Karen Rappensperger wrote this story for Met Diary. It’s called “At the Corner.”
As I got to the corner at 59th Street and First Avenue, a man and a woman were standing there talking. They were disagreeing about whether they should cross the street.
The man was arguing that no cars were coming, and the street was empty, so they should go.
That would be jaywalking, the woman replied in a shocked tone.
As she was speaking, another man passed.
“Here, we just call it crossing the street,” he said.
This poem is by Jessica Goodfellow and was in today’s Writer’s Almanac.
In Praise of Imperfect Love
Courtesans of tenth century Japan knew the keening of the caged copper pheasant, solo double-note aria for a missing mate, could be silenced with a mirror
The ideal of a love that completes masks a yearning for homeostasis, a second umbilical, island fever, harmony tighter than unison —
dull as a solved equation; like the ex-lover who said, “Being with you is like being alone.” He meant it as a compliment.
One nice thing Owl Chatter has done for me, among many, is get me to read the obituaries in the NYT. [My old Estates professor at Penn, Mr. Aronstein, once told us how you can tell who the estate lawyers are in Philadelphia: “They wear pin-striped suits, ride in on the local from Paoli, and smile as they read the obituaries.”] I look for one small hook that’s interesting. Plus, it’s nice to say a few parting words to good people. And without realizing it, I think I’ve gained an appreciation for a well-crafted story from reading so many. The most important element is that you get to know the person’s character, at least a little bit. For Lt. Taylor yesterday, what caught me was his comment: “It needed doing.”
As I read the obit for pitcher Don Gullett today, by Alex Williams, I thought that it was perfect. I remembered Gullett for his dominance on the mound, first against the Yankees, and then for them. But I had no idea what he was like as a person. Williams filled me in.
He was the ace for Cincy during their Big Red Machine era, with a lineup featuring Johnny Bench, Joe Morgan, Tony Perez, and Pete Rose, among other solid bats. Gullett’s fastball earned him the nickname Smokin’ Don, and he drew comparisons to Koufax. How fast was it? Pirate Slugger Willie Stargell said Gullett “could throw a ball through a carwash without it ever getting wet.” In seven seasons with the Reds, he went 91-44 with a 3.03 ERA. That’s smokin’ alright.
He was the 14th overall pick out of HS in the 1969 draft, appeared in only eleven games in the minors, and reached the big leagues at the age of 19. He earned saves in Cincy’s two wins over Pittsburgh to help them win the pennant in 1970. He said afterwards he wasn’t nervous up there on the mound. He said it was tougher facing all the reporters than it was facing Clemente or Stargell.
In ’75, ’76, and ’77, he started Game 1 of the World Series, the first two for Cincy and the third for NY. ’75 was Cincy’s classic 7-game win over Boston, which included Fisk’s historic Game 6 home run. In ’76, the Reds blew by the Yankees in four straight games, prompting Steinbrenner to lure Gullett to NY with a mammoth offer. And the Yanks did win the Series in ’77, beating the hated Dodgers — their first crown since 1962.
On leaving Cincy for NY, Bench said it was the hardest decision Gullett made in his life. But it was the right move for his family’s security, Bench noted. After a strong year for NY in ’77 (14-4 with a 3.59 ERA), Gullett tore his rotator cuff and his career was over at the age of 31.
Once he was out of baseball he grew tobacco and other crops with his wife Cathy on their farm near his hometown in Kentucky, near the Ohio border. They had three kids. He was a smoker, and had heart attacks in 1986 and 1990, and triple bypass surgery after the second one.
Get this — About 800 Cannabis plants being cultivated on his farmland were discovered by the Kentucky State Police in August of ’77. He denied any knowledge of the plants. The farmland’s caretaker was his brother Jack, who was indicted on a charge of trafficking in a controlled substance the following month. In addition to the marijuana, 100 cases of potato chips were found stashed in the barn. [No they weren’t.]
As for Gullett as a person, Bench said, “He was the nicest, nicest person. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a bad word ever said about Don.” On the injury, — It took him awhile to accept the end of his career. “I looked at myself and I was only 31, 32 years old,” he said. “It kind of bothered me mentally. It was mentally tough to watch games.”
Always humble, he added “If I had stayed healthy, there is the chance I could have been very successful.”
Ya think?
Rest in peace, Smokin’ Don.
Here’s another story from tomorrow’s Met Diary. It’s by Alisha B.
I landed at LaGuardia Airport, thrilled to be greeted by the familiar skyline. I had been away for a year. It felt like a lifetime, but the rhythm of the city quickly came back to me.
When the car I was in got stuck in traffic on 31st Street in Queens, I decided to make a call.
The puzzle today was a double pangram. A pangram is when every letter of the alphabet appears at least once in the grid. It only happens every couple of months. Rex doesn’t like them because he generally finds that the quality of the “fill” suffers as the constructor goes searching for that J or Q word. It’s a criticism that makes sense to me. So today’s “double” pangram means every letter appears at least twice. Rex is off today, so we didn’t get his view of it. I thought the fill was pretty sharp, but what the hell do I know? Lewis pointed out that back on 8/10/2016, amazingly, the grid was a record-setting quintuple pangram.
There was a clever clue today at 61A: “Drinks are on me!” The answer was BAR MENU. (Get it?) Also I learned that T SWIZZLE is a nickname for Taylor Swift. Also learned that ZITI is a “traditional wedding dish in southern Italy, hence its literal translation (‘brides’).”
We saw the Bob Marley movie today, One Love. It’s been panned by the critics (44% score on Rotten Tomatoes), but rated highly by the audience (94%). We liked it a lot. Great music (duh) and very good job by the actor who played Marley, Kingsley Ben-Adir. Some of the back-story was a little weak, but so what?
We’ll let Bob send us off tonight. If you haven’t heard this song in a while, take a listen.
It didn’t take long for Hank Aaron to surpass Babe Ruth’s lifetime home run record in 1974. The season had just started. It was April 8th. Take a look:
It’s a good memory to start with today because Spring Training is starting up. But I posted it more for the pitcher who gave up the homer than for Aaron. That’s Al Downing, whom I remember mostly as a terrific left arm for the Yankees for nine seasons, starting in 1961. I just read a short piece honoring him as part of Black History Month. He’s one of the fifteen “Black Aces,” Black pitchers from the U.S. or Canada who had 20-win seasons.
He broke a barrier when he came up: He was the first Black pitcher to play for the Yankees. But Downing had his 20-win season with the Dodgers in 1971. He pitched 12 complete games that year and five shutouts. He came in third in the Cy Young Award voting behind Hall of Famers Ferguson Jenkins and Tom Seaver. He was a Dodger when he gave up Aaron’s historic shot too.
Here’s a nice photo of Al with Sandy Koufax and Maury Wills in LA on Opening Day, 2016.
Downing said Aaron was always gracious when discussing the historic home run he hit off of Downing. When a reporter tried to needle Downing about it years later, Aaron jumped in to defend him.
