My dear friend and colleague Toshi taught an accounting course at Hunter for a few years that was supposed to have an ethics component. He has a doctorate in Accounting and was of the laughable, absurd opinion that ethics belongs more to the legal field. So, in exchange for taking me to lunch, he asked me to cover that session for him. I could better teach Yiddish than ethics (and I don’t speak Yiddish), but a free lunch is a free lunch, so there I was in front of the students. My theme was that everyone knows what the ethical thing to do is — the issue is, can you find the fortitude to do it? If I have access to the right equipment, I play Al Pacino’s Oscar-winning scene from Scent of a Woman as part of the class. The relevant lines for my presentation come when Pacino grows a little subdued and says:
Now, I have come to the crossroads in my life. I always knew what the right path was — without exception I knew. But I never took it. You know why? It was too damn hard.
In keeping with that thought, it’s Emily Post’s birthday today. She was born in Baltimore in 1873. You know, — the etiquette lady. This nice quote of hers was in The Writer’s Almanac today: “Manners are a sensitive awareness of the feelings of others. If you have that awareness, you have good manners, no matter what fork you use.”
In the puzzle today at 6A the clue was “Animal cry that sounds like a Greek letter,” and the answer was MEW, the Greek letter being MU. And it is a diphthong, i.e., MU is pronounced ME-YOU.
It prompted a commenter to share this great math joke: As opposed to Mu, the Greek letter Nu is not a diphthong (it’s pronounced NEW), letting people hilariously respond to the inquiry “What’s new?” with the rakish answer, “C over lambda.” [I know — hysterical, right?]
(Explanation: the equation for converting between the frequency, nu, and the wavelength, lambda, of a wave traveling at the speed of light, which is “c,” is c = lambda times nu. So, dividing each side by lambda gives you Nu = c/lambda.)
Even Al Pacino thought it was funny.
Stuart Davidson of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) writes:
Every thing I buy I do the maths to see how long I need to own and use the item to bring the cost down below £1 per month. £30 pair of jeans must last 30 months or more to be value for money.
Our TV cost £389 on an Amazon deal 9 years 2 months ago. It’s cost me £3.53 per month to date. I need to continue using it for another 279 months or just over 23 years to be “value for money.”
I am now developing a spreadsheet with all items in my house, date purchased and cost to show visually when an item can be replaced.
Now obviously food, cleaning supplies other disposable items are not included. [Obviously.]
I have another 5 days before I return to work. I should be able to complete this task before then.
Jamie Lee chimed in:
I always do cost effectiveness / value for money, but nowhere near this extent, and personally feel aiming for £1 a month is a bit low, especially due to inflation, and some items need a different scale altogether, such as a car or bike, hiking boots for instance are generally a lot more expensive than trainers, yet used less, but wear quicker per mile, as is the design, so items may need their own categories to correctly scale them, but I like it, and hope you get it all done in time.
Neill Birch: Can’t wait to see the spreadsheet!
Jonathan James Guscott: I truly am impressed by the abhorrently dull nature of this post. I take my rather dull tweed flat cap off to you (bought from M&S ( already below £1 per wear)).
Pauline Fleming: Your poor wife!!
Clem Williams: I’ve been noting date of purchase on some items for a while now – petrol and diesel in storage containers, elementary footwear (double pluggers in Australian terminology), shaving gel, and other aerosol products. Car servicing records need such data anyway, I don’t see anything odd about this practice. Besides, I’ve reached an age where I really don’t care what anybody thinks of what I do, they can all go take a running (&@$ at a rolling donut.
How could anyone not love Dikembe Mutombo Mpolondo Mukamba Jean-Jacques Wamutombo? He was Congolese and came to the U.S. to play basketball at Georgetown before his Hall of Fame NBA career. He is recognized as one of the greatest defensive players and shot blockers of all time. He passed away on Monday from a brain tumor. He was only 58.
Dikembe became a U.S. citizen in 2006. We could not begin to do justice to the scope and depth of his extraordinary humanitarian work. The Biamba Marie Mutombo Hospital sits on a 12-acre site on the outskirts of Kinshasa. It’s named in honor of his mother. He provided $15 million of the $29 million needed to bring it into existence.
Dikembe and his wife Rose lived in Atlanta. They had three children and adopted four more from Rose’s deceased brothers.
A very good man. Rest in peace.
The puzzle was pretty amazing today. Running down the center was ANIMAL CROSSING, clued by “Nintendo video game series.” And then every answer that crossed it (14) was a different animal. They included a TREE FROG (“Jungle peeper”), an ANTEATER, and a NEMATODE (“Worm found in every ecosystem on Earth, even the deepest oceans”).
I also learned a new funny-sounding word: TEASEL. It’s a “spiny plant.”
Kirk Daniels of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) asked for ideas on how to stop a toddler from climbing the bannister:
Rick Bedford: Adoption.
Sean Turnbull, barbed wire.
Sam Graves, goose fat
Emma Devey, electric fence.
Matthew Rose, Superglue
Davis Fernsby:
Matt Gilley: “Amputation worked with mine.”
Claire Hutch: Sniper towers.
Anita Bushnell Bartlett: tape
Ever hear of this stuff? It was also recommended.
Anti-climb paint is thick and oily in consistency, similar to petroleum jelly, designed to make walls, fences and other surfaces slippery and hard to climb. The anti climb paint will form a thin skin helping to prevent leaves and the like from sticking to it but because it is thixotropic any pressure applied to it will make it return to liquid making it difficult for an intruder to gain a hand or foot hold.
Sh*t! I’ve got this crap all over my hands now. Phil!! Put the stupid camera down and get some towels!!
That’s Jamie McGregor, CEO of McGregor Metal Company in Springfield, Ohio. Looks like a pretty big operation. The company employs 330. McGregor is a real mensch. We’ve got a spot for him in the Owl Chatter Hall of Fame.
A few years ago he had trouble finding people to hire. So he drew on the Haitian community and has about 35 Haitians working for him now. He was interviewed by the NYT and PBS and praised his workers. He said they helped revitalize the town. “They come to work every day. They don’t cause drama. They’re on time. They are drug-free. I wish I had 30 more.”
Jamie is a dyed-in-the-wool Republican and voted for Trump twice. His family has been in Springfield for five generations. But none of that prevented the sh*t from hitting the fan. Big time.
A flood of threats was directed at him, his family, and his business. They came by the hundreds — phone calls, emails and letters from white supremacists, neo-Nazis and others.
