Category: Uncategorized

Cataracts of Hay and Cobwebs

June 6th, 2024

Here is a painting by Emil Nolde.

And here is a another one.

He was in the puzzle today. The clue was Expressionist Painter Nolde, and the answer was NOLDE. No, I’m kidding — the answer was EMIL.

You hear of this guy, Bob?

Rex shared a little write-up on him in his blog:

He was one of the first Expressionists, and one of the first oil painting and watercolor painters of the early 20th century to explore color. He is known for his brushwork and expressive choice of colors. His watercolors include vivid, brooding storm-scapes and brilliant florals.

But then it goes on to say: Nolde was a racist, anti-Semite and a staunch supporter of Nazi Germany.

Yikes! Do we really need this guy in our puzzle? There’s no other EMIL out there? The constructor was Michael Lieberman, so there’s a good chance he’s Jewish. And get this — the EMIL in the grid is crossing SHTETL at 42A. Did someone drop the ball on this?

Moving on, commenter Dr. J wrote: Re “SHTETL” As a frequent non-professional transliterator l hate the standard transliterations of both Yiddish and Hebrew into English because they always seem to be the work of academic linguists who don’t care about the rest of us. Surely “SHTETEL” is more felicitous?

But Joe R. replied: SHTETL is just a better transliteration than shtetel, it more accurately captures the sound made at the end of the word. The point of transliteration is not to English-ify the words, it’s to provide a representation of what the word should sound like, and some languages have sounds not encountered in English. You’re right that the transliterators don’t care about you, they care about conveying the information needed so that you know to pronounce it shtetl and not shtetel. Do you also complain that rhythm should be spelled rhythum or that owl should be spelled owel?

[For the record, Owel Chatter prefers shtetl.]

Ady Scoots of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) posted this today:

“I was at a junction in my 2014 VW Transporter, indicating right, and found that my indicator was in exact reverse synchronisation with the car in front, a 2015 VW Polo. I have never had my indicators in sync with someone else and can only assume that it is due to them using the same flasher relay and voltage regulator.”

Colin Osborn asked: Does the relay click when the light goes on, or when it goes off though?

Richard Henry added: I particularly enjoy when my indicators sync with music that I’m playing. And Debbie Vogel said: Even better is wiper blades that keep time.

Then, Dave Willmott noted: The rate of flash is meant to be electronically governed as you say, but can be affected by many factors including variations in the manufacturing tolerance of the individual electronic components, the voltage output of your alternator and battery, and the ambient temperature. If you’d have sat there for long enough, the synchronisation would have gradually drifted off.

Boo! You’re no fun, Willmott!

This letter appeared in NYT today:

Donald Trump’s guilt or innocence is of no consequence for me. As far as I’m concerned, he’s the lesser of two evils.

My family suffers under President Biden and the Democrats. And, contrary to Mr. Biden’s assurances that we’re really better off, we just don’t know it, I know exactly how much more I’m paying for gas. I know exactly how much more we’re paying for food, electricity and water.

My family was definitely better off under Mr. Trump, and that’s of consequence for me.

Edward Little

Temple City, CA

The NYT Arts Section today featured a story about the resurgence of Ukrainian folk music in the face of wartime struggles. Here’s an unusual group, called Dakhabrakha. Sing along!

Have you gotten your “Caitlin Clark: White B*tch” jersey and t-shirt yet? Things have gone nuts since the outrageous foul we reported on recently. Pat McAfee, who has a sports show on ESPN, referred to her as a “white bitch” while singing her praises the day after the foul, and reaped the whirlwind. He apologized. Clark, classy as always, said “no prob” and appreciated that he reached out to apologize.

Some strange forces have been unleashed via Clark’s ascendance. Here’s what some are saying: The WNBA has had excellent play for years but has failed to catch on because many of the players are gay and/or Black. Here comes Whitey the milk-fed farmgirl from the Midwest and suddenly the league’s popularity goes through the roof. Hence the resentment.

Here’s another WB to keep an eye on: Paige Bueckers, aka Paige “Buckets.” Plays for UConn. Lookout, everybody — this one’s even blonde. Also from the Midwest. The whole country is going to sh*t its pants.

[Note that Paige is wearing her official Owl Chatter sweats.]

My usual sources for poems have been dry lately. Nothing grabbing me. So I am resorting to our resident poet, Ted Kooser. Here’s a poem of his called “So This Is Nebraska.” I’ll print it out, but I urge you to listen to Dick Cavett’s reading.

The gravel road rides with a slow gallop
over the fields, the telephone lines
streaming behind, its billow of dust
full of the sparks of redwing blackbirds.

On either side, those dear old ladies,
the loosening barns, their little windows
dulled by cataracts of hay and cobwebs
hide broken tractors under their skirts.

So this is Nebraska. A Sunday
afternoon; July. Driving along
with your hand out squeezing the air,
a meadowlark waiting on every post.

Behind a shelterbelt of cedars,
top-deep in hollyhocks, pollen and bees,
a pickup kicks its fenders off
and settles back to read the clouds.

You feel like that; you feel like letting
your tires go flat, like letting the mice
build a nest in your muffler, like being
no more than a truck in the weeds,

clucking with chickens or sticky with honey
or holding a skinny old man in your lap
while he watches the road, waiting
for someone to wave to. You feel like

waving. You feel like stopping the car
and dancing around on the road. You wave
instead and leave your hand out gliding
larklike over the wheat, over the houses.

See you tomorrow!
If I Were A Rich Man . . .

June 5th, 2024

In the puzzle today, the clue at 37D was “Proprietor of cheeses and butters” and the answer was DAIRYMAN. Malaika, the guest blogger for Rex today, said she had never heard of the term. She had heard of milkman, but not dairyman.

Of course, Tevye, from Fiddler on a Hot Tin Roof (as my brother used to call it) was a dairyman. If you look up Tevye in Wikipedia it calls him a dairyman first and only secondly a milkman. Here’s a joke from way back when Fiddler first came out and you had to wait forever to get tickets:

For one afternoon performance, a man in the audience noticed that an entire row of seats was empty except for one woman sitting in the middle. He went up to her and said “Madam, it’s impossible to get tickets for this show. Do you have any idea how all of the seats in this row could be empty?”

