A couple of items from Frank Bruni’s “For the Love of Sentences” feature. First, In The Seattle Times, Danny Westneat sympathized with Senator Lisa Murkowski, who said she felt “cheated” by Trump’s reneging on a deal with her: “If only there had been some clue, some sign, that a politician who cheated with his charity, cheated on taxes, cheated on his wife, cheats at golf, cheated his contractors, cheated his customers and then attempted the biggest cheat of all — on the American election system — might eventually work his way around to cheating you, too?”
And there was one about Jack Draper, the very handsome British tennis star. Sam Knight in the New Yorker took note of how subdued British audiences are. After Draper closed out one game, they “erupted in polite conversation.”
He’s single, ladies, and not gay, as far as we know, not that there’s anything wrong with that.
The theme of yesterday’s puzzle was Open Seas, meant to focus on the letter C. So all of the theme answers were limited to words starting with C, e.g., Caitlin Clark, cash crop, card counting, and Coca Cola Classic. It was Caitlin Clark’s first appearance in the NYTXW. But, get this — even more impressive IMO — every single clue, across and down, started with the letter C! 78 clues. This trick was handled so smoothly that I didn’t even notice it until it was pointed out by Rex in his blog. Bravo Brian Callahan. Mr. C.
At 61D, for TAUT, the clue was ‘Completely stretched.” Egs noted: “I’m stretching myself very thin these days, but then I’m self-TAUT.”
Reminds me of when Tom and Ray of Car Talk asked a caller how long he was unemployed. When the caller said he was a consultant, Ray said “Oh, so you’re self-unemployed.”
Some of you will recall that as you were mourning friends who were victims of AIDS, many churches “reasoned” that it showed God hates gays. In 1993, the Reverend Billy Graham asked an audience rhetorically, “Is AIDS a judgment of God?” He then answered his own question: “I could not say for sure, but I think so.”
Gotta love that he “can’t say for sure.” The man is humble. Of course, it’s a statement that is so perfectly idiotic, it’s surprising the man could tie his shoes.
In any event, it’s pretty clear now that God hates Christian girls. How else to explain the recent deadly floods in Texas? Among the dead were 27 campers and staff members at Camp Mystic, a century-old Christian summer camp for girls.
The heat wave has been unbearable up here. Maybe this poem from last Friday’s Writer’s Almanac will help. It’s by Terri Kirby Erickson and is called “Ice Cream Truck.”
From blocks away we heard the mechanical music the ice cream truck chimed all over the neighborhood, calling to kids like the Pied
Piper as we darted into our houses begging our parents for change to buy Nutty Buddies
and banana popsicles, orange pushups and ice cream sandwiches. Once the truck
stopped on our street, we swooped like seagulls around the open window so the ice cream man could take our money and hand out whatever
treats we asked for, which were always better than we remembered from the last time his boxy,
Phil had a good time with this assignment and ended up chatting with poet Ross Gay longer than he thought. He said they had absolutely nothing in common — which, of course, is high praise and a relief for Gay.
Ross is turning 51 this Friday. He was born in Youngstown, OH, and raised in Levittown, PA. When friends of his were getting married, he wrote this poem for the occasion. We can’t imagine a nicer gift, except maybe a good toaster. It’s called “Wedding Poem” and says it’s “For Keith and Jen.” It was today’s Poem of the Day from the Poetry Foundation.
Friends I am here to modestly report seeing in an orchard in my town a goldfinch kissing a sunflower again and again dangling upside down by its tiny claws steadying itself by snapping open like an old-timey fan its wings again and again, until, swooning, it tumbled off and swooped back to the very same perch, where the sunflower curled its giant swirling of seeds around the bird and leaned back to admire the soft wind nudging the bird’s plumage, and friends I could see the points on the flower’s stately crown soften and curl inward as it almost indiscernibly lifted the food of its body to the bird’s nuzzling mouth whose fervor I could hear from oh 20 or 30 feet away and see from the tiny hulls that sailed from their good racket, which good racket, I have to say was making me blush, and rock up on my tippy-toes, and just barely purse my lips with what I realize now was being, simply, glad, which such love, if we let it, makes us feel.
It’s been hot as hell lately. This piece from today’s Met Diary by Nechama Stein is called “Summer Soup.”
Dear Diary:
On the last day of a heat wave in June, I was killing time between appointments at the Whole Foods near Bryant Park.
I savored the air conditioning and gulped cold water as I gazed down at the park below.
Suddenly, a woman sitting next to me gasped, and I turned to look in her direction.
“Oh,” she said, explaining the reason for her exclamation. “I just spilled soup, but none made it onto my blouse!”
I said it was her lucky day.
“I’m impressed you’re eating soup in this weather,” I added.
“It’s part of my new philosophy,” she said. “That the weather is not so bad. Say, ‘How’s the weather?’”
“Could be better,” I said, thinking she wanted my take.
“No, no, ask me how the weather is,” she clarified.
“OK,” I said, gamely playing along. “How’s the weather?”
“Not that bad!” she replied before returning to sipping her soup and putting her new philosophy into action.
Today’s puzzle by veteran constructor John Kugelman relied heavily on our old friend Anna Graham. There were four grid-spanning (22-letter) anagrams, one of which was a bit controversial.
At 99 across, the clue was “Real chess playa?” And the answer was CHECK MATING CHICK MAGNET. Each pair of words is an anagram of the other.
At 47A, “Attire for Larry Page and Sergey Brin when visiting Google incognito?” was TECHNOCRATS TRENCHCOATS. (Larry and Sergey are the founders of Google.)
The controversial one was my favorite. It came near the bottom at 126A with the clue “Greeting from a famous Italian character to a famous Italian American actress?” The answer is MARISA TOMEI, IT’SA ME MARIO.
Anony Mouse noted: As an American of Italian descent, I found the “It’s a me…” insulting. That’s a hundred-year-old stereotype of how Italian Americans speak. Can you imagine if there were some similarly grotesque clue using Spanglish or Ebonics?
And commenter Beezer replied: I understand your feelings, but that insult derives from Nintendo because when Mario would appear he would always say “It’sa me, Mario!”