“The owner of McGregor Metal can take a bullet to the skull and that would be 100 percent justified,” said one message. “Why are you importing Third World savages who eat animals and giving them jobs over U.S. citizens?” another asked. [OC note: Don’t most of us eat animals? Just sayin’.]
McGregor’s children and his 80-year-old mother began receiving hateful calls. The FBI visited and said some of the threats were credible. They advised locking the lobby doors at McGregor Metal along with other safety protocols.
Security experts also sat the family down. Vary your driving routes to work, school and other places, they advised. Don gloves and use tongs when handling and opening mail. Keep the blinds drawn at your house. They were also advised to install cameras, motion sensors and alarms, and start parking rear-first in the garage, keeping the car in drive until the door is all the way down. They acquired firearms. They picked up anti-climb paint. [No they didn’t.]
“I can’t imagine living my whole life like this,” Ms. McGregor said. “You know, it’s got to end. It’s got to stop — hopefully after the election.’’
McGregor said he will not be voting for Trump again.
You see? — People can change their minds. Didn’t take much.
Let’s end on a lighter note.
The Tigers just swept their way into the next round of the playoffs! Woo-hoo! Manager A.J. Hinch was asked if it was particularly satisfying to beat Houston — for whom he managed before and who fired him after the sign-stealing scandal. You know the canned answer: “No, that wasn’t a factor at all; I’m just glad for the players that we won.” But that wasn’t what he said. His eyes lit up and he smiled. He said: “Isn’t baseball great?”
In the puzzle yesterday, at 49A the clue for BUFFALO BILL was “Football player in upstate NY.” It opened a can of worms. Here’s Rex:
“No Buffalonian (I think that’s what they’re called?) (just kidding, folks), I say no resident of Buffalo would ever say they live in ‘upstate New York.’ That is some provincial NYC crap right there. I know, I know, anything north of 96th is ‘upstate’ to you all, but Buffalo is decidedly ‘western New York.’ It’s nowhere near, say, Poughkeepsie (also, don’t tell people from Poughkeepsie that they live ‘upstate,’ they hate it … well, my students from there hate it, anyway). I generally think ‘upstate’ is fine for most of non-NYC New York (including where I live, which is technically Central New York, or, more specifically, the Southern Tier), but Buffalo really is an entirely different ecosystem. It’s the heart of western New York. Just ask any Buffaloer (I think that’s what they’re called).”
First of all, commenters chimed in noting that folks from Buffalo are indeed called Buffalonians. The Urban Dictionary agrees. Several also took the position that all parts of the state, no matter how distant from NYC, constitute “upstate.” They maintained that breaking “western NY” off from “upstate” is a johnny-come-lately maneuver. Excuse me, personeuver.
According to Wikipedia, “Upstate New York is a geographic region of NY that lies north and northwest of the NYC metropolitan area. Upstate includes the middle and upper Hudson Valley, the Capital District, the Mohawk Valley region, Central NY, the Southern Tier, the Finger Lakes region, Western NY, and the North Country. Major cities across upstate NY from east to west include Albany, Utica, Binghamton, Syracuse, Rochester, and Buffalo.”
We’ll also check with Owl Chatter friend Riverdale Joe on the matter and report back to you.
Here’s a Tiny Love Story by Julianne Reid from yesterday’s NYT.
Until the spring of sixth grade, my daily routine included brushing my teeth and reminding my disabled younger sister that she and her all-consuming disease ruined my life: my parents’ limited attention, the missed trips, the way others stared. Then one day, the seizures wouldn’t stop and Olivia went into a coma. On nights in the I.C.U., I tried but couldn’t remember the last time I told her I loved her. Weeks passed until, one day, she woke up. And I had a second chance. I wonder how many sisters out there are given that.
The first Mets game yesterday was historic. It was game one of a doubleheader and the Mets had to win at least one to make it into the playoffs. But the Atlanta pitcher, a mouthful — Spencer Schwellenbach, whose name barely fit on his jersey, stymied them for 7 innings and it was 3-0 Braves going into the 8th. But suddenly the dead woke up and rallied for six big runs — amazing! They were up 6-3!
They called on their closer, Edwin Diaz, to shut the Braves down for the last two innings, so that should be that. But the roller coaster took another deep dive. Inexplicably, Diaz forgot to cover first on a grounder to the right side and the Braves were in business. Visibly rattled, Diaz yielded hit after hit until the lead was gone. The Mets limped into the ninth shocked and demoralized and down by a run.
The first batter flew out weakly to left. But Starling Marte hit a sharp grounder past the shortstop for a single. Gary Cohen remarked that it was Atlanta’s back-up shortstop, but Keith Hernandez said it would have been a hit no matter who was playing short. It was key because Francisco Lindor came up next and lofted a ball to deep right. It didn’t seem all that powerful a shot but you could watch the fielders drifting back, and then the ball sailed over the fence. With Marte on first, it was good for two runs and the Mets got the lead back.
With Diaz having imploded in the 8th, the Mets had another reliever, Stanek, warm. But they kept Diaz in. They later showed Diaz in the dugout after his bad inning. He was devastated. Nearly in tears. But once they got the lead back, he was determined to finish the job. He was raving that he was going back out on the mound no matter what anyone said. He was right. Mendoza left him in. He had regained his composure and finished up nicely.
Lindor’s HR earned him an indelible place in Mets history, no question.
Taylor showed up in the puzzle today. At 62A, the clue was “Word repeated four times in the chorus of Taylor Swift’s ‘Shake It Off.’” C’mon Swifties — that’s a gimme, right? It’s HATE. But doesn’t the word appear 5 times in the song? Is the clue wrong? Not at all — the clue says it’s “repeated” 4 times, not that it’s “said” 4 times. So calm down everybody.
Well, we don’t have Pete Rose to kick around anymore. He died yesterday at the age of 83. Was there ever a more controversial ballplayer? In Bruce Weber’s obit in the NYT, he writes: “Had Shakespeare written about baseball, he might well have seized on the case of Rose.”
Rose finished with 4,256 hits — the most ever in baseball history. His 4,192nd put him past Ty Cobb. (It was off of Eric Show of the Padres, if you’re a trivia buff. And did you know Cobb’s total was later reduced to 4,189?) He also got on base more often (5,929 times), played in more big-league games (3,852) and came to bat more times (15,890) than anyone else. DiMaggio’s 56-game hitting streak is unsurpassed, of course, but Rose’s 44-game streak is the second-longest.
