Constructor: Kevin Christian and Andrea Carla Michaels
Relative difficulty: Easy (solved Downs-only)
THEME: SCATTERSHOT (61A: All over the place ... or a hint to the circled letters in 16-, 25-, 39- and 48-Across) — letters "S" "H" "O" and "T" are "scattered" (non-consecutively) inside longer answers (in circled squares):
Theme answers:
SQUASH COURT (16A: Walled area for a racket sport)
SMASHMOUTH (25A: Band with the 1999 triple-platinum hit "All Star")
"JUST THIS ONE TIME" (39A: "Pretty please? I won't ask again")
This was pretty listless, as these types of themes go. The whole endeavor felt very dated, very old. Like, self-consciously old. Almost like the puzzle was doing a bit. I haven't seen a puzzle with this kind of non-consecutive letter theme for a while. They were more prevalent decades ago, but unless the concept is smashing, they generally seem kind of musty and passé these days. I don't think SCATTERSHOT is fresh enough or interesting enough to make the theme seem worth it. I guessed the revealer well before I even got there. The staleness extended beyond the theme, though. The fill ... I either winced or exclaimed "What!?" or laughed when I got to 17D: Brother on TV's "Bonanza" (HOSS). I knew it, but only from having done a million crosswords in the late 20th century and early '00s. "We're still doing HOSS?" is probably what I said, now that I think of it (this is the 106th NYTXW appearance of HOSS, but the first in five years and the first Bonanza-related clue in six). And HOSS came on the tail of a rather unpromising string of Downs (INURE, NSA, GEST).
Going back at least 50 years, we've also got RHODA (love her! but today, with so much other old stuff in the grid, she just makes the grid seem older). Also the E.R.A. (as clued). And TALIA Shire in the Godfather movies. Also Superman (in the "IT'S" clue) (65A: Word before "a bird," "a plane" and "Superman!"). And L'IL Abner (so many LILs out there, why this one when the puzzle already leans so ostentatiously into the far past?). And an Elvis song for SHOOK. And NAT King Cole. Even [Sergeant's superior, slangily] felt like a thing people would've been much more familiar with a half century+ ago than now. Almost all these things are before *my* time, and I am ... less and less young. Even the thing that is from Exactly my time is, I have to admit, quite old (19A: "___ Lips Are Sealed" (1981 Go-Go's hit) ("OUR")). First album I bought with my own money, that Go-Go's album—Beauty and the Beat— at the Wherehouse Records in the Fashion Fair Mall, Fresno, CA. I think I picked up Billy Squier's Don't Say No as well. Good times. This puzzle, in both theme concept and fill, was less of a good time. It's fine to wax nostalgic, but this is taking it all a little far. The crusty, overfamiliar fill (EIEIO ONEK OSE REFI NSA INURE GEST LOOIE) only makes the datedness more apparent. I do think the theme answers have some charm all on their own, though "JUST THIS ONE TIME" really really would rather be "JUST THIS ONCE" (in that it seems much more like what one would actually say). The clue on GHOSTS stands out for its relative currency (46D: Ends a relationship with by suddenly cutting off communication). I also like LITHUANIA. Challenged my geographical knowledge (totally forgot the capital was Vilnius). This is the sixth LITHUANIA appearance in NYTXW history. There was once a 56-year gap between LITHUANIA appearances (1953-2009). Not a fun fact, exactly, but a weird one.
No real challenge today for the Downs-only solver (i.e. me). Took a few inferred crosses for me to pick up LITHUANIA, as I say. I idiotically wanted "FIRED" and "RILED" before having a massive "Duh" + D'oh!" moment with "SHOOK" (26D: "All ___ Up" (Elvis #1 hit)). [Bogeymen] seem like something other, something more specific than MONSTERS, so that also took some crossing. Otherwise, no issues. Saw right through the "trick" clue at 1D: Firing offense? (ARSON), and mostly cruised the rest of the way.
That's all for today. See you next time.
Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld
[Follow Rex Parker on BlueSky and Facebook and Letterboxd] ============================= ❤️ Support this blog ❤️:
THEME: "Relatively Speaking" — familiar phrases that begin with -ER words are clued as if those words are comparative adjectives:
Theme answers:
LITTERBUG (22A: Fireflyvis-à-vis a fruit fly?) (because fireflies are "bugs" that are more "lit" than fruit flies)
OLIVER STONE (24A: Peridotvis-à-vis jade?) (... Peridot is a "stone" that is more "olive" than jade)
BUTCHER BLOCK (34A: Muscle Beachvis-à-vis Venice Beach?) (... Muscle Beach is a "block"[???!] that is more "butch" [rly?] than Venice Beach)
LIGHTER FLUID (49A: Oilvis-à-vis water?) (... oil is a "fluid" that is "lighter" than water)
SHUTTERFLY (63A: Zipper upvis-à-vis zipper down?) (... zipper up is a "fly" position that is more "shut" than zipper down)
BUFFER ZONE (67A: Weight roomvis-à-vis the cardio room?) (... a weight room is a "zone" that ... uh ... has more "buff" people in it than a cardio room does [rly?])
