Smallish smart device from Amazon / SAT 8-31-24 / 10-point play / Liquid found in some pens / Rapper who shares his name with the 29th president / Some start-up funding, in brief / Franchise that moved back to Vegas in 2021 / Reach for the cars? / Drink once sold as Fruit Smack

Constructor: Sam Ezersky

Relative difficulty: Medium-Challenging

THEME: none 

Word of the Day: WARREN G (44A: Rapper who shares his name with the 29th president) —

Warren Griffin III (born November 10, 1970) is an American rapper, record producer, and DJ who helped popularize West Coast hip hop during the 1990s.^[2] A pioneer of G-funk, he attained mainstream success with his 1994 single "Regulate" (featuring Nate Dogg). He is credited with discovering Snoop Dogg, having introduced the then-unknown rapper to record producer Dr. Dre.

His debut studio album, Regulate... G Funk Era (1994), debuted at number two on the US Billboard 200, selling 176,000 in its first week. The album has since received triple platinum certification by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA), signifying sales of three million copies. "Regulate" spent 18 weeks within the top 40 of the BillboardHot 100, with three weeks at number two, while its follow-up, "This D.J.", peaked at number nine. At the 37th Annual Grammy Awards, both songs received nominations for Best Rap Performance and Best Rap Solo Performance, respectively. (wikipedia)

• • •

If nothing else, this puzzle was suitably challenging, for once. There were at least two times (NE, SW) where I experienced significant stoppage, significant "WTF!?"-age. And there were enough tiny traps along the way (INES v INEZ, ADD-ONS v ADD-INS, etc.), that solving became a truly interesting and engaging endeavor. Hurray for stopping the slow dumbing down of the crossword puzzle (which I assume the NYT will eventually phase out as the fan base dies and the rest of their subscriber population becomes addicted to their other little, shorter, far less demanding games with names like "Blorp" or "Chunk" or "Spelling Bee"). But today, I got an old-fashioned Saturday workout, though not with old-fashioned fill. Well ... scratch that. There was definitely some old-fashioned fill gunking up the grid here and there. I mean, Aunt ELLER dancing GALOPS (46D: Dances in duple time), yee-haw, my eyes definitely widened and then squinted suspiciously at that cross, just as they had when I reluctantly filled in ENSILE (which I was not entirely sure wasn't ENSILO—if you wrote ENSILO, my condolences, hope you enjoyed your OCHO DOT ... eight dots, that's good value!). NIHIL(O) pleasure in ENSILE. In addition to harboring some occasionally ugly answers, the puzzle was not exactly filled with my favorite things (venture capital and vaping, right out of the box?! LOL, it's like there was a bouncer at the door telling me "this puzzle ain't for you, bub."). And yet even though I might not groove on it, the fill in this puzzle definitely has a lot of energy and originality. It doesn't just lie there, like yesterday's grid (mostly) did. VAPE JUICE and VC MONEY! (1A: Liquid found in some pens / 1D: Some start-up funding, in brief). They don't make me happy as *things*, but they are original, and (more importantly) they took *work* and *thought* to piece together. And the cluing, yikes, what a minefield, but a ... good minefield? Basically what I'm saying is that there was an enjoyable unpleasantness to this puzzle that made it consistently engaging and interesting. It's the same enjoyable unpleasantness I experience when I drink a cocktail with Suze in it. Have you ever had Suze? "Jeezus this tastes like bitter grass and dirt and vinegar, like cough medicine for rabbits ... wait, no, don't take it away, I wasn't complaining!"

OK, let's hit the trouble spots. Lucked out on my first pass at the NW, where I did my usual "work the short crosses first" thing and all three short crosses came up correct!

 

EMU JAG UGG! Right off the bat, bang, we've got traction! I had no idea there were four specific, named (!) shapes of MCNUGGETS. I thought they were just random blobs, but then I haven't eaten them since high school, so I'm certainly no Nugficionado. No Nuggeteer, I. All I know is "-UGG-" gave me MCNUGGETS and I was on my way. That corner was tough, but gettable, with the S/Z question at 7D: Name that's another form of Agnes (INEZ) being the only real potential puzzle-killer. I wouldn't even know INES was a name if crosswords hadn't taught it to me, whereas INEZ was my grandmother's name. I wrote in INES but STI-wasn't giving me any ideas at 19A: 10-point play and then I realized "oh, we're doing the Scrabble thing again." Yet another way this puzzle is interested in things I'm not interested in. But I do know that a Z-TILE is worth ten points, so ... there we go. Seems like there's a non-zero chance that at least one solver out there ended up wondering how the hell STILE was a [10-point play]. If that person is you, I see you, and I understand.

So there were minor struggles, but the first Major struggle came in the SW, which I was sure I was going to sail through. I'd already thrown down LOUNGEWEAR (great answer) and WARREN G (I was like "WARREN G!? Jesus H! The pop culture / rapper haters are gonna be mad today!"), and I had the "WHAT?" part of what really seemed like it was going to be some version of "SAY WHAT?," so I was feeling pretty good. But then "SAY WHAT?" wouldn't fit. And "O, SAY WHAT?" felt preposterous. "O SAY can you see...," sure, but "O, SAY WHAT?," that felt wrong. The "O" was rock solid, but those other letters, yikes.