Rose came out of the womb ready to stroke a single to right. Get this — he was born on April 14, 1941 — Opening Day of the 1941 season.
As a rookie, Rose didn’t kowtow to the older players as was the custom back then. It rubbed people the wrong way and he was not liked by his teammates. Except for the Blacks — they knew what it meant to be shunned and took him in. Rose had many negative qualities — he was a terrible husband, and his gambling addiction led to his downfall. But he was never a racist. He felt there was nothing dumber than to care about what color a person is — what the hell difference does that make?
Despite his place in baseball history, his autograph is not very valuable because he signed often to make money at autograph shows. But I do have a ball signed by him, and I just picked up a nice item on eBay to honor his memory. It only cost $20. I’ll share it with you when it comes in.
On gloomy days like today, we take it upon ourselves at Owl Chatter to bring sunshine into your lives. Here’s a Tiny Love Story by Christine Chernikoff from today’s NYT:
She twirls the rings on my fingers as we snuggle in bed. Newly 4 and full of questions, my daughter seeks to know the world. “Mommy, why do you wear these rings?” We move effortlessly through her birthstone, my engagement and wedding rings. But how to explain the other three gold bands? Each is a marker of a pregnancy lost, embryos that didn’t grow. These are the siblings I dreamed for you, the babies I longed to hold. Someday we’ll grapple with loss, but today, I share a simple truth: These rings, my darling girl, they are all about love.
This poem by Barbara Crooker is called “Ordinary Life.” It’s from today’s Writer’s Almanac.
This was a day when nothing happened, the children went off to school without a murmur, remembering their books, lunches, gloves. All morning, the baby and I built block stacks in the squares of light on the floor. And lunch blended into naptime, I cleaned out kitchen cupboards, one of those jobs that never gets done, then sat in a circle of sunlight and drank ginger tea, watched the birds at the feeder jostle over lunch’s little scraps. A pheasant strutted from the hedgerow, preened and flashed his jeweled head. Now a chicken roasts in the pan, and the children return, the murmur of their stories dappling the air. I peel carrots and potatoes without paring my thumb. We listen together for your wheels on the drive. Grace before bread. And at the table, actual conversation, no bickering or pokes. And then, the drift into homework. The baby goes to his cars, drives them along the sofa’s ridges and hills. Leaning by the counter, we steal a long slow kiss, tasting of coffee and cream. The chicken’s diminished to skin & skeleton, the moon to a comma, a sliver of white, but this has been a day of grace in the dead of winter, the hard knuckle of the year, a day that unwrapped itself like an unexpected gift, and the stars turn on, order themselves into the winter night.
Have you heard of, or tasted, Marmite? Me neither. It’s British: a sticky, dark brown paste with a distinctive, salty, powerful flavor and heady aroma. The distinctive taste is represented in the marketing slogan: “Love it or hate it.” Such is its prominence in British popular culture that Marmite is often used as a metaphor for something that is an acquired taste or polarizes opinion.
It came up because Steve Craig of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) posted: “Just tried beans on toast but with Marmite instead of butter.” He called it a “game changer.”
Here’s Steve. (Looks a little like Adam Schiff, no?)
Well, you can imagine the commotion Steve’s post caused in the Club. Well over 100 comments. Tim Davis started things off with “I’d still have butter — and grated cheese too,” and Alex Bostock concurred: “Who doesn’t put cheese on beans?”
Vernon Maldoom went off on a bit of a tangent with: “I think we are witnessing the demise of personal pronouns.”
But Gareth Llewellyn Armstrong wrote: “Nonsense. The start of this sentence has been accepted English for decades – especially in informal journal-style sentences. What’s the point of using the pronoun here when it’s obvious who is talking?”
Maldoom was having none of it: “Your proposal is clunky, clumsy and lazy.”
Ouch!
Sunday Simmons agreed with Gareth: “No, this is a completely acceptable sentence when used informally.”
Getting back to the matter at hand, Adrian Scott suggested adding a couple of fried eggs. [OC note: We’ve noticed fried eggs getting added to sandwiches and burgers lately. On a hot dog once, even. We’re in favor of it!]
It brought up a painful memory for Jess CB who posted: “And to think I had my post deleted when I used normal Bisto [gravy] for a chicken-based meal. You’re walking a thin line there Marmite Boy.”
[Marmite Boy!]
Andrew Turner, clearly not a fan, wrote: “It might be game-changing, but it’s changing the game to something terrible like monopoly.”
I’m going to let Carlo DeCianti have the last word: “What kind of lunatic doesn’t put butter on his toast?”
In the puzzle today, 1A started us off wonderfully. The clue was “Establishment where you might eat a muffin while petting a ragamuffin,” and the answer was CAT CAFE. The Ragamuffin is a breed of cat notable for a friendly personality and thick fur. Ragamuffin kittens are usually born white and develop a color pattern as they mature. Every color and pattern is allowable, with or without white.
SALADS was clued by letting us know McDonalds stopped offering them in 2020. The puzzle was otherwise not very noteworthy, except that our style and culture consultant, Ana, sent this very nice shot in for our Dirty Old Man Dept to address 125A: NYLONS. Thanks, Babe! You’re too much!
Taylor passed up the Chiefs game this week. At halftime, the Jim-Harbaugh-led Chargers were up 10-7. Travis has been active, catching 5 of 6 passes thrown his way, for 74 yards. The Jets suffered an excruciating last-minute loss. Oy, don’t ask. Too painful.
Tarik Skubal is not the name of a spicy Moroccan stew, at least not that I’m aware of. He’s a pitcher for Detroit and pretty much the only Tiger I’ve heard of — I haven’t been following them — my bad. Skubal is a leading candidate for this year’s AL Cy Young award. His record is 18-4 with an ERA of 2.39 and he struck out 228 batters in 192 innings. He will be opening for Detroit in the playoffs on Tuesday — either in Baltimore or Houston.
When the MLB trading deadline approaches in July, teams have to decide if they are buyers or sellers. If you believe you have a good chance to make the playoffs, you try to acquire good established players to help, and you grudgingly trade away prospects to get them. If you have abandoned all hope of making the playoffs, you toss your better players overboard (what the hell good were they?) and pick up some hot prospects. The Gnats, for example, are well-stocked with young phenoms, after going through several hopeless (but fun) seasons. This year, Detroit was a seller. That is, at the trading deadline they were under .500 and looking to the future. They dumped a few of their established players. And then something happened. They started winning games and kept on winning games until, yesterday, they improbably clinched a playoff spot. Wow. First time in ten years. As it happens, they clinched by beating the White Sox. And it was the 121st loss for Chicago — thus breaking the single-season loss record held since 1962 by the Mets.