It was also controversial because the exact anagram of “Marisa Tomei” appeared in a NYTXW before!! Should it have not been replayed? Or perhaps credit should have somehow been given?
Commenter Lewis added a favorite anagram of his: DECIMAL POINT: I’M A DOT IN PLACE.
Way down at the bottom, the puzzle threw us a curve ball. The clue was “magical symbol,” 5 letters. Answer: SIGIL. You ever hear of it? I didn’t. The dictionary calls it: an inscribed or painted symbol considered to have magical power.
Here’s the Archangel Michael’s sigil. Be careful with it — my nose just turned into a carrot for a few minutes. Scared the sh*t out of me.
Cancel the herring! The Yankees no longer have Herring in their system. That’s Griffin Herring, the minor leaguer they traded to Colorado for third baseman Ryan McMahon. May you swim in peaceful waters, Griff — we’ll keep an eye on you here at Owl Chatter.
And, speaking of herring, the NYT had a large feature on a recent “herring pairing party” at Russ and Daughters. Forks were available, but the purists held their catch by the tail, tipped their heads back, and lowered the fish right into their mouths.
There was Scandinavian-style mustard and dill herring on crisp bread, paired with everything-bagel-flavored aquavit; curried herring with Medjool dates and roasted cashews, served with a blond ale; towers of pickled herring with pickled onions and cream sauce, served daintily on slices of Baltic rye; and herring ceviche, which goes with a tequila/mezcal cocktail.
But the purists were there for the New Catch Holland herring, or Hollandse Nieuwe, imported directly from the Netherlands during the fleeting stretch of summer when they’re caught in the North Sea. In Holland, the fish — traditionally served raw and garnished with chopped onion and cornichon — has its own national holiday. Vlaggetjesdag (“Flag Day”) heralds the arrival of the first New Catch of the season, which typically runs from mid-May to July, when the herring are at their peak omega-3 fat content and “are most delicious.” (As OC readers may recall, Linda and I sampled some wonderful herring on our recent trip to Holland.)
If you’ve got a spare $125 lying around, you can go to the repeat event this Tuesday (July 29), at Russ & Daughters Cafe on Orchard Street. (Herring plus drinks included.)
We headed up to Chappaqua Saturday for a cousins reunion (Linda’s family) at Cousin Brad’s house (Brad and Yvette). We were there years ago for the reception for the bar mitzvot of their twin boys (Yvette’s the yid). They have a pool and we received a text a few days ago to bring pool toys if we can. Thursday we received the following text and I really feel it crossed the line:
“Hey, everybody — please bring lots of beach towels and beach blankets on Saturday!!”
For f*ck’s sake!!
This was my reply:
We only have one towel and we don’t like it to leave the house. Why wasn’t this mentioned in the invitation? You already asked for pool toys (which we don’t like to share). It’s not fair to bring this towel and blanket thing up less than 48 hours before the event.
And get off my lawn!
Avi and Linda
I love how The Onion takes a measured and reasonable approach to political situations. Here’s a recent story:
AG Bondi Informed Trump His Name Tattooed All Over Epstein’s Body
From the story: “Trump’s name appeared inside of hearts and surrounded by daisies and roses multiple times. Epstein had tattoos of other names as well. There was a majestic merman on his inner thigh that looked a lot like Alan Dershowitz.”
This cartoon by Jack Ziegler is from July 22, 1985. It’s so good, and speaks so directly to me, that I remember it clearly after 40 years.
John Scotland, of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) shared this heartwarming story with the club.
Earlier on today, the power went off for a couple of hours. This was only a very minor inconvenience, until it came to the dull necessity of resetting the clock on the oven, without which the oven will not function. Barbara had already had a long and tiring day, and was in no mood to mess about when she tried to do the reset, following the instructions, and getting no result…
She accepted my offer to have a go, I checked the instructions (press two buttons at the same time ) and got the same negative result. There was a middle button which had some kind of padlock symbol, I pressed it, more in curiosity than hope, and lo! The display unfroze, after which Barbara was able to set the time without any further difficulty. The value of teamwork, and the knowledge that the instructions aren’t always as helpful as they could be. Hope everyone has a relaxing evening.
Jeff Mang: Not all supermen wear capes.
Greg Smith: How can I relax? We don’t know the make of the oven, colour, etc.
Avi Liveson: Deep breaths.
Do you enjoy mysteries, as in mystery books? I love ’em. You’ve probably heard them referred to as “whodunits.” Well I learned today that there is also a type of mystery called the “howcatchems.” It was in the clue today for COLUMBO, the great Peter Falk detective. In a whodunit you need to figure out who committed the crime. In a howcatchem you already know who did it, and you have to figure out how to catch him (or her). There is also a “whydunit,” where you need to figure out the motive.
I took three mystery books out from our library a while ago and when I handed them to the librarian to check them out, she looked at one of them oddly. She said, “the system shows this is already out.” I said “it was on the shelves just like the others.” She said, “I don’t understand how that happened,” and I looked right at her and said, “It’s a mystery.”
Hey, don’t look at me in that tone of voice, Library Lady!
Nick Scotty of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) posted: “This is why I have stopped going, drunken loutish behaviour and, as for the profanity, don’t get me started.”
Of course, Nick was referring to the Royal Horticultural Society Flower Show at Wentworth Woodhouse, a stately home near Rotherham. As reported by the BBC, fights broke out over transport to the show.
Edana Guest, from Penistone, said the RHS had advertised coaches as arriving every 15 to 20 minutes, but it was “definitely not happening.” “The last one was half an hour ago, it’s only one bus, and they’re full when they get here.”
Susanne Clegg said she had left her house in Sheffield at 9:30, but was still waiting at the coach stop at midday. She described how two different queues had formed at her stop, and “it all kicked off” between them when only one bus arrived. “I’ve never seen coach rage before today,” she said.
You can see the anger beginning to simmer in this photo taken shortly before all hell broke loose, to put it mildly.
Some folks still managed to have a good time once they finally got there. This beautiful woman accentuated her good looks with the perfect hat.
Some DMC(UK) member comments:
Kevin Wells: Turf wars.
