THEME: "New England Chatter" — I have no *&$%ing idea what is happening. I think there's some attempt to make wacky phrases based on the idea of a "New England" accent, but mainly there appear to be simply a dropping of Rs (?). Just seems pseudo-British, really...
Theme answers:
SPOCK PLUGS (22A: Commercials for a "Star Trek" movie?) (why "movie"?)
A CALL TO OMS (24A: Yoga teacher's invitation?) (oy, see below)
HOT SPECIALIST (36A: Weather forecaster in Phoenix?)
THE BOD OF AVON (51A: Most in-shape person at a cosmetics company?)
PASSING MOCK (69A: Ridicule shouted out of a moving car?)
INSTANT COMMA (87A: Quickly added bit of punctuation?)
A SHOT IN THE DOC (100A: What allowed one physician to get through flu season?)
LOW COB DIET (116A: Regimen with limited intake of corn?)
IT'S MY POTTY? (119A: Toddler's cry upon entering the bathroom?) (ICK)
Word of the Day: EUTERPE (38D: Sister of Erato) —
In Greek mythology, Euterpe (/juːˈtɜːrpiː/; Greek: Eὐτέρπη, Greek pronunciation: [efˈterpi], Ancient Greek: [eu̯térpɛː]; "rejoicing well" or "delight" from Ancient Greek εὖ 'well' + τέρπειν terpein 'to please') was one of the Muses, the daughters of Mnemosyne, fathered by Zeus. Called the "Giver of delight", when later poets assigned roles to each of the Muses, she was the muse of music. In late Classical times she was named muse of lyric poetry[1] and depicted holding a flute. A few say she invented the aulos or double-flute, though most mythographers credit Marsyas with its invention. (wikipedia)
• • •
This is the most ill-conceived, DOA Sunday theme I can remember seeing. Ever. The fact that this saw the light of day indicates that Sunday submissions must be at dire, emergency levels. Even if this puzzle had Nailed It, conceptually, managing to turn ordinary phrases into phrases that sound like a Bostonian was saying them, it would've been corny and old hat. Done, done and done. Trite. Again, that's the *best* case scenario for this theme. The actual case scenario is a disaster, a mishmash of sound changes that resemble precisely nobody's accent. Drop the "R" appears to be the theme. -ARKs and -ARTs go to -OCKs and -OTs. First problem, that is not, in and of itself, characteristically "New England." It's not, as my friend just wrote me, "pahk the cah in hahvad yahd." Just say SPOCK PLUGS. There's nothing "New England" about it. It's just a dumb phrase. And what is up with the title: "New England Chatter." Is that supposed to be a play on "New England Chowder"? Has to be, right? But ... but ... that sound change ... doesn't fit ... at all. Seriously, what is happening? But the biggest, most ridiculous failure of this theme is 24A: A CALL TO OMS. No one—literally, no one—pronounces OMS like it rhymes with MOMS. It's a long "O." It is. It really is. Like, really. Here. Look. Here is a site called "Om Cooking: Food to Enlighten Your Palate." Because the pun is on HOME!!!!!!!! OM rhymes with HOME. *Everybody* *Knows* *This*. Is no one minding the store?
Jaw-dropping that this puzzle was accepted. The concept and execution are both sub-3rd-rate-in-flight-magazine fare. The emperor continues to have few if any clothes. I'm done here.
Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld
P.S. since I'm using their image, I should probably at least tell you that the "comma chameleon" shirt is a real thing you can buy.
Whole lot of nothin' at first, and then I went on this weird loping excursion across the grid (unusual—very unusual on a Saturday):
[note the humiliating misspelling of ABATTOIR]
Aside from that cluster in the North, the first answer I was sure of was ABATTOIR, which luckily I at least partially spelled correctly. Filled some stuff in around its tail end, and bing bam boom I'm way down in the SE corner. From this point on, I generally had enough leverage to work my way through the grid without much trouble. SE corner filled up pretty fast, and once DEAD GIVEAWAY (21D: It's pretty obvious) floated up, that fat, open center became far more tractable, far less daunting. Took me a while to get MARILYN MONROE (15D: Famed Pop Art subject) because I (very) wrongly assumed 13A: Hannibal's men ended in an "S," which gave me the wrong initial letter for the MARILYN answer. I knew -SMILEY (read "Smiley's People" a couple years back) but totally forgot his first name, so getting into the SW corner was a little tricky. Had SUMMERED for WINTERED at 11D: Spent a season in the sun? for a bit, and needed nearly ever cross for NATANT (18A: Swimming), an actual word that I've never seen used anywhere. Biggest problem spot of the day was easily the NW, where [Hannibal's men] ("THE A-TEAM") just destroyed me, and --ART- sent my pattern recognition program straight to ECARTE (3D: Trick-taking card game). Like HEARTS, ECARTE is Also A Trick-Taking Game. Ugh. But at the end of the solve, I was a little bit under 9 minutes—very average for a Saturday. Maybe even a hair's breadth faster than usual. I quite liked this one. The center came out really very good. Connective tissue is mostly strong, with DURA/ITSA being the only weak spot.