What kind of bar serves hot shots? I racked my brains for bar types. TAPAS bar? TAPA bar? Is IS BIG wrong (it's certainly ugly, but I couldn't get IS BIG to be anything else, so it had to stay). Of course I was reading the opening of [Risky bond designation] as one sound, a "BR-" sound, like in "bread," and not a letter ("B") and then another word (RATING), which is what it was. And then JET for [Spurt] ... I guess I just avoid thinking about spurting and its related word cloud as much as possible. Honestly, I wanted JAG, but already had JAG up top. I think I eventually stumbled on "OKAY" as a thing that could fit at the opening of 48A: "Uh ... did I hear that right?!" and that made me see the SAKE BAR (38D: Establishment serving hot shots), and boom, done. But before the "boom," ugh, stuckness. Probably didn't last too long, but dead stops are so rare that it felt like an eternity.

Worse, though, was the NE, where ... looks like I managed to get Z-TILE and KOOL-AID, but that's as far as I could press into that section at first. Momentum just died. Couldn't see ALASKANS because wow, that clue (26A: They're on their own time). I think I just didn't know Alaska had its own time zone (is that right?). Even with the first "A" and the “K" in place, nothing. And ECHO DOT, forget it (30A: Smallish smart device from Amazon). I don't know what these stupid devices are all called. Too many, can't keep track, don't want any gadgets in my house spying on me for Big Algorithm (any more than there already are—god save me from "smart" devices). And that brings me to the other longer answer that could've given me access to that corner, but didn't. And it's the worst answer in the grid. By far. I mean, the worst. And that answer is FRESH SALAD. I *had* the SALAD part, so how hard could the answer be!? Answer: extremely. Because who would guess that the answer would be something as inane and generic and not-a-thing as FRESH SALAD. What is that? What are these unfresh salads that people (implicitly) consume? I was like "PASTA SALAD? GREEN SALAD? ... CHEF'S SALAD? BERRY SALAD!?" The answer may as well have been TASTY SALAD for all that FRESH SALAD makes any standalone sense. I don't think I've ever resented a crossword answer this much. All that work, all that added difficulty, so that I could get ... FRESH?! And the clue. That "Leaves" trick is old as the hills, that wasn't a problem. The problem was "just in time for dinner" did nnootthhiinngg to indicate the idiocy that is FRESH. But I managed to conquer that corner by the grace of a very real and non-idiotic green food—that's right, by the grace of AVOCADO, hallowed be its name (11D: The Mexican state of Michoacán produces 5.5+ billion pounds of this annually). Really got me out of a jam there. Is there anything AVOCADO can't do? Truly a miracle ... fruit? (It's a fruit, right?)

Bullets:

• 10A: [I can't hear you!] ("LA LA...") — you have to imagine someone plugging their ears and saying way more "LA"s for this clue to fully make sense, but it's still kind of clever
• 53D: Teacher's handwritten note by an awkward sentence (REDO) — I've never (hand)written this "note" in my life, and I've graded a lot of papers. The industry standard in this situation is not REDO, but AWK. You should probably be more specific, but sometimes, you just throw your hands up and write AWK. 
• 57A: Line outside a box office ("ONE, PLEASE") — I had the "PLEASE" but held back on writing in the number because I held out some hope that the moviegoer had a date. But sadly, no. Or happily no (I *love* to go to the movies alone, though mostly I go with my wife, which I also love—we saw Between the Temples yesterday (darker—and infinitely socially awkwarder—than I thought it was gonna be, but still delightful, and genuinely funny), and we're seeing Blink Twice today)

• 35D: One party to 2020's Abraham Accords: Abbr. (UAE) — I had the "U" and wrote in USA. I don't know what these Accords are. I'm guessing the "Abraham" was supposed to indicate to me that Israel was involved. Yes? [looks it up]. Yes. They involve Arab-Israeli diplomatic relations.
• 27D: Drink once sold as Fruit Smack (KOOL-AID) — I had the "-L-ID" part and while the answer should've been obvious, I initially went looking for some kind of FLUID. I love that the original name of KOOL-AID had the slang term for heroin right in the name. "Yeah, your kids are gonna love it, Really love it, and yeah, it's horrible for them, but they're still gonna want it, a lot, like ... a lot, so ... well, good luck with that."

See you next time.

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld

[Follow Rex Parker on Twitter and Facebook]

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Marked Twain? / FRI 8-30-24 / Lead-in to stakes / Animal found on either end of a scale / Traditional Scottish New Year's gift, representing warmth for the year to come / Mittens might fiddle with one / Historic figure grouped with Judas in Dante's "Inferno" / Summer snack with a swirl / "I think so" in modern shorthand / Film character with an iconic gold bikini

Constructor: Colin Adams

Relative difficulty: Easy

THEME: none 

Word of the Day: DEIRDRE (41D: Tragic heroine of Irish mythology) —

Deirdre (/ˈdɪərdrə, -dri/ DEER-drə, -⁠dree, Irish: [ˈdʲɛɾˠdʲɾʲə]; Old Irish: Derdriu [ˈdʲerʲðrʲĭŭ]) is a tragic heroine in the Ulster Cycle of Irish mythology. She is also known by the epithet "Deirdre of the Sorrows" (Irish: Deirdre an Bhróin).

