Cinderella's calling card / SAT 4-6-24 / Afghan region whose name means "black cave" / Pictures where people are headscarfed? / Longtime name in Top 40 radio / Notably circular formations on Mars / van Rossum, programmer who created the Python language / Thick envelope during admissions season, say

Constructor: Byron Walden

Relative difficulty: Medium

THEME: none 

Word of the Day: Azimuth (50D: Azimuth, e.g. => ARC) —

An azimuth (/ˈæzəməθ/ [...] from Arabic: اَلسُّمُوت, romanized: as-sumūt, lit. 'the directions')^[1] is the angular measurement in a spherical coordinate system which represents the horizontal angle from a cardinal direction, most commonly north. 

Mathematically, the relative position vector from an observer (origin) to a point of interest is projected perpendicularly onto a reference plane (the horizontal plane); the angle between the projected vector and a reference vector on the reference plane is called the azimuth.

When used as a celestial coordinate, the azimuth is the horizontal direction of a star or other astronomical object in the sky. The star is the point of interest, the reference plane is the local area (e.g. a circular area with a 5 km radius at sea level) around an observer on Earth's surface, and the reference vector points to true north. The azimuth is the angle between the north vector and the star's vector on the horizontal plane.

Azimuth is usually measured in degrees (°), in the positive range 0° to 360° or in the signed range -180° to +180°. The concept is used in navigation, astronomy, engineering, mapping, mining, and ballistics. (wikipedia)

• • •

Always comforting to see Byron's name on the byline. That may seem an odd thing to say about someone whose puzzles tend toward the ruthlessly hard and sadistically playful, but the comfort comes in knowing that the struggle is going to be worth it. I know the puzzle is going to throw fastballs at my head over and over, open trap doors, release the dogs, or the bees, or the dogs with bees in their mouths and when they bark they shoot bees at you. It's gonna be an ordeal, but you're gonna like having been ordealed. Today was no exception—a properly Saturday Saturday that had me going "huh? ... Huh? ... D'oh!" over and over. Like, I have no idea what an UH-OH OREO is, and piecing it together was an adventure, but after I managed to cobble UHOH together, I realized what the clue was spelling out for me—that the features of the cookie were actually a reverse OREO, an OREO mistake, an ... "UH-OH" OREO. And ZOMBIE MOVIES, forget about it, that one nearly took my ... head off. Had -BIE MOVIES and somehow still no idea. Then I got the "M" and slapped my as-yet unscarfed head. That is a gruesome, and gruesomely hilarious clue (8D: Pictures where people are headscarfed?). Zombies scarf (i.e. feed on, eat up) human flesh, including head meat, most notably brains. That one got a belated and exhausted "wow" out of me. There were some things that didn't land as well, to my ears: a single RESERVED SEAT—obviously a real thing, but that answer really wants to be in the plural; and BAD THING ... the THING part landed with an anticlimactic thud—a BAD THING could be anything, whereas a "demerit" is a very specific thing, a bad mark given by an evaluator of some kind. But the THUDS were few. Mostly what I experienced was a tough and satisfying workout. 


Difficulty-wise, this one followed a weird pattern for me, as the west side (top and bottom) played much harder than the right. There's often top/bottom discrepancy, but L/R, less often. This is really just quadrant variation, and the two quadrants I had real trouble with were NW and SW, the first because that's where I started and it's always (or frequently) toughest where you start, since by definition you don't have any crosses to help you get going. I got going by putting in LIVELY at 1A: Vivacious and then "confirming" it with YES and LEES. Luckily, I could see that that "confirmation" was possibly bogus, since I'd only "confirmed" the suffix. I could tell I had OH or "AH I SEE" there at 15A: "That just clicked" and the "resoundingly" part of 19A: Lands resoundingly really suggested THUDS, so somehow from all of that, and after finally pulling LIVELY, I could see B-SIDE, then BUBBLY ... and I didn't exactly whoosh out of that corner (HOPE, hard (22A: Intend); IRS, hard (25A: Dodgers' foes, for short); the unexpectedly vague THING part of BAD THING, hard), but once I hit the bottom of the NW and caught the front end of those long Acrosses—whoosh whoosh ("NEED I SAY MORE" and "GOT A SEC?") 