I think I mentioned that erstwhile crossword plagiarist Timothy Parker was back publishing puzzles for Universal (a widely syndicated crossword). I thought you'd like to see his latest creation, which is ... notable? ... for two things. One, its theme—the title is "Initial Sandwich"; see if you can figure out why. And while you're at it, please admire the second notable feature—a truly stellar clue (in the blue strip, up top) for SNOB:
Word of the Day: AMARYLLIS (59A: Producer of re-and-white blooms) —
Amaryllis (/ˌæməˈrɪlᵻs/) is the only genus in the subtribe Amaryllidinae (tribeAmaryllideae). It is a small genus of flowering bulbs, with two species. The better known of the two, Amaryllis belladonna, is a native of the Western Cape region of South Africa, particularly the rocky southwest area between the Olifants River Valley to Knysna.[2] For many years there was confusion among botanists over the generic names Amaryllis and Hippeastrum, one result of which is that the common name "amaryllis" is mainly used for cultivars of the genus Hippeastrum, widely sold in the winter months for their ability to bloom indoors. Plants of the genus Amaryllis are known as belladonna lily, Jersey lily, naked lady, amarillo, Easter lily in Southern Australia or, in South Africa, March lily due to its propensity to flower around March. This is one of numerous genera with the common name "lily" due to their flower shape and growth habit. However, they are only distantly related to the true lily, Lilium. (wikipedia)
• • •
Very fast for a Friday. Not record-setting (I'm never at peak speed when I solve first in the morning), but fast. I've largely given up trying to go fast on themeless puzzles. These puzzles tend to be more interesting and enjoyable than the themed puzzles (not true for all puzzles, but definitely true for NYT puzzles), and I don't like the feeling of frustration that can come about from trying to blaze through a puzzle that's designed to be tough. Ironically, or predictably, I still end up solving fast, perhaps faster than if I got into "speed" mode. It's like a lot of things—if you just relax and let the [whatever] come to you, see the [whatever] clearly, don't get ahead of yourself, etc., you'll do very well. Anyway, this puzzle was just plain easy. Only thing I can imagine really holding back a regular solver are (as usual) some proper nouns ("SEXY AND I KNOW IT," e.g.) or specialized terms (I suck at flower names less common than, say, "rose," so AMARYLLIS required a lot of patching from the crosses). Everything else–zoom.
[Phife DAWG]
I enjoyed this one. Solid, if not scintillating, with only the odd ZAK or ENTR' or ALCAN or ANI or ICC gumming up the works. Seriously, wtf is ICC? I'm honestly just seeing it for the first time right now, as I type this... Hmm, google tells me it's the "International Cricket Council," and since I hope nevvvvver to see this answer in a puzzle again, I'm just gonna take google at google's word and move on. Here are the (very few) trouble spots for this puzzle:
In the NW, that was just the usual getting-started issues. Wanted LOCO at 1A: Cuckoo and then really really really badly please-God wanted COZY at 1D: Homey. But no. It was the "Homey" I thought it was. After that, I tore through the grid, with a slight "wha?" at ENTR' (32A: Intermission starter?) (from "ENTR'acte" ...) and from wanting only RIMS OUT at 25D: Doesn't stay in the hole, as a ball (BOUNCES OUT). "In the hole" is colloquial, as is RIMS OUT. BOUNCES OUT is not. BOUNCES OUT is a common enough phrase, but the part of my brain that likes clues to be good / consistent just jammed there for a second. I worked it out.
Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld
P.S. there's no way that was the original clue for GENTLEMAN'S CLUB (19A: Site where top hats and canes might be checked at the door). No way. None. A simple google search will tell you what a GENTLEMAN'S CLUB really is. The ones nearest you will be right at the top. Pretending you're not talking about strip clubs somehow makes the clue even bro-ier, even more snickering-boy immature. You like tits in your puzzle. Great. At least own it.
THEME: SUDOKU PUZZLE (8A: With 67-Across, what the circled part of this crossword represents) — the CENTRAL / SQUARES (1A: With 68-Across, the circled part of this crossword) form a sudoku-type puzzle, with the letters R, A, T, and E instead of numbers.