Deirdre is a prominent figure in Irish legend. American scholar James MacKillop assessed in 2004 that she was its best-known figure in modern times. (wikipedia) // 

In Irish mythology, a tragic heroine (Deirdre of the Sorrows) of whom it was prophesied that her beauty would bring banishment and death to heroes. King Conchubar of Ulster wanted to marry her, but she fell in love with Naoise, son of Usnach, who with his brothers carried her off to Scotland. They were lured back by Conchubar and treacherously slain, and Deirdre took her own life. (Oxford Reference)

• • •

A great puzzle if you are a lover of God and colloquialisms. Pretty average puzzle otherwise. Truly surprised to see "DEAR GOD!" after already having ""OH LORD!" in the grid. I kinda like that one is clued as taking the Lord's name in vain (30D: "Good heavens!" = "OH LORD!") and the other is clued as the [Opening words of a prayer], presumably a prayer to God that He not be mad that you just took his name in vain. Seems like these answers could've provided the perfect occasion for repeat cluing—they both look like [Opening words of a prayer] to me. Certainly some prayers begin "OH LORD...," right? Or is it just "O"? I think I've seen the prayer opening primarily as "O LORD." Is the "O"-alone version for praying and the "OH" version for exclaiming? Yeah, I think "O" alone has vocative power, whereas "OH" is just a surprised sound. Who knew so much was riding on an "H"? Oh (!) look, someone has written about this very question. Anyway, lots of reference to the Big Guy in the SKY today. And colloquialisms—this thing is ostentatiously bedecked in them! Have you ever YOINKED a GRODY FROYO? PROBS, right?  This one's really trying to lean into What The Kids Say, and by kids I mean "kids in the '80s" (which is the last time I heard GRODY, probably followed by "to the max!"). YOINKED and esp. PROBS are actually of more recent vintage—I don't remember people saying those things so much in the 20th century. All these expressions give the grid some much-needed life. "Much-needed" because the grid is pretty light on the marquee answers. The NW corner has some juice—I particularly like BRA STRAPS, which seems an odd thing to say on its face, but ... it's a good answer! REFUSENIK and UNREALITY are also worthy answers in my book. The opposite corner ... meh. Acceptable, but flat. And after that, there are only two other answers over 7 letters long in the whole dang grid—not the kind of grid architecture that's hospitable to zip, sparkle, or whoosh.

The lack of grid sparkle was made up for, somewhat, by some occasionally brilliant cluing. [Marked Twain?] really threw me off, which it shouldn't have—that "T" is capitalized, after all, which screams "the author's name!"—but I took "Twain" as "a pair" and went looking for, I don't know, twins who had been famously scarred or branded or something. But no, you're "marking" your place in the cheap paperback copy of A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court by dog-earing the page (I made it a cheap paperback copy because otherwise why, why would you dog-ear?—grab a bookmark, a receipt, a strand of your hair, anything). If you've DOG-EARED the book, then you've "marked" "Twain." Nice. I also enjoyed the "?" clue on DRYER (51D: Alternative to hanging out?). A laundry clue that looks like a socializing clue (or a wardrobe malfunction clue). I also liked the way VEEP was clued today (46A: Lead-in to stakes)—felt (relatively) timely, given what a VANCE/WALZ month it's been. Better for WALZ than VANCE, I'd say. Pretty sure that's objectively true by every metric. Speaking of WALZ, we should be seeing that name in crosswords in 3, 2, 1 ... well, soon, anyway.

Had a buncha mistakes today, but none of them very devastating. SUN before SKY, GROSS before GRODY, DISC before DISK (honestly not sure what the difference is), and then my two favorites: COAT before COAL (37A: Traditional Scottish New Year's gift, representing warmth for the year to come), and PENSION before PIT STOP (8D: Occasion for retirement?). Only thing I was truly unfamiliar with today (besides traditional Scottish gift-giving practices) was DIERDRE; luckily the name was easy to piece together. Oh, I forgot that LEIA ever wore an "iconic gold bikini" (28D: Film character with an iconic gold bikini). That should've meant something to me as a Star Wars-loving teen (which is what I was when Return of the Jedi came out), but I think I thought it was corny, and it just didn't leave much of an impression. Also, it seemed gross (if not grody), since the only time she wore it (iirc) was when she was Jabba's slave? But the clue didn't say "meaningful to me," just "iconic," which seems true enough. My mind went to Goldfinger (someone wears a bikini in that, surely), and then to this musical bit of cinematic history ...

Notes:

• 24A: Mittens might fiddle with one (CAT TOY) — I guess some people name their cats "Mittens," but honestly this clue looks like you typo'd "Kittens"

["We're not interested in your toys, buddy. Keep walkin'..."]

• 26A: Animal found on either end of a scale (DOE) — as in "a deer, a female deer." I don't love this clue, but I don't hate it either. It's not boring, at least.
• 45A: Psyche's lover, in Greek myth (EROS) — I know the couple as "Cupid & Psyche" but that may be due primarily to the Scritti Politti album (Cupid & Psyche 85). Cupid = Amor (L.) = EROS (Gr.), so the clue is not wrong.

• 1D: Historic figure grouped with Judas in Dante's "Inferno" (BRUTUS) — if I have a "wheelhouse," this is it. The ninth ring of hell is it. Satan chewing eternally on Cassius, BRUTUS, and Judas at the very pit of hell, in the middle of the ice lake Cocytus ... is it. Now *that* is "iconic" (to me)

[Gustave Doré, ca. 1860s]

See you next time.