Stuart George: They need to nip this sort of behaviour in the bud.
Avi Liveson: Not surprised. Looks like a tough bunch. Thorny problem.
Report in The Onion:
Novelty Pencil Worn Down To The Nub
I learned the word “sploot” from a puzzle recently but forgot it. I learned it again from yesterday’s puzzle and am goddamn determined to remember it this time. It’s a great word. It’s when a dog, cat, or other animal stretches out on his belly with legs behind him. It’s a way to cool down. Thus the clue was “When squirrels may thermoregulate by splooting.” Answer: HEATWAVE.
If you say “to luxuriantly sploot,” you are splooting an infinitive. This cat is named Pierogi.
Here are some other common uses of sploot.
“It’s getting late — gotta sploot!”
“Got an Advil? — I have a splooting headache.”
“The bowling match came down to a 7-10 sploot and I couldn’t make it.”
“The partners agreed to a 50-50 sploot.”
In baseball news, apparently it wasn’t enough for the Mets to have “Juan” Soto. They wanted two Sotos. So they picked up reliever Gregory Soto. I did the math — at this rate, by 2034, their entire roster will be named Soto.
Welcome to the city, folks.
At 34D today, the clue was “_____ Türeci, physician/scientist who co-founded BioNTech,” and the answer was OZLEM. She was instrumental in the development of the Covid vaccine.
Egs complained: “So many obvious ways to clue OZLEM and they went with Türeci?”
Whoa — she looks scary smart:
This is her husband, Uğur Şahin, who is also a brilliant scientist, in cancer research, and does a spot-on Obama imitation. They are billionaires, but live modestly.
Fifty-eight years ago (1967), yesterday, the race riots that took Detroit down started. I forgot, or never knew, how bad they were. It started when a squad of white cops broke up a party in a Black neighborhood celebrating the return of two soldiers from Vietnam. 85 Black men were rounded up and arrested and all hell broke loose. Five days of rioting brought out the National Guard with tanks. They fired over 150,000 bullets, 43 people were killed, and entire blocks burned down. “White flight” ensued and the city collapsed — by 1990 one in three Detroiters was in poverty. It’s doing much better today, kinahora. If you visit, which we do often because Sam et al live in nearby Bloomfield Hills, try to catch the African-American Bead Museum. It takes over a city block or two with wild outdoor art.
Report in The Onion: 80% Of Women Currently Wearing Wrong Size Bra, Shirt, Shoes, Pants, Hat
Today’s a big day here. I picked up a case (24 cans) of a beer that’s new to me and am trying it later. It’s Yuengling Premium. It’s light and crisp, a Pilsner, as opposed to Yuengling’s regular lager which is closer to an amber. I like the latter, but couldn’t resist the price of the Premium — only $15.99 for 24. Wow. Love the retro look too. Will report later (down below).
Here’s an eggserpt from a poem we have opted not to share:
Easy as an exquisite corpse paraphrased as dictionaried as a pontificator
raised by the thump of the 146 bus— these 16 are for you.
[Oh no they’re not.]
Today’s puzzle is by Ginny Too. Not Ginny also — Too is her last name. Imagine all the bad jokes.
Commenter Lewis reminded us of a great clue she used in a previous puzzle: “Caaaaaaar, you might say” was the clue for LIMO. (Get it?)
Today’s puzzle was wordplay related to birds. But there were no owls, boo! Each theme answer was a BIRD CALL that was a phrase using a bird in a punny way. E.g., “Hey, England, happy Fourth of July!” was the clue for AMERICAN CROW. Also, “Bottom-of-the-barrel barrel prices! Buy today!” was the “bird call” for COOPER’S HAWK.
Here’s a song by Waxahatchee called Crowbar:
I learned two new words, which is my way of saying I couldn’t finish the damn thing. Did you know “† symbols, on manuscripts,” which you might call “daggers,” are actually OBELI. Had no idea. Also, the “Vocal flourish used by Lady Gaga in Shallow and Bad Romance” is called a MELISMA. It’s when you sing multiple notes on the same syllable.
We’re far from the shallow now. . . .
From The Onion:
Rabid RFK Jr. Bites Foreign Dignitary
WASHINGTON—In what may be their first apology issued for the behavior of a Cabinet member, White House officials reportedly apologized to a foreign dignitary Tuesday after the man was bitten by a rabid Robert F. Kennedy Jr. “Sorry, sorry, that’s just our health secretary—I don’t know what’s gotten into him!” senior aide Tasha Sturbridge said as Kennedy snarled and sank his teeth deep into the leg of Japanese envoy Haruto Tanaka, with eyewitnesses reporting a mixture of blood and frothed saliva ringing the secretary’s mouth as his eyes rolled back in his head. “Bobby, let go. Let go! Mr. Tanaka, my apologies, but you should probably get that looked at. The secretary definitely isn’t up to date on his shots.” At press time, reports con- firmed rabies cases were sky-rocketing in the D.C. area after Kennedy bolted out an open door of the White House.
You art folks familiar with the work of Joseph Cornell? At 5D the clue was “Many a Joseph Cornell artwork,” and the answer was DIORAMA.
Commenter Les S. More shared the following: As an undergrad art student, 50 or so years ago, I became interested in the work of Joseph Cornell. So I hit the art history lab to find out more about him. His quirky, somewhat surreal work was most often described as assemblage or bricolage. I don’t remember his constructions ever being called DIORAMAs. They were collections of small, real objects mounted in boxes, often with glass fronts. In his mind there was a connection between these quirky bits of reality. These objects did not illustrate a narrative. They were meant to be associative, often inscrutable. Calling them dioramas makes them seem like grade school projects mounted in shoe boxes. Or the giant ones in a natural history museum. I could well be wrong; I haven’t done a lot of reading about him in many decades and, you know, memory.
The Yuengling (see discussion, above), was okay — not horrible not great. Will be able to get through the 24, but may not rush to resupply.
At 54A the clue was “Attire for an acrobat” and the answer was UNITARD. Here’s a nice shot we picked out from the Epstein files.
In the face of all the calamities arising around us, let’s end tonight on a lovely note. At 13D the clue for SERA was “Will be, in Spanish.” If you’re in my age bracket, you’ll remember this.