Here’s Tarik. Is that a real baseball? It looks so tiny.
Tarik has three brothers named Treyvor, Tyler, and Trent. He went to the University of Seattle. Here’s his pretty wife, Jessica — she has a Masters degree in Taxation and works as a tax accountant. They were high school sweethearts and have one dependent, their son Kasen Tyler Skubal. He’s turning one in October.
This poem is by David Citino and is called “Hair.” It’s from today’s Writer’s Almanac.
One by one the children, large cartoon eyes shining, push away from the table, rise and walk away from us into their rooms. Doors slam hard. Loud music, the bass throbbing deep in our teeth, dark rooms of the heart. Oooo Baby … Oooo Baby … Years pass, time enough for something grand, something terrible to happen. When they come out, our sons have wild, unearthly voices. Our daughter has budded, mastered the art of embarrassment. She won’t look us in the eye. Oh, Daddy, she says, corners of her mouth turning down, Oh, Daddy. And everywhere there is hair. Such hair.
Well, the puzzle today gave me a good workout, appropriate for a Saturday. How hard? Well at 26A the clue was “Drink made with rice milk and cinnamon.” 8 letters. When the crossing answers gave me HORCHATA, I figured something had to be wrong. But it’s HORCHATA. D’oh!
28D was no picnic either. (What’s the opposite of a picnic? I think the opposite of a picnic is also a picnic — it’s just a different picnic.) The clue was “First name for the third second-in-command.” WTF? Translation: I needed to know who the third Vice President (like, of the U.S.) was, and I had to know his first name. Turned out to be Burr — AARON Burr. That’s a Saturday clue alright. On a Monday we’d have gotten “Slugger Hank.”
A member of the American Nitpickers Assn & League (ANAL) posted the following:
The Vice President of the United States is not second in command. She has no command authority; the Constitution gives her no command authority. None. Zero. As Vice President, she is: first in line of succession to the presidency; and President of the Senate with authority to cast a deciding vote in case of a tie. That’s it. There is nothing else. Any “authority” the president may personally and contingently give to her is political and not bound by any law and is not in anyway inherent in her office as Vice President.
At the end of his post he added: “I should know,” and I noticed he posted under the name “Henry Wilson.” That was a sly joke. Henry Wilson was the VP from 1873 until his death in 1875. (U.S. Grant was Prez at the time.) (Bit o’ trivia: seven VPs have died in office.)
I’m turning 24A over to our math department. Judy — this make any sense to you? — “Variable in Euler’s polyhedron formula (V − E + F = 2).” (From the crosses, it turned out to be EDGES. (Of course! How could I not see that immediately? “Polyhedron” was the giveaway.))
It was nice to see that Detroit made it into a clue, given the Tigers’ clinching a playoff spot (see above). It was at 16A: “Military leader who helped capture Detroit in 1812.” The answer: TECUMSEH.
Son Volt shared this very pretty but sad song by Townes Van Zandt with us, called “Tecumseh Valley.” It opens and closes with:
The name she gave was Caroline The daughter of a miner And her ways were free And it seemed to me The sunshine walked beside her.
At 44D, “Brand of vegetable oil” was WESSON, and at 50D, “One of the Seven Sisters” was SMITH. Smith & Wesson? Coincidence? Hmmmmm.
At 11D, “Intercessor for the frequently forgetful” was STANTHONY. Several commenters thought stanthony was just some fakakte word like horchata. But it’s just St. Anthony. (Rex was miffed there was no “abbr” indicator in the clue, since ST is an abbreviation. He thinks on Saturdays they just throw “basic decorum” like that out the window.)
Best clue ever (at 33A) for MOE: “Tucker who played drums for the Velvet Underground.” Moe (Maureen) is in the Rock and Roll HOF as a member of the VU and was one of the few female drummers of her era. She played standing up and used mallets instead of drumsticks. Critic Robert Christgau said of her: “Mo was a great drummer in a minimalist, limited, autodidactic way that I think changed musical history. She is where the punk notion of how the beat works begins.”
Moe just turned 80, was born in Queens, and lives in Georgia. She has five kids. Her politics are pretty extreme-right. On the Tea Party website she posted that she believed Obama’s plan was to destroy the U.S. from within.
Whew. Thank goodness he was stopped!
Special thanks to Chatter-friend Chris whose magic guitar fingers entertained us with the East Branch Revival Band at the Mohican Outdoor Center’s Fall Festival today.
You just drive up the road a bit after passing this sign. The trees are barely a teensy bit starting to think about their fall colors.
Sometimes a reputable news source like The Onion hits a matter of grave national importance so squarely on the head that we feel compelled to lead off our Owl Chatter post with it. Clearly, this is not one of those times. Here are two of today’s Onion headlines:
Judge Rules White Girl Will Be Tried As Black Adult
Trump Forced To Play Glockenspiel At Rally After Every Artist Bars Use Of Songs
This short item was in the NYT today.
As part of the annual festival Jivitputrika Vrat, celebrated mostly in northern India and some parts of Nepal, women fast for 24 hours and offer special prayers for the long life and good health of their children. Mothers travel to rivers and ponds to bathe, sometimes accompanied by their children.
Across northern India during the festival, the authorities typically deploy police and divers to monitor devotees as they go into the water. Deadly stampedes during religious festivals are common in India, but widespread drownings are not. It was unclear on Thursday what safety measures were taken in Bihar.
At least 46 people drowned in Bihar as millions of Hindu devotees celebrated the three-day festival for the well-being of children, officials said on Thursday. Thirty-seven of those who died were children.
C’mon guys — Seriously?
The Times also reported on an interview Fox News conducted with Trump’s wife Melatonin, in connection with the upcoming publication of her memoir “Melanie.” When asked how she felt about Trump’s running for office again, Magnolia made it clear she supported him. On the topic of the recent assassination attempts, Magnetite shared her husband’s view that hateful rhetoric spewed by the Democrats played a role. When the search the FBI conducted of her home came up, Mifepristone’s personal side came out:
“I saw unpleasant stuff that nobody wants to see it. And you get angry because, you know, nobody should be putting up with that kind of stuff. Some person — I don’t even know who or how many people — they, you know, they went through my stuff.”