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld

[Follow Rex Parker on Twitter and Facebook]

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Eponymous physicist Georg / THU 8-29-24 / Musical interval like C to E flat / Question from an impatient negotiator / Founder of a Persian religion / Spouse to a trophy husband, perhaps / Military school newbie / Businessman Emanuel / Competitive gamer's forte / Fictional creature born from mud / Cap'n's subordinates / Obsolescent data storage option, for short

Constructor: Simeon Seigel

Relative difficulty: Easy-Medium (if it felt slow, keep in mind the grid is an oversized 16x15)

THEME: FOLLOW DIRECTIONS (40A: What one must do using the circled letters to solve this puzzle) — each of the four circled squares contains one of the cardinal "directions" (north south east west); the answers containing those squares change direction at the circled square, in the direction indicated by the circled square, i.e. the answer turns north after the NORTH square, west after the WEST square, etc.:

Theme answers:

• MINOR THIRD (22A: Musical interval like C to E flat)
• "SO WHERE DO WE STAND?" (5D: Question from an impatient negotiator)
• HOLDS OUT HOPE (53A: Keeps the faith)
• IKEA STORE (42D: Furniture outlet with an average size of 300,000 square feet, or five football fields)

Word of the Day: ARI Emanuel (16D: Businessman Emanuel) —

Ariel Zev Emanuel (born 1961) is an American businessman and the CEO of Endeavor, an entertainment and media agency that owns the UFC and WWE. He was a founding partner of the Endeavor Talent Agency and was instrumental in shaping its June 2009 merger with the William Morris Agency. [...] Emanuel is the brother of former mayor of Chicago, Presidential Chief of Staff and U.S. Ambassador to Japan Rahm Emanuel, American oncologist and bioethicist Ezekiel Emanuel, and sister Shoshana Emanuel. [...]

Emanuel's relationships with his clients, coupled with his stature in the industry, has led to various homages and parodies over the years, including Bob Odenkirk's character Stevie Grant on The Larry Sanders Show, and Ari Gold, played by Jeremy Piven on the HBO television show Entourage. In 2011, Emanuel co-founded TheAudience with Sean Parker and Oliver Luckett.

An April 2002 lawsuit by agent Sandra Epstein against Endeavor Agency brought forth accusations by Epstein and other Endeavor employees against Emanuel. In the court filings, Emanuel is alleged to have allowed a friend to operate a pornographic website out of Endeavor's offices. According to Epstein, Emanuel made racist and anti-gay remarks and prevented her from sending a script about Navy SEALs to actor Wesley Snipes, saying: "That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Everyone knows that blacks don't swim." Emanuel disputed these accusations at the time. Emanuel settled Epstein's claims for $2.25 million. (wikipedia)

• • •

Interesting idea, poor execution. If you're going to have a NEWS premise, a weathervane premise, a map premise, then those directions better line up. The concept demands a certain elegance that this jumble of asymmetrical circled squares does not deliver. Visually ugly. But again, the *idea* is good, and it was semi-entertaining to discover the trick, and work out the theme answers ... though once you discover the trick, the theme answers pretty much work themselves out. Took me a while to figure out what those circled squares were doing, but once I found NORTH, the EAST- SOUTH- and WEST-containing answers were instantly obvious, and the puzzle went from normal Thursday-tricky to Tuesday-simple. I did get a good 'aha' out of "SO WHERE DO WE STAND?," by far the most inventive answer in this grid. I had many letters in place but couldn't make any sense of it until the "directions" concept dropped. The revealer did a good job of revealing the premise, which became clear with the "NORTH" in MINOR THIRD, and then I looked over, plugged in "WEST," and (finally!) got "SO WHERE DO WE STAND??," so I had kind of an "oh ... Oh!" reaction. Like a double revelation. As for the other direction-answers, HOLDS OUT HOPE is a nice solution to the "SOUTH" problem, and IKEA STORE ... well, that one sucks (feels kinda redundant), but they can't all be winners (probably). I've seen direction-changing themes A Lot, and this one ... yeah, it's an interesting variation. Aesthetically sloppy, but conceptually solid.

Perhaps because the theme was architecturally demanding, the fill got a little iffy in places. Lots of places. If I could throw one answer into the sea and then retrieve said answer and shoot it into the sun, that answer would be EDUCE (12D: Extract, as from data). I have a grudge against this dumb-ass word (a word I’ve only ever seen in crosswords). It's not that it's not a word, it's that it's so displeasing to the eye and ear. Also, arbitrary Latin plurals bug the hell out of me ("arbitrary" in the sense that yes, that is how you pluralize the word in Latin, but we're not speaking Latin, are we? So stop). I'm looking at you, TOGAE, lol what a dumb-looking word. Really hated "SAY AAH," because the length of "AAH" and the "A"-to-"H" proportions, again, totally arbitrary. I've seen "SAY AH" in puzzles a bunch (24 times!). But now we can also apparently say "AAH" (this is the 3rd time).  So far no "SAY AHH," as "AHH" is generally the way you spell the sound of satisfaction or pleasure, not the sound you make at a doctor's exam, although AHH was once clued [Something to say to a doctor], so you never know. What I do know is that "SAY AAH" makes me roll my eyes. Roll out as many "A"s as you want I guess, why stop at two? Other unpleasant moments included OLAFI and CDR and lots of plurals of things that you don't normally think about in the plural. BOS'NS, for instance (34D: Cap'n's subordinates). Have you ever seen more than one at a time? Ever? I think I've only ever seen one ... in The Tempest ... and I'm not even sure I saw him. I just know someone shouts the word early on. And OKRAS? Never a fan of that plural. We're having fried okra, not OKRAS. And we're drinking Stoli, not STOLIS, come on. From awkward plurals we go to the rarely seen awkward singular: E-SPORT. Your forte is E-SPORT? Which sort of sport, Mort? One where you teleport? From court to court? I think you mean E-SPORTS, plural, which is the name of the category in question. That is the thing. E-SPORT is like ... a single ARREAR (which, thankfully, this puzzle brought more than one of) (IN ARREARS (38D: Financially behind)).

