Backless stool / SUN 4-7-24 / Angle-measuring instrument / Belgian Surrealist painter James / Former TLC reality show set in a Florida tattoo parlor / Apple variety whose name sounds like part of a flower / Tympanostomy performer, for short / Cheesy appetizer with chips / Surfboard/kayak hybrid

Constructor: Tracy Gray

Relative difficulty: EE-E

THEME: "Double Duty" — double letters stand in for words in the theme answers (the letters are just letters in the Downs):

Theme answers:

• "[EE] ON DOWN THE ROAD" / "I'VE EATEN" (23A: Song performed three times in "The Wiz" / 1D: "No food for me, thank")
• BLACK-EYED [PP] / TEACUP POODLE (39A: Group with the 2009 hit "I Gotta Feeling" / 16D: Variety of tiny dog)
• [UU] IT OR LOSE IT / "ARE YOU UP?"63A: Fitness enthusiast's mantra / 32D: "Still awake?")
• A WORD TO THE [YY] / NY YANKEE (74A: Start of some cautionary advice / 72D: Aaron Judge, e.g., in brief)
• [CC] THE MOMENT / ARCTIC CIRCLE (100A: Take advantage of an opportunity / 68D: Where to see the midnight sun)
• A SIGHT FOR SORE [II] / "MIAMI, INK" (118A: You love to see it / 99D: Former TLC reality show set in a Florida tattoo parlor)

Word of the Day: TABOURET (35A: Backless stool) —

A taboret (also spelled tabouret or tabourette) refers to two different pieces of furniture: a cabinet or a stool. // As a stool, it refers to a short stool without a back or arms. The name is derived from its resemblance to a drum (diminutive of Old French tabour). // The tabouret acquired a more specialized meaning in 17th-century France at the court of Louis XIV in Versailles. Sitting in the presence of the royal family was a much coveted honor, and the tabouret was the way to do it. The court tabouret was an elaborate, upholstered stool with curved wooden legs and tassels, carried by a liveried and wigged servant. Duchesses were automatically granted the honor of sitting in front of the queen. This stool became such a symbol of privilege that when Louis XIV's mother, the Regent Anne of Austria, granted the tabouret to two non-duchesses, such a storm of protest was raised that she had to revoke the order. // In the context of the Arts and Crafts Movement, a taboret is a narrow and tall stand for a plant, lamp, ashtray, or a beverage. It may also be a mission oak book stand shelf, or side table, or end table. (wikipedia)

• • •

A very basic concept of the kind I've seen before. Sometimes plural letters sound like words ("Y"s = WISE etc.), and this puzzle just exploits that fact, with the punny version in the Across and the literal double-letter version in the Downs. It's not a revelation, not a big surprise. Once you've got it, you've got it, and I got it very early—couldn't make 1D: "No food for me, thanks" work, but "EATEN" seemed like it must be involved ... and that's when the double-letter rebus concept occurred to me. Checked the Across and bingo: "[EASE] ON DOWN THE ROAD." After that, no surprises. You know what's coming, and it comes, and there it is. Knowing the theme made getting the themers (the Acrosses, anyway) even easier than they would've been (and they were pretty easy even without the gimmick to help you). There's nothing wrong with this theme. It's simple and neatly executed. It just doesn't offer much resistance and has very little humor to it (there's the "aha" moment up front, but nothing else is gonna move the "aha" meter again after that). Fine, but dull—that's how this one played for me, themewise.