Yup. Can’t be fun. Still lookin’ good, though, Babe.
At 9D today, the puzzle refers to EGO death, a concept associated with LSD trips. Rex made it his “word of the day” and included the following: “In descriptions of drugs, the term is used synonymously with ego-loss to refer to (temporary) loss of one’s sense of self due to the use of drugs. The term was used as such by Timothy Leary et al. to describe the death of the ego in the first phase of an LSD trip, in which a ‘complete transcendence’ of the self occurs.”
It led to this exchange between two commenters:
First, Anony Mouse wrote:
I’m not comfortable with the NYT puzzles constantly normalizing the use of LSD. You wanna go trip on acid, enjoy. But it feels like the Times is trying to normalize its use. I’ve had more than one person in my life ruin their life from continued use. It is generally illegal, and wisely so, although there is some medical research being done to use it to treat certain psychological conditions. But it’s extremely dangerous unregulated stuff that shouldn’t be normalized in something as accessible as a puzzle. IMO, of course.
Commenter Kenny replied:
Your moralizing is out of place. I am a recovering alcoholic who has had life changing experiences using LSD, and am among the many people who have been helped by its effects on negative thought processes. Alcohol, on the other hand, nearly ruined my life (and here again I’m far from alone) by leading me into deep debt and deep depression, but is cheerfully promoted by puzzles on a near daily basis.
Commenter Nancy lamented that she is simply unable to remember how ATTILA is spelled, no matter how many times he pops into the puzzle. She asked us to come up with a mnemonic for her. I couldn’t, but I wrote this short recollection, which I love:
On tricks to remember things — My wife and I (both in our 70s) were driving our granddaughter Lianna (14) to her first day of 8th grade. I asked her who her homeroom teacher was. She said “Mrs. Mackey.” I said, “Okay, to remember that, you can think of a Mack truck.” And my wife added “and then a key, like to unlock a door.” And Lianna looked at us funny and said “Why don’t I just remember Mackey?” Oh, to be young.
Rex has had three major simchas (joys) in his life just this week: His daughter’s 24th birthday; the 18th anniversary of his blog; and he and his wife’s wedding anniversary which he announced as follows: Happy [counts on fingers … runs out of fingers … twice] 21st anniversary to my beautiful wife, Penelope, without whom … well, I don’t like to think about it. It’s not pretty. Love you, honey.
It moved me to share two of my favorite marital tips with the gang. I posted the following:
Happy Anniversary RP!
My wife and I celebrated our 40th in June. When we were getting married we read an article that said that what causes problems for couples are decisions. Disagreements over decisions can be very stressful. So we agreed early on that I’d be in charge of all the major, important decisions, and my wife would make all the smaller, minor ones. For example, she decides minor issues like where should we live? what schools should the kids go to? And I’m in charge of important matters like should we invade Iraq? Should we cut the defense budget? It’s worked out well for us.
We also agreed early on that no matter how stressful our lives became — with work, with the kids, etc. — no matter what — we would go out once a week for a romantic, candlelight dinner. It’s been great — she goes on Tuesdays and I go on Fridays.
It was very well received — four nice notes, thanking me for the laughs.
Hey — almost forgot — Scarlett Johansson popped in (for her role in HER). It’s her first visit to Owl Chatter and, we hope, not her last. Don’t be a stranger, S! We’re running low with Georgie gone for so long, but I think I can still dig up a cold Fresca for you. Sit down — take a load off.
According to a story in the NYT, authorities in Spain announced the arrest of five people for swindling two women out of $350,000 by posing as Brad Pitt online. They contacted the women via an online fan page and posed as Pitt. The women believed they were corresponding directly with Pitt and grew so close that they believed they had a romantic relationship with him. A publicist for Mr. Pitt said he was unaware of the case. He also said Pitt’s frequent references to “my Spanish babes” were not related to these particular women. [Alright, I made the last sentence up.]
Hello Kitty is universally popular, so it’s a frequent guest to the puzzle.
Today, the clue was “Prominent feature of Hello Kitty” and the answer was HAIR BOW. I didn’t have the image in front of me, and had HAIR, so I thought of hair ball first. Anyway, as legend has it, Will Shortz once rejected a puzzle with HELLO KITTY in it because he had never heard of it and didn’t think people would know it. And then he read about it in an in-flight magazine immediately thereafter, and now it’s everywhere, all over the grid.
T.S. Eliot was born on this date in 1888 in St. Louis. I was today years old when I learned those letters stood for Thomas Stearns. Eliot’s first marriage was to Vivienne Haigh-Wood and it was not a good one.
She was often ill and sent away for cures. She eventually died in a mental institution. Eliot wrote of it: “To her, the marriage brought no happiness. To me, it brought the state of mind out of which came The Waste Land.” Ouch.
He married again at the age of 68. Esme Valerie Fletcher was only 30. He had no children from either marriage.
The theme of the puzzle today was the football play, the DOUBLE REVERSE. In each theme answer two sets of letters (helpfully, in shaded squares) had to be switched (reversed) to fit the answer. So, e.g., for the clue at 35A: “Three-time nominee for Best Director (1994, 2009, 2019),” the answer should be TARANTINO. But you need to “reverse” two pairs of letters and write TARNATION into the grid.
On the football play, the “double reverse,” commenter Joe B states:
It is VERY rare to see a DOUBLE REVERSE in football. Most of the time it is a plain reverse that the announcers, fans, everyone in attendance calls and shouts, “DOUBLE REVERSE” which is wrong.
A wide receiver goes in motion, say, from the bottom of the screen to the top, the ball is snapped. QB hands it off to him and the receiver continues running to the top. That is an END AROUND. If the receiver flips it backwards to someone now running down, that is a REVERSE. If, and this rarely, rarely happens, that ball carrier hands it back to someone now running up — the same direction as the initial ball carrier — that is finally your DOUBLE REVERSE. Very, very rarely seen as it requires an amazing amount of precision and has the opportunity to completely go wrong in many ways.
YUP, we concur. This is one of the few players to have pulled it off successfully last year:
At 15D the clue for HIRED was great. It was “Like some goons.” Commenter Nico shared this neat Simpsons clip with us:
Did you know the “final circuit in a track race” is not the last lap? It’s the BELL LAP. And this one was nasty — three letter word ending in AT for “Something found near a trap.” It’s not rat. It’s LAT — referring to muscles: Trap is short for trapezius, which is near your lat. At least it’s near mine. (Linda took this shot of me from the back.)