Word of the Day: Cinnabar (27D: Cinnabar, e.g. => RED) —
noun
noun: cinnabar
a bright red mineral consisting of mercury sulfide. It is the only important ore of mercury and is sometimes used as a pigment. [emph. mine]
the bright red color of this; vermilion.
"the blood coagulated in cinnabar threads"
• • •
"I HATE YOU, PUZZLE!" Actually, I have no such strong feelings today, but I do like that little embedded scream there in the SW corner. I have no interest in SUDOKU. Don't get it. Also, don't like the perpetuation of the idea that anyone who's into crosswords must be into SUDOKU. Like we're just pleased to be filling in boxes. SUDOKU is pure logic. The same kind of logic. Over and over and over, with no connection to culture, humanity, etc. No thanks. You guys have fun, but no. Anyway, this puzzle is what it is. Conceptually, I guess it works, but there's one thing I sincerely don't understand: what is CENTRAL / SQUARES doing in this puzzle? Like, at all. That is a whole lot of theme real estate given over to words that are completely redundant and (thus) unnecessary. I can see that the squares are central, in that ... they are circled. There. In the center. The SUDOKU / PUZZLE part tells me to look at those manifestly "central" squares, and tells me what they are. I really thought CENTRAL would tell me about the puzzle somehow. I see that the four letters are all inside the word "CENTRAL," but ... nope, I don't see a pun or trick or anything (unless... that *is* the trick?). The letters in the Sudoku grid are R A T and E. I don't know why (except those are handy letters to use if you're going to run a bunch of answers together). I do know that CENTRAL / SQUARES is not needed here, at all.
This grid was a kind of crosswordese showcase. I mean, any time you can see EIRE *and* ERSE in the same grid, that's a museum-piece puzzle you've got on your hands. Here were some lowlights:
"BACK AT YA" would make great fill. "AT YA" on its own, nope. "NUM" ugh—that bit of garbage actually ended up affecting my solve, as I went for CAP Lock (crossing PTL!?) instead of NUM / MTM, and that made the whole NE kinda hard to get into. PSSST is ridiculous, of course, unless you would also accept PSSSST, PSSSSSST, and NOOOOOOOOOOOO! Speaking of no, ONO. Hawaiian fish? Nice try. All you did was make me have to work (albeit slightly) to get the same old musician / performance artist we always see in the grid. Fun fact: the fish in question is known generally as "wahoo" (WHEE!). "Many Hispanic areas of the Caribbean and Central America refer to this fish as peto." So ... look for PETO in your grid next, I guess.
Bullets:
27D: Cinnabar, e.g. (RED) — total road block, this one. Had no idea what "Cinnabar" was. Could think only of Cinnabun and Edna Ferber's "Cimmaron." Even with RE- in place, I had to get that last letter from the cross.
11D: Numerical prefix (OCTO-) — oy, not only is this bad fill, the clue doesn't even bother trying. It just sits there sullenly going "I don't know ... just guess ... not my problem ..."
52A: "Inner-city" for "black," to some people (CODE) — hey now! What's this? Hello. Looks like the puzzle woke up and found some attitude. More of this insightful sass, please. (I think "urban" is the more common CODE now, but I'll accept "Inner-city" on Marvin's behalf)
THEME:DOS EQUIS (64A: Beer brand whose logo hints at the answers to 17-, 19-, 38-, 43- and 61-Across) — all those answers have a double "X" in them:
Theme answers:
REDD FOXX (17A: "Sanford and Son" star of 1970s TV)
NEXXUS (19A: High-end shampoo brand)
ANTIVAXXER (38A: Shot blocker?)
EXXON MOBIL (43A: BP rival)
TJ MAXX (61A: Sister chain of Marshalls)
Word of the Day: VINROSE (42A: Grenache, for one) —
Huh, not a word. Turns out it's two words. Two French words: VIN ROSÉ, i.e. Rosé wine. Wow. OK.
• • •
This is a nice theme. Shoulda been Tuesday—it's more a Tuesday type, more a Tuesday difficulty level, but nice, simple, interesting, with original and unusual themers. Very pleasant. I don't know what NEXXUS is. Is that something available in salons only? It rings the vaguest of bells, but I definitely had to go to the crosses to get that one in there. The others Xers were all very familiar. I particularly like ANTI-VAXXER (as a word, not as a concept or a delusional human). I want to call a massive foul on VIN ROSÉ, though, and not just because the clue [Grenache] was meaningless to me, and not just because when I finally filled it in (entirely from crosses) I had no idea what I was looking at. I didn't know NEXXUS, you'll note, and I ain't mad at NEXXUS. But VIN ROSÉ. I have never seen the phrase. I drink wine not infrequently—I mean, I'm no OENO-phile, but I drink—and while I've heard of rosé (never drink it, but heard of it), the French phrase? No. Do people use it. We say white wine, red wine, rosé. There are French words for wine types, but for just the general category of wine. "Here, try this vin rouge?" No. And if we don't use it in English, why is it here? It's pretty long for a foreign word. If "in France" had been in the clue, maybe. But it's absurd to think that a wine *type*'s being in French is going to tip you to the answer's being in French. For example, [Chenin blanc, e.g.] is a perfectly good clue for WHITE WINE, despite the clue words being French. I would never look at that clue and think, "well, the answer must be French." And yet this stupid Grenache (?!) clue. Oy.
