep as I get as far as art criticism goes.)

Frida was honored with a stamp and mention in today’s puzzle.

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Closing the store early today. Shooting out to Sellersville PA to catch the Tartan Terrors.

See you next time!

Chris Corlett of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) shared what he called the best Father’s Day gift ever:

Bob D’cruz asked if they came in any other colors. Craig Butlin reminded folks to check the “sell by” date since the bubbles can burst after too long. And Alan Hunt noted that he really needed a new bubble, since his has split into two — one large and one small — and he can’t get them to reunite.

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My post on Rex’s blog yesterday riled up a commenter named Beth who accused me of being creepy. And misogynistic!

Moi?

Here’s the story, and you can form your own opinion, or, more likely, not care, and just move on.

It started with Rex’s posting on his blog a video of a song by Ethel Cain called “American Teenager.” EC spends much of it in a cheerleader’s outfit. I posted the following:

“Rex! Please give us dirty old men some warning the next time you post a video like American Teenager. I had to send my wife running for my heart pills! (Not complaining.)”

Beth replied:

“There is nothing in American Teenager that is sexual. It seems you intended your comment to be lighthearted and funny, but it’s just creepy and misogynistic.”

Okanaganer replied:

“Beth: Her preening and posing in the video is quite sexually sensual. (Is it less creepy knowing she was not actually a teenager when she filmed it?)”

I was happy to see that “defense,” and chose not to reply myself. But her first sentence is beyond absurd. Did you watch the video? (It’s in yesterday’s Owl Chatter post.) There is very little in that video that is NOT sexual. I watched it several more times to make sure.

Phil got this nice shot of Hayden (Ethel’s her professional name), at breakfast in a diner in Florida, where she’s from.

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When the g’kids were little we’d sometimes play up in our big bedroom. I’d sit my big tuchas down in the chair near the bed, put my feet up on the bed, and the kids would jump around on the bed and sometimes crawl along my legs from the bed onto my lap. My legs would be the bridge. And that’s how I learned about the lava. If they fell off the bridge it was into the lava and then, . . . well, you don’t want to know what would happen then.

I thought Zo and Leon made up the part about the lava, but, as some of you may know, it’s a pretty popular kids game: The floor is lava. You need to get around the room, or to some destination, without touching the floor. Because the floor is lava.

That was the theme of the puzzle today. Way down near the bottom (where a floor should go), the clue at 58A was “Rainy-day game for children” and the answer was THE FLOOR IS LAVA. And the four theme answers were things you would have to do in the game (with clues unrelated to the game): TABLE HOP (“Gad about at a banquet”); COUCH SURF (“Rely on the hospitality of friends for lodging”); COUNTER BALANCE (“Offset, as something on a scale”); and BAR CRAWL (“Hit the pubs”).

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I can’t let the ruling of Judge Young of the Federal District Court (MA) go unmentioned. It’s hardly unusual for a ruling to come down against Trump, but this one — on the illegality of Trump’s cutting NIH grants — really exposed the administration for the racists and homophobes they are. “This represents racial discrimination and discrimination against America’s LGBTQ community,” the judge wrote. “That’s what this is. I would be blind not to call it out. How have we fallen so low? Have we no shame?”

Judge Young was appointed by Reagan and has 40 years of experience as a federal judge.

The anti-democracy aspects of Trump’s actions get the lion’s share of attention, and the blatant racism has not been called out enough. The purging of photos of Black war heroes by the Pentagon? Seriously?

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Let’s not end so darkly. Here’s a poem by Ted Kooser to set things right.

At the Cancer Clinic

She is being helped toward the open door
that leads to the examining rooms
by two young women I take to be her sisters.
Each bends to the weight of an arm
and steps with the straight, tough bearing
of courage. At what must seem to be
a great distance, a nurse holds the door,
smiling and calling encouragement.
How patient she is in the crisp white sails
of her clothes. The sick woman
peers from under her funny knit cap
to watch each foot swing scuffing forward
and take its turn under her weight.
There is no restlessness or impatience
or anger anywhere in sight. Grace
fills the clean mold of this moment
and all the shuffling magazines grow still.

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Thanks for stopping by.

Linda’s breakfast. I started by sauteeing sliced onions in olive oil and setting them aside. I threw two slices of Trader Joe’s organic multi-grain into the toaster. I fried up two eggs, over hard, with a little salt and pepper. I placed a thin slice of Irish cheddar over each egg and covered the pan to induce melting. I buttered the toast lightly. To assemble the plate, I started with the toast on the bottom, and placed the eggs/cheese atop the toast. The onions went on last. Bon appetite, my wonderful wife!