“He said ‘I was going to hit that home run anyway, whoever was pitching. So, don’t make him out to be a bad guy,’” Downing recalled Aaron saying. “’That (home run) doesn’t take away from his career.’”
Downing is 82 years old now. He’s from Trenton NJ and went to Rider College in Jersey and Muhlenberg in PA. A lefty, his lifetime record was 123-107 with an ERA of just 3.22, and he notched 1,639 strikeouts.
The action shifts now from the ballpark to the jungles of Vietnam. On June 18, 1968, Lt. Larry L. Taylor was piloting a helicopter gunship supporting a four-man reconnaissance patrol northeast of Saigon. As described by The Times, the Rangers were trudging through a rice paddy on a moonless night when they were surrounded by about 100 Vietcong guerillas. They were toast. A rescue mission involving two other copters was aborted as “hopeless.”
Taylor himself was coming under fire in his copter and was low on ammo and fuel. He was ordered to return to base. But it was an order he couldn’t obey. Taylor and his co-pilot James Ratliff couldn’t see leaving the soldiers behind like that, despite the seeming impossibility of rescue. They strafed the enemy as well as they could and used their landing lights as a diversion. They were going to employ a maneuver that had never been tried before. I should also note that Taylor and Ratliff were flying a Cobra, which has only two seats, one for the pilot and one for the co-pilot.
Taylor landed the copter 100 yards away from the action, giving the patrol only seconds to run over to it. And they did. When they got there, they “clambered aboard the craft’s skids and rocket pods and clung to them as the copter flew off to a secure landing area.” From that spot, they vanished into the forest and made their way safely back to their base. The Cobra made it back safely too, riddled with bullet holes.
Taylor was awarded the Silver Star for gallantry, but that didn’t sit well with Sgt. David Hill, one of the Rangers. He lobbied three times for Taylor’s medal to be upgraded to the Medal of Honor, the military’s highest award for valor. His third attempt was successful. Taylor was presented with the medal by President Biden in the White House on Sept. 5 of last year.
Lieutenant Taylor passed away on January 28 at his home in Signal Mountain, TN at the age of 81, five months after receiving his medal. He is survived by his wife, two sons, his sister, five grandchildren, and that segment of our nation capable of appreciating his extraordinary heroism. In the obit in the Times, written by Sam Roberts, the final two paragraphs are:
Taylor said he still relived the rescue every time people asked him, “What possessed you to do that?” His reply was always the same: “It needed doing.”
“I was doing my job. I knew that if I did not go down and get them, they would not make it.” Then he added, “We never leave a man behind.”
Rest in peace, Lieutenant.
There’s a review in the NYT today of a documentary called “The Arc of Oblivion.” It’s about the question “what from this world is worth saving?” It’s “a query that takes [the filmmaker Ian Cheney] from the Sahara to the Alps, consulting a ceramics expert, a paleontologist, a speleologist (cave scientist), a dendrochronologist (scientist who studies tree rings) and many other specialists in fields I didn’t realize had their own names. Each provides a new way into thinking about why and how the human species tries to preserve its memories, alongside the futility of the task.”
On the topic of ‘the permanence of things,” the reviewer, Alissa Wilkinson, notes: “I recently found a cassette tape in my childhood home containing a recording of my father, who died nearly 18 years ago, singing a song he wrote. I’ve been afraid to listen to it, but not really because of the emotion it might bring up. (Or because I’m not sure where to get a cassette player.) I’m more afraid that the tape, which has been in a box for at least two decades, might have disintegrated, leaving me without his voice. At the moment, I’d rather leave it unplayed than discover I’ve lost something precious.”
It’s a positive review. Cheney has actually hired a carpenter to build an ark the size of a guesthouse in his parents’ backyard in rural Maine. He’s not expecting to save mankind, like Noah, but, as is the film, he is exploring the concept of preservation itself.
In the puzzle today, which seemed easy to me for a Friday, the clue at 10D was “Casually chic updo,” and the answer was MESSY BUN. We sent Phil out looking for samples:
The first one is a young Monica Lewinsky [no it’s not], the second is you-know-who, the third is a woman Phil was surprised let him talk to her, and I don’t know how that guy got in there, but it’s a MESSY BUN alright.
It was nice to see MATT Groening in the grid at 36A (“Cartoonist Groening”), along with D’OH at 54A (“Cry from Homer”), since it was Matt’s 70th birthday yesterday, as OC readers know.
As is typical for a Friday, there was no theme, but several pairs of clever clues/answers teamed up nicely: 19A, “Personal struggles personified” (INNER DEMONS), joined 57A, “I want to, but really I shouldn’t …” (DON’T TEMPT ME). And 6D, “Post-Thanksgiving meal drowsiness, familiarly” (FOOD COMA) worked nicely with 39A, “Trancelike state during a monotonous drive” (HIGHWAY HYPNOSIS).
Other clever clues were “God on a mission” (APOLLO); “Northern hemisphere?” (IGLOO); “[Violin emoji]” (OH BOO HOO); and “Stand-up person?” (NO SHOW).
Last point on the puzzle: 1D was “Sitarist Shankar” and the answer, of course, was RAVI. Did you know Ravi Shankar was Norah Jones’s father? He passed away in December of 2012 at age 92.
Finally, you may have heard a NY judge found Trump and two of his sons to have committed massive fraud, to the tune of hundreds of millions of dollars. Here’s what Judge Engoron wrote in his decision:
“Their complete lack of contrition and remorse borders on pathological. They are accused only of inflating asset values to make more money. The documents prove this over and over again. This is a venial sin, not a mortal sin. Defendants did not commit murder or arson. They did not rob a bank at gunpoint. Donald Trump is not Bernard Madoff. Yet, defendants are incapable of admitting the error of their ways.”
The theme of today’s puzzle was DOUBLE OR NOTHING, and it was pretty clever, IMO. For 10 answers (5 intersecting pairs) the same clue could be answered with either a double letter within it or by leaving the double letters out (thus, “double or nothing”). For example, for the clue “Results of some dating app matches,” the answer could be either FEELINGS or F[-]LINGS (flings). Get it? “Flower” could be BLO[-]OM (bloom) or BLOSSOM.
And each double letter had to work both across and down. The constructors were a father/son team: Teddy and Rich Katz.
In their notes, they shared some entries that didn’t make the cut.
“What the ‘Shawshank Redemption’ hero did to his jailers” = F(OO)LED
“Connected to, romantically” = W(OO)ED
“They’re present at psychiatrist offices” = M(OO)DS
“Where Duke plays: Abbr.” = NC(AA) [My favorite]
“Like people you don’t want to talk to” = CRA(BB)Y [Cray = crazy]
“Where you might see dead people” = CO(FF)INS
“Difficult to pin down” = WI(GG)LY [Also my favorite]
“Like some paper” = CO(LL)ATED
We were pretty certain the editors would not have permitted “Venue for a crapshoot” = LO(TT)O. Maybe we should have considered “How hip crossword constructors spend their Friday nights” = CLU(BB)ING.