Cathy Reed Weber, of the Dull Men’s Club (UK), after using a butter knife to force something open, asked: Are there actual rules for using a butter knife as a tool, outside of the kitchen? My husband claims there are, but he won’t enhance my knowledge due to it being a “fraternal secret.”
Here are some of the (103) dull comments:
We can’t tell you either. (The Brotherhood of the butter knife.)
No tool box is complete without one.
[My comment] I hope it was a dull knife.
[My comment (another one)] I had an excellent butter knife once but it melted.
A railway station and underground station were once flooded by armed police because a man rushed into a nearby restaurant and stole a butter knife from a table….. there must have been 50 or 60 armed police trying to track him down….
The only legal knife allowed to be carried in the UK is a folding but not locking penknife with a blade no bigger than 3″(75mm). Which makes the old fashioned boy scout knife and the classic “Stanley” knife illegal. There is an exception for the Scottish ceremonial Sgian-dubh worn as part of national dress along with similar ceremonial weapons. But people must be in full regalia to be allowed. Just carrying it would be illegal.
My late husband had every tool imaginable in his out building but I still found knives with the tops bent over. I never could find my kitchen scissors and was amazed how many I found in the garden shed when I cleared it out.
I encourage the use of a sharp knife for household projects. That way, when you slip and cut your hand you will be reminded to find the proper tool in the future. [Ouch — you’re no fun!]
In the puzzle today at 38D the clue was “Senokot alternative” and the answer was EX-LAX. My brother Jay (alav hashalom) told me this joke. I can still see him delivering the punchline.
The pharmacist says to his assistant. “I’m going out for lunch, if anyone comes in, be conservative.”
“OK, Boss.”
He gets back and asks how it went.
“Fine. There was just one customer. A woman came in complaining of a cough. I told her to take five doses of Ex-Lax.”
The pharmacist says, “She came in with a cough and you gave her Ex-Lax!! Are you nuts??!!”
And the assistant said: “No. Look. There she is now, holding on to that post. She’s not going to cough.”
I’ve been quick to lambast The New Yorker for its lousy cartoons. So I need to praise them when they score. I’m including three today that I liked from the current (9/30) issue.
“I don’t get it.”
That one is by Shannon Wheeler who grew up in Berkeley CA. He’s best known for the character Too Much Coffee Man, who rarely sleeps and derives his powers from coffee and cigarettes. He’s been in outer space and a U.S. prison.
Too Much Espresso Guy is his cynical friend. Too Much German White Chocolate Woman With Almonds is their mutual friend. She is pale-skinned, worries a lot, and has large almonds on her face. She is skilled at making cakes, and is able to detach her almonds, which are edible.
This poem, “The Yak,” from today’s Writer’s Almanac, is by Hilaire Belloc.
As a friend to the children, commend me the Yak; You will find it exactly the thing; It will carry and fetch, you can ride on its back, Or lead it about with a string.
The Tartar who dwells on the plains of Thibet (A desolate region of snow), Has for centuries made it a nursery pet, And surely the Tartar should know!
Then tell your papa where the Yak can be got, And if he is awfully rich, He will buy you the creature—or else he will not (I cannot be positive which).
Wallace Shawn was in the puzzle today, but only in a clue, not in the grid. The clue was “‘Toy Story’ dinosaur voiced by Wallace Shawn,” and the answer was REX. Was it a coincidence that REX was in the grid? It happens to be the 18th anniversary of Rex Parker’s blog.
Do you have fond memories, as I do, of Shawn’s great film with Andre Gregory “My Dinner With Andre” from way back in 1981 (ouch)? It was a film in which absolutely nothing at all happens, yet it was completely absorbing. In honor of Shawn’s appearance today, Rex shared this snippet of the duo that may recall the film for you.
“Do you have to stare at her right in front of me?”
Headlines from today’s Onion:
Biden Rushed Into Surgery After Eating Sock
Dad Insists On Using Pocketknife To Open Can Of Chili.
[At press time, the man’s daughter, Jennifer Ballard, was said to have thrown out the partially opened can of chili after determining it had too much blood on it to be edible.]
Woman Reaches Arm Deep Into Purse Like Farmer Artificially Inseminating Cow
It’s a two-poem day! This one was in yesterday’s Writer’s Almanac. It’s called “The Necessity for Irony,” by Eavan Boland.
On Sundays, when the rain held off, after lunch or later, I would go with my twelve year old daughter into town, and put down the time at junk sales, antique fairs.
There I would lean over tables, absorbed by lace, wooden frames, glass. My daughter stood at the other end of the room, her flame-coloured hair obvious whenever— which was not often—
I turned around. I turned around. She was gone. Grown. No longer ready to come with me, whenever a dry Sunday held out its promises of small histories. Endings.
When I was young I studied styles: their use and origin. Which age was known for which ornament: and was always drawn to a lyric speech, a civil tone. But never thought I would have the need, as I do now, for a darker one:
Spirit of irony, my caustic author of the past, of memory,—
and of its pain, which returns hurts, stings—reproach me now, remind me that I was in those rooms, with my child, with my back turned to her, searching—oh irony!— for beautiful things.
Favorite clue/answer today:
At 21A: “Stock quote?”
Answer: MOO
There were also two sneaky baseball references. At 9D “Fan fare?” was FRANKS (think ballpark franks). And at 39A “Word after double or day,” was the clue for BED. And Abner Doubleday is credited by some with the invention of baseball.
William Faulkner was born on this day in New Albany, MS, in 1897. There was no U in Falkner when he was born. He adopted the U (“bought a vowel”) when applying for the Canadian Royal Air Force, believing it made his name look British. Having already been rejected by the U.S. Army Air Corps because of his height (5′ 6″), he also lied about his birthplace, and adopted a phony British accent.
In my day we did stuff like that to avoid the military.
This one’s my favorite:
Let’s close today with this pretty song by Caroline Spence, who is new to me. If you like your music with strings attached, you’ll find it especially lovely.
Sometimes the puzzle works in subtle, understated ways. At 29A today the clue was “Bruce Springsteen album with a red, white and blue cover,” and the answer, of course, was BORN IN THE USA. And guess what — it’s Bruce’s birthday today! Happy 75th Boss!