And she said, “Well, sadly, this seat next to me was my husband’s. And since we got our tickets months ago he passed away.”

And the man said — but all these other seats? The rest of the row?”

And she said — “Oh, those are our friends. They’re all at the funeral.”

DAIRYMAN in the puzzle opened a door for a commenter to Rex’s blog who calls him or herself the Greater Fall River Committee for Peace & Justice.

“My grandfather was a dairyman. He started out as a milkman when he first came to America. He had to get up at 3:30 in the morning to drive the truck to the farms and pick up the milk to deliver by dawn. In winter my grandmother also had to get up at 3:30, because in order to start the truck, boiling water had to be poured into it, and only women could boil water at that time, I am told. By the time my grandfather retired and moved to Florida (where the trucks start in the morning all year) he was running an operation that not only bottled the milk and cream, it churned the butter, made buttermilk and sour cream and ice cream and cottage cheese and even flirted with things like kefir.”

[Was there some law against men boiling water? I don’t get that part of it.]

The puzzle defeated me today. I couldn’t get LYRA as the “harp-shaped constellation.” I committed to lyre and it screwed me up. Oh, well.

Here’s an old star map from 1825 with LYRA on the right, next to Cygnus. I had no idea so much was going on up there. Jeez Louise!

This was a great clue: “Mine is ⬛️⬛️⬛️-⬛️⬛️-⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️: Abbr.” Get it? The answer was SSN, which is usually very boringly clued.

Another good one was “____-violence (really tearing into an Indian appetizer?)” The answer was NAAN. Although, I think of naan as a bread rather than an appetizer.

Raymond Swan, of the Dull Men’s Club, UK Chapter, shared this yesterday. I’m not sure it’s dull enough, but it got by the monitors.

“I made a small error whilst driving the other day which seemed to enrage a fellow motorist, he blared on his horn and was screaming at his windscreen red faced. So thinking I must have ploughed over a line of ducklings following their mother across the road or ran a school bus full of 7 year olds into a ditch, I pulled over and when he came alongside I rolled down my window and asked what the issue was.

“‘You’ve come up the slip road and left your left hand indicator is on as if you were going to turn left however you’re going right!!!’ (I was in the lane to go right).

“I looked at my indicator, noticing my error and said in as friendly a voice possible ‘Oops you’re right, I bloody well have, sorry about that mate!’

“The angry guy’s whole demeanor changed instantly and he smiled as he said ‘oh no worries, just thought I’d let you know’ gave me a little wave and drove off.

“I think most of the time, road rage comes from people not acknowledging their own mistakes along with the issue of people getting enraged by small errors and blowing them out of proportion.”

I commented that my brother believed there were only two kinds of drivers in the world: Raving lunatics who don’t belong on the road, and him.

Sandra Davies came back with this tale:

“My brother was once angrily shouted at by another driver in a double queue of traffic. He had no idea why. They then both pulled up at traffic lights that had just turned to red and my brother took the opportunity to nip out of his car, tap on the other driver’s window to enquire what on earth he’d done to incur the other bloke’s wrath and apologise if appropriate. To his surprise, the man just slid down in his seat, said ‘nothing! Nothing at all’ and quickly wound up his window. Somewhat perplexed, my brother got back into his car and went on his way. He later recounted this strange interlude to me. I said ‘you don’t think the fact that when you got out of your car, he noticed that you’re 6’ 4″ and built like a brick shithouse, and that may have made him think he might not get home alive if he entered into a debate about driving etiquette?’”

Donald Payne, Jr. easily won his primary for re-election to his House seat for NJ yesterday. It helps when you are running unopposed. He’s the son of Donald Payne, Sr. (duh), who was the first ever Black House rep from NJ. He served from 1989 until his death in 2012. Oh, did I mention, Don, Jr. is dead too? Sorry. He died over a month ago from a heart attack at age 65. There will be a special election to replace him on the ballot. Here’s the dad:

Dave Ikin of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) posted the following, with a photo:

“For an initial 75p outlay this box of cereal will probably last me for 25-30 breakfasts. Obviously milk is a minor associated cost with this. However, is there anything better value pound for pound for your breakfast?”

There were 105 comments. (I’m not kidding.) My favorites noted the condition of the box, that it seemed a bit rudely opened.

Martin Brown asked: Did the packaging offend you in some way? Ikin replied: No. Brown explained: It’s a reference to the way it was opened. Ikin: Thanks. Ikin again: Dull Men’s Club is great, isn’t it? Brown: Sure is.

Charlotte Henry was horrified: What did the box do to you ? Or were you simply so ravenous for cornflakes that you had to massacre the box like that? Ikin: Was starving. Plus, the box just split open like that.

Ruth Howard: Was it opened by wolves?

Ikin: People seem very triggered about the box.

He posted a second shot of it, from a different angle:

The more substantive comments addressed the portion size Ikin described. They didn’t agree that he could get 25-30 breakfasts out of it. David Griffiths asked: How much do you eat — an egg cup? Ikin: No. John Fowke: Are you a mouse? (No reply.)

Many comments strongly preferred what they called porridge, but which I think we’d call oatmeal, both in terms of cost and nutritional value. Others suggested eggs.

Not wanting to end today’s post abruptly with that image, we called in our style/culture consultant, Ana de Armas, to see what she had to say about the issue.

Ana: How did he open the box? It’s all torn.

OC: Seriously.

See you tomorrow!
Mexican Blintzes

June 4th, 2024

It’s National Cheese Day. I’m probably considered a rogue cheese eater here in America on this day. When we visited Ireland last year we went to a “cheesemonger” in Dublin. My idea was to bring some fine Irish cheese back for Caity as a gift. (We got Sam coffee beans from Galway.) When I explained to the cheesemonger why we were there, he grabbed a chunk of Irish Cheddar and sliced off a taste for us. It was great and we bought some for Caity and some for us. Back in the U.S. we now use a nice Irish cheddar that Costco carries, see below. I do eat American cottage cheese. So there’s that. Maybe that will placate the American cheese community. I certainly don’t need them on my ass.