The Michigan contingent arrives tomorrow. Haven’t seen Sam, Sarah, and the boys in months. Hope they like the new mattress! Posting may be spotty for a while — we’ll do our best. We know how important this nonsense is to the readership. Both of you. Thanks for popping in!
In yesterday’s NYTXW, there was a clue “What two toddlers should learn to do,” and the answer, of course, was SHARE. Easy, right? I had no trouble with it, nor did it raise my hackles. You heard me — not a single hackle of mine perked up in the slightest. But it set Rex off big time:
“Man I hated this clue. ‘Should?’ What are you, Dr. Spock all of a sudden? There’s no reason ‘two toddlers’ (!?) should learn to do anything. Without a clear parental POV here, or some kind of hypothetical indicator, this clue reads weird. Prescriptive in a bizarre, unclear, off-putting way. Why not just ‘What parents might teach toddlers to do with their toys?’ Less wordy, but in that vein. The ‘two’ is also odd, and oddly specific. Honestly this clue looks like it’s referring to some imaginary toddler joke, a la ‘how many toddlers does it take to …’ or ‘two toddlers walk into a bar …’ or something like that.”
So I made up the joke and posted it:
How many toddlers does it take to change a light bulb?
Timmy! Get off the table this instant!!
I can’t recall if Cher has popped by OC before. We always liked her, both her music and acting. Thought Sonny was in over his head. Anyway, she was in the grid yesterday as “One-named singer of ‘If I Could Turn Back Time.’” It’s a good tune, but what the hell is she wearing? It’s the least sexy sexy outfit imaginable. But what do I know? — the sailors seem happy.
This poem by Jack Gilbert from today’s Writer’s Almanac is called “Cherishing What Isn’t.”
Ah, you three women whom I have loved in this long life, along with the few others. And the four I may have loved, or stopped short of loving. I wander through these woods making songs of you. Some of regret, some of longing, and a terrible one of death. I carry the privacy of your bodies and hearts in me. The shameful ardor and the shameless intimacy, the secret kinds of happiness and the walled-up childhoods. I carol loudly of you among trees emptied of winter and rejoice quietly in summer. A score of women if you count love both large and small, real ones that were brief and those that lasted. Gentle love and some almost like an animal with its prey. What is left is what’s alive in me. The failing of your beauty and its remaining. You are like countries in which my love took place. Like a bell in the trees that makes your music in each wind that moves. A music composed of what you have forgotten. That will end with my ending.
A bruising fight blew up over the clue/answer at 32D today: “Vampire bat feature.” Answer: FANGS.
First comment: Vampire bats do not have fangs!!!!! No sucking involved. They lap up the blood from wounds they cut into their prey.
Angry reply: Yes they do! They may not be the long long, pointy things that are prevalent in fictional accounts, but they do have sharp incisors and canines (which is basically the definition of FANGS) intended to create a wound for blood consumption. Hell, there are even some spiders that have FANGS.
Okay, break it up fellas. Easy does it now.
[OC Note: Phil is refusing to get us a photo — they are too creepy. They clearly do have fangs though (for when you are asked to take a side).]
More picking of nits: ORCA was clued as a “deep sea predator” today. And jberg posted: I hope some of you are marine biologists, and can clear up my doubts about ORCAS as “deep sea predators.” Orcas spend most of their time in coastal waters, not the deep sea, but there is at least one study that tracked a dive of 700+ meters. But to me the clue suggests something that lives down deep — which by definition would not be a mammal.
I responded under the name G. Costanza and wrote: I’m a marine biologist, but must have been absent that day. Have no idea.
Amy ADAMS was in the puzzle yesterday. In case “Actress Amy” wasn’t enough of a clue for ADAMS, the constructor added “or President John Quincy.” Amy was enough for me. Beautiful shot, Philly.
Here she is again, upon receiving the award for “Most Red Hair.”
Amy was born in Aviano Italy while her dad was serving in the U.S. Army. She has four brothers and two sisters and is 50 now. She met her husband in an acting class in 2001 and they have a daughter, Aviana. He is Darren Le Gallo, a painter, actor, and filmmaker. Phil caught this shot of them accepting the “Most Hair Award, Couples” several years ago. Their shampoo budget exceeds the GNP of most countries.
And this one took home the least hair award. Hi Maevs!
The clue for ATOM was “Basic building block.” Egs thought a better clue would have been “The first half of the alphabet.”
Story from The Onion:
Search For Missing Child Drags On To Fourth Boring Day
PICKETT, TN—The search for area fourth-grader Allison Means, who disappeared Friday evening, has entered its fourth boring day, volunteers and law-enforcement officials said Monday.
“The first day or two was okay, I guess,” said Clay Watts, a nearby resident who has been participating in the search since Saturday morning. “But now it’s been four days, and she still hasn’t turned up. The cops arrange us in these straight, long lines, and we advance 10 feet at a time. This goes on for hours. I’ve never been so bored in my life. Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored.”
“I’ve lived here all my life, but you really don’t realize how dull the area is until you’ve participated in a search for a missing 9-year-old,” volunteer Shirley Snow said. “It’s a shame there are no gently rolling hills or picturesque windmills around here—you know, something pleasing to the eye. Besides that ugly abandoned farmhouse, which we’ve been through six times already, there’s nothing.”
The Trump Epstein mess has been delicious, but I predict it will blow over. We will never see the files. The NYT already said today the brainless hordes are being distracted by the shiny toys he’s throwing their way. The thing is, Trump is the only thing that gives meaning to their lives. Without him, it’s an unbearable void. He can betray them relentlessly (and is), and it won’t matter.
Speaking of betrayals, I received a response today from UPenn’s president Jameson to my one-word letter (“Disgraceful”) on their fu*king over a trans student athlete, kissing Trump’s ass, and abandoning all pretensions of decency. I expected a nice bucket of horseshit and was not disappointed. “Penn’s commitment to fostering a respectful and inclusive environment has not wavered.” But it has. It has vanished.
I’m not going to waste my time responding. I have other things to waste my time on.
Let’s repair a culture gap.