Our Pistons have hit hard times since winning two in row. They dropped games on consecutive nights to the Lakers and Phoenix. Both were ugly. They trailed LA 71-48 going into halftime, and it was worse the next night: 70-41 at the half. Regroup men!! You can do this!
I saw an interview with KC’s Defensive Coordinator Steve Spagnuolo. It was his fourth Super Bowl win. He talked about adjusting the defense to work man-on-man instead of zone starting in the second quarter. He said he had a lot of respect for SF QB Purdy. Purdy was picking apart their zone, with precision passes. Man-on-man gives you tighter coverage, and KC’s secondary was so strong they never got burned for long completions. So much of the game goes on without the average fan seeing it, or, in my case, sub-average. Here’s Spaggs. He’s 64 years old and is from Whitinsville, MA. Speaks with a solid Boston accent. Mazel Tov, Buddy!
William Post died on Saturday, or should we say he “popped?” He was instrumental in the creation of Pop Tarts, billions of which are sold each year. Post was 96. They were originally going to be called “Fruit Scones.” Blah. An executive at Kellogg’s came up with Pop Tarts as a take-off on Pop Art. They have become part of our culture. Here’s a mural by Claes Oldenburg in Chicago.
Post was married to his wife Florence for 72 years, until her death in 2020. He is survived by his son, Dan, his daughter, Rachel, four grandchildren, 10 great-grandchildren, and over 30 varieties of Pop Tarts, including Strawberry, Brown Sugar Cinnamon, Apple Cinnamon, Banana Bread, Chocolatey Chip Pancake, Cinnamon Roll, Strawberry Milkshake, Sugar Cookie Printed Fun, Eggo Frosted Maple Flavor, Blueberry, Boston Creme Donut, Cherry, Confetti Cupcake, Chocolate Fudge, Chocolate Chip, Cookies and Creme, Grape, Raspberry, Hot Fudge Sundae, Smores, Wildlicious Wild Berry, and Snickerdoodle.
There are gluten-free Pop Tarts too, for all of you silly-acks out there. Here are a couple. Dig in!
Rest in peace, Bill.
LJ Rader has carved out an unusual niche for himself, and the results are perfect fodder for Owl Chatter, i.e., utterly ridiculous. And yet they were splashed across the front page of the NYT Style section today. What he does is identify works of art that correspond to sport scenes.
You may recall the image of Jason Kelce (Trav’s brother) shirtless and screaming as he clutches a can of beer. He was celebrating a TD catch of Trav’s. The NFL called Rader for the equivalent scene in a work of art. Here are the two, below. Can you tell which is Kelce and which is “The Feast of Bacchus” by Philips Koninck?
Hysterical, right?
This is this comparison of Dallas Coach Mike McCarthy’s head with a 19th century still-life by Antoine Vollon called “Mound of Butter.”
Rader insists he’s not making fun of McCarthy’s size. “It’s just the same outline of his face,” Rader said, adding that butter is “bland like his play calling and, most important, melts like him each year in the playoffs.” Ouch!
Rader’s formal background in art is minimal. He credits his grandmother with instilling in him an appreciation for art. And he took an art history course while a student at Vanderbilt. Yet he has developed an uncanny ability to pair sport scenes with classical artworks. Plus, he’s funny. He paired a shot of Jets coach Robert Saleh in his misery with Munch’s “Self Portrait in Hell.”
Here is some more of his work.
D’oh! It’s the birthday of Matt Groening today, creator of The Simpsons. He’s 70 and was born in Portland, OR. He had two sons with his first wife and seven more kids with his second. (Yikes!) His oldest child is named Homer, but goes by Will.
In the show, he named Homer and Marge after his parents, and Lisa and Maggie after his sisters. Bart is an anagram of Brat. How popular was The Simpsons in our household when the kids were growing up? Well, Sam still quotes from it, when appropriate, and Caity had this family portrait of us made a few years ago.
??
Here’s the birthday boy, with a couple of his buddies.
Here’s an Owl Chatter Valentine’s Day love story for you. Maud Gonne, the Irish Nationalist, was one of the most beautiful women of her time. In 1889, the poet William Butler Yeats fell in love with her the moment he met her. He described her face as “delicate in color as apple blossom.” He said the same about her bosom, but that’s none of our business. He asked her to marry him but she said she couldn’t because she believed they were brother and sister in a previous life. (Both she and Yeats believed in the occult.)
I can’t tell you how many times that line was used on me back in the day:
“Not so fast, Pedro — pull your pants back up, I think I’m your sister.”
And I’d go, “Yeats, right?”
Things worked out a lot better for Robert Louis Stevenson. He was walking by a house in France, glanced in a window, and fell madly in love with one of the women who was having dinner with friends. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, and finally opened the window, climbed in, and introduced himself. She was an American, Fanny Osborne.
Long story short: they married several years later. RLS was quite ill at the time. Fanny described him as “a mere complication of cough and bones, much fitter for an emblem of mortality than a bridegroom.” They honeymooned in an abandoned mining camp in Napa Valley north of SF on Mount Saint Helena. It’s near Robert Louis Stevenson State Park today.
BTW, his middle name was originally spelled LEWIS. He changed it to LOUIS when he was 18. Just put that in your pocket — it’s sure to come in handy some day.
A headline in The Onion today said: ”Coughing Baby Aimed At Enemy.” This is from the story: While the mother had initially been trying to isolate the baby and contain his illness, something reportedly snapped deep inside her, causing the normally agreeable woman to engulf her enemies, bystanders, and even herself in a 10-foot-wide, deadly cloud of viruses guaranteed to infect them immediately. At press time, the woman could be seen packing up her stroller and walking away, but not before muttering, “You’ll be dead within the week.”
The Onion also administered a memory test to President Biden and the results were not reassuring. He was unable to recall correctly “What is pi to the 20th digit?” And when asked how many months ago seven months ago was, he said “Seven months ago was five months ago.”
These two answers eluded me in a challenging New Yorker puzzle by Natan Last this week: The first clue was “Hangs without dropping, perhaps?” The answer was TRIP SITS. I know — what? It means to stay with a friend who is taking an LSD trip to make sure he’s okay during it. So you are “hanging” with him, without yourself “dropping” LSD.
The second clue was “Cracks in a small window?” The answer was TIGHT FIVE. Again — what? It turns out this is referring to a five-minute set a stand-up comic gets. It’s “tight” so he has to use his best material. So the “small window” is the five-minute time limit, and the “cracks” are jokes.
Other neat clue/answers:
“I’m in no mood to fight.” DON’T START
“Prevents from stealing, say?” TAGS OUT
“Perch for a bowler, perhaps” HAT TREE
“Uses a powerful engine.” GOOGLES
In 1986, Ted Kooser sent a Valentine’s Day poem on a postcard to 50 women he knew. He kept up the tradition for 21 years, but the list grew to over 2,500. You see, he’d be at a poetry reading or somewhere and mention the tradition and ask if any women there wanted to be added to the list. And, of course, who wouldn’t? It became expensive. His wife wasn’t jealous because she knew he was a lunatic and it was harmless fun.
The poems were collected in a small volume called Valentines. This is one of them.