I had the remaining part of my molar removed today by an excellent oral sturgeon in Summit NJ: Petar Hinic. I know he’s excellent because this is the third time I’ve used his services. And he knows he’s excellent too. When he showed me the x-ray and explained what would be involved, he said it would be a difficult extraction because there are two roots and the top of the tooth broke off so there is nothing to grab onto. Then he said: “But that’s why you’re here.” Amen to that, Brother. It went very well.

At 5A today, the clue was “‘Inside with Jen ___’ (MSNBC show),” and the answer was PSAKI. Here’s what I posted on Rex’s blog: PS: Psolving for Psaki nearly psent me to a psychiatrist.

Our Dirty Old Man Dept. was unable to find any psexy pshots of Jen, but we learned pshe may be a Gnats fan. Hi Jen!

The puzzle’s theme was revealed across the bottom three answers via this clue at 66A: “With 67- and 68-Across, MC Hammer lyric that applies to each of the answers to the starred clues:” CAN’T TOUCH THIS. And the theme answers were all things that you should not touch. The most clever was at 44A: “Challenge for an under-achiever?” The answer was LIMBO BAR. Get it? As you go “under” it, you can’t touch it. (In the Jewish version of “Limbo” you just lie there and after a while someone helps you up.)

Other things in the puzzle you can’t touch were WET PAINT, CAMERA LENS, ELECTRIC FENCE (“Shocking thing found on a farm”), and CRIME SCENE. A member of ANAL (American Nitpickers Association & League) wrote: “A ‘crime scene’ is not a singular object that can be touched. It is an environment containing multiple things. If you touch an item within that environ sans proper precautions, you have ‘contaminated’ (not touched) the scene.”

Okay. Thanks. Can I go now?

Steven Wright says: A friend of mine got an electric car and really liked it. After that he got an electric blanket, an electric coffeemaker, and an electric lawnmower. Then he got an electric chair, and I haven’t heard from him since.

Two of the answers today were MAMBA (“Black _____ (snake)”) and AGED (“Developed, in a way”).

Here’s how egs spun them: “When I got out of biz school I had nothing. It was just me and MAMBA. Of course that’s a whole lot better than starting out with just AGED.”

Rex had a guest blogger today: Clare. She wrote: “Overall, it was a good Tuesday puzzle and makes me want to get up and dance (and also try to bring back Hammer Pants?).”

Readers! Let’s all get up — I bet you haven’t been silly enough lately — I know I haven’t. Here’s your chance! Turn it up! (Is it just me? — Anyone else see a little Mick Jagger in there? Shattered?)

The newly elected (by a landslide) president of Mexico, Claudia Scheinbaum, is not only a woman (duh), she’s Jewish. She’s not a religious Jew, and in fact thanked Jesus for her victory. Hmmmmmmm. Still, her first official act was to replace the taco with the blintz as the official food of the country. She may be on to something — these look fantastic. Biden! — you paying attention? Somebody — wake him up!

Reviewing our files, here’s an item that appeared in The Onion, last February, after the Super Bowl. The headline was: Depressed Taylor Swift Going To Miss Being In The Spotlight Now That Super Bowl Over.

Realizing her 15 minutes of fame had come to an abrupt end, a depressed Taylor Swift told reporters Monday that she was going to miss being in the spotlight now that the Super Bowl was over. “I guess it’s just me and my cats now that the big game has drawn to a close,” said the disheveled, sweatpants-wearing Swift, who drained glass after glass of wine while explaining that nobody would want to see or hear from her again now that the NFL season was over. “To think that just last night I was at the top of the world. They even put me on the jumbotron!

OMG, what could be more delicious than this? Dr. Anthony Fauci, 83, was facing off against a gaggle of idiotic Republicans yesterday in a House subcommittee hearing on the pandemic. Owl Chatter is impressed that the GOP Reps seemed capable of dressing themselves.

Marjorie Taylor Greene told him he belongs in prison. You go, girl! The hearing occasionally strayed from the pandemic, as when Greene waved around a photograph of some beagles and hammered Dr. Fauci over the use of dogs in federally funded experiments. She later blasted him for “repulsive evil science.” She was rebuked by the (Republican) Chair of the committee for repeatedly referring to Dr. Fauci as Mr. Fauci. (“That’ll show the little f*cker,” she mumbled.) That’s the level of moronity (moronism?) to which the GOP has fallen.

Republicans pressed Dr. Fauci on whether he had earned drug company royalties during the pandemic. Fauci replied that he received $120 per year for inventing a monoclonal antibody treatment a quarter-century ago. He dismissed Republican allegations that he helped fund research that sparked the pandemic or had covered up the possibility it originated in a laboratory, as “absolutely false and simply preposterous.”

Good to see you again, Doc. Give ’em hell.

See you tomorrow!
Quiet Joy

June 3rd, 2024

Headline in The Onion: Dalai Lama Agrees to Box Pope for Charity. The bout is to take place in Vegas this weekend. There’s already been some trash talk between the two spiritual leaders, DL claiming he’ll crucify “Franky,” and the Pope telling Lama he’ll knock him out of the cycle of life and death, (whatever the hell that is, he added). They’ll go ten rounds and it’s winner take all.

My floss got caught on a molar last night and when I yanked on it, it pulled off the crown, breaking the tooth. Kevin the dentist was able to see me this morning and he opined that it’s best just to have the tooth pulled rather than try to save it. Fine by me. I had brought the crown/cap in and he asked me if I wanted to keep it. I said, “What, as a souvenir?” And he explained it’s a gold alloy and has value. He cleaned it off and gave me a small addressed postpaid padded envelope to send it off in. He said they’ll send me a check based on the makeup of the alloy and the weight. That was all news to me.

Did you know teeth can be ticklish? Yup — here’s proof.