K-pop has been bouncing into the puzzles for years now (pop music originating in South Korea). The answer is almost always BTS, a popular boy group. But a group I never heard of is filling up Citi Field next weekend, like the Beatles did at Shea a million years ago. According to The New Yorker “its biggest singles are possessed by a zany hyperactivity offset by a blasé cool.” They are Black Pink, the most successful K-pop girl group ever. Let’s have a look (they are ridiculously pretty), and then they can send us off with their biggest hit, “Kill This Love,” performed in Tokyo to an intimate audience of several zillion.
It can’t be a coincidence. Or can it? Friday’s crazy Wordle word (LORIS) which I had never heard of, also appeared in yesterday’s NYTXW. The clue was “Large-eyed primate.” At first I thought the answer was ME AT MEALTIME. But it was LORIS. It wasn’t the only visitor from the animal world. At 35A, spanning the entire grid was a beautiful AIREDALE TERRIER (“Canine breed named after an English river valley”). Woof woof. Hey fella! (or gal)
It’s a beautiful puzzle, with such a good heart. CORETTA SCOTT King is one of the long downs, and FREEDOM RIDES is another, clued by “Actions that, despite being legal, resulted in hundreds of arrests in 1961.” “Fist bumps” at 39A are DAPS. I think I knew that.
In a lighter vein (apparently, there are light and dark veins? where does varicose fall?), there was a MASCOT RACE at 44A. Here’s how they do them at Gnats games. (C’mon Abe!! Push it!)
The constructor is one of the best, Erik Agard. Phil caught up with him on the beach. Phil was bragging about completing a Monday puzzle with only about a bazillion mistakes. Erik routinely completes a Sunday grid in 5 minutes. Whoosh.
Wait! Do you recognize him? If you do, it may be because he won $66,000 on Jeopardy in four days a while back. Puzzles are how he makes a living. He’s 32 and lives on the outskirts of DC. According to Wikipedia, Erik has been celebrated for helping to increase diversity and inclusion in crosswords: when he was in charge of the puzzles at USA Today, they were primarily constructed by women and people of color, and contained references not considered “standard knowledge.” E.g., the February 19, 2022 crossword puzzle contained the clue [“you’re telling me a cis ___ built this chapel?” for TEEN.
Getting back to his puzzle from yesterday, there are six across answers that span the grid, i.e., are 15 letters long. We already met one (woof!). Another was a quote of Vince Carter’s (NBA Hall of Famer) that went viral when he decided not to retire after 21 years. I GOT ONE MORE IN ME, is the answer at 36A (“Vince Carter quote-turned-meme regarding his return for a 22nd N.B.A. season.”) Carter is considered the greatest dunker of all time. I wonder if “dunk of death” was ever in a puzzle. That’s an historic Vince Carter dunk from the 2000 Olympics. Ouch!
Have you ever seen a color that’s impossible to see? Of course you haven’t. It’s impossible. Okay, WTF am I talking about? At 53A, the clue was “Stygian blue or reddish-green,” and the answer was IMPOSSIBLE COLOR. “Color theory” explains how colors work on the human eye. And some of them posit colors that exist in theory, but cannot be perceived visually. (If I go much further, I will fall into incoherence.) Apparently (pun intended), reddish-green is such a color. The board below contains reddish-green swatches. Can’t see ’em, right?
Wait, what?
I tried reading about stygian colors (another type of impossible colors) but am too stupid to follow even the rudimentary concepts.
To close out our discussion of yesterday’s puzzle on an impressive note, the clue at 57A was “Trans activist who founded the Sylvia Rivera Law Project.” It’s Dean Spade. Spade who is from Virginia, Jewish, and 48, is a professor at Seattle U School of Law. For the trans community, he has been a legal superhero. Never have his efforts been more needed than they are now.
The Sylvia Rivera Law Project is a legal aid organization in NYC that serves low-income or people of color who are transgender, intersex and/or gender non-conforming. It was formed by Spade in August 2002. The project is named for Sylvia Rivera, a transgender activist and veteran of the 1969 Stonewall Riots, who died the same year it was formed.
Are crossword puzzles silly little diversions? I certainly hope so. But everything touched on above was inspired by Erik’s grid. There are 600-page novels that accomplish far less. And there was the whole rest of the grid we didn’t even mention. Rob Reiner, Geena Davis, Laura Dern, and St. Matthew made appearances.
Wait, St. Who?
You talkin’ to me?
If I say Ketanji, you think of? The Supremes, of course. Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson has been turning heads with her informal language in some of her dissents. Columbia linguistics prof John McWhorter has an op-ed in today’s NYT on her nontraditional writing style. Check out her language decrying the Court’s denying district courts the power to curb unconstitutional action. “The majority sees a power grab — but not by a presumably lawless executive choosing to act in a manner that flouts the plain text of the Constitution. Instead, to the majority, the power-hungry actors are … (wait for it) … the district courts.”
McWhorter explains: What’s striking about Justice Jackson’s turns of phrase [e.g., “wait for it”] is that they employ what we typically regard as oral language — spontaneous, spoken words — in an extremely serious written text. [However,] the expectation that [the Court’s] language be timeless, faceless and Latinate is a matter of custom, not necessity.
“[KBJ] was raised in the 1980s, when America’s writing culture was getting markedly less hidebound. Waving aside the hats and girdles and stuffy dance steps of old, the counterculture had shown America how to let its language hang out, too.”
I hope I live enough to see an opinion of hers contain a “Bada boom.”
Lookin’ good, Babe.
Ran across two signs that gave me pause yesterday (paws?). Here’s the first, in front of a pet food shop.
How does that work? The dog just walks in and goes “woof?” Can we really trust that he’ll clean behind his ears?
And speaking of “walking in,” here’s the second one, from a service station.
The part that gets me is the “walk-ins welcome.”
Walk-in customer: Hi.
Mechanic: Hi.
Customer: I need a tune-up on my 2022 Camry.
Mechanic: OK, but I don’t see it. Wait, did you walk here? It’s not with you?
Customer: Yes.
Mechanic: D’oh! I told Pete to fix that sign!