In the Alley
In the alley behind the florist’s shop, a huge white garbage truck was parked and idling. In a cloud of exhaust, two men in coveralls and stocking caps, their noses dripping, were picking through the florist’s dumpster and each had selected a fistful of roses.
As I walked past, they gave me a furtive, conspiratorial nod, perhaps sensing that I too (though in my business suit and tie) am a devotee of garbage — an aficionado of the wilted, the shopworn, and the free — and that I had for days been searching beneath the heaps of worn-out, faded words to find this brief bouquet for you.
Happy Valentine’s Day to all of you lovers out there — all of you handsome men and spectacularly gorgeous women — to Taylor and Travis, Wilma and Welly, my Caitlin and her Danny, my Sam and his Sarah. To Joe and Jill, Volodymyr and Olena, Patrick and Brittany. Treat yourselves to some chocolates, everybody — open your hearts.
It was a winter wonderland at OC headquarters today. Here’s the view from the kitchen.
I have an idea for a futuristic science fiction movie or book. It’s a medical theme on the idea of transplants. In the future, any organ or body part that becomes faulty will be replaceable by a manufactured part. So any body part will be replaceable — not just hearts, etc., and you won’t have to wait, the parts will be plentiful because we manufacture them. And it won’t be limited to organs. If you have glaucoma or go blind, just pop in a new eye. If you are going deaf, just replace your bad ear with a good one. Going bald? Snap on a new scalp. Essentially, the whole human race will turn into Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head. What do you think?
It may already be happening. These two are in my law class.
So, who’s this hot babe? Seen any of her movies? Maybe on a poster? Look familiar at all?
Phil — got one from a different angle? — no one can place her. And stop drooling — it’s unprofessional!
Give up? It’s Kaja Kallas, and the reason you can’t place her in any movie is she’s the prime minister of Estonia. That’s right, fellas — it’s time to revise your image of Estonian women.
Don’t expect to see Prime Minister Kallas in Russia anytime soon. Dmitry Peskov, a spokesperson for the Kremlin, said that Kallas is a wanted person there on the grounds of “desecration of historical memory.” He told reporters, “These are the people who take hostile actions against historical memory and our country.”
How did the Prime Minister merit this honor? She called for the removal of hundreds of Soviet era monuments in Estonia. She’s also a staunch supporter of Ukraine, and has stated: “The stronger Ukraine is, the faster the breaking point arrives for Russia.” Don’t leave yourself alone with her, Volodymyr! You’re only human.
Get this — it’s the family business — her dad was PM of Estonia too, back in ’02-’03. She’s on her second husband, and has one child, from neither of them. She’s 46 years old.
Wait a minute. OMG! Now I remember why she seems familiar — she looks like a young E. Jean Carroll — the columnist Trump raped. His defense was she’s not his type. We’re with the jury — not buying it.
Speaking of you-know-whom, when Nikki Haley questioned the propriety of having Trump advisors and his daughter-in-law heading the RNC, Trump campaign stooge Steven Cheung offered this calm, measured response: “Nikki ‘Braindead Birdbrain’ Haley reeks of desperation as it’s clear she knows she has no shot, and is now auditioning for a cable news contract when her 15 minutes are over. But not before she can squeeze every last dollar out of her Democrat [sic] benefactors.”
OK, thanks for the analysis.
The puzzle today is by Peter Gordon. He has a degree in math from MIT and this is his 127th puzzle in the NYT. Yow! I liked his clue for 51D: ”Bird with a lot of stuffing?” The answer was LARRY. Basketball star Larry Bird. I think stuffing here is the same thing as dunking? Although one comment said it may mean blocking a dunk. In any event, it’s something the puzzle thinks Larry Bird did a lot of.
If you watched the game last night, you either enjoyed, or were horrified by, KC’s second-half comeback and overtime win. We loved it. So did these kids.
If you watched the post-game festivities you saw Travis making a bit of a fool of himself singing Viva Las Vegas. Good for him! If you can’t be silly after winning the Super Bowl then what’s the point? He’s just a big goofy teddy bear and a little boy in a giant’s body. Our Phil, who is pretty close with Tay from all their photo shoots, tells us she really loves the big lug. So we do too TS!
Here’s how she dressed for the event. Not too sexy, but so what? Who else could look like that after a three-hour performance and a flight from Tokyo?
There was some talk from KC about a “three-peat” next season. That’s ridiculous, of course. It’s not even a real word. Plus, everyone knows the Jets are winning next year. Here’s Jets QB Wilson, taking a short breather during a game. You okay buddy? Get up slowly.
In today’s NYT, Letters to the Editor, this sentence jumped off the page and smacked me in the nose. It’s in a letter on gender transitioning written by Audry Basch of Brooklyn. ”I stopped my hormone regimen because I had doubts about the idea of marrying a straight man, since they’re generally less funny than gay men.”
Ouch!
In the puzzle today, the clue at 10D was “Baked things that might get people baked,” and the answer was POT BROWNIES. Another sign of how loose the NYT has gotten.
Lewis posted:
Regarding POT BROWNIES, there was that time in college when I made a batch. I didn’t remember if pot when baked was more or less potent than when smoked, I knew it was one or the other. Naturally, I erred on the side of biggest bang for the buck, so I threw in a ton.
End result: There was that moment when I was lying in bed and somehow remembered that I left the kitchen light on. Turning it off involved what seemed like an overwhelming number of steps – walking through a hallway, flipping a switch, remembering how to get into the kitchen itself, for instance – and despite great efforts at figuring out how to complete this task, it was just too complicated to attempt. The light remained on.
I lucidly remember this moment from many years ago, my brain shining a bright light on that point in time when it was a dim bulb.
I responded with the following:
Since we’re sharing today, the one time I had pot brownies I was at an Eagles game back in the 70’s. I had too many (two) — not to get high(er), but because they were delicious. After a while, we decided we had to go to the bathroom so we started climbing these incredibly steep steps that went on forever. I remember turning around at one point and remarking to my friend: “This is harder than sitting.”
At 24A, “Actress Jessica” was not our frequent guest, Ms. Alba. It’s Jessica BIEL. Both are stunning young ladies, of course, and both have an open invitation to drop by. JB turns 42 next month and has been married to Justin Timberlake since 2012. They have two boys: Silas and Phineas. Jess went to school at Tufts, outside Boston. Her paternal great-grandfather was the son of Hungarian-Jewish immigrants. Phil tells us she has many different “looks.” This one is nice.
Today is the birthday of both Abe Lincoln and Charles Darwin. Both were born in 1809. Despite not being gay, Lincoln had an excellent sense of humor. Take that, Audry Basch!
On our flights to and from Ireland and the West Coast, I watched Sarah Silverman’s comedy special three times. She opened with a Jewish mother joke: What did the Jewish mother say after seeing her daughter perform in a porn flick?
Answer: You were the best one! My Sharon was the best one!