Ian Grimshaw of the Dull Men’s Club had some advice for us grumpyheads today:

“There seems to be quite a few comments on here lately by somewhat dissatisfied-with-life people. While daily life can leave you vexed and discontented I feel part of the art of being Dull is not to let anything bother me that much. If one thing gives an inkling of bothering me I try to find five things that give me quiet joy. For example; an inconsiderate car driver caused me some alarm yesterday when I was out for a ride on my ‘bike. I immediately engaged the ‘Find 5’ ploy and: saw 1) thatched house with straw hare on roof 2) very blue sky 3) a corridor of very tall trees in the full bloom of leaf 4) a dragonfly crossed my path 5) an empty country road for three or four minutes with lovely open, sweeping beds. Dull contentment restored.”

It was met with a flurry of appreciative responses. Until Club Member Paul McDermott noted: “Typical bike rider not looking where he is going “

Here’s that dragonfly. (Four more to go.)

My Zoey, who is eight, attended a friend’s birthday party yesterday that had a Taylor Swift theme. So when we popped over last night she was in the midst of picking a TS sticker to use for her backstage pass. Important stuff. “Oh, I can help you with that, Zo!” I picked one with Tay holding her arms up over her head to form a heart. Amazingly, Zoey concurred. I have to remember to think of that when I need to come up with 5 things that give me quiet joy.

More dull men:

James Aldredge posted: Our local pet shop has wasps in the window…I didn’t ask how much they were.

Chris Edwards: Unlike the birds, they won’t be going cheap.

Steve Porter:

Last one for today: From Dull Man Gaz Trowell:

“In 20 odd years of driving mobile plant, I’ve never used the steering wheel knob and instead use the palm of my hand.” And he posted this picture:

This is the best club ever! See you tomorrow!
Poodle Skirts and Blouses

June 2nd, 2024

Owl Chatter fave Caitlin Clark is complaining about the officiating in the WNBA. She (and her coach, Christie Sides) say she is getting hammered and not getting the calls. Take a look at this:

WTF! That foul was called, but it wasn’t categorized as “flagrant.” It’s okay. Indiana won the game — its first home win of the season. Caitlin later said: “I wasn’t expecting that. But it’s just like, ‘Respond, calm down and let your play do the talking.’ It is what it is … Go make the free throw and then execute on offense.”

For her part, Chennedy Carter, who committed the foul, did not want to talk about it after the game. “I ain’t answering no Caitlin Clark questions,” she said. Compounding the controversy, it is believed Carter said “little bitch” to Clark as she committed the foul. [Note: Caitlin is 6 feet tall. Hardly “little.”]

The puzzle today opened the prettiest door for us. At 97D, the clue was “Sleeve style with slanted seams,” and the answer was RAGLAN.

“On Raglan Road” is a well-known Irish song from a poem written by Patrick Kavanagh named after Raglan Road in Ballsbridge, Dublin. In the poem, the speaker recalls, while walking on a “quiet street,” a love affair that he had with a much younger woman. Although he knew he would risk being hurt if he initiated a relationship, he did so anyway. Was it ever not so?

We sent Phil over to Dublin to look for the dark-haired Irish girl of the song. He swears he found her, and, yup, — the singer had no choice.

Spoiler alert: Here’s how it ends:

On a quiet street where old ghosts meet
I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly
My reason must allow

That I had loved not as I should
A creature made of clay
When the angel woos the clay
He’ll lose his wings at the dawn of day

A Democratic Congressman from Minny, Dean Phillips, has urged NY Gov. Kathy Hochul to pardon Trump “for the good of the country.” Crazy? Of course. But I started thinking – how about if Hochul figured out how much money NYC’s public transit system needs, and how much money CUNY needs, and all the other good NY programs that help people. And throw in a nice raise for public service employees.

Say, it’s $7 or $8 billion. Whatever. 10? Who knows? And she says to Trump – if you can get your idiotic base to fund all this stuff, I’ll give you your pardon. It’s no skin off his ass to raise unlimited amounts of money from the morons who support him. Gov! — you listening?

Geddes Johnson wrote this piece for Met Diary today:

Dear Diary:

I was walking to Grand Central early one summer Saturday. I was wearing seafoam green pants because it was to be a seafoam-green-pants type of day at the beach.

I passed a moving van on the other side of the street where some men were unloading furniture.

“You a doctor?” one of them yelled to me.

“No, sir,” I replied.

He shook his head.

“You’ve got to get some new pants,” he said.

And Dylan Connell shared this Tiny Love Story — about his aunt!

Trading poodle skirts and blouses for trucker hats and flannels, decades before the term “gender nonconforming” entered the mainstream, Aunt Barbara stopped trying to fit into her Missouri farm town. I innocently called her “Uncle Barbara” as a toddler. She always laughed. For all of her standing out, for the acceptance she demanded and got, Barb’s inner life is unknowable. Long gone from cancer, she left me two important gifts: a record of her courageous clothing preferences captured in family photos, and a blazed path for her family to accept me, her gay nephew.

The most maligned clue/answer today was at 21A. The clue was “VCR medium” and the answer was TV TAPE. Here’s Rex on it:

I was groaning and eye-rolling a lot today, with Peak Groan coming with TV TAPE, what on god’s green earth is that supposed to be?! TV TAPE???! TV TAPE. I’m just going to keep saying it, hoping that through iteration, it will magically turn into something, something real, something someone has actually said before. Just gruesome. Embarrassing. How do you talk yourself into TV TAPE!? You gotta exercise discretion. You cannot let your wordlist push you around. There’s so much of this going around—constructors who think that just because it’s in their database, it’s good. No experienced constructor is ever going to try to palm TV TAPE off on you. Criminal. Editorial malpractice.

Yes, but how do you really feel about it?

As usual, egs came up with a different take:

Our early model RCA was always falling apart. Antennas breaking off, knobs clattering to the floor, power cord fraying. I can still hear the Old Man yelling “egs, bring me the goddamn TVTAPE!”

Did you know that a slang term for “Did a great job on” is ATE? That’s new to me. It emerged as a term of admiration and praise to describe a person, usually a woman, who was performing exceptionally well in a drag show, dance competition, or other form of performance. “Man, she ate that sh*t up completely.” Then its application broadened.