Here are my trouble spots for the day:
The real fly in the ointment, strangely, was SAY NO (21A: Put one's foot down). Metaphors! I had the "S" and blithely wrote in STOMP. That gave me an answer at 22D: Making it big that started TR- (totally plausible), so I never questioned it (until I did). The one other place in the grid I hesitated was at AP---- (31D: Culmination of a challenging H.S. course). We call them AP TESTS. I have a human in my house who is taking two next month. AP EXAMS is probably the official term, and I don't think it's incorrect, I just know people say TEST much more often. OK, done, bye.
This is the second time in recent memory where I would've stopped solving if I hadn't had to write about the puzzle. And in this case, I would've stopped almost immediately. Wrote in 1A:IRAQ, then went straight to "Q" for the cross ... QTY? First thought: "Dude, that "Q" was not worth it." Went on to next answer: 14A: Suffix with refresh or replace. And right there, I was out. Done. I'm three answers in and the fill is already a war crime.
This is a small corner. There is noooooo reason for -MENT to be in your small corner unless your small corner is Very compromised by the theme *or* you don't know what you're doing. You can look at that corner and see that it didn't get better. REORG URI and EGESTS? Disaster. By the time I made my way to the center, with its improbable (and ultimately self-referential) ZZZ string, I figured the theme was some weird thing with "Q"s and "Z"s because why else would they be in this grid when the fill is so terrible. There must be a reason .... there was no reason. The theme type was one of the oldest in the book, one that provides all the pleasure of re-reading the theme answers while inserting "HOME" before each part. Which is to say, no pleasure whatsoever. On the day that the NYT takes it mini puzzle into the land of Snapchat (something called Snapchat Discover), it continues to take its *real* puzzle into the grave and heap dirt upon it. We're in an astonishing run of non-inventive puzzles, non-current, running-on-fumes-of-the-1990s puzzles. But hey, you can get the mini crossword in Snapchat now, so everything's fine, I guess.
P.P.S. the Philadelphia Inquirer has changed its crossword to the "Universal Crossword," which would not be notable at all except that Universal = notorious crossword plagiarist, whom you may remember from this story at fivethirtyeight.com last year. He's still widely syndicated. Even merriam-webster runs his puzzle (on their website, I just found out). There's no law against his continuing to be published, just as there's no law against my occasionally reminding you that "unrepentant crossword plagiarist" is a concept that exists in the world. (Thanks to Evan Birnholz for calling this to my attention)
THEME: idioms involving food ... or, I guess,idioms that use food metaphorically(?) —
Theme answers:
WORD SALAD (17A: Gobbledygook)
NOTHING BURGER (30A: Big fat zero)
COUCH POTATOES (47A: Habitual tube watchers)
HUMBLE PIE (63A: What a shamed person has to "eat")
Word of the Day:PEGASUS(9D: Flying horse of Greek myth) —
Definition of Pegasus
1: a winged horse that causes the stream Hippocrene to spring from Mount Helicon with a blow of his hoof
2archaic: poetic inspiration
3: a northern constellation near the vernal equinoctial point (merriam-webster.com)
• • •
Forgot this as soon as I solved it. The answers don't cohere very well at all. Three are prepared items, clearly meant to be eaten (salad, burger, pie), but potatoes ... in COUCH POTATOES, I don't think of food *at all*. With all the others, you have to. You literally figuratively eat HUMBLE PIE. And, as I said, the others are specifically food items. I think of a raw potato when I think of COUCH POTATOES. They're not COUCH HASH BROWNS. I don't care if you think I'm being overly picky here—this is a glaring inconsistency. BAD APPLE (e.g.) would be slightly better because at least I can eat a *raw* apple. Moreover, NOTHING BURGER is a phrase I've barely ever heard, and it's just unpalatable to look at. Aesthetically garbage. WORD SALAD is a little more common, and the others are super-familiar. This one just feels conceptually weak and loose. And there's nothing in the fill to redeem it. Forgettable placeholder.