So what did the Owl Chatter community think of the Super Bowl ads? TBH, I had trouble figuring out what many of them were for. Thumbs up, as always, for Christopher Walken. Did the Scientology ad creep you out? How about the ads for Jesus? Shouldn’t those have warnings like the drug commercials — something in small print or a hurried voice saying that your children may be molested? Just sayin’.
Let’s finish today with a painting by EDGAR Degas. He was in the puzzle, boringly clued by “Painter Degas.” Does that dark-haired dancer on the right have three legs? What am I missing? Oh, wait. Never mind.
Has it happened? Is the who/whom distinction a thing of the past? I ask because the upper right corner of today’s NYT’s Sunday Opinion section asks: Who should Trump pick to be his running mate? Who? Not whom? The NYT! Et tu? Argggggggh!
Jackie Hostetler shared her “Tiny Love Story” with us today:
I eat an egg, over-easy, every morning.
In the summer, I make the egg myself. As a teacher, my mornings are slower during those months. It tastes fine. But during the school year, my husband makes the egg every morning. Same stove. Same pan. Same ingredients. Yet his egg is unbelievably delicious. Is it cliché to say the secret ingredient is love? Is it my love for him that makes the egg so good, or his love for me? Probably both. I think he uses more butter too.
Met Diary is especially good this week, IMO. This note is by Claire Steichen and is called “Rush-Hour Read.”
I was on a rush-hour train going uptown with my children, a 3-year-old and an infant. I had to stand with the stroller and the baby, but I found a spot where my daughter could sit a little ways away.
After she sat down with her “Madeline” book, she looked up at me. ”Mommy, you were going to read to me,” she said.
I made eye contact with a man sitting next to her. He was tall and slim, with a beige cotton summer suit and a bow tie.
“Sweetie, ask the man if he will read to you,” I said.
The man gestured toward himself.
“Me?” he said.
I nodded.
Then he read “Madeline” from 42nd Street to 72nd, as riders nearby looked on and listened.
We are going to continue stealing material shamelessly. I mean “sharing.”
This poem was in The Writer’s Almanac yesterday. It’s called “Sparrows” and is by Bill Holm.
Morning after first snow— outside my kitchen window, gray sparrows flap up and down on a sagging clothesline. It is a corn dance in honor of sunshine on snow.
What joy in a sparrow’s body as he jumps and eats— a world of red barns, snow, old clotheslines and corn kernels is enough. No brooding on hunger and death, no suspicion among the sparrows.
I return from seeing a woman, full of joy and dancing in my body— lie awake all night putting away old dreams like a man packing for a long trip.
Now it is clear: her face comes to me, and I sink into sleep like childhood, rising hours later to bright sun, sparrows dancing on the clothesline.
In a world of grief, no one has any right to such gifts as I am given; I take them, put on my feathers, and go dance in the snow.
The poet who wrote “Sparrows,” Bill Holm, died at age 65 in 2009. He was 6′ 5″, bearded, and had a booming, generous personality. He was called “the polar bear of American literature.” He was of Icelandic descent and spent much time in Iceland, though he was a loving child of Minnesota.
Holm taught for 27 years at Southwest Minnesota State University at Marshall. One of his books, “Boxelder Bug Variations,” came about because of an assignment he gave his students, who complained that they had nothing to write about, out there on the prairie. “He told them, ‘That’s ridiculous! You can write about anything!’” his editor said. “A boxelder bug was crawling across his desk, and he said, ‘You can write about this!’ And he gave them that assignment. And then he gave it to himself.”
The Pistons’ winning streak ended at two. They lost to the Clippers last night, 112-106. They were up by 9 at the half, and by 5 going into the fourth quarter but the wheels fell off the bus at that point. The Lakers are next, in LA on Tuesday.
Today’s puzzle constructor, Peter Koetters, had a bright idea. It’s Edison’s birthday today so he constructed an Edison-themed puzzle. It included his full name in the answer, many of his better know inventions, the word “inventions,” and a grid design that depicts a light bulb. He called it “Bright Ideas.” You can see the design, below. The letters EDISON comprise the filament of the bulb.
66D is SPIRIT PHONE, clued as Edison’s “Failed device meant to communicate with the dead.” Modern Mechanix magazine published an article in 1933 detailing a covert gathering that allegedly took place in Edison’s laboratory in the winter of 1920, attended by several unnamed scientists. [OC note: We don’t think this means the scientists were not given names by their parents at birth — just that their names were not included in the article.]
According to the story, “Edison set up a photo-electric cell. A tiny pencil of light, coming from a powerful lamp, bored through the darkness and struck the active surface of this cell, where it was transformed instantly into a feeble electric current. Any object, no matter how thin, transparent, or small, would cause a registration on the cell if it cut through the beam.” The group spent hours observing the instrument for any movement that would indicate a successful connection with the beyond—to no avail.
At 108A the clue was “Soldier’s helmet, in old slang,” and the answer was TIN HAT. It led Son Volt to share this remarkable song performed by The Pogues, an Irish/English Celtic punk band: ”The Band Played Waltzing Matilda.” It’s about war. The song was written by Scottish-born Australian singer-songwriter Eric Bogle in 1971. The “tin hat” in it is anachronistic — steel helmets were not issued to the soldiers who fought at Gallipoli.
From the sublime to the despicable. I chuckled when I saw that the answer at 87A was SANDUSKY. Seriously? The clue could have been something like “Depraved sex monster on Paterno’s staff,” but it was “Ohio home to Cedar Point, the ‘Roller Coaster Capital of the World.’” A missed opportunity, for sure. I’ve long maintained that Sandusky’s only crime was that of a poor career choice. If he had gone into the priesthood, he’d be Pope by now.
I’m enjoying a book given to me by friend Norrie: Doris Kearns Goodwin’s memoir about growing up a Brooklyn Dodgers fan: ”Wait Till Next Year.” I grew up living close enough to Ebbets Field to hear the cheers from our back porch, but I never went to a game there. By the time I was eight the Dodgers were gone. I did see games at the Polo Grounds. Not the Giants though: The Mets played there in ’62 and ’63. Anyway, here’s a paragraph on Goodwin’s first visit to Ebbets Field with her dad in 1949. She was only six.
As the game got under way, my father proceeded to point out to me all the distinguishing features of the park: the uneven right field wall with the scoreboard in the middle and the Schaefer beer sign on the top, where the “h” would light up for a hit and the “e” for an error; the curious advertisement for Abe Stark’s clothing store, “Hit sign, Win suit,” which earned Stark such visibility that he was later elected borough president; the presence of Hilda Chester, a large woman in a print dress repeatedly clanging two cowbells to support the Dodgers and irritate the opposition; and the arrival of the Sym-Phony, a ragtag band formed by a group of rabid fans whose comic accompaniment had become an institution at Dodger games. When they disagreed with an umpire’s call, the little band played “Three Blind Mice.” When a strikeout victim from the opposition headed back to the dugout, they played “The Worms Crawl In, the Worms Crawl Out.” As opposing teams grew irate at these antics, a sense of camaraderie grew among Dodger fans that made the experience of going to Ebbets Field unforgettable.