See those ballplayers? They play for the Tri-City Chili Peppers and they look like that because their game last night was the first ever “Cosmic Baseball” game, played entirely under “black lights.” The players, balls, bats, bases, etc. could all be seen in a neon sort of glow, but nothing else.

Tri City plays in a Collegiate Summer League and their home town is Colonial Hgts, VA, a bit south of Richmond. The game was a success and will be repeated several times later this season. They say seats are still available for July 20, but internet sales seem to be glitching up. The Peppers beat the Greenbriar Knights 9-4, BTW.

Hope you had some strawberries this weekend! The Mets honored Daryl Strawberry yesterday and retired his number: 18 — Chai, or Life, in Jewish numerology. Anyone with a sweet lefty swing like that, and such a big gracious smile, is welcome as an honorary Jew, for sure. Daryl had his troubles off the field, but he battled through them and is a real mensch today. You’ll always be in the lineup at Owl Chatter, Straw.

Georgie! — get our slugger a cold Diet Coke! And see if we have any Doritos left.

What a joyous face! Good night, everybody. See you tomorrow!
School Buses

June 1st, 2024

Jeez Louise!! Can’t a girl climb f*cking Mt. Everest without some asshole trying to get into her expedition pants??!!

Well put, Georgie. Our George is referring to a front page story in the NYT today decrying the sexual abuse faced way too often by serious women climbers on expeditions. Of course, even once is too often.

Lotta Hintsa may not stir the passions when dressed like this:

But she is blue-eyed, blonde, and was Miss Finland in 2013 as well as Finland’s Miss Universe entrant that year. Here she is. Thanks, Philly. Nice lighting.

Hintsa is a model and serious high-altitude mountain climber, a sport that is rapidly growing more popular with women: 65 women reached the summit of Mt. Everest last year, about 10% of the total, which our math department says would be around 650. Back in 2003, only ten women made the climb; in 2013, 45. It’s serious business — 18 climbers died during the Spring season last year, and 8 have already been reported dead or missing in 2024.

The cost of a climb starts at $40,000 and will hit six figures for “a more luxurious experience,” says The Times. You entrust your life to your guide.

Hintsa became a professional climber in 2018. She ran across Nirmal Purja at base camps in Nepal and Pakistan. Purja is a superstar in that world. His climb of all fourteen 8,000-meter peaks on earth in 2019 was the subject of a Netflix documentary. He has 2 million followers on Instagram. Via his guiding company, he has helped usher in a new era of commercial high-peak climbing, and encourages women to take it up.

Hintsa and Purja met in his hotel room to discuss working on an expedition. Some of their text messages were a bit flirty so she made it clear to him ahead of time that the meeting was “not a booty call.” Nevertheless, when she was in his suite, he led her to the bed and began undressing her. She kept saying no, but that meant nothing in the state he was in. She was fearful of his strength and military training. Only when she forcefully resisted his removing her bra did the spell break, he pulled back, and she got the hell out of there safely. Of course, she did no business with his company.

Purja is not alone in his monsterhood. A 2018 survey of more than 5,000 climbers from over 60 countries found that 47% of women (and 16% of men) said they were subjected to unwanted sexual behavior while climbing. Thirty-five percent of the men complained that they weren’t. [No they didn’t.]

Just this February, a 39-year-old climber named Charles Barrett was convicted of three counts of sexual abuse for repeatedly assaulting a woman who was visiting Yosemite National Park. Get this — he was prosecuted in part as a result of that survey, above. The woman he assaulted answered the survey saying she had been raped by a “well-known, professional California climber” on a trip to Yosemite. Another respondent also said she had been sexually assaulted by a specific individual. Survey organizers followed up with the women and they both identified Barrett as the rapist/assailant. He has written guidebooks and was a major figure in California climbing. In case you are not sufficiently disgusted by this schmuck, prosecutors described his attack on his victim as a “violent rape.” He is set to be sentenced on Tuesday. Good riddance.

Conversely, Purja denies everything and his star has continued to rise. As a face of high-altitude climbing, he has worked with companies like Red Bull and Nike, which this past winter released a clothing collection inspired by him, called 8K Peaks, and featured him in a towering Manhattan billboard. He received an honorary doctorate from Loughborough U. in England. Outdoor brands including Grivel, Osprey and Scarpa have worked with him on co-branded products. The women who are recounting their experiences with him are just trying to get the word out so others aren’t victimized.

At Owl Chatter, we’re giving George the last word on this story.

“F*ck you, Purja,” he said.

You tell ’em, buddy! Just don’t step backwards!! Georrrrrrrggggge! (Ouch.) Hintsa — you got a rope or something to throw down to him? And maybe some Cheetos?

On the lighter side, remember The Turtles? Sure you do — who didn’t love The Turtles? Well, the clue at 16A today was “Title woman in a 1968 Turtles hit.” The answer: ELENORE. Here’s the tune. Note the great lyrics:

Elenore, gee, I think you’re swell
And you really do me well
You’re my pride and joy, et cetera

And: Your looks intoxicate me — even though your folks hate me.

And: I really think you’re groovy — let’s go out to a movie.

In the comments to Rex’s blog today it emerged that two very active contributors – Nancy and egsforbreakfast — both celebrate their birthdays today. egs remarked on the coincidence and it reminded me of my Statistics class at Brandeis where the prof assigned us the task of figuring out the chances of any two class members sharing a birthday. There were 30 in the class and it worked out to 70%. That is, there was a 7 in 10 chance that two of us in the class had the same birthday. One student said, “Let’s try it.” So we went up the rows announcing our birth dates. Sure enough, about halfway through, we hit a match. A hush fell over the crowd.

Here’s a story I may share with the Dull Men’s Club:

When I ordered my sheet of 32-cent Civil War stamps (for just $5.25!) so I could get the one with Clara Barton on it, the seller sent it to me using a whole bunch of neat old “priced” stamps, i.e., not “forever” stamps. There was a 44-cent Garfield (the cat, not the president) stamp, two 41-cent Mickey Mouse stamps, a 41-cent Aladdin stamp, a 15-cent Seeing-Eye-Dog stamp, and some smaller denominations. And they weren’t canceled and they were easy to remove!!