["FADING Fast"]
Not much resistance today, because it's Monday, and that's how Mondays are. What little struggle I had involved not so much answers as single letters. Only *answer* I had trouble with was 10D: "Save me a ___!" ("SEAT"). I often fail at partials, my mind somehow working differently and more strangely than others' when it comes to fill in the blank. I'd've made a *terrible* Password contestant: Partner: "Black .... ___" Me: "... Death?" All my brain wanted was "Save me a SLICE [or PIECE]." I like pie. And cake. Beyond that, I couldn't even be bothered to read the whole clue at 2D: Time in Manhattan when it's ... see I can't even be bothered to type the whole thing, and then do the time zone math, ugh. No thanks. So I had TWO-M and went to the cross. Had GST instead of GMT (27A: Clock-setting std.), until I realized there's probably no such thing as a SENS department (28D: Store department selling suits and ties). FBI is obviously G-MAN, but I still left the "G" blank and checked the cross for a possible "T" (58D: F.B.I. worker, informally). And then there's the worst square of all, the square in the dead center of the puzzle, the square that asks me, you, every last one of us to believe that PANSY is a "girl's" name. What a *&$^ing abomination of a clue. Nobody is named PANSY. Women (*women*) are sometimes named PATSY. So today, I am declaring ENDTOTE a perfectly fine answer for 26D: Bit of appended text. No one should be forced to write in PANSY. What a godawful, totally unnecessary cluing move. It's a flower. Go with flower. It's fine as a flower. Who the hell is named PANSY!? That clue is just crazy.
[With apologies for my image-editing skills, which are lacking]
THEME: "A Century of Song" — tribute to Ella Fitzgerald (LADY ELLA) on (a day that is close to) the 100th anniversary of her birth (68A: With 70-Across, nickname for a celebrated performer born on April 25, 1917):
Theme answers:
21A: 1938 #1 hit for 68-/70-Across, which was inspired by a nursery rhyme ("A TISKET A TASKET")
15D: Repeated collaborator with 68-/70-Across (LOUIS ARMSTRONG)
47D: Signature tune of 68-/70-Across ("HOW HIGH THE MOON")
119A: Notable quote by 68-/70-Across ("I SING LIKE I FEEL")
Word of the Day:SHEREE J. Wilson(19A: "Dallas" actress ___ J. Wilson) —
Sheree Julienne Wilson (born on December 12, 1958[1]) is an American actress, producer, businesswoman, and model. She is best known for her roles as April Stevens Ewing on the American prime-time television series Dallas (1986-1991) and as Alex Cahill-Walker on the television series Walker, Texas Ranger (1993-2001). (wikipedia)
• • •
Tribute puzzles are almost always underwhelming. The typical move is to fill the grid w/ symmetrical trivia. That's basically what this puzzle does. A thoughtful move is to add some twist or gimmick or *something* that elevates the puzzle above mere symmetrical trivia. This puzzle does that too. I am on record (multiple times) as not particularly caring for the "once you've finished, draw on it!" type of gimmick. If the gimmick doesn't relate to the actual solving experience, then it's not much use to me. Interesting, curious, but not compelling the way a more integral theme concept is. So this one is trivia plus ... children's placemat art. The fill holds up OK but doesn't do much more than just sit there. This is all to say that this is a very very average tribute puzzle. It's serviceable, but it doesn't shine. And yet, two things. One, Ella is Ella, and always a joy to remember. One and a half, Ella is my daughter's name, so bonus points there. And two, that crown thing is actually kind of hard to pull off. It seems like it should be easy, what w/ just a smattering of letters here and there, but filling the grid around letter strings that change elevation is surprisingly hard. I have a puzzle in the works with theme answers that run exclusively on diagonals and Dear Lord it's gonna be the death of me. Essentially, you add a full answer's worth of letters (QUEEN OF JAZZ), but you don't actually lock down *any* answers, while compromising / restricting nearly all of them (at least in the upper-center of the grid). E.g. "Q" has to be a certain place—that's two answers compromised (Across and Down). Repeat that for every letter in QUEEN OF JAZZ. Trust me, it's a choke collar. So pulling it off without egregiously painful fill is a nice little feat.