Are you familiar with the “traditional Indonesian percussion orchestra?” It’s called GAMELAN. I vaguely remember hearing of it. According to Wikipedia, it’s made up predominantly of percussive instruments. The most common are metallophones (played with mallets) and a set of hand-drums called kendang, which keep the beat.
The kemanak, a banana-shaped idiophone, and the gangsa, another metallophone, are also commonly used gamelan instruments on Bali.
Other notable instruments include xylophones, bamboo flutes, a bowed string instrument called a rebab, below, and a zither-like instrument called a siter.
Additionally, vocalists may be featured, referred to as sindhen for females or gerong for males.
Why aren’t these women smiling? Phil — what did you say to them??Jeez Louise!
Here’s how it all sounds. And we’ll let these fine young folks send us off today. See you tomorrow!
Hey, everybody, today is the Chinese (Lunar) New Year’s Day! That expression (in the title) is what folks wish each other today. It means “May you enlarge your wealth.” Fittingly, it was the answer in the puzzle today at 51A. But let me back up a bit. The clue at 16A was “2024, e.g.,” and the answer was YEAR OF THE DRAGON. Then, at 51A, the clue was “Celebratory greeting for 16-Across,” which, of course, was gong xi fa cai. The other clue/answer on the topic came at 24D: ”Common gift during Chinese Spring Festival,” which is ORANGE. We picked up some of these stamps at the Chatham Post Office this morning. Scary dragon!
At 45A, the clue was “Cry after a motion,” and the answer was I SECOND. Like, to “second a motion.” Take it Smokey!
But not everyone is happy on this new year’s day. At 21A the answer was TEAR STAIN. Oh no! And the clue was “Evidence of crying.” What’s the problem, sweetheart? Phil — work your magic — cheer her up.
Here’s a sweet piece by Sarah Hanssen from tomorrow’s Met Diary, followed by a gorgeous song called “Tear Stained Eye” by Son Volt.
Dear Diary,
I was walking down the street on a Sunday afternoon with my headphones in. It was the end of what had been a rough weekend.
I was caught up in a song that was soothing my recently broken and rejected heart. I was wondering if I would ever meet someone new who would love me or if I should prepare to live a solitary life.
A beautiful young woman walked past me. She seemed to be saying something to me, so I took out my headphones.
“You are so beautiful,” she said. ”I just had to tell you.”
“Wow!” I said, “And here I am having a rough day.”
“Well, if you want one,” she said, “I’d give you a hug.”
And we hugged.
Roo Monster shared this memory:
Speaking of DRAGONS, back in my GEN X days, circa 1986?, my dad had a 1978 F-150 pick-’em up truck, it was in really good condition, it was green and white, had nice chrome wheels, and a chrome rollbar, plus it was a 4 speed manual. He put a bug shield on it, and had “Green Dragon” painted on it, with two Dragons on opposite ends. They took a trip to Hawaii, and it was my truck for two weeks! I was 17 and felt like King Shit.
This isn’t it, but it will have to suffice.
Speaking of King Shit, it’s about time they got off Matt Gaetz’s neck, don’t you think? What’s this country coming to when a respected Congressman, or, in this case, Gaetz, can’t have sex with an underaged girl without taking shit for it, we ask you? ”How many times do I have to lie my way out of this?” Gaetz is wondering.
According to the NYT, last year the Justice Dept. quietly closed the inquiry after investigators concluded they could not make a strong enough case against him in court. (Not exactly name-clearing.) It’s the House Ethics Committee that’s looking into it now, and word is the Congressman’s former friend Joel Greenberg is cooperating with the investigation. According to the Times, Greenberg has told investigators he witnessed Gaetz having sex with a 17-year old girl. Greenberg’s no angel either — he’s serving an 11-year sentence for charges that include sex trafficking. Not an ideal witness? Hey nobody’s perfect.
Here’s a shot Phil got for us of Matt with a vampire woman.
Have you heard the expression CAT DAD? If so, that makes one of us. The clue was “Man with a Manx, say.” There was a documentary “Cat Daddies” about different types of men who love cats. They are coming out into the open more. Sensitive types. Here’s one! We love cats at OC — still miss poor Hank and Sophie.
When we shared Ted Kooser’s poem about his dog Hattie yesterday, we promised to share the one he wrote about Hattie’s death today.
Here it is. It’s called “Death of a Dog.” Thanks, TK!
The next morning I felt that our house had been lifted away from its foundation during the night, and was now adrift, though so heavy it drew a foot or more of whatever was buoying it up, not water but something cold and thin and clear, silence riffling its surface as the house began to turn on a strengthening current, leaving, taking my wife and me with it, and though it had never occurred to me until that moment, for fifteen years our dog had held down what we had by pressing his belly to the floors, his front paws, too, and with him gone the house had begun to float out onto emptiness, no solid ground in sight.
As the nation careens towards Super Bowl LVIII, do we really need the distraction of Brittany Mahomes (QB Patrick’s wife), posing so suggestively on the cover of Sports Illustrated’s swimsuit issue that even our drunk and depraved Phil was aghast? We won’t reproduce it here, for decency’s sake. Go ahead — call us prudes.
Brittany, btw, is quite an athlete in her own right — she played professional soccer in Iceland — and we are happy that Patrick and she have two beautiful kids. We wish them the best. And she does look very pretty in SI.
As for the game, we are pulling for KC. We didn’t appreciate how SF treated our Detroiters in their game. We’d like to see them get their comeuppance.
How about those Pistons!! Two wins in a row for the first time since October! This time the victim was Portland, again with a late-game surge. We went into the 4th quarter trailing by 13, but tied it and dominated in overtime, 8-2. We’ll be taking on a very tough Clippers team in LA tomorrow night. Keep it up, men!
Headline in The Onion: Bank Repossesses Brain Of Man Who Defaulted On Student Loans.
Today’s puzzle set the tone from the get-go. 1A was “Beaming,” and the answer was ALL SMILES.
Here’s Caity’s Leon — he’s six and a half now! Kinahora.
At 55A, the clue was “It makes a spin around a dance floor,” and the answer was DISCO BALL. You know, – this thing:
It brought up some painful memories for egs, who wrote: ”I used to stay at the clubs til dawn, dancing to the likes of Donna Summer and Gloria Gaynor. Had to quit when I developed a case of DISCOBALLS.” Ouch!
The puzzle was by Christina Iverson, who is on the NYT puzzle staff, and it’s nice and crisp. Other good clues/answers are:
14A: ”Wind up alone?” Ans: FLUTE SOLO. The flute is a “wind” instrument and the soloist is up alone. Iverson shared that this was a favorite of hers among all the clues/answers she’s ever written.
32A: ”Trend for unengaged employees:” Ans: QUIET QUITTING. You familiar with this? It’s when you just do what you need to do at work, but put in no additional effort.
16A: ”Fuzzy exotic pet” is a TARANTULA. Wanderlust noted: “My friends and I kept a TARANTULA in our dorm room in college. Her name was Buttercup, and she was adorable.” Seriously?
12D: ”DC Comics weapons, one of which can be seen at the Smithsonian.” Answer: BATARANGS. Remember those? That was a long time ago.