So I used them to arrive at as many 68-cent combinations as I could (the current cost of a one-ounce mailing). The 44-cent Garfield, combined with the 15-cent Seeing-Eye-Dog came to 59 cents and I had a ten-cent stamp to add on. Perfect!

I had a 3-center and two 4-centers to add to the 41 cent stamps bringing them up to 44 or 45 cents. So I just had to add a 24-cent “additional ounce stamp” to each to get up to (or over) 68 cents. I had seen a version of this stamp with a nice yellow school bus on it.

I went to the Green Village post office near me this morning and asked the woman for three “additional ounce 24-cent” stamps. She said, “I hope I have some.” I said, “Oh, no!” and noted that they have school buses on them, to aid her in her search. She found some, but with cute bunny rabbits on them — not the school buses. Fine by me. I had exact change ready (72 cents) and the transaction went smoothly.

Sometimes, maybe not often, everything in life works out just fine.

See you tomorrow!
Guilty As Sin

May 31st, 2024

Historian Heather Cox Richardson wrote today’s poem for us. Well, she didn’t intend it to work as a poem, but it has a nice rhythm to it. She wrote it in her newsletter dated May 30, 2024:

Trump stared blankly ahead as the verdict was read. “Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.”

Taylor — you wanna chime in?

There were some real odd items in the puzzle today. How about FIENDING? The clue was “Hankering, slangily.” What? We called Miriam about it and she did not approve! It’s not in her dictionary. But less formal venues cite it as derived from “fiend.” A fiend wants something really badly, i.e., a dope fiend. And fiending takes its meaning from that.

Then there was GAMIFY. The clue was “Make more fun and addictive, in a way.” Miriam was okay with this one. She said it’s when you add fun elements to a task to make it more palatable. Okay.

And what about UBERIZE, clued with “Disrupt with technology, as an existing industry.” You hear of that one? Well, Mimi Webster’s not buying it. Not in her dictionary. But the Cambridge English Dictionary has it as: “to change the market for a service by introducing a different way of buying or using it, especially using mobile technology.” As Uber did to the ride service market.

And the word that was most hated was: “Sisters are part of it:” NUNHOOD. I guess it’s parallel to the priesthood, but many found it clunky.

So those are your words for the day today, readers: fiending, gamify, uberize, and nunhood.

Wait — I also learned about SYNERGY, a word I had heard of but didn’t really get. The clue was good: “What might cause 1 + 1 to be greater than 2.” And here’s the dictionary definition: “the interaction or cooperation of two or more organizations, substances, or other agents to produce a combined effect greater than the sum of their separate effects.” Perfect: 1 + 1 greater than 2.

Who’s this? Anybody know?

It’s Anna Holmes. She was in the puzzle today as the founder of the website Jezebel. It’s a website geared towards women as a feminist counterpoint to the traditional magazines like Glamour, Cosmo, and Vogue. Holmes “hated [Glamour‘s] worship of luxury, the lack of racial diversity, and the shallowness of women’s publications generally.”

On its first day of operation, Jezebel offered a $10,000 reward for the best example of a magazine cover photo prior to being retouched for publication. The winning entry was a photo of country singer Faith Hill from the cover of Redbook. Jezebel pointed out 11 different ways the photo had been altered, including radically distorting Hill’s left arm.

Ellis Hicks of the Dull Men’s Club (UK chapter) wrote that it’s common knowledge that a can (tin, he calls it) of Heinz beans contains on average 465 beans. [It is?] He bought ten tins and counted all of the beans in them. In 8 of the 10 there were fewer than 430 beans. In the third tin he opened there were only 387 beans! The most beans in a tin was 483. The mean was 421.4.

He concluded that Heinz is “diddling” its customers and will be boycotting it from now on.

This being the Dull Men’s Club, there were over 240 comments. Many noted that if the tins were okay in terms of weight, the fewer beans might just be larger.

One fellow said: “I’m sorry Ellis, but your entire analysis amounts to nothing more than a hill of beans.”

Another asked: Have you stopped farting yet? And, in that vein, a fellow named Tim said he has a delicious recipe for a “239-bean casserole.” He says you have to be careful though — one extra bean and it’s “too forty.”

Just one more — I promise!! Rosemary said her mum once bought a tin of beans from the co-op that contained only one bean and the rest was sauce. Her dad “decanted it into a Tupperware” and brought it back with the receipt. They gave him several tins by way of apology.

It’s rare for Phil to lose his patience and walk away from an assignment. But this girl really had it coming, he says. C’mon, buddy, she’s 8-years-old. Sheesh!

See you tomorrow!
A Box of Rain

May 30th, 2024

It looks like we’re not getting off Gilligan’s Island so fast. Yesterday’s notes on Mary Ann led us down an interesting path. Did you know that the seven characters on the Island represent the Seven Deadly Sins? That’s not just some silly theory — it was confirmed by the show’s creator, Sherwood Schwartz. Gilligan himself was Sloth. The “know-it-all” Professor was Pride. The Skipper was Gluttony. Mr. Howell was Covetousness/Greed. Ginger was Lust. Mary Ann was Envy (of Ginger). The only one that seems a bit weak to me was Mrs. Howell as Anger.

Other analysts also have Gilligan as Satan, presiding over the Island/Hell. It was noted he’s always wearing red. Hmmmmmmmm.

“In fact, what seemed to be a perfectly disarming, if somewhat frustrating, situation comedy was a representation of a Sartre-like nether-world in which the characters represent the Seven Deadly Sins, and are forced to live in unceasing torment with each other.”

I’m not sure about the “unceasing torment” part, but I like the “Sartre-like nether world.”

Many in the cast came to identify with their roles throughout their later careers, but some pretty big stars almost landed the roles in the first place. Carroll O’Connor almost snared the role of the Skipper; Jayne Mansfield was almost Ginger, and Raquel Welch Mary Ann. Jerry Van Dyke (for Gilligan) and Dabney Coleman almost made the cut too.

After three seasons (98 episodes), the show was abruptly canceled and so there was no closure. We never learn if they were rescued or what became of them within the original series. (Sequels were produced later.)