Delete SHEREE from your wordlists. Please. I beg you. You're using it only as a crutch. Delete delete delete. Also, if an answer causes you pain to look at, causes you to make a face, causes you to have to ask whether it should be allowed to fly, for god's sake, no no no. I'm speaking of course of ENNUIS (23A: Listless feelings). What's the plural of ENNUI? Stop it—that's the plural of ENNUI. Those are my only real gripes today, fill-wise. Nothing much to call attention to outside the theme answers, though I like the MAMMA'S GORILLAS stack, if only because it's a good sitcom premise. There were almost no tough parts today, beyond SHEREE. I misremembered the song as "TOO HIGH THE MOON" (?). I had GRAY as GRIM (71A: Dreary), and NIÑO as NENE (56A: Piñata smasher, maybe). The Z-TILES / ZLOTY cross seemed a little cruel, considering that "Z" is not at all solidly inferrable in the Down, and ZLOTY ... well, you should know it's a currency, but I could see someone's guessing something else (VLOTY?). In the end, the QUEEN OF JAZZ thing gives you yet another way to get it, so no foul. Z-TILES just seems a cheap way to get a "Z."
ACETAL (96D: Perfumer's liquid) ... nope, not known to me. ACETYL? ACETATE? ACETONE? Those are all things, right? I just can't keep up. At least I knew enough to guess TAOIST and not MAOIST at 118A: Lao-tzu follower. When I see "name on a blimp" I think Goodyear and literally nothing else, so FUJI was a surprise (38D: Name on a blimp). My favorite moment of the puzzle (by far) (excluding humming "A TISKET A TASKET" to myself) was when I totally utterly and epically misread the clue at 97D: Summer piazza treat (GELATO). Me: "Summer pizza threat!? Uh ... Ants? How the hell should I know?"
Relative difficulty:Very easy (faster than yesterday's, close to a Saturday record)
THEME: none
Word of the Day:ILEA(5D: Guts, in part) —
noun
Anatomy
noun: ileum; plural noun: ilea
the third portion of the small intestine, between the jejunum and the cecum. (google)
• • •
I think I went sub-5 minutes once on a Saturday. I might've dreamt it, but it really feels like it happened. Anyway, today was 5:20, and I am very methodical and non-racey on Fri and Sat, so, yeah, this one was off-the-charts easy. Just giving away answers like they were party favors. Threw "JACKASS: THE MOVIE" across with just a few letters up front. Threw RICK SPRINGFIELD down with just a few letters up front. Started with a 1-Across gimme (1-Across is often a harbinger ...). Giving me Scottish island clues right out the gate is the equivalent of leaving your mediocre fastball out over the plate. I will crush it. I hit this one 456 ft. The exit velocity was 115.7 mph. I have been watching a lot of baseball.
AXILLA, ELLIE, SAYER—all gimmes. "ROXANNE"? Silver-platter, room-service gimme. I even got "A RAISIN IN THE SUN" from just the last four letters, and that was *with* a wrong letter in place (I thought they were YERTS—you know, like for TERT...leS?). It was like the puzzle wouldn't allow me any space to screw up. I did have a moment of blanking when I had the ends of *all* the long Acrosses in the SE corner, but couldn't figure out any of them. I don't know why "Jezebel" is in quotation marks in 58A: "Jezebel" costume (RED DRESS). Is that a ... show? Movie? Musical? Huh. A 1938 Bette Davis movie. And people know that? I watch TCM religiously—guess I just haven't gotten to that one yet. Anyway, "A RAISIN IN THE SUN" helped me nail down the SE. No other problems. I had some trouble making sense of 20D: Any I, e.g.: Abbr. (HWY), but crosses helped me out. I liked this puzzle fine, but a Saturday's gotta put up more fight. I had more trouble with yesterday's Easyish Friday.
Word of the Day:TOTAL BASES(29D: A batter receives four for a grand slam) —
In baseball statistics, total bases (TBs) is the number of bases a player has gained with hits. It is a weighted sum for which the weight value is 1 for a single, 2 for a double, 3 for a triple and 4 for a home run. Only bases attained from hits count toward this total. Reaching base by other means (such as a base on balls) or advancing further after the hit (such as when a subsequent batter gets a hit) does not increase the player's total bases. // The total bases divided by the number of at bats is the player's slugging average. // Hank Aaron is the career leader in total bases with 6,856. Stan Musial (6,134) and Willie Mays (6,066) are the only other players with at least 6,000 career total bases. (wikipedia)
• • •
This one played pretty easy; except for one failed initial [Foray] into the INROAD section of the grid, I moved through this one without much hesitation. Grid is mostly sparkly, with a ton of mid-range to long answers of good to great quality. Things get a little rough, fill-wise, in the (surprise) aforementioned INROAD section of the puzzle, and the S/SW in general, but that assortment of cruddy short stuff down there does very little to affect the overall quality of the fill. Cluing felt *on* today. Low on "?" clues, high on squint / tilt head / ponder-the-multiple-possible-meanings clues. [Get down, in a way] for LIE, [Bull, essentially] for OPTIMIST, [Kennedy colleague] for ALITO—all clever misdirects. Got initial propulsion from CREMA (14A: Thin layer of foam at the top of an espresso)—my dad is verrrrrry precise in his espresso-making, as are the folks at my local cafe / roasteria, so CREMA is a phenomenon I know well. That answer gave me enough momentum to get most of the way through the first half of the grid. And then THE FONZ took it from there (30D: Shark-jumping sitcom character), hurtling me down into the bottom of the grid, and then, via the precious "Z," over into that pesky SW corner. Those two key gimmes were all I needed.