You can buy them on Amazon. These go for just $8.03 (down from $11.95).
At 24D, “Facial concealer” was VEIL. Wanderlust said she had “vein” before veil as the facial concealer, and thought “that would have to be a pretty big vein.” Yup.
At 25A, ask me to come up with a clue for PLOW, and I’ll probably involve oxen in some fashion. But Iverson came up with: ”Yoga pose with arms extended and legs folded over the head.” What? Legs folded over the head? I don’t think Jews do that — There’s something in the Torah on that.
It looks like parts of two different people, assembled incorrectly. A person from Ikea, with bad instructions.
Don’t try that pose, TK! You’ll never get out of it! Hey, readers, Ted Kooser’s here today! Great to see you, as always Mr. Bigshot Poet Laureate. What do you have for us, to kick off this fine weekend?
This is from Winter Morning Walks
The weight of my old dog, Hattie — thirty-five pounds of knocking bones, sighs, tremors, and dreams — just isn’t enough to hold a patch of sun in its place, at least for very long. While she shakes in her sleep, it slips from beneath her and inches away, taking the morning with it — the music from the radio, the tea from my cup, the drowsy yellow hours — picking up dust and dog hair as it goes.
Sadly, Hattie passed away since that poem was written. We’ll share the poem Ted wrote for Hattie upon her death tomorrow.
I am so thankful that I blundered my way into Crossworld years ago and am able to hang on by my fingertips enough to appreciate the extraordinary craftsmanship of many of the puzzles. I advise newcomers (newbs or noobs (it’s a battle)) to start with the NYT on Monday and/or the New Yorker on Thursday, and work up to the NYT on Thursday. Those are the most fun — there’s always some trick to it, often brilliant wordplay.
E.g., today’s is by Sam Donaldson. He good! The “revealer” was at 40A: “Dating axiom,” and the answer was OPPOSITES ATTRACT. Then, at four places in the puzzle, this happened: At 18A the clue was “Highway crossing,” so you’d think OVERPASS. And right next to it, at 19A, the clue was “Fail,” so you’d think GO UNDER. But if you look at them it’s: OVERPASS GO UNDER. The opposites — OVER and UNDER are “attracted” to each other. So the answers you need to fill in on the grid are PASSOVER UNDERGO. Get it? Over and under come together. That happens three more times. Where the answers should be IN ORDER and LAYS OUT, the “out” and the “in” are attracted to each other so they become ORDER IN and OUTLAYS. Where the answers should be OFF HAND and LEAVE ON, the “off” and the “on” are attracted to each other so they become HAND OFF and ON LEAVE. (I’ll spare you the last one — you get the idea (I hope).)
And, get this — I completely missed it when I completed the puzzle. I noticed the answers were reversing themselves (overpass to pass over) but didn’t see how the opposites were attracted to each other until I read Rex’s blog. (Duh.) That happens now and then.
After over 400 posts on Owl Chatter, I am no longer amazed at the amount of delicious nonsense that is available in our lives on a daily basis. Yesterday, a heated (and protracted) debate arose over the well-known song “Lola” by the Kinks. The issue was whether they are singing LA-LA-LA-LA-LOLA, or LO-LO-LO-LO-LOLA. The clue was “Refrain in a 1970 hit by the Kinks” and the puzzle wanted you to put in LA-LA-LA-LA-LOLA. Rex started things off by saying: “yeah, OK, is it LA- LA- LA- LA- or L- L- L- L- or LO- LO- LO- LO- …? The original Kinks’ version sounds kinda LO-ish. I’ve always heard LA- or a kind of flat LUH. Honestly, I’ve never really thought about it. But I’m fine with the LAs.”
The Commentariat tore into it like a starving vegetarian lion with a pile of fresh tempeh. DPF got the ball rolling at 6:05 am: It’s definitely “Lo-Lo-Lo.” At 6:29 am, Adam concurred: ”I also had LoLoLoLoLOLA, which is correct. Maybe you could get away with LuLuLuLuLOLA, but it is most certainly not LALALALALOLA. L O L A Lola. LOLOLOLOLOLA.” Barely six minutes later, Anony-mouse added: Yes, my dog is Lola and I sing this a lot and it’s Lo lo lo lo Lola.
Commenter Andy got a little technical: ”Another hand up for LO, not LA, though I suppose any vowel will do for a schwa.” At that point Alice sort of cheated by actually looking for some authority: ”I have been wrong since 1970. I had LoLoLo…. Read the constructor’s comments, he says the official Kinks Sheet music and lyric sheet has LALALA. He [the constructor] originally had LoLoLo in there and had to change it.”
Twangser chimed in: ”I am a huge Kinks fan and also have been singing it as lo-lo-lo-lo-Lola for 40 years. But I just pulled out my original LP and it does say la-la-la-Lola, which is super weird.”
[Note: It was only 8 am and already my cup was overflowing with this exquisite nonsense. O, glorious day!]
mmorgan was all over the place with it: ”I am sure the final chorus alternates a bit between LA LA LA and LO LO LO. and sometimes even LA LA LA LO LOLA and other variations.”
Mack kicked in this good point: ”Worth pointing out that ‘official’ lyrics often bear little resemblance to what is actually sung on a recording. While the constructor was probably right to go with ‘LA’ based on how the clue is written, it could have easily been clued as ‘Refrain sung by the Kinks…’ and ‘LO’ would have worked fine.” [Hmmmm, so much for “authority.”]
Another anony-mouse added a personal note: ”Makes sense to me that it is lo-lo-lo-Lola. BTW, my mother’s name was Lola. She disliked that song.”
Yet another anony-mouse wrote: Mandela effect: we all remember it as LO. [Mandela effect: Briefly, a situation in which a large mass of people believes that an event occurred when it did not. It’s named as it is because, oddly, many people wrongly believed Nelson Mandela died in prison in the 1980s.]
Here’s Dr. R’s take: ”Even the lyrics sites have a difference of opinion on LA vs LO. If you listen to the song they sing LALALALALOLA a few times and LOLOLOLOLOLA a few times. Also there are different recordings with different interpretations including LUHLUHLUHLUHLOLA. I figure the dress is both blue and white. LOL LOL LOL LOL.”
[I knew we’d get to LOL eventually.]
The next note on the matter was by Daniel Mauer — the puzzle’s constructor. How nice that he was reading Rex and chimed in! That does happen from time to time. He wrote: ”As for LA/Lo: I could be convinced either way, it seems Ray Davies sings it both ways in various recordings, but it’s the NYT, so probably best to go with the ‘Official’ version [i.e., LA}.”