From today’s puzzle: two items for our Dirty Old Man Dept. First, at 81A the clue was “Bring up the rear?” and the answer was MOON.
Then we had GIRL SCOUT CAMP as the answer for “Brownie Point?” Here are some fashions from Vogue inspired by National GS Day, one of the few religious holidays Phil observes.
I have a friend who is so Irish, he says his blood type is O apostrophe. They’re having problems with their teenage daughter — she’s shoplifting. He told his wife he’d talk to her about it right after his birthday.
Infuriating — yesterday the guy who was supposed to fix our doorbell didn’t show up. I think.
So they asked me if I had a time machine would I go back in time and kill baby Hitler. That’s tough. I’m a dad, so I don’t think I could kill a baby under any circumstances. I could strangle teenage Hitler, though. No problem.
Cats typically accept death with far more dignity and grace than I expect to be able to. This poem is called “Enough” and is by Robin Chapman. It’s from today’s Writer’s Almanac. I had to read it several times to adapt to its rhythms.
There is always enough. My old cat of long years, who stayed all the months of his dying,
though, made sick by food, he refused to eat, till, long-stroked, he turned again to accept
another piece of dry catfood or spoonful of meat, a little water, another day through which
he purred, small engine losing heat—I made him nests of pillow and blanket, a curve of body
where he curled against my legs, and when the time came, he slipped out a loose door into the cold world
whose abundance included the death of his choosing.
Roger Allen of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) threw this raw meat out to us lions:
I wonder about the calibration on these speed signals. It clocked me at 3mph walking past. So I went around again and achieved 4mph..! Obviously only accurate to 1 decimal place so perhaps I was achieving 3.9mph on the warm up lap??
Mike Smalley: That’s to 0 decimal places. One decimal place would be 3.8 or 4.2 etc. The warm up lap could have been from 2.5 to 3.4mph (to 1 decimal place).
Ken Irvine: Excellent pedantry of the dullest order.
Mike: I thank you, sir.
Bob D’cruz: You have to run at it, why haven’t you already !! ?
Roger: If I tried running I’d cripple myself.
Avi Liveson: But surely in a noble cause.
Ken: Where is this? Looks like an indoor exercise yard in a prison, so why the speed signal?
Roger: it’s a multistory carpark..
Avi Liveson: Perhaps it’s a combination multistory carpark/prison?
Ken: Sorry, nodded off while thinking…..
Bernard Shaw: Honda walk-behind self-propelled mowers are set at 2.7 mph flat out. If you have or can borrow one, try it on that indicator.
John Scotland: ” Walking Furiously on the King’s Highway…”
[John’s reference is to the hymn “Walking on the King’s Highway,” the King being Christ, I’m guessing, and not Kings Highway in Brooklyn.]
There’s a highway there and a way, Where sorrow shall flee away; And the light shines bright as the day, Walking on the King’s highway.
[I’m not sure how the “furiously” got in there.]
Any grammarians out there? At 41A the clue was “Explicit subject for her?” (10 letters) I had no idea what the hell was going on, but here’s the scoop:
“Her” is a pronoun, of course. And you always need to know what the “subject” of a pronoun is, i.e., to whom it is referring, or else it’s floating off in space. That is, you need the “explicit subject” of a pronoun, as the clue states. And that is called the ANTECEDENT, which was the answer.
Okay, sort of got it.
At 35A the clue was “Receiving end?” and answer was GEE. The end of the word “receiving” is its last letter: GEE. This REM song is new to me and nice.
There wasn’t even time to say Goodbye to Wendell Gee. So whistle as the wind blows Whistle as the wind blows did he.
How does “Congressional record” at 32D become SEX TAPE? Because “congress” is an old-timey term for sex. The act of coming together: sexual congress. You’ll never be able to look at Chuck Grassley the same way again, amirite? Love the sweater, CG!
When you are associated with something horrible so closely that it takes on your name, that’s pretty low. On Cheers, when Frazier Crane was humiliated by being left at the altar in Europe, he described it by saying, “In European soccer, when you take a free kick and miss the ball entirely, it’s now called a ‘Frazier.’ If you also fall down, it’s a ‘Frazier Crane.’”
And that’s the story behind 12D in the puzzle today. The clue was “Quisling, e.g.,” and the answer was TRAITOR. It’s from Norway where Vidkun Quisling’s betrayal of his nation via collaboration with the Nazis was so deeply vilified that the name Quisling took on the meaning of traitor. When the Nazis overran Norway, Quisling headed the collaborationist government and worked with the Nazis to deport Jews to their death. He was tried and executed by firing squad after the war.
My Wordle streak of 63 was sorely tested today. I barely pulled through on my sixth try and had no idea what the word means. LORIS: a small, slow-moving nocturnal primate with a short or absent tail, living in dense vegetation in southern Asia. Gimme a break, Wordle lady! You short on sleep or something? Aw — what a cutie! All is forgiven.
If you would be inclined to answer the question “Would you like some?” with “Just a skosh,” then you would have been fine today where the clue was “Tiny bit” and the answer was SKOSH. It gave me pause, but I got it. Commenter Anony Mouse explained it’s derived from Japanese, sukoshi, meaning a tiny bit (duh), and was introduced to English as slang by servicemen after World War II.
When a member of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) posted a picture of the odometer on his truck that read 867,530.9 he said he asked his wife for his phone to take the picture NOW! One more tenth of a mile would have lost it. What was going on? Quite a few club members understood right away. I was not among them. You?
You have one of these when you were little? I did.
Or, if, like me, you are partial to blondes (Hi Linda!),
They are Russian matryoshka (nesting) dolls. If you perform a C section on all but the smallest, they fit inside one another. (The Sedaris family had a beach house they named The Sea Section.)
Did I ever tell you about the blonde Russian economics major who was a student in my law class one semester? She was brilliant, tall, and beautiful beyond all normal bounds. It was a large class (90 students) and it met around lunchtime. One day she sat in front way over to my left and she was eating an apple. She was somewhat alluringly dressed — nothing outrageous, but it certainly caught your eye. Anyway, she finished the apple and was holding the core. She noticed that the trash can was way over on the opposite side of the room, to my right. So she quietly got out of her seat, walked over to the trash can, tossed out the core, and walked back to her seat.