[Classified] for PEGGED was just hard. Accurate enough, but yikes. And I had PURSUE for 46D: Hound at first, so you can see why the SW was the roughest area for me. I don't really like the French answer at 61A: Café freebie (EAU). Cheap cluing move. Yes, "café" is a French word, but it's also an English one (was the accent supposed to indicate something to me?—it didn't). Also, I wanted DDE at 64A: Pres. whose given birth name was David but didn't write it in because I knew one of those "D"s *stood* for "David," and, well, the clue can't refer to an initial via the name it stands for ... :( ... but apparently it can. So the SW corner strikes yet again. "I'M BAD"!—yes you are, SW corner. Yes you are. I had ACES for 54D: Super (A-ONE) but beyond that no other significant missteps (that I haven't already mentioned). The GRAMMAR NAZI clue is cute (53A: Type for who this clue will be annoying?), though I'm honestly never that thrilled to see NAZI in my puzzle, in any context. Not nearly bygone enough for my taste.
THEME: Eh? — familiar phrases are clued as if one of their silent Es were accented; enter wackiness.
Theme answers:
FOR HEAVEN'S SAKÉ (20A: Why Japanese tipplers anticipate the afterlife?) (I woulda said "look forward to" rather than the blander / less enthusiastic "anticipate"; they're tipplers, for pete's saké!)
WHACK-A-MOLÉ (31A: Pound on some Mexican food?)
LAMÉ EXCUSE (39A: "I didn't know you disliked shiny fabrics!," e.g.?)
RUN FOR THE ROSÉS (48A: Quick trip to pick up white zinfandel and blush?)
Word of the Day:TOPE(25D: Emulate a 2-Down (WINO)) —
verb
archaicliterary
verb: tope; 3rd person present: topes; past tense: toped; past participle: toped; gerund or present participle: toping
drink alcohol to excess, especially on a regular basis. (google)
• • •
This mild-chuckle concept, like much recent NYT fare, feels dated, but honestly today it feels dated in a comfy sweater kind of way. It's a consistent, cute, well-made puzzle, with fill that skews old (i.e. familiar / slightly crosswordesey) but not painful. Solving this thing was a completely pleasant experience. Wait, there is one inconsistency, which is that the altered word is the last word in all the themers ... but one. That's a bit wonky. Not uncoincidentally, that is the one themer I had trouble with, the one that I flubbed at first. I had the last two letters (-SE) and once I dropped the "X" from LEX (33D: Law of ancient times), I took one look at 39A: "I didn't know you disliked shiny fabrics!," e.g.? and -----X--SE and (with the theme already known to me), confidently made that last word EXPOSÉ. I like the idea that some investigative reporter has figured out that you dislike shiny fabrics and is going to tell the world about it. Aha! Gotcha! EXPOSÉ would've made the theme execution thematically consistent. Coulda used OVEREXPOSE as the base answer and clued OVER EXPOSÉ ... some type of way, I don't know. [Having moved on from embarrassing press coverage?]. Something like that. But instead it's LAMÉ in the *first*-word position. Shrug. OK. Not a big deal.
Here are a few assorted thoughts I had while taking my leisurely springtime stroll through this grid:
Assorted thoughts:
7D: Certain trank (LUDE) — this took me multiple passes, mostly because I just kept wondering what kind of word "trank" was. Sincerely thought it was a clothing portmanteau (trousers + tanktop?)
1A: Departed (AWAY) — LEFT. Later, DEAD.
11D: Went to night school (TOOK A CLASS) — This is green paint. This is "EAT A SANDWICH." This isn't great.
42D: Reach by air (LAND AT) — needed every cross. Just didn't compute.
60A: Antihero of "A Clockwork Orange" (ALEX) — because it's a crossword, I flubbed the spelling (ALEC).
61A: Influence for Enya, historically (CELT) — wait, so there's just this one CELT who influenced her? Like, just this one guy named Angus who's like "You should really make some ethereal New Age music, lass"?
THEME: NOTE (52D: Word that can follow the ends of 20- and 54-Across and 4- And 26-Down) — also, the black squares make a kind of note symbol in the middle of the grid
Theme answers:
MONSTER MASH (20A: Classic song with the lyric "Whatever happened to my Transylvania twist?")