I had a couple major vowel hesitations. Was it PRIME or PRIMO!? (36D: A-one). Gotta check the crosses to find out (it's PRIMO). And as for SUGAR MOMMA ... wow, no (61A: Spouse to a trophy husband, perhaps). It's SUGAR MAMA, right? MOMMA looks so weird. The only time I'd ever use that spelling is when referring to the long-running 20th-century comic strip "MOMMA." Looks like "SUGAR MAMA" googles about 3x better than "SUGAR MOMMA," but my problem today wasn't MOMMA v. MAMA but MOMMA v. MAMMA, which also seemed possible. Isn't that how it's spelled in "MAMMA MIA!"? Yes, yes it is. Did you know that the phrase "SUGAR MOMMY" googles best of all the "SUGAR [slang for mother]" options? It's true. It googles slightly better than "SUGAR MAMA," though that may be because it is (apparently!) the title of a song.

Bullets:

• 58D: Had the best time, say (WON) — oof I did not understand this for many seconds after I got it. The clue is not referring to "having the best time" as in "enjoying oneself immensely" but rather "having the best time in the race you are competing in."
• 65D: Very basic cleaner (LYE) — "basic" here refers to pH level. LYE has a pH level around 13 or 14—anything over 7 is "basic"; don't normally love the "successive paired clues" gambit, but I did like how the meaning of "basic" changes from one answer (63D: Basic cleaner: MOP) to the next.
• 37A: Aunt, in Italian (ZIA) — reflexively wrote in TIA. I figured "Italian, Spanish, both romance languages, how different can they be?" Did not see that "Z" coming. Luckily I have some (vague) idea who ZOROASTER is (37D: Founder of a Persian religion)

See you next time.

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld

[Follow Rex Parker on Twitter and Facebook]

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Title role of 1966 and 2004 / WED 8-28-24 / Units of X-ray exposure / Chicken par_ ____ in fat / Onetime studio with a broadcast tower in its logo / Participants in a 140.6-mile race / Clay figure in Jewish folklore / Bronx politician with a noted 2018 upset, familiarly / Smoothie bar supply

Constructor: Jesse Goldberg

Relative difficulty: Medium-Challenging 

THEME: answers embedded in clues — theme clues are presented with consecutive letters missing: those letters, in each case, form the *answers* to the clues:

Theme answers:

• THIGH (1A: Chicken par_ ____ in fat) (Chicken part high in fat)
• OTHER (17A: Referring t_ ___ _est) (Referring to the rest)
• ORALS (9A: Hurdles for doct____ _tudents) (Hurdles for doctoral students)
• DEATH (19A: I___ __at terrifies thanatophobes) (Idea that terrifies thanatophobes)
• ATONED (32A: Made amends for wh__ ___ _id) (Made amends for what one did)
• SHOVERS (39A: They pu__ ____ _tuff) (They push over stuff)
• KLINGON (41A: "Star Tre_" ____ _ot heard on the original series) ("Star Trek" lingo not heard on the original series)
• RASCAL (48A: Another word fo_ _ ____awag) (Another word for a scalawag)
• DRAIN (61A: Street feature needed after a har_ ___) (Street feature needed after a hard rain)
• STAKE (69A: It'_ ____n on a vampire hunt) (It's taken on a vampire hunt)
• NINTH (65A: Pitcher's positio_ __ __e lineup, historically) (Pitcher's position in the lineup, historically)
• STORM (71A: Tempe__ __ _onsoon) ("Tempest or monsoon")

Word of the Day: ROENTGENS (10D: Units of X-ray exposure) —

The roentgen or röntgen (/ˈrɛntɡən, -dʒən, ˈrʌnt-/; symbol R) is a legacy unit of measurement for the exposure of X-rays and gamma rays, and is defined as the electric charge freed by such radiation in a specified volume of air divided by the mass of that air (statcoulomb per kilogram). In 1928, it was adopted as the first international measurement quantity for ionizing radiation to be defined for radiation protection, as it was then the most easily replicated method of measuring air ionization by using ion chambers. It is named after the German physicist Wilhelm Röntgen, who discovered X-rays and was awarded the first Nobel Prize in Physics for the discovery. (wikipedia)

• • •

[ALFIE & Ida]

I have one word written at the top of my puzzle and that word is "painful." The concept here (undoubtedly clever) becomes tedious and contrived when stretched out over so many clues and answers. Further, the theme is entirely in the clues, not the grid, which always feels ... backward to me. You've got a fairly boring grid, and then clues that are made tortured and inscrutable just for the sake of this theme. And five-letter themers? Who wants that, over and over and over, all the small corners choked with *two* of these absurd missing-letter clues. And that's another thing: you've got So Much Theme. Twelve theme answers? Twelve times I have to do this!?!? I would much (much much) prefer a theme concept that's interesting x 4 than a theme concept that's clunky and awkward x 12 (12?!). More is not better. More is slower, though—the themers frequently slowed me down because who would ever speak or write this way? Who would call "Klingon" a "lingo" (It's A Language) and who would call *anything* SHOVERS? SHOVERS? A total non-word—and in the plural?! SMH. So I was noticeably slower today than I would normally be on a Wednesday, if only because the small corners—areas that would normally take the least amount of time to blow through—were thickly laden with theme gunk. Also, I completely forgot the word ROENTGENS. The entire front end, just ... nothing. Had to work every cross. My Father Was A Radiologist. SMH. Unpleasant *and* slow—never a great combo. 