Oh Sandy, the aurora is rising behind us. This pier lights our carnival life forever. Oh, love me tonight, and I promise I’ll love you forever
That’s Danny Federici on the accordion, an original member of the E Street Band. Danny passed away on April 17, 2008 from melanoma. He was just 58. When Bruce performed this song in Asbury Park NJ just last week he dedicated it to Danny’s memory.
At 5D the clue was “Fortunate somebody” and the answer was LUCKY ONE. It gave me leave to share this old joke with the Rexites:
Maxie goes to see the Rabbi. Rabbi, he says, I have two girls in love with me: Annie and Rachel. Rabbi, with all your wisdom and foresight — can you tell me which will be the lucky one? The rabbi strokes his beard and closes his eyes and goes into deep thought. When he opens them again he says: You will marry Annie. Rachel will be the lucky one.
As we all know, the moon is made of cheese. But for one week a year it’s converted (pun intended) into matzoh! Need proof?
That painting is by Mark Podwal, who died on Friday at his home in Harrison, NY, at the age of 79. He was a prolific artist and writer (and a dermatologist!) mostly on Jewish themes. In 1977, after the arrest and abrupt release in France of the Palestinian terrorist known as Abu Daoud, the mastermind of the Munich Olympic attacks, Dr. Podwal drew for the NYT the Eiffel Tower dreaming, through a thought bubble, of being an oil well. It caught the eye of Elie Wiesel, who contacted him, and thus began a lifelong friendship with much collaboration.
Dr. Podwal designed the Congressional Gold Medal that President Reagan presented to Mr. Wiesel in 1985. One side is emblazoned, under the words Author, Teacher, Witness, with a likeness of Mr. Wiesel adapted from a photograph by Roman Vishniac; on the other side is an open book with a depiction of Mr. Wiesel’s home in Sighet, Romania, on one page and an image of Jerusalem on the other. Podwal accompanied Wiesel to Oslo, when he accepted the Nobel Peace Prize.
In a preface to one of Podwal’s books, novelist Cynthia Ozick wrote: “Like the Kabbalists, he joins metaphysics to physics: essence to presence; ideas to real objects. Like the Hasidic masters, he owns a needle of incandescent wit.”
Rest in peace Doc.
America had quite a cohort of Olympians in Rome in 1960: Muhammed Ali, Oscar Robertson, Rafer Johnson, Wilma Rudolph, Otis Davis.
Wait — Who? Otis who?
Yeah, you heard me: Otis Davis.
Davis received a basketball scholarship to Oregon after serving in the army, but Bill Bowerman, the school’s track and field coach, tapped him as a runner. (Bowerman later formed Nike with Phil Knight.) Before the Rome Olympics Bowerman said of Davis: “His job is simple to remember. He is supposed to start fast and finish before any of the rest of them. I think he can.”
Davis set world records. In the 400-meter race, he crossed the finish line at the same time Germany’s Carl Kaufmann did: 44.9 seconds, a world record. But the photo finish showed Davis won. Two days later his relay team set the record for the 4 x 400 relay.
Davis died in hospice care in North Bergen NJ on Sept 14. He was 92. He was a phys ed instructor and ran youth sports programs when his competitive running days were over.
In early March 1994, burglars broke into Davis’s apartment in the Heights neighborhood of Jersey City and stole his gold medals. Neighbors heard about the theft and raised a banner on the porch of a nearby house that said, “Bring Home Otis Davis’ Gold.” Police recovered the medals about a month later.
Davis handed the baton to his daughters Liza and Diana, and a grandson.
Rest in peace, Davis.
Headlines from The Onion:
Wedding Cake Gets More Compliments Than Bride
NFL Referee Under Fire For Watching Porn On Instant Replay Device
NFL Sunday Ticket Allows Viewers To Simulcast Up To 4 Domestic Violence Trials At Once
If you insist on bringing up the fact to Melanie Hamrick, who is 37, that her boyfriend is 44 years older than her (I’ll do the math for you — 81), you might as well go f*ck yourself. She doesn’t want to hear about it. For one thing, he’s Mick F*cking Jagger, and for another — they are perfectly happy together. They met at a Stones concert in Tokyo in 2014 and have been dating ever since. They have a child: an 8-year-old boy named Deveraux.
Melanie’s a former dancer with the American Ballet Theater and says she wasn’t star struck when she met Mick because all of her idols were in ballet. Hey, I’ve really been out of touch — did you know Jagger had heart surgery five years ago (aortic valve replacement), and has a total of 8 children? I’ve gotta get out more.
Here’s Melanie. Phil caught up with her at K-Mart.
Let’s go back and say goodnight on the boardwalk.
Is this the perfect verse?:
Them boys in their high heels, ah, Sandy Their skins are so white.
Sandy, that waitress I was seeing lost her desire for me I spoke with her last night, she said she won’t set herself on fire for me anymore She worked that joint under the boardwalk She was always the girl you saw bopping down the beach with the radio The kids say last night she was dressed like a star In one of them cheap little seaside bars And I saw her parked with lover boy out on the Kokomo
Did you hear the cops finally busted Madame Marie For tellin’ fortunes better than they do
For me this boardwalk life’s through, babe You oughta quit this scene too.
Let’s start today with this poem called “Wedding Cake” by Naomi Shihab Nye from today’s Writer’s Almanac, even though it will be all downhill from here, for sure.
Once on a plane a woman asked me to hold her baby and disappeared. I figured it was safe, our being on a plane and all. How far could she go?
She returned one hour later, having changed her clothes and washed her hair. I didn’t recognize her.
By this time the baby and I had examined each other’s necks. We had cried a little. I had a silver bracelet and a watch. Gold studs glittered in the baby’s ears. She wore a tiny white dress leafed with layers like a wedding cake.
I did not want to give her back.
The baby’s curls coiled tightly against her scalp, another alphabet. I read new new new. My mother gets tired. I’ll chew your hand.
The baby left my skirt crumpled, my lap aching. Now I’m her secret guardian, the little nub of dream that rises slightly but won’t come clear.
As she grows, as she feels ill at ease, I’ll bob my knee.
What will she forget? Whom will she marry? He’d better check with me. I’ll say once she flew dressed like a cake between two doilies of cloud. She could slip the card into a pocket, pull it out. Already she knew the small finger was funnier than the whole arm.
I am guilty of a terrible sin. I abandoned the Michigan footballers after their fourth quarter fumble. I couldn’t stand to watch what was clearly unfolding: a dreadful collapse and certain defeat to USC. We were dominant in the first half but only led 14-3, and all the pop went out of our balloon in the second half — we sucked and the lead was down to 20-17 and we fumbled at around our own 25. Argggggh! I couldn’t take it anymore and turned off the TV.