SAWED IN HALF (54A: Like some magicians' assistants, apparently)
RUNNER'S HIGH (26D: Exercise-induced euphoria)
WHISKEY SOUR (4D: Drink often garnished with a cherry)
Word of the Day:VICUÑA(42A: Andean animal with expensive wool) —
The vicuña (Vicugna vicugna) or vicugna (both /vɪˈkuːnjə/) is one of two wild South Americancamelids which live in the high alpine areas of the Andes, the other being the guanaco. It is a relative of the llama, and is now believed to be the wild ancestor of domesticated alpacas, which are raised for their coats. Vicuñas produce small amounts of extremely fine wool, which is very expensive because the animal can only be shorn every three years, and has to be caught from the wild. When knitted together, the product of the vicuña's wool is very soft and warm. The Inca valued vicuñas highly for their wool, and it was against the law for anyone but royalty to wear vicuña garments; today the vicuña is the national animal of Peru and appears in the Peruvian coat of arms. (wikipedia)
• • •
A strange and rough enterprise. Strange because the theme is so rudimentary ("word that can follow" with a mere one-word revealer) I didn't know this theme type was even accepted any more. Usually you gotta do something extra to make a "word that can follow" theme fly in the NYT these days. Maybe the picture of the "note" in the middle of the grid was considered that something "extra." Since it relates not at all to the solving experience, it doesn't seem enough for me (though putting the "note" there is a nice little bit of superficial flare). Also strange—there's hardly anything musical about the puzzle. I expected more. PLAY AREA gets a jokey piano clue (32A: What the keys are to a pianist?), but there's not much else. Then there's the strange grid—caused by the "note" structure—which is not-at-all-symmetrical (not a fault, just a feature).
["classic" ... but completely unknown to me]
But then there's the rough: namely, the frame of reference (way way before and to the side of my time—too bad for me) and the truly wincey fill, especially in what we'll call the "compromised corners" (NW, SE). Why "compromised"? Well, take out everything but the themers and you'll see. You've got tight corners that come pre-packed with theme material in the Across *and* Down. This is what can happen when you try to get slick and cross your themers. So the NW is a disaster. Like, a throw-it-out, no-way, not-gonna-submit-this disaster. "A CENT" (?) x/w "ERE I" (!?!?) is an automatic DQ, sorry, thanks for playing. I can handle a French king and a bygone Alaskan capital, but not not not when they're (monster) mashed together with ACENT and EREI. The SE is less bad (it would almost have to be) but still rough, with yet Another partial (A FATE—at least that one was easily gettable) and the partial N.CAR. and the semi-ridiculous HALLO. If either the theme or the fill in other places had been stronger, the corners wouldn't have stood out so badly.
["... HALLO!?"]
I did love the longer Downs. I love WHISKEY SOURs and remember and hope to re-achieve soon RUNNER'S HIGH. I've been to a conference in ABERDEEN (lovely) and, I mean, GRETA GARBO is GRETA GARBO, so no problem there. Do you curtsy with "TADA"?! (21D: Cry before curtsying or taking a bow). Seems like there are at least two intervening things between the cry and the curtsy, so "before" is technically accurate but leaves out a lot. That threw me badly. The use of "feud" to describe SHIA / Sunni relations ... I don't know. Seems flippant. They're not the Hatfields and McCoys or Joan Crawford and Bette Davis. DAYMARE is a preposterous concept. Inferrable, but preposterous. Just try telling someone you had a DAYMARE and see how seriously they take you.
THEME: grid uses only letters R, E, T, L, S, I, and A
Word of the Day:no, none of these are good enough—
***
• • •
Well here's where I would've stopped if I didn't have a crossword blog:
Hard to overstate how bad this concept is. How joyless and STALE and etc. What's worse, it's not even original *to the constructor*. He (and the editor, who somehow accepts this stuff) foisted a similar disaster on us a couple years back, where just eight letters were used in the construction of the grid. Here, see (Apr. 14, 2015):
Fun, right? And now, just seven. I can't wait for 6, 5, etc. I'm sure things will improve with fewer letters. I'm sure of it.
Here's a tweet re: *Sunday's* puzzle, before this thing ever came out:
I think we can roll it over and apply it to today as well. Moreso. Here are some more tweets, just because I don't have anything to say about this puzzle that isn't obvious.
I like this one:
Oh, here's an actual puzzle-related problem someone had:
Let's all pretend today's puzzle never happened. Yes, that's nice.
Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld
P.S. SISSIES is a bullshit pejorative (15D: Fraidy-cats). Let's retire it. It's mostly just "S"s anyway, no one would miss it.
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