Here’s Jayne, heading out for a ride with Phil. Hope he’s not driving! Phil — give someone else the keys!

Gosh, it seems like just yesterday, but it was actually back on this date in 1431 that Joan of Arc was killed. She was only 19.

Over 20,000 books were written about her, one by Mark Twain. This was in the Writer’s Almanac today:

“Mark Twain spent 12 years researching her life and wrote a book called Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc, published in 1896. It’s a fictional account and purports to be written by Joan’s personal secretary. It’s mostly devoid of humor. He genuinely admired Joan of Arc, and wrote an earnest book about her.

Twain later said, “I like Joan of Arc best of all my books; and it is the best; I know it perfectly well.”

Here’s Leelee Sobieski who played Joan in one of the movies about her. Yikes, she was gorgeous!

A question was posed yesterday by a member of the Dull Men’s Club, UK Chapter, to which I proudly belong. It was noted that a 50-lb bag of “horse” oats (that you would use to feed your horse) costs much less (on a per-pound basis) than oats like Quaker Oats that you would buy for yourself. The question was, is there any reason not to eat the horse oats — aren’t oats just oats?

One response simply said “Neigh.” Others were worried that the horse oats might contain “impurities” like rat feces that would be more carefully removed in the processing of human oats. Others noted the processing would be different in that the husk would be kept on for horses making it hard for human digestive systems to handle them. They might give you “the runs,” prompting the question — if a horse has stomach problems, does he have “the trots?”

Bottom line: I’m not inclined to eat horse oats.

Bill Walton passed away at age 71 this week. What a wonderful man. Here are 3,000 words worth of pictures of Bill and Mrs. Bill (Lori Matsuoka): young, older, and crazy.

They were married for over 30 years, but it was with his first wife Susie Guth that he had all four of his children, all sons, and all successful in sports and/or business.

Walton stayed very close with his coach at UCLA John Wooden. Wooden did not approve of Walton’s lefty politics but bailed him out of jail when he was arrested protesting.

Walton was an insane Grateful Dead fan. At his very first Dead concert he was invited to sit onstage because he was so big he was blocking people’s view. He befriended the band and attended over 850 concerts, including traveling with them to Egypt for its 1978 performance (joining the band on drums), and appeared at a Dead & Company concert as Father Time as the clock struck midnight on New Year’s Eve in 2019. He wrote the liner notes for two of their albums. He described Dead concerts as “a gathering of the tribe in celebration,” adding, “It’s what I live for.”

After Walton joined the Celtics before the 1985-86 season, Larry Bird organized a team outing to a Dead show in Worcester, Mass., as part of “welcoming the new guy.” In 2001, Walton was inducted into The Grateful Dead Hall of Honor, and referred to it as “his highest honor.”

Rest in peace, Bill.

At 8D today the clue was “One way to prepare crepes,” and the answer was SUZETTE. Commenter jae reminded us of this Dylan verse:

The waitress he was handsome
He wore a powder blue cape
I ordered some suzette, I said
“Could you please make that crepe”

(Bob Dylan’s 115th Dream)

How ’bout those Gnats? While the Mets implode, the Gnats have taken two out of three from the Braves in Atlanta, losing only to the brilliant Max Fried, our boychik. They are clawing their way back up to .500, but face a surprisingly strong Cleveland club this weekend. Good stuff!

Thanks for stopping by! See you tomorrow.
Balloon War!

May 29th, 2024

Steven Wright links global warming to the end of the cold war. I can see it.

I hate to say it, but my wife is a terrible cook. She made alphabet soup and my kid used it to spell out H-E-L-P. She made breakfast the other day — I never saw toast that had bones before. At our house we pray after we eat. (Thanks, Rodney.)

Bob Hope was born on this date in 1903 near London and his first name at birth was Leslie. His last name was really Hope. I was never a big fan. But he said once “My neighbor got a pacemaker installed. Now, every time he has sex, my garage door opens.”

At 43A, “Actor Josh who was once married to Fergie,” is DUHAMEL. But he wasn’t married to the Fergie who is the Duchess of York. He was married to another Fergie, Stacy Ferguson, who is an American pop star and member of the Black Eyed Peas. (They have one child, a son.) Her first solo album is named The Duchess, though — so there’s that.

Josh Duhamel is an actor and former model who is way too handsome.

And here’s his ex, Fergie:

Here’s a subtle piece of puzzle craftsmanship by the constructors, Jeanne Breen and Jeff Chen: The clue at 30D was “Magazine with cover exclamations like ‘Bigger Biceps!’” The answer was MEN’S HEALTH and it crossed Josh DUHAMEL (at the H). Well, get this — Rex noted Duhamel was on the cover of Men’s Health twice. Here’s one of them.

OK, OK, enough with Mr. Handsome already.

At 30A the clue was “One of the ‘Gilligan’s Island’ castaways,” and it turned out to be MARY ANN. The producers kept her just unsexy enough to save every teenage boy in America from exploding. Cut that outfit down just a little bit and the entire country crashes.

Yikes! You hear the latest from the Pope? I thought we finally had a cool Pope, but when he didn’t know the mic was on, and the question of gay priests came up, he essentially said F*ck the f*gs. Ouch!

Here’s how you say “Oops” in Popanese: “The pope never intended to offend or express himself in homophobic terms, and he extends his apologies to those who were offended by the use of a term, reported by others.”

Hmmmmmmmm.

According to the NYT, “Though only a handful of priests in the U.S. have come out publicly, gay priests and researchers estimate that gay men probably make up at least 30 to 40 percent of the Catholic clergy in the U.S.

Here’s the Pope, who is single, hitting on some babe at a recent church social. He was miffed when she wouldn’t give him her number.

“We don’t want your sh*t — literally!” That’s the gist of South Korea’s message to North Korea, after a sort of balloon war broke out between the two countries. It started in early May when North Korean defector-turned-human rights activist Park Sang-hak sent 20 balloons carrying 300,000 leaflets condemning North Korean leader Kim Jong Un. The North retaliated by sending over 200 balloons back full of, well, crap: trash, including manure and excrement in some.