Southwest corner was where I finished up, and that felt even harder. I had -ORA -ENDS and -EST at the ends of all the long Acrosses down there, but ... nothing. Forgot TORA BORA was a thing (if I ever knew). Wanted UPTRENDS but it looked (still kinda looks) funky and not quite right. And could not see Ryan SEACREST at all. After Casey Kasem, I'm kinda out of Longtime names in Top 40 radio (I listen to Casey countdowns on Sirius X/M's "70s on 7" channel nearly every weekend, as we drive out to our favorite bakery in Owego, or up to Ithaca to see a movie at Cinemapolis ... but I don't think about or hear or see Ryan SEACREST, ever, not since I stopped watching American Idol something like 15 years ago). So there was just empty space in the SW. INHD and that's about it. No idea what "ten-code" is so couldn't get CBER. Only a vague idea what "Azimuth" was, so couldn't get arc (though did get it off the "R" eventually). ADO was a gimme, but in a puzzle like this, I'm suspicious of gimmes ... but then ADO allowed me to see ON DOPE for 39D: Not clean, in a way, and that "P" confirmed my earlier suspicion about UPTRENDS, and I finally had the traction I needed, but still the puzzle fought me, right down to HO-ER and TO-ABORA crossing -HO-TA. The puzzle just pulled the London, Ontario! gag like last week or last month or something like that, so I did not expect to see it again so soon, but here it is: HOSER is Canadian, not British, slang for "dunderhead." We've established that I simply didn't know TORA BORA. Which leave -HO-TA, which ... I cannot believe I got got by a "letteral" clue. I usually see right through these, but for whatever reason, [Black heart?] just didn't register as "letteral," i.e. a clue that points to one of the letters in the clue itself (here, the "a" at the "heart" of "Black"). I ran the alphabet at the first letter until I hit "S" and suddenly HOSER and SHORT "A" jumped out like "ta da! Happy to see us!" I guess. That's what's called stumbling over the finish line. But I finished! Which is the point. 

Explainers:

• 7A: White Russians, e.g. (CZARISTS) — I had the "Z" from ZOMBIE MOVIES at this point, so this answer was easy, even though I had no idea that's what the CZARISTS were called. Without that "Z," White Russians would've had me thinking only of cocktails.
• 25A: Dodgers' foes, for short (IRS) — me: "how do I get an abbr. for 'Giants' to fit in here?"; that terminal "S" in IRS made things so much worse, 'cause I just kept looking for a plural.
• 17A: Can't they all just git along? (DOGIES) — "Git along, little DOGIES" is a line from some classic western song I know only in some atavistic way where you just know things your ancestors knew but you don't know how. Ah, here we go—a 1940 Roy Rogers movie (no head-scarfing, probably):

• 26A: Film with the tagline "In space, no one can hear you clean" (WALL-E) — gah, once again the universe is punishing me for not seeing this movie. I had the "WA-" and couldn't think of any movie, let alone space movie, that worked. This is because my brain was scrolling through 5-letter words, not 4-hyphen-1-letter names.
• 3D: Cinderella's calling card (BIG UPSET) — "Cinderella" is the team that gets unexpectedly far in a tournament, the team that's not supposed to be there but got there due to (usually) at least one BIG UPSET. Common terminology, especially around NCAA Tournament time (i.e. now).
• 4D: Under cut? (B-SIDE) — [Upper cut?] would be the A-SIDE, then, I guess. Record terminology! (A "cut" is of course a recorded song / track).
• 12D: "Death Be Not Proud," for one (SONNET) — technically Holy Sonnet X. I taught it earlier this year. Not my favorite Donne sonnet. Kinda hacky / cliché. I prefer Holy Sonnet XIV, which is bonkers.

Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you 

As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend; 

That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend 

Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new. 

I, like an usurp'd town to another due, 

Labor to admit you, but oh, to no end; 

Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend, 

But is captiv'd, and proves weak or untrue. 

Yet dearly I love you, and would be lov'd fain, 

But am betroth'd unto your enemy; 

Divorce me, untie or break that knot again, 

Take me to you, imprison me, for I, 

Except you enthrall me, never shall be free, 

Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me. (from poetryfoundation.org)

• 34D: Mac, for example (RAIN COAT) — not the computer, then. Mac (i.e. Mackintosh) is Britspeak for a rain-proof overcoat. Here's an article on its history. First one went on sale in Glasgow, 1823.
• 48D: Cup alternative (CONE) — this is an ice cream distinction.
• 35D: "Zero stars" ("IT STINKS") — Had the "IT S-" and went with "IT SUCKED!" I like this version better. Infinitesimally more polite.

Good luck to all competitors at the American Crossword Puzzle Tournament (ACPT) this weekend. 

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld 

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