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With kitten heels and a door opening onto Joey Heatherton, yesterday’s puzzle fell squarely in our Dirty Old Man Dept. The theme was baby animals and the five theme answers were the aforementioned KITTEN HEEL, CHICK FLICK, PUPPY LOVE, CALF MUSCLE, and my favorite, JOEY FATONE. In case you’re weak on kangaroos, a joey is a baby kangaroo.

Joey Fatone, a Brooklyn boy, was a member of the boy band NSYNC. He’s 48 now, and looks like this. Still, he’s famous enough to grace the squares of the NYTXW. My man!

Rex said he would have preferred Joey Ramone, and I chimed in with the following post:

“Gentlemen of a certain age will droolingly recall the exquisite dancer/actress JOEY Heatherton, who is 80 now and, I bet, still a knockout. She was married to NFL receiver Lance Rentzel but they divorced when she could no longer stand his referring to her as his greatest catch. No, actually they divorced after he got into trouble for indecent exposure to a ten-year-old girl. The Dallas Cowboys parted ways with Lance as well, trading him to the Rams and picking up a different receiver named Lance — Lance Alworth (not to be confused with the famed dermatologist Lance Boyle.)”

Here’s JH. I can’t find a picture that really does her justice. When the pathetic pimply faced boys of my generation were just starting to notice stuff like that, she took our breath away.

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In case you’ve forgotten what kitten heels are, they are stillettos, with the “ettos” cut off. Here’s Taylor sporting a pair that, to my eye, fall somewhere in between kitten and still. Hey Tay — if that’s how you dress when you’re out and would prefer not getting noticed, it’s not working.

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I mentioned Rebecca Goldstein on Sunday as one of the constructors of Sunday’s brilliant crossword puzzle. I couldn’t find a photo of her at the time, mostly because I was searching for Rachel Goldstein. Duh. But here she is.

Rebecca went to Barnard and has a doctorate in pharmacology, but who cares about that? She’s only been constructing puzzles since 2020 but has already “hit for the cycle,” i.e., has had a puzzle published by the Times on every day of the week. Hers is one of about a dozen names that elicit a “yay” when you see that the puzzle you are about to stagger through is by one of them.

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Well, Chatterheads, to no surprise, RFK Jr., the dangerous lunatic in charge of the nation’s health, did not follow Owl Chatter’s advice in naming replacements for the vaccine advisory board, not even the very well-respected Dr. Pepper, who received his medical degree from the University of Minnesoda, you may recall.

Instead, he packed it with the likes of Dr. Robert Malone, who, according to the NYT, stated at a conference on Covid in 2022: “The most recent data demonstrates that you are more likely to be infected or have disease or even death if you’ve been vaccinated, compared to the unvaccinated people.”

In fact, as the Times noted: The claim contradicts volumes of studies that have found that Covid vaccines saved millions of lives worldwide.

Well, yeah, there’s that.

Another appointee is a biostatistician, Dr. Martin Kuldorff, who has testified as an expert in lawsuits against vaccines. Here’s how the Times describes his recent activities:

“Dr. Kulldorff concluded in an expert report that Merck had failed to urgently investigate reports of POTS, or postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome, after a safety signal emerged in a clinical trial.

“In March, a U.S. District Court judge in North Carolina dismissed the case, concluding: ‘Simply put, no scientist could reasonably conclude there is a causal association between POTS’ and [the vaccine], based on the evidence presented in court.”

So, I ask you, readers. Whom are you going to believe? — those idiots or Nurse Cleavage here?

(Here’s the shot Phil sent in for the story. Very helpful, Philly.)

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This poem from today’s Writer’s Almanac is by Tom Chandler.

So Much Depends On

the blonde woman who drops a potato
in the supermarket parking lot where it rolls
beneath the 89 Dodge Ram with rust patches
near the left rear fender from contact with
too much road salt during the winter of 91
which was actually one of the mildest on record
though the driver tends to remember it
as the season he was fired from his job
at the aluminum window factory where
he had worked for nearly sixteen years
without promotion as he shifts into reverse
and backs over the potato which squishes
as softly as a dream’s last breath and leaves
slick asphalt for the lot boy to slip on
as he pushes a train of shopping carts
and sprains his lumbar vertebrae just
days before he is scheduled to leave
for basic training to become the cool
killing machine he’s always craved
but will now have to settle for someday
making assistant produce manager
and marrying a girl he almost loves just
as the blonde woman finds herself
one potato short with dinner guests
ringing the doorbell.

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On this day in 1901 the first college board exams were given. One of my colleagues at Hunter had a cartoon by Mark Twohy outside his door with an astonished man standing before St. Peter outside the pearly gates, and he’s saying: You’re kidding — you count SATs?