South Korea’s Defense Minister, who is eleven years old, says it’s preparing to escalate to water balloons if necessary. The North’s Minister, 13, replied: Bring it, mofo.

Trump’s Memorial Day message to the nation, per historian Heather Cox Richardson (not kidding):

“Happy Memorial Day to All, including the Human Scum that is working so hard to destroy our Once Great Country, & to the Radical Left, Trump Hating Federal Judge in New York that presided over, get this, TWO separate trials, that awarded a woman, who I never met before (a quick handshake at a celebrity event, 25 years ago, doesn’t count!), 91 MILLION DOLLARS for “DEFAMATION.”

He then continued to attack E. Jean Carroll, the writer who successfully sued him for defamation, before turning to attack Judge Arthur Engoron and Judge Juan Merchan.

Stirring, no?

This is EJC when she was young. Trump said she was “not his type.” Puh-leeze.

The great classic “Angel of the Morning” was written by Chip Taylor, who is actor Jon Voight’s brother. Chip is 84 and lives in Yonkers. He also wrote “Wild Thing.” Angel was first recorded by Evie Sands, who popped by the puzzle and OC headquarters yesterday. But it only became a hit when others recorded it, due to promotion issues for Evie’s producer. It was offered to Connie Francis first, but she turned it down as “too risqué.” BTW, in the Jewish version, he does beg her to stay. Voo den?

Here’s Evie:

See you tomorrow!
Nena and Evie

May 28th, 2024

We’re all back from Charm City — what a nice trip! The weather cooperated during the ballgame, to the great chagrin of the hapless Red Sox, who got pummeled by the O’s 11-3. They had their chances, but their lineup is a pale shadow of their glory days (Who are these players?), and they just couldn’t cash in. Would love to see a Birds/Dodgers World Series. Or Phillies?

I almost sh*t my pants during the National Anthem. You know that part near the end when it goes: “Oh say does that star-spangled Banner yet wave, . . . ?”

Well, at the O, the entire crowd erupted into a roaring O (for the Orioles). I hadn’t heard that before, and I love it, but it almost tossed me out of the upper deck. I don’t think Baltimore “owns” the letter O like Michigan owns M (and Susan owned S, for me), but it’s close. It’s sort of a regional ownership.

Our seats were terrific, and we found a free parking spot about a half mile walk from the stadium — amazing. I’m going to repeat that because the joy will carry me for weeks: We found a free parking spot close to the stadium. (In DC, I was thrilled to find a place a zillion miles away for $30.) The fans were friendly and happy. There is something about Camden Yards that makes you happy. Despite the lopsided score, it was a lot of fun. I have to tell you though — walking back to the car after the game, we wandered into a pretty bad neighborhood. Yeah — and this guy pulled a knife on us. I could tell he wasn’t a professional though — there was butter on it.

Great seafood dinner in Havre de Grace on the way home. But, as I said to our driver in Dublin on the way to the airport from the hotel last October: “It’s back to our miserable lives now.” (He loved it.)

Charles Simic wrote this joyous poem called “Heights Of Folly.” It was shared with us in yesterday’s Writer’s Almanac. (Gotta wonder how Helen feels about it.)

O crows circling over my head and cawing!
I admit to being, at times,
Suddenly, and without the slightest warning,
Exceedingly happy.

On a morning otherwise sunless,
Strolling arm in arm
Past some gallows-shaped trees
With my dear Helen,
Who is also a strange bird,

With a feeling of being summoned
Urgently, but by a most gracious invitation
To breakfast on slices of watermelon
In the company of naked gods and goddesses
On a patch of last night’s snow.

I forgot how catchy and good the 1983 song 99 luftballoons by Nena is. Nena is the stage name of Gabriele Susanne Kerner, who is 64 now and is still touring and active. She is certainly welcome in Crossworld, with a name like that, and appeared just today at 28A, clued with all those balloons: NENA. She did not marry but had three kids with Swiss actor Robert Freitag. The first, a son named Christopher Daniel, was born severely disabled due to medical errors that also sent Gabriele into cardiac arrest. Sadly, Christopher died when he was only 11 months old. The next two were twins. She split from Freitag and had two more kids with drummer/producer Phillip Palm, and now has four grandchildren. Three of her kids perform with her.

Here she is, in her pajamas (Phil!). Below that, she’s on stage.

John Cheever was born on May 27 in Quincy MA in 1912. Part of the image he crafted for himself was that of the man in the suit who rode the apartment building’s elevator downstairs with all the other men in suits who were leaving for work in the morning. His daughter Susan later revealed: “From the lobby he would walk down to the basement, to the windowless storage room that came with our apartment. That was where he worked. There, he hung up the suit and hat and wrote all morning in his boxer shorts, typing away at his portable Underwood set up on the folding table. At lunchtime he would put the suit back on and ride up in the elevator.”

Son Volt shared this Old Crow Medicine Show tune with us yesterday in honor of Memorial Day.

You probably don’t remember EVIE Sands, a singer who is turning 78 next month, had some hits over the years, and is still performing. When you’ve got three vowels in your name, you can keep popping up in Crossworld, as she did today, at 47A. She was clued with “Singer Sands of the ’60s.” Since she’s been active way after the 60s, that clue might merit an “ouch.” She’s from Brooklyn — yay!

Evie may stick around with us at OC for a while and share a song with us in the coming days. We’ve had enough tunes for today already. George! — see if she wants a Diet Sprite or something. Settle in, sweetheart. Our casa . . . , you know.

“Follow, as orders” was HEW TO. It set Rex off, and I agree with him.

“The hardest answer in the puzzle for me was HEW TO (56D: Follow, as orders). You follow orders, you obey orders, you do not HEW TO orders, that is So Awkward. I had the answer as SEE TO for a bit, which isn’t good, but it’s at least as good as HEW TO (as clued). You HEW TO a norm or standard or set of specifications. It has to do with conforming, not obeying. Those are related, but they are not the same.”

Hrummmmmph!

“You can just put the captured pieces off to the side . . .”

See you tomorrow!