Did you ever see the crowd at a tennis match? All the heads turn from side to side in unison as the ball goes back and forth. That’s what this was like. Every head in the room turned together slowly from left to right following her path to the trash can, and then slowly from right to left, as she made her way back to her seat. My head could have turned into a cabbage and no one would have noticed.
I mention the matryoshka dolls because that was the theme of the puzzle today. The clues were “nested” and each segment served as a part of the overall answer. Clear as mud, right? Here’s an example: At 25D, the clue was “(Church (Buffalo’s (minister, informally) waters) seats).” The answer was PEER REVIEWS. The nested parts are PEWS, ERIE, and REV that come together as PE (ER (REV) IE) WS. Can you see it? That happened four times in the theme answers and the entire central down column was MATRYOSHKA DOLLS, clued as “Compact wooden figures.” That’s some serious-ass wordplay, constructor dude (Sam Brody).
At 38A, the clue was “Elvis Costello hit featured in ‘Notting Hill’” and the answer was SHE. Rex took issue with calling it a “hit,” as follows:
Elvis Costello has had precisely two top-forty “hits” in this country in his entire (nearly 50-year) career: “Everyday I Write the Book” (#36, 1983) and “Veronica” (#19, 1989). He has a bunch of songs that feel like hits (“Alison” “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding” etc.), but never actually were, by measurable standards. I think “SHE” has a lot of plays on Spotify, maybe? 1.5 million “views” on YouTube for the video (below). I guess that’s something. But no, it is not a “hit” and never was. Maybe the least “hit” of any song that has ever been described as a “hit” by the NYTXW.
Good tune though.
Let’s dip our toesies for just a second into the river of crap that is the Trump administration that floats by every minute of the day. This is just an excerpt from the dumpster of nonsense historian Heather Cox Richardson covered in her newsletter today:
Yesterday he fell asleep on stage at the Pennsylvania Energy and Innovation Summit. At the same event, Trump told what CNN fact-checker Daniel Dale called “an especially odd imaginary tale,” claiming that his uncle, a professor at MIT, had taught Ted Kaczynski, the Unabomber. Trump recounted a conversation with his uncle about Kaczynski, but in fact Kaczynski didn’t go to MIT, and Trump’s uncle John died more than a decade before Kaczynski became famous. Today, Trump called the Chair of the Federal Reserve Jerome Powell a “terrible Fed chair” and added: “I was surprised he was appointed.” Of course, it was Trump who appointed him.
Deion Sanders has his share of detractors, and then some. I’ve always loved him. The hot-doggiest of hot dogs. As a defensive back, he shut down entire sections of the field for the quarterback. And he had a successful baseball career as his second sport — something Michael Jordan couldn’t make happen, not to diss Jordan. He’s the only player ever to have played in both a Super Bowl (2) and a World Series.
Prime Time (Deion’s nickname) is head football coach at Colorado now, Coach Prime. In that capacity, he had a nice moment that received some attention. A student reporter, 21-year-old Anton Cherico, working as an intern, asked a question at a press conference. Deion started answering and then noticed Cherico was in a wheelchair (as he has been since he was nine). And he said this:
“I’m proud of you and your resilience and what you go through on a daily basis. I’m so darn proud of you, you have no idea. Because I was in a chair at one point with these toes being amputated. And I know what you deal with on a daily basis. I had to change my whole bathroom and put rails in so I could even get on the darn toilet, man. So I understand, and I’m proud of you man, truly.”
Andrew later posted: Thank you Coach Prime. It means the world to me.
One thing Deion is bad at is suicide. At a very dark moment in his life, with his first marriage falling apart, he intentionally drove his car off a 35-foot cliff at 70 mph. “There wasn’t a scratch on me or the car,” Deion said. The man could even hot dog his own suicide!!
Drop by when you’re in Jersey, Coach. Always welcome. Maybe take an Uber, though.
From The Onion:
Bony Soldier Diving On Top Of Grenade Only Makes It Deadlier
I forgot how incredible Maria Sharapova’s tennis career was. At the age of 17 (!) she defeated Serena Williams to win at Wimbledon. She was ranked #1 in the world at age 18. She won 36 tour-level titles, including 5 majors. She is one of only ten women to achieve the career Grand Slam in singles (all four majors).
Maria has been a very successful businesswoman since retiring from tennis. Among other ventures, her candy company Sugarpova reported $20 million in sales in 2019.
Maria has lived in the U.S. since age 7 and speaks English without an accent. She has spoken out against the Russian invasion of Ukraine and has donated funds to support Ukrainian children.
Maria is 38 now and gave birth to a son, Theodore, three years ago. The dad is her fiance, Alexander Gilkes, a British businessman.
Welcome to Owl Chatter Post #834. SRSLY. How did that happen? I can remember maybe two of them, and only because of Ana de Armas.
Ana, BTW, seems to be hooking up with Tom Cruise. Yes, that Tom Cruise. He’s 63. Look, whatever makes her happy, we’re for it. Very much hoping she is done with that Cuban monster type of guy who was very handsome, we’ll give him that. . . .
Hey, Babe! We were just talking about you!! Didn’t know you were in Jersey. Sit — take a load off. We’re out of Fresca, though — don’t ask.
Hey — don’t look at us in that tone of voice!
I have twice gone through New Yorker issues here aghast at how unfunny every single one of the cartoons in them was. However, the recent double issue (July 7/14) makes those two issues seem uproarious. The first semester I taught my tax class at Hunter I had one student who I can’t say fell off the truck, because he never got on. He got a 3 on the first exam (out of 100), just by blind luck — the broken clock correct twice a day. His answers were so far afield from the topic, I told him: “You’d have to improve a lot, just to get the questions wrong.” Anyway, I thought of him as I was looking at these cartoons. The earlier bad cartoons were failed efforts at humor. These struck me as not even related to the concept of humor. I am beginning to worry that the New Yorker cartoon people no longer know that a thing such as funny exists. They are just flailing about blindly.