The longer answers have nothing thematic to do, so they just ... hang out there. In a puzzle like this, with almost all the thematic interest in the short(er) stuff, those longer answers have a kind of moral obligation to be dazzling, but (perhaps because there are So Many Themers clogging up the grid), they are just average. Not bad, not great. ROENTGENS may be the most interesting of the lot. On the whole, it's a very plain, average-to-below-average grid. I want to complain about HOR ISON ACER AMNIO and other overfamiliar short stuff, but honestly there's not more of that in this puzzle than there is in your typical NYTXW puzzle. This grid isn't bad, it's blah. Well, it's bad in that it's urine-soaked—it's got both PEE *and* a pee-allusive clue on JOHNS (66A: Going places?) (i.e. places for going, i.e. places for going to the bathroom). The fact that PEE is (cryptically) clued as a letter (44A: Snap back?, i.e. the "back"–or last letter—of the word "snap"), doesn't remove the PEE stain. When you're looking at a grid and see PEE in there, you're not thinking "ooh, the letter 'P'"; you're thinking "great, urine, just what I wanted in the middle of my puzzle." Again, if the JOHNS clue hadn't steered directly into the bathroom, then PEE would've been more innocuous. But the JOHNS clue couldn't lay off the toilet "joke," and so now the two answers seem like a subtheme. A very unfortunate subtheme.

[Glynis JOHNS]

The only real difficulty came from putting the themers together, but as I said, there was so much putting themers together that the whole puzzle became (relatively) slow. This puzzle lost me on the first themer, which came *immediately* at 1-Across. I have never thought of chicken thighs in terms of their fat content. Also, I saw "Chicken par-" and thought for sure that the answer was going to have something to do with "chicken parm." Alas, no. Hardest part of the grid for me to get into was the west, as I couldn't get AT HOME from -ME (35A: Comfortable) and couldn't get SHOVERS at all because there's no such thing as SHOVERS what the hell? Also, "shoving" and "pushing over" are different things, the latter being way more extreme than mere "shoving." My god that answer is bad on every level. Outside the theme, there was just my blanking on the ROEN- part of ROENTGENS and then ... I dunno, STIR? (59D: Energize). That clue was weird. Not sure I know how STIR = "energize." If I STIR ... something, I don't energize it, really. If I STIR someone, I move them, maybe, emotionally, but "energize?" I guess the act of stirring does involve the addition of energy (in some basic sense) to the mix, but that clue was opaque to me. Nothing else terribly tricky going on here today. Getting through that theme is enough of a challenge.

[ALFIE, age 2 mos., 2020]

Notes:

• 15A: Bronx politician with a noted 2018 upset, familiarly (AOC) — she's such an established figure now that I totally forgot that her initial victory was an "upset." 
• 16A: Clay figure in Jewish folklore (GOLEM) — you should watch Alex Edelman's comedy special Just For Us (on Max). It's not about GOLEMs or folklore at all, but it is very much Jewish, and very much hilarious. I watched it yesterday after hearing Edelman on Conan's podcast ("Conan O'Brien Needs a Friend"), and ... well, if I explain it too much, I'll ruin it. Basically ... Jewish guy goes to a white nationalist get-together and lives to do a comedy special about it—that's the premise. I cackled alone on my couch for an hour+. Good stuff.

• 67A: Smoothie bar supply (ICE) — lose the "Smoothie" part. Like, "Smoothies" does not really evoke ICE and you don't even need that word in the clue. It's totally, utterly, completely superfluous. Like a fly in your soup. Look: [Bar supply] = ICE. See how nice that is. So clean, so pleasant, so direct. Tidy. Elegant. I can't believe "smoothie bar" is still a thing. I can barely bring myself to say "smoothie." The only bar I want to have anything to do with serves cocktails, and if I want a thick, sweet drink, I'll order a shake or a malt like a normal person.

Good day! See you next time.

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld

[Follow Rex Parker on Twitter and Facebook]

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Pyramus' beloved, in myth / TUES 8-27-24 / "You're the One That I Want," for one / Hawaiian goose / Stark daughter on "Game of Thrones"

Hello, everyone! It’s Clare for the last Tuesday in August. I’m currently recovering from jet lag (and sickness) after a lovely trip to the south of France last week! My sister and I managed to pack our quick trip with beaches and cliffs in Cassis, the streets of Marseilles, a lavender field in Aix-en-Provence, wine tasting in Nîmes, and a gorgeous chateau in Redessan for a friend’s wedding. (Side note: French weddings last a loong time. We didn’t even get on the dance floor until after midnight, and we got back to our hotel around 4 a.m.) Still, the best part of the trip was that my body tolerated the gluten (wheat is somehow less processed in Europe), so I ate my weight in bread and pastries. But now, it’s back to work I go in what is an especially hectic time for me. But oh, well, at least I have crosswords (and endless sports, of course) to keep my mind off things. 

Anywho, on to the puzzle…

Constructor: Julia Hoepner

Relative difficulty: Easy-medium

THEME: BAD BREAKUP (68A: Messy end to a relationship, with a hint to this puzzle's shaded squares) — The shaded squares are synonyms for “bad” that are broken up by black squares

Theme answers:

• MANDELBROT — TENT 
• AGNOSTIC — KYOTO 
• POEM — ALIGN — ANTI 
• MY HAT — EDNA MODE 
• RONA — STYLE GUIDE

Word of the Day: MANDELBROT (17A: Mathematician Benoit ___, coiner of the word "fractal") —

Benoit B. Mandelbrot was a Polish-born French-American mathematician and polymath with broad interests in the practical sciences, especially regarding what he labeled as "the art of roughness" of physical phenomena and "the uncontrolled element in life". He referred to himself as a "fractalist" and is recognized for his contribution to the field of fractal geometry, which included coining the word "fractal", as well as developing a theory of "roughness and self-similarity" in nature. (WIKI)

• • •

That was a rather cute puzzle, especially considering it’s the constructor’s debut. The revealer was a nice payoff and really solidified my feelings about the puzzle. I still didn’t love all of it — it seemed that there was a little more crosswordese than usual to make the theme (and construction) work. But overall, I thought it was a great debut, and the theme made up for some of the other aspects I was prepared to be more meh about. 