Well, by this time Mike in Bed Stuy had heard enough and exploded:
“Whatever anyone hears, or thinks they hear, Ray Davies wrote “la” not “lo,” and that’s all there is to it. That being said, there’s actually a lot more to it, musically and, in particular for me, semantically. I will limit myself to a couple of points. First off, someone in another comment said the repeated vowel sound is a shwa, so it doesn’t matter how you spell it. I disagree. I would argue that in the other three themers in this puzzle, which include the phonemic refrains (in music called *non-lexical vocables*) “ch,” “g” and “p” yes, the sound is a schwa. But not in “Lola.” Neither, however, is it the first syllable of Lola’s name, as most commenters here seem to assume. It is, rather, “la” as in “tra la la” and “la la la.” The phrase so indelibly penned by Ray Davies was “La la la Lola,” almost as if “la la la” were an epithet. If it sounds like I am overthinking this, that’s because I AM! I suspect Ray Davies did not think about schwas or non-lexical vocables or epithets when he jotted down that lyric. He just thought “La la la Lola” sounded really great and was totally appropriate to the vibe he was creating for this trailblazing song about gender-nonconformity.”
Whew. Now my brain hurts. Still, we must go on!
A last word from Nial:
Found an interview from 2020 where Ray Davies talks about writing the song, to wit, “Next, he searched for an irresistible chorus hook, then road-tested it at home. ‘I had a 1-year-old child at the time,’ Davies said. ‘She was crawling around singing ‘la la, la la Lola.’ I thought, ‘If she can join in and sing, Kinks fans can do it.’”
Nancy (like many of you, I presume) had had enough and wrote:
“Like everyone else, I have a limited amount of time on this earth, and I refuse to fritter it away on utttttter nnnnonnnnssssenssse. SPLAT!!!!!!” [Puzzle hurled at wall.]
OK, Nance — we hear ya. Let’s put it to bed.
The scene, or incident, that took place at the lesbian bar Cubbyhole in NYC recently wasn’t all that remarkable by itself — it wasn’t even a bar fight by any stretch, but the splash it made on Tiktok brought a big question to light. Who is welcome there?
It happened on January 21. Lexi Stout, a woman who is not gay, and who had visited male gay bars often in the past, made her first visit to a lesbian bar. She was invited by a lesbian friend. All was well until another friend of hers – a straight male – popped in briefly to say hi.
As she recounted it (in a video she posted), a woman at the bar soon approached her straight guy friend to ask him what he was doing there, “basically saying that my friend didn’t belong there.”
Stout went on to complain that the bar patron seemed weary of straight men’s presence in the space, despite “the amount of very obviously flamboyantly gay men that were in that bar that were not being approached and yelled at.”
“She was not having it. She did not want him in that bar at all, and I get it,” Stout continued. “But, like, there’s no rules against that… But I was just curious. Are straight males not allowed to go to a lesbian bar?”
[Let me back up a moment and note that there are only 30 lesbian bars in the U.S., only three in all of NY State, and Cubbyhole is only 200 square feet in size.]
“The response from the lesbian community was sharp. Are straight males allowed in?, one said — “No, they are not. And straight women who prioritize a man’s comfort over lesbian safety are also not welcome at the lesbian bar. I hope this helps!”
Another comment said: “Politics of straight people being in queer spaces at all aside, you can’t see why it would be a problem in a space as small as Cubbyhole for you two to be occupying what is otherwise space for queer women?”
Yet another likened being invited to a queer space as a straight person to attending a wedding as a plus-one, adding “Baby, you need to realize these places were not made for you. When you come to a gay space, you are a guest, and you need to behave accordingly.”
Feelings were summed up well by this woman’s post: “You cannot say that you are an ally to a marginalized group of people and then, when someone who represents the oppressor shows up in a space that is solely dedicated as a safe space for that marginalized community, act confused when people within that marginalized community show aggression or hostility and maybe even a little bit of suspicion towards that person that represents the oppressor,”
Alright, but wait a minute. We haven’t heard yet from the woman who confronted the guy. Well, two weeks after the big hoopla started exploding on social media she came forward, identifying herself as Katie. She was there to celebrate a friend’s birthday and first encountered Stout’s straight male friend while waiting in line for the bathroom.
After tapping the man on the shoulder to let him know that he was standing in the way of the bathroom, Katie noted that he seemed “a little bit grumpy” and that she asked him, “Okay, dude. Are you even here with anyone? What are you doing at this bar?”
After the queer friend who had invited Stout to Cubbyhole confirmed that he was with their group, Katie says the man came back up to her and asked, “Well, if I wasn’t here with someone, would that be a problem?”
When Katie replied that it would be a problem, she said that Stout and some other girls at the bar with her “all [jumped] at me, like, ‘What? Why would you say that? That’s so messed up.’”
“I want literally nothing to do with straight people, which is why I’m in Cubbyhole in the first place,” Katie continued, pointing out the uniquely queer space that bars like Cubbyhole provide to her and the rest of the community. “I have seen a lot of straight guys come into this bar and cause problems. It’s a known thing… There are straight dudes that come into these bars specifically ’cause they’re trying to pick up girls. So I wasn’t trying to instigate anything. I was just trying to safety check.”
Stout was rattled by the meanness she encountered, fairly or unfairly. Her last word was “I have learned my lesson, and I will never be returning to a lesbian bar ever again, for good reason. It’s plain and simple: It’s not a space for me.”
Hrrrrumphhhh!, she added.
Hrrrrumphhhh!, Katie replied.
Phil! — any more pics??
Thanks, Buddy.
Pistons Win! The 6-43 Detroiters took on the 29-20 Sacramento Kings last night out in California — and gave them a good shellacking — 133-120. A terrific road win. The Pistons outscored the Kings 36-21 in the decisive 4th quarter — the mark of an excellent team, or, in this case, not. Up next, the 15-35 Portland Trail Blazers, in Portland, tonight. Go ‘Stons!
Below are three verdant sentences written by OC friend Massachusetts Jenny about her garden:
To lure sweat bees, I plant meadowsweet. [Let’s take a look!]
Meadowsweet:
And here comes a sweat bee!
To coax long-tongued bumblebees, I plant lupines and bee balm.
Lupines:
Bee balm:
I fill my yard with milkweed vetch, rough-stemmed goldenrod, and hairy beardtongue.”
Milkweed vetch:
Rough-stemmed goldenrod:
Hairy beardtongue:
Thanks Jenny! Such beautiful sentences. And we can’t wait to see all the bees!
I’ve been noodling around with that songstress (Leslie) Feist I learned about the other day. Her clue referenced her song “1-2-3-4.” It’s joyous.
To no surprise, Sesame Street snapped it up. I like this version even more. One two three four, monsters walking ‘cross the floor . . . chickens just back from the shore. . .
I had to bring the Honda in to Marvin’s today. It was having trouble starting. (Who isn’t?) I said: ”We’re having trouble with the Odyssey; the Iliad’s been fine.” That’s mechanic humor. He came right back with a few cracks about Euripides. Low-hanging fruit.
Anyway, he called me back after a few hours and said: ”You needed a new battery. No charge.” I said, “Yeah, I’m not surprised. What do I owe you?” He said “No charge.” I said, “Yeah, you just said that.” He said, “No — I mean it’s covered by the warranty — there’s no charge.” Oh, okay. Great! I bought some excellent Magic Hat #9 not-quite-pale ale with my winnings.
The Wellington Files 