I’ll just give you one example. It’s on page 30. A woman is sitting at a table and there is a bowl in front of her. Above her is a box stating: What your girlfriend is really up to when you’re out of town. Then, it separately states that the bowl contains “A meal with no protein.” So your girlfriend apparently becomes a different person when you are away, and that expresses itself by her avoiding protein at meals. How many transfers do you have to take to travel from there to funny?
OK. You didn’t really believe me when I said I’d just give you one example, did you? On p. 53, a man is picking out a dog to adopt as a pet. He says to the woman: “I’m looking for one that responds to logic.” A real thigh-slapper, I know, but do you see what I mean about not even being in the ballpark?
I’ll stop now, and share something that is funny.
In the puzzle today, at 39A the clue was “Cuts of fish” and the answer was FILLETS. Yes, with two Ls. Here’s Rex on it: You mean McDonald’s has been lying to me about the spelling all these years!? What else aren’t they telling me? Is Mayor McCheese even a real mayor?
So, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, compare “Is Mayor McCheese even a real mayor?” (hysterical, IMO), with “I’m looking for one that responds to logic.” Case closed.
The puzzle contained a really strange dude: Rapper Lil Uzi VERT. Never heard of him, of course. He’s from Philly and his real name is Symere Bysil Woods. Get this — from his Wikipedia page:
In February 2021, Woods revealed that he had a 10-carat pink diamond implanted in his forehead. It was valued at $24 million. Woods said he “could die” if the diamond were not removed “the right way.” He had it removed (apparently properly) the following June but had it reimplanted for a performance in July and later revealed that fans ripped it out while he was crowd surfing. He didn’t suffer serious damage (or die) and still has the diamond, albeit not in his forehead. It’s been replaced by a barbell piercing.
And then there was the girl who had diamonds on the soles of her shoes.
Special congratulations to Owl Chatter’s brilliant and beautiful sports consultant PWHL Rookie of the Year Sarah Fillier. Sarah just signed a two-year extension making her the highest paid player in the league. Brava SF!
Our Sarah is far too modest to toot her own horn, but here’s what the NYT had to say: Fillier was the No. 1 pick in the 2024 PWHL Draft and has been widely viewed as a generational talent, with three world championships and an Olympic gold medal. She’s a highly intelligent center with high-end offensive tools and versatility to play the wing. No player had more points than Fillier during her rookie season; she finished tied for the league lead with 29 points in 30 games.
Keep your drool cups ready, fellas. The season starts in November. Drop the puck, Ref!
See you tomorrow Chatterheads. Thanks for popping by.
Jem Giles (photo below) of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) posts a photo of a notice at her bus stop and asks: Typical! But, got me wondering: Is there a quantitative measure of how bad is ‘bad’ traffic?
Here are some pretty dull comments:
Simon Taylor: I havant a clue.
Emma Devey: I’m more worried about their spelling.
Nik Tembe: Never mind that. I’m trying to figure out the date.
Tony Ross: I didn’t even know they had buses back in 700. History not my strong point by the looks of it.
Julia Seabrook: Buses in 700 were pulled by oxen, which may account for the bad traffic.
Avi Liveson: For these porpoises, traffic shall be considered “bad” when the average speed of the vehicles driving by the bus stop is less than (12 x pi)/2 kph for at least 45 seconds. You mean something like that?
Michael Smith: The vagueness gives them carte blanche.
Nigel Parsons: No, they won’t ‘cart’ Blanche when they’re not running.
John Gibbens: When traffic is good, it’s very very good, but when it’s bad, it’s horrid.
Nigel Parsons: “There was a little girl, a pretty little girl, With a curl in the middle of her forehead. When she was good she was very, very, good And when she was bad she was horrid.” (Although I often heard the rhyme with ‘horrid’ replaced by ‘fantastic’!)
Here’s Jem. God I love this club.
How many famous actors can you name with the initials “DB?” That was the task imposed upon us by the puzzle today. The theme centered on IMDb, which originally stood for the Internet Movie Database but now stands for nothing. For porpoises of the puzzle, it should be parsed as “I am DB.”
So there’s DREW BARRYMORE, of course, and DAVID BOWIE, who was in a few movies. Here’s Drew, falling for some of Phil’s nonsense.
Phil! Is she not dressed? Don’t get us in trouble!! We already have George in jail.
Did you know she just turned 50? Ouch. Has two kids.
The third DB was Delta Burke. Remember her? I did, surprisingly, although I was never fond of her show, “Designing Women.” Delta is her real name; her dad was a pilot (no he wasn’t). She’s 69. She’s been married to actor Gerald McRaney, see below, for 36 years (no kids). She has a gay sister and has been active in support of gay rights. Delta struggles with a hoarding syndrome which she says she inherited from her mom. “She saved the diaper I came home from the hospital in!” Lookin’ good, D.
Who the hell is the fourth DB? DANNY BONADUCE? Well, the clue tells us: Player of the middle son on TV’s “The Partridge Family.” OK, thanks. Never saw it. BTW, the puzzle constructor was Daniel Britt. (Get it?)
Tonight the All-Star game is being played. I have very little interest in it. Sixty-one years ago, in 1964, I attended the game in the first year Shea Stadium was open. The AL, for whom I was rooting, carried a 4-3 lead into the ninth and turned it over to Boston’s Dick Radatz, their purportedly unhittable closer. But Johnny Callison’s three-run pinch-hit HR gave the game to the Nationals. That was the same season I witnessed Jim Bunning’s perfect game at Shea. It was the first game of a doubleheader. The Mets dropped the second game too. Casey Stengel was managing the Mets. Bunning’s wife Mary and his daughter Barbara (one of his seven children) were in the stands.
By Ted Kooser, from his Winter Morning Walks.
Sunlight like honey this morning, and a stiff wind spreading it smoothly over the bluestem. Two miles down wind from Hartmann’s quarry, I hear the exuberant backing-up song of a dump truck, and directly above me, a red-tailed hawk responds with its lispy whistle. Burnt red seed-heads of buckbrush, green duckweed over the beaver pond, Todd Halle’s red combine parked on a hilltop as if to show the sun the way — the eye contains the world, in a space no bigger than a baby’s fist.
The Wellington Files 