Fillwise, things were a little more ... interesting. I mean that mainly in a negative way, though there were some nice answers, and the double-letter Downs were handled particularly well, I thought. TEACUP POODLE and "ARE YOU UP?" and "MIAMI, INK" were clever solutions to the challenge posed by the theme (double vowels that aren't "E" or "O," never easy to come by). But there were some words, and especially some crosses, today that seemed dicey. First cross that seemed potentially problematic was IPS / PUENTE. I know the term as "IP addresses" and at first I had IMS in that slot (14D: Computer addresses, for short); I reasoned that the messages were ways of "addressing" another person. Luckily, I not only knew who Tito PUENTE was (thank you, "Simpsons"), I actually saw him perform in Ann Arbor in the '90s, so no issues for me, but maybe issues for somebody (22A: Tito who wrote "Oye Como Va"). Worse, though, was TABOURET, which seems like a highly unusual word (I needed virtually every cross) and which has a number of not necessarily universally known crosses, like James ENSOR (17D: Belgian Surrealist painter James). QUESO DIP seems well known (15D: Cheesy appetizer with chips) but I can definitely see someone misremembering it as QUESA (inferring from "quesadilla"). And if you somehow didn't know crossword aficionado Joy BEHAR (36D: "The View" co-host Joy), then TABOURET must've been a real adventure. The worst cross didn't involve TABOURET; it involved ALY, whose name is notoriously hard to remember (ALI v. ALY); I've never heard of STAYMAN (I mean, never) so if you'd told me it was STAIMAN (like CAIMAN?), I'd've nodded politely like I knew what you were talking about but [shrug] (43A: Apple variety whose name sounds like part of a flower). Luckily, I remembered that ALY used a "Y" so I got it, but that's at least four different squares that made me go "uh oh," and it seems pretty likely that one or more of those squares might've undone a few solvers today. Looks like STAYMAN last appeared in the puzzle on my birthday, in the first year of this blog's existence (2006). 

[Christ's Entry into Brussels in 1889, by James ENSOR]

Beyond the treacherous, there's the ugly. Stuff like REE, which ... if I were constructing, I'd do anything to get REE out of my grid. "Riddle-me-REE" has almost zero currency. "WE THE" is an almost inexcusable partial. GTE is now painfully bygone. ON TWO is strained (76D: When a football may be snapped). Speaking of two, there are two TOOs, which is TOO many (and today they are TOO close to each other) (“TOO CUTE!” / “AM TOO!”). PAREN made my wife so angry I had to talk her down (124A: Emoticon’s mouth, for short). I think that on the whole the fill holds up pretty well today, but those answers (in addition to the problematic crosses noted above) really stood out. I have no idea what a SINEBAR is (3D: Angle-measuring instrument)—it's a debut today; seems like a word only a bloated, uncurated wordlist could love, but there you go. I had TOILE before VOILE, which made getting that initial theme answer harder than it otherwise might've been (20A: Lightweight curtain fabric). I think TUILE is also a fabric?? Oh, no, it's a baked wafer! TULLE is the fabric, gah! VOILE TOILE TULLE TUILE I'd believe any of them was a fabric or a French pastry or both. No idea what a WAVESKI is, either. Is it like a JETSKI? No, not motorized. There's a wikipedia page, but it's flagged: "This article contains content that is written like an advertisement." Basically it's a sit-down surfboard that you can also paddle. My worst "didn't know it" was EMILIO (122: Fashion designer Pucci). I was coasting to the end and then all of a sudden, with my very last word (117D: Nursery item), I had a blank. Blanks, actually, across the board. I assumed the end of TOMCA- was "T," though I have no idea what fighter jets are called. And I assumed, despite its sounding very stupid, that CIDER- was CIDERY (125A: Apple processing plant) (I thought the term was "cider mill," but that may just be because there's a Cider Mill here in town (great autumn weekend destination for cider and donuts), as well as a Cider Mill Playhouse). Anyway, that gave me T-Y but when I looked at EMILI- the only letters I could imagine going there were "E" and "A"! I thought the designer was a woman. And TEY or TAY didn't seem like they belonged in either kind of nursery I could think of (the plant kind or the child kind). Eventually I somehow managed to see TOY and then recognized that yes, EMILIO is a name. But that little three-letter snafu was probably the hardest I worked all puzzle. Aside from the potential pitfalls represented by some of those crosses, there really was no resistance today.

[Do not, under any circumstances, "stare directly at the sun" tomorrow without proper eyewear]

Final thoughts:

• 80A: POTUS's military title (C-IN-C) — i.e. Commander-in-Chief

• 88D: Bad spot to leave food unattended (CAMPSITE) — I had CAMPFIRE. Seemed ... reasonable.
• 96A: Casey of classic radio (KASEM) — hey, speak of the devil (in that I spoke of him in Saturday's write-up and ... here he is!)
• 97D: Iraqi city on the Tigris (SAMARRA) — I know this place only from the John O'Hara novel.

That's all from me today. I hope those of you who struggled yesterday found this softball more to your liking. I'll take Saturday-style torture any day, but to each his own! See you next time.

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld

[Follow Rex Parker on Twitter and Facebook]