This puzzle was one of the rare occasions where the theme actually helped me with the solve. I also think it’s visually appealing that the puzzle is sort of, kind of symmetrical. You just have to slice it in half horizontally and rotate the bottom 180 degrees. Easy peasy. In terms of the theme answers, I really liked the way MALIGNANT is split twice in the long, marquee spot. I think HATED worked the least — it seems to be the odd one out because the other words are much more commonly used as adjectives. (I do acknowledge that the Baltimore football team’s name has become the HATED Ravens.) 

My favorite answers were some of the longer ones. ESCAPE ROOM (14A: Social activity that one tries to get out of?) was clever and funny. I will always like anything and everything with EDNA MODE (50A: Fashion designer in "The Incredibles") in it; she’s an icon. STYLE GUIDE (63A: Copywriter's handbook) worked really well, and my sister is literally a copy editor, so I’ve heard about the AP Stylebook a million and one times (and have even asked her to consult it for me as I’m doing these write-ups). And even though I didn’t know who Benoit MANDELBROT (17A) was before today’s crossword, that’s a cool name, and I now know a lot more about fractals. 

Another answer I liked was EGBDF (35D: Musical staff letters), which looks all sorts of ugly and confusing but actually makes a lot of sense and is fun. (My piano teacher taught me the mnemonic device “Every Good Boy Does Fine” to remember the bass clef notes.) Having IMHO (52A: Start of a texter's two cents) and CHIME IN (55A: Give one's two cents) as mirror clues that sit on top of each other was nice. AREPA (36A: Cornmeal cake in Colombian cuisine), which I mentioned in my last write-up three weeks ago, is back in the puzzle, and that’s a word (and a food) I will always love. PERUSE (15D: Read carefully ... or leisurely) is a great word; I’d never really thought about the fact that it’s a contronym that can mean to read either carefully or in a leisurely way. 

I flew through this puzzle to start but then slowed. I had a hard time with GUT FLORA (10D: Micro-organisms in the digestive tract) because apparently, I don’t take good enough care of my gut. I didn’t know LBO (65D: Wall St. acquisition) because apparently, I don’t follow the stock market enough (or at all). I’d forgotten HOTH (56D: Ice planet in "The Empire Strikes Back") until I got the first two letters from the acrosses (apparently, I should rewatch “Star Wars”). I thought the answer was “seedy” instead of NEEDY (28D: Down-and-out). I also hate “RONA” (62A) as slang for COVID-19, so my brain refused to see that as an option for a while. 

Some of the rest of the puzzle wasn’t overly exciting, such as TEN TO (31D: Fifty minutes past the hour) (which could have been “ten of”) or MADE DO (4D: Worked with what's available). And clue/answers such as ERM (66D: Indecisive sound) could truly have been many different three-letter words. ABET, AIDE, ANTI, LSAT, CEL, ORB, TITLE, etc., just did nothing for me. But even some of the more basic answers — such as PRE (33A: Lead-in to algebra or calculus), NOR (7D: "Water, water, every where, / ___ any drop to drink": "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner"), and GENE (12D: Apt name for a DNA expert?) — seemed clued in slightly different ways than the norm, which I appreciated.

Misc.:

• You’d best believe I got EARL (25A: Rank above viscount) in a split second because of the number of historical romances I’ve read (and watched). 
• Weirdly enough, I got THISBE (49D: Pyramus' beloved, in myth) pretty quickly because of a YA romance book I read years ago called “Along for the Ride,” where the main character’s father is obsessed with Greek mythology and names her half-sister THISBE. So once I had a couple of letters filled in, I was golden. 
• When my sister and I were in France, we rented a car and checked — and checked again and again — that the car we were getting was automatic and not MANUAL (51D: Not automatic). Thankfully, it all worked out. And driving in France wasn’t too bad, except that there were so many roundabouts. Like, we really couldn’t go more than a kilometer without a roundabout. And at most of them, we just continued straight anyway. 
• Gotta say I’m glad that I took the LSAT (2D: Future J.D.'s exam) when the logic games were still a section on the test. They were by far my favorite (and best) section. And I confess that I still randomly do logic games like these to this day and time myself because I think they’re really fun.

Signed, Clare Carroll, whose body is saying it’s 6 a.m. in France even though the brain knows it’s midnight in DC.

[Follow Rex Parker on Twitter and Facebook]

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Coastal African desert / MON 8-26-24 / Athleisure lead-in to "lemon" / Popular dance fitness program

Constructor: Zachary David Levy

Relative difficulty: Easy-Medium (solved Downs-only) (finished with an error, though)

THEME: TRIPLE WORD SCORE (58A: Coveted Scrabble space ... or the sheet music for 16-, 21-, 34- or 51-Across?)  — song titles where a single word is tripled:

Theme answers:

• "GIMME GIMME GIMME" (16A: Abba hit of 1979)
• "BYE BYE BYE" (21A: 'N Sync hit of 2000)
• "GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS" (34A: Mötley Crüe hit of 1987)
• "FUN FUN FUN" (51A: Beach Boys hit of 1964)