For those of you who prepped with the Stanley H. Kaplan program, or who signed your kids up for it, I am old enough to have had Stanley himself teach the classes, in a messy little office on Quentin Road in Brooklyn, with maybe eight or so of us in the class. He was damn good. Took him for one of the NY State regents exams too but I forget which. Some science.

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Today’s puzzle was by Tarun Krishnamurthy. He’s a teenager. It’s not the first time a teen has broken through into the NYTXW but it is the first time he tells us so in the puzzle itself. The last across clue was “Typical high school student … like this puzzle’s constructor!” (Answer: TEEN)

It generated a bit of back-and-forth. Rex, never one to beat about the bush, started it by noting:

“Stop fetishizing TEENs! There have been literally dozens of TEEN constructors by now. Actually, I don’t know the exact number, but it’s a lot. This isn’t even a debut!! This constructor had a puzzle out last summer! And good for them! Big accomplishment. But if you’re a pro, you’re a pro. Don’t expect medals or applause ’cause you’re a TEEN. There’s something cringey about adults fawning over precocious kids. I would’ve hated having that clue in my puzzle if I’d been the TEEN constructor (luckily, I was a disappointing underachiever as a TEEN and so never had this problem). This clue (with its “look-at-me” revealer-type structure (ellipsis, exclamation point!) is an editorial choice; it detracts from the puzzle’s manifest worthiness.”

Anony Mouse was the first to chime in:

Ya know…the problem you describe with praising a teen for their accomplishments is the same problem I have when a woman does something that only a misogynist thinks she can’t. Or when someone with dark skin does something that only a racist thinks they can’t.

“First woman in space”
Did you not think women could be astronauts?

“First Black person to fly an airplane”
Did you not think Black people could fly airplanes?

Did you not think teens could build crosswords?

And then doghairstew posted:

I’m gonna disagree. The first woman in space was, objectively speaking, the first woman to do that. It doesn’t imply that we thought women were incapable of such achievement. But they certainly weren’t given the opportunity, until finally they were, which was pretty exciting at the time and seems worthy of mention. As does mention of achievements by Black folks in fields they were previously barred from. I also enjoyed learning that the puzzle was constructed by a teen.

Anony Mouse 2: I thought the teen reference was fine, that’s what teenagers do and what they are, young and having fun.

Anony Mouse 3: Maybe, and I say this as the parent of a teen, the clue about being a teen constructor is meant to encourage teens. Many are feeling very dejected right now about the state of the country and world in which they are coming of age and it is nice for my daughter to see that other teens are doing things like constructing professional puzzles. And yes I do show her things like that to make her feel capable. Just one take on that clue that everyone is so annoyed about. I love it.

Anony Mouse 4: Just wanted to defend a teen being excited and proud that they got their second puzzle published in the New York Times. They’ll have plenty of time to no longer be precocious.

All of that aside, after his comment, Rex posted a video of a song by Ethel Cain called “American Teenager.” I watched it twice and then posted: Rex! Please give us dirty old men some warning the next time you post a video like American Teenager. I had to send my wife running for my heart pills! (Not complaining.)

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Speaking of heart pills, Gnats closer Kyle Finnegan, cardiologist’s delight, was up to his old tricks again last night, surrendering two dingers and blowing the game for DC to the historically lowly Rockies. The Gnats losing streak is at nine. Ouch!

Management is desperately calling up a raft of prospects to stem the bleeding. Brady House looked good, despite an 0 for 3 night. He’s a much-needed slugging third baseman. Sorry to see Tena demoted, at least for now. We liked the kid. Here’s Brady.

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James Carville, simplifying things: You’ve got a 28-year-old mother who walks all the way from Guatemala to the U.S. border with her 4-year-old daughter with the hope of working for a better life here — that’s the sort of person we should want in America.

Ten years from now that girl might be constructing crossword puzzles that get into the goddam NY Times.

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OK, baseball fans. There’s a runner on first, no outs. The batter hits an obvious double play ball to the second baseman who flips it to short for one out. But the shortstop throws wild to first so they fail to get the second out. As most of you know, the shortstop will not be charged with an error because they got one out on the play and you cannot “assume” a double play. Tonight I learned though, from the Gnat announcers, that that rule only applies to the fielder throwing the ball — not the fielder catching it. In that last example, say, if the shortstop’s throw to first were perfect and the first baseman just dropped it, he could be charged with an error.

That was news to me, and I’ve never seen it happen, but it’s just the sort of crackling baseball intel we try to pass along here in Owl Chatter. You know, that and the cheerleader videos.

Let’s close tonight with this double play. No errors involved, just a little NY baseball history. See you tomorrow!

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