When the game had to be over, I said to Linda — should we check on what happened?, only to discover that we were still up 27-24 and there were 37 seconds left. We turned it back on. USC was out of time outs but driving and they had a good kicker and only needed a field goal to tie. (Goddamn that missed extra point!!) After a few short gains and a few incompletes, USC completed a sideline pass on 4th down with 8 seconds left. But the receiver went out of bounds a half yard short of the first-down marker — so close, but clearly short. With 8 frickin seconds left, the game was finally over. Linda!! Get me my heart pills!!
I’m not going to make it through the season.
Here’s former ‘Rine coach Jim Harbaugh nailing a brilliant ad for something weird. Give it a look — it’s just a minute long and it’s hysterical.
Men! — brace yourselves for a joyless future. A story the NYT devoted nearly the entire front page of its Style section to today starts: “The women walk into the surgeons’ offices with photos cued up on their phones. Miley Cyrus. Keira Knightley. Bella Hadid. I want my breasts to look like this, they say. They’ve already spent hours on YouTube where an army of ordinary women post about their breast reductions.”
According to The Times, in 2023, more than 76,000 American women had elective breast-reduction surgery, a 64% increase since 2019, according to the Plastic Society of American Surgeons. Oops, sorry, that should be American Society of Plastic Surgeons. The increase is reflected across all age groups, but especially among women under 30 — exactly the group we spend all of our waking hours drooling over!!
Where’s Harris on this? [We can guess where Trump is.]
Sarah Thornton, a sociologist, has done extensive research in the area and says: For a woman to withdraw from the male gaze, to assert herself in her refusal to be ogled, to relieve her own pain, to be able to comfortably train for a marathon or dance at her own birthday party — that is liberation. “If women are going to have an emancipated rack,” she said, “then men need to change.”
Yup — get used to it fellas.
Here’s Bella Hadid, mentioned above:
In the puzzle today, at 64A “Brainy bunch” was MENSANS. Commenter Rich shared this: Funny thing about ‘MENSA’. I live in Mexico and in this country, ‘mensa’ means stupid woman or stupid girl. No wonder MENSA Mexico has trouble recruiting members.
97D — Did you know that an AGAPE is an “Early Christian meal of love and fellowship?” News to me. What’s on the menu?
At 80D, “Hey, I’m walkin’ here!” was a good clue for WATCH IT.
The puzzle was all about the escape from prison in THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION. That was a theme answer, as was TIM ROBBINS, and ANDY DUFRESNE, the character Robbins plays. The bottom of the grid contains a little box representing jail, with shaded squares spelling TUNNEL, VENT, SHAFT, etc. leading out of it. And the letters spelling ANDY DUFRESNE proceeding (via spaced-out circled squares) out of the prison and through the tunnels to freedom. Pretty neat.
Rex noted the absence of even the slightest nod to Morgan Freeman, “Red” in the film, who played a key role. He says: This movie has been accused (on more than one occasion) of indulging in the “Magical Negro” stereotype, where the Black character exists primarily to impart wisdom to the white protagonist and help him on his journey. In this puzzle … well, we get a white man’s journey, and the Black guy … he’s not even in the picture. Not even on that beach or wherever Andy ends up meeting him at the end of the movie … [looks it up] … ZIHUATANEJO! Why isn’t that in the puzzle!? And where’s Red, man? What happened to Red? You can’t spell REDEMPTION without “Red.”
To clue UKULELE, the constructors referenced the song “Hey Soul Sister” by Train. I know the song (duh), but don’t recall having heard of the band. Here’s a different tune of theirs Rex shared. Sounds like David Bowie to me, not that there’s anything wrong with that. It’s “Drops of Jupiter” and it won a Grammy for Best Song in 2002. Pat Monahan (lead singer) says it was inspired by the death of his mom, but it’s joyous and beautiful.
But tell me, did the wind sweep you off your feet? Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day And head back to the Milky Way? And tell me, did Venus blow your mind? Was it everything you wanted to find? And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?
Lindsay Cook, of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) writes: At a venue watching a show and I decided to splash out and buy an over-priced fizzy drink. Upon paying, I was informed they would need to take my lid. Apart from being rather annoying I can’t see why it is necessary. Does anyone know the reason? (She describes herself as: “Female, 35, size 6 feet. Wants my lid back.”)
There have been 103 comments (so far).
“It’s to stop you from using a full bottle as a missile.”
“And also stop the cap being thrown.”
“Throwing the cap isn’t going to do any harm though.”
“Put a coin in it and see if you still feel that way.”
“Or just throw the coin. Jeez!”
“Hey I’m just telling you what they do with the cap at games, hence they take them. Jeez!
“So you bought the bottle of drink. They then want the bottle top, but that now belongs to you. Was that established in the contract when you bought the bottle?. Maybe you could sell the bottle top back to them. Or drink the drink and then say the bottle is not fit for purpose as a bottle as it doesn’t have a lid. By rights you should get a refund.”
“You sound really fun.”
“From my understanding it’s that you cannot throw a full bottle if the lid is off.”
“You can with a bit of knowledge and application of practical physics. Hold the neck of the bottle and allow it to rotate while using a wide swinging motion to throw, centrifugal force will keep it in the bottle until you release.”
“But the likelihood of you getting the space to wind up and have it hit on target drops dramatically – especially as it will have to be a forceful direct shot to stop the liquid escaping.”
“Guy on trial for assault. Victim has massive bruise on his cheek. The defendant is charged with throwing a tomato at the victim. Judge: ‘But you can’t do that much damage with a tomato!’ Defendant: ‘It was still in the can.’”
“I normally keep a spare lid in my bag.”
“They let you hit someone with a 90% full bottle. If anything they should let you keep the lid but confiscate the bottle.”
Here’s Lindsay’s lidless bottle. (Note she’s careful to prevent us from confirming those “size 6 feet.” Could use one of those foot-sizing fluoroscopes,)
With the mainstream media completely in the dark on whether Taylor will be in attendance at Trav’s game in Atlanta tonight, we asked Phil to use his connections with Taylor to find out. He assured us the lovebirds are in Atlanta together but he sounded more drunk than usual, which is saying a lot. So we asked him for proof and he sent us this confirming photo. Thanks Buddy! Never really doubted you.
The Wellington Files 