Word of the Day: NAMIB (4D: Coastal African desert) —

The Namib (/ˈnɑːmɪb/ NAH-mib; Portuguese: Namibe) is a coastal desert in Southern Africa. According to the broadest definition, the Namib stretches for more than 2,000 kilometres (1,200 mi) along the Atlantic coasts of Angola, Namibia, and northwest South Africa, extending southward from the Carunjamba River in Angola, through Namibia and to the Olifants River in Western Cape, South Africa. The Namib's northernmost portion, which extends 450 kilometres (280 mi) from the Angola-Namibia border, is known as Moçâmedes Desert, while its southern portion approaches the neighboring Kalahari Desert. From the Atlantic coast eastward, the Namib gradually ascends in elevation, reaching up to 200 kilometres (120 mi) inland to the foot of the Great Escarpment. Annual precipitation ranges from 2 millimetres (0.079 in) in the aridest regions to 200 millimetres (7.9 in) at the escarpment, making the Namib the only true desert in southern Africa. Having endured arid or semi-arid conditions for roughly 55–80 million years, the Namib may be the oldest desert in the world and contains some of the world's driest regions, with only western South America's Atacama Desert to challenge it for age and aridity benchmarks. (wikipedia)

• • •

This is one I definitely appreciated more when I got the revealer *and* looked at the theme-answer clues. Before that, solving Downs-only, it was just a lot of repeated-word phrases, and even when I got TRIPLE WORD SCORE, I didn't see the musical connection. But now, seeing that all the theme answers are songs, the "SCORE" pun becomes clear. I think of "SCORE" as music composed for a movie, but it's also just the "copy of a musical composition in printed or written notation" (merriam-webster dot com). I also think of "sheet music" as primarily orchestral—it's definitely not a phrase I'd put anywhere near Mötley Crüe, for instance—but there's "sheet music" for all kinds of music (even "GIRLS, GIRLS, GIRLS"), so even though the "sheet music" bit feels a *little* preposterous, on a technical level, it works. The theme is, by its nature, repetitive, and those theme answers were (therefore) really easy to get solving Downs-only, but still, conceptually, with *that* revealer, it's pretty good. 

The fill on this one seemed far far less good. I tripped all over myself trying to make sense of the NAMIB / IN-APP / GAEL / ALY part as I started the puzzle (and really winced at ALY, considering I'd *just* written in ALI). And oof, the partials. A LEAK!? Trying to make sense of that when I couldn't see the Across clues was painful. It would've been painful, if somewhat easier, even if I could've seen the clue—it's really a horrible partial, and then we get *another* very bad-feeling partial?!? ("I'M OF"). Why the hell does a supremely easy Monday puzzle have two egregious partials? The craftsmanship really should be better—the fill much smoother—on early-week puzzles. But I had to stumble through stale and bygone fill of all kinds. "I CAME"? Ugh, I'm calling that a "partial" too, that makes three, that's too many. LUV, PRE, SCI, GAR ... OLA!? OXO? There's way way too much subpar stuff. ORES and OARS, ABUT and ATOP, SSW and SFPD ... these are innocuous on their own, but today they're part of a tidal wave of gunk. When my Downs-only adventures left me with T-SHAPE (!?!?!?), I sincerely thought I had something wrong.

There was almost no part of the solve where I thought things looked polished, bright, and clean. And after suffering through all the unloveliness, I ended up with an error, ugh. I had RIP BY instead of ZIP BY because RUMBA looked so good (in a way that ZUMBA, which I haven't heard anyone refer to in well over a decade, absolutely does not). I guess ZIP BY is more of a real phrase than RIP BY, but RUMBA > ZUMBA (in my head). Also, the "quickly fly past" in the clue made it seem like the clue was referring to time, and the years really do RIP BY as you get older, so honestly, I didn't really blink at that "R." Bah and humbug.

Bullets:

• 14A: Popular dance fitness program (ZUMBA) — is it, though? Popular? It seems about as "popular" as TAE BO, which I *also* encounter exclusively in crosswords (and thrift stores that sell VHS tapes from the '90s). I get whatever "fitness" I have from going to the gym (2x/week) and running. I ran my first 10K yesterday. Very slowly (finished 9th out of 11 in my gender/age category), but I did it.

• 43A: Pennsylvania governor Josh (SHAPIRO) — it took a Vice Presidential sweepstakes for me to learn the name of the governor of the Giant State Located About Ten Miles South Of My House. Even though SHAPIRO wasn't Harris's ultimate choice, seems like his profile was raised quite a bit this summer. And yet not so much that he's the Top SHAPIRO in my brain. Since I solved Downs-only, I couldn't see the SHAPIRO clue, and so I assumed (given the NYTXW's eternal love for all things NPR) that the SHAPIRO in question would be Ari. 
• 4D: Coastal African desert (NAMIB) — putting this together without Acrosses was rough. I just had a hard time convincing myself that NAMIB was a thing. I wrote it in and then stared at it like "er ... uh ... I dunno ... am I misremembering that? It looks ... bad." But nope, it's good. The trivia-retrieval part of my brain is still minimally operative. Good to know.
• 24D: Man's name that's a fruit spelled backward (EMIL) — All the MULPs out there are like "Damn! It's EMIL again. Some day ..."
• 39D: Athleisure lead-in to "lemon" (LULU) — If there's an uglier fashion word than "athleisure," I don't know what it is. It sounds like an affliction, not a clothing type. Like lesions you get from athletics, maybe. I know LULUlemon (one word? ... yes, one word) as a popular brand of yoga apparel. I guess they've branched out. The LULU really doesn't stand on its own. If you need a self-standing LULU, may I suggest ...

• 60D: Kitchen brand with a palindromic name (OXO) — at least we're spared the "Losing tic-tac-toe" line of cluing today. Small blessings. 

See you next time.

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld

[Follow Rex Parker on Twitter and Facebook]

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