EASTER ISLAND (82A: Mauivis-à-vis Oahu?) (... Maui is an "island" that is farther "east" than Oahu)
BOMBER JACKET (94A: Blazervis-à-vis a windbreaker?) (... a blazer is a "jacket" that is ... uh ... somehow more "bomb" [infinite "?!?] than a windbreaker is)
SOONER STATE (109A: Delawarevis-à-vis the other 12 colonies?) (... Delaware was made a "state" more "soon" than any other state)
HYPERTEXT (111A: "OMG THIS IS AWESOME!!!!" vis-à-vis "good job i guess"?) (... that first all-caps bit is "text" that is ... more "hype" [again, I say, "!???"] ... than the latter all lower-case bit)
Word of the Day:Yokokimthurston(46A: Music artist on the 2012 album "Yokokimthurston" => ONO) —
Yokokimthurston (stylized in all caps) is a collaborative album by Yoko Ono, Kim Gordon and Thurston Moore, released by Chimera Music on September 25, 2012. "Early in the Morning" was released as a single, on June 5, 2012. The cover is from a Kim Gordon painting. // According to the review aggregator Metacritic, Yokokimthurston received "mixed or average reviews" based on a weighted average score of 57 out of 100 from 13 critic scores. On another aggregator AnyDecentMusic?, it was given an average of 4.3 out of 10 based on 8 reviews. (wikipedia) // "But if a collaboration between these three was inevitable, its timing is uncanny: It represents Moore and Gordon's first musical release together since announcing their separation after 27 years of marriage. While it would be overly presumptuous to believe that Moore and Gordon's union here has any bearing on the future of their relationship, it's heartening that they've chosen to spend this moment of their lives with Ono, a woman who understands all too well the difficult dance between creativity and matrimony. As such, YOKOKIMTHURSTON is not so much a decibel-bursting showcase for the Queen of Noise and her unruly understudies as a conversation between intimates speaking in tongues and tangles-- a voyeuristic glimpse into a private, discomfiting exchange." (pitchfork) [ed.: Kim Gordon and Thurston Moore are founding members of the seminal noise rock / post-punk band Sonic Youth]
• • •
Visceral negative reaction to this one. Much of the fill is just off-putting to me on a personal level. AI SLOP will never not be slop, Scott BAIO is a noted right-wing ****wit (sharer of Sandy Hook conspiracy memes—among other disgusting fringe lunacy—and alleged molester of his underage costar), and BOTTED can absolutely shoot itself into the sun, the SOONER the better (94D: Like a video with an inflated view count, maybe). What a horrible awful no-good very bad "word." BOTTED. BOTTED. That is a life de-affirming "word." I can barely look at it (it's a debut, of course). I refuse to believe UV TATTOOS are real. No, I believe they're real, but I hate that I now know they exist. What are ... what ... why? (3D: Artistic designs that glow under black light). Straining for a "cool" "modern" answer and coming up with ear-rotting eye-bleeding garbage. I do not understand the sensibility. But the bigger problem for me today was the theme, which ... when it worked, it worked, but when it didn't, boy did it not. There are several things I just can't get my brain around. The first is the idea that a "beach" is a "BLOCK." Maybe both the beaches in that clue (34A) take up exactly one city block, is that right? Or is "BLOCK" here just "a BLOCK of land, such as a beach"? In which case ... what??? Also, is one beach really "butcher" than the other? Do "muscles" make you "butch?" What do the people of Venice Beach look like? Waifish? Terminology is not computing. I actually think BUFFER ZONE works better for the beach clue than it does for the gym clue (67A). Like, a lot better, since in the gym clue, it's not the gyms themselves but the people in them that are more or less "buff." But I guess that's true of the beaches too. You see how messy this all is.
But I haven't even gotten to the two themers that make the least sense to me. HYPERTEXT ... how can something be "more hype"? I get that there is more hype (i.e. enthusiasm) involved in an all-caps "text" than an all-lowercase one, but these "-ER" words are supposed to be comparative adjectives and ... if "hype" is an adjective, then I am too old to know it. And I'll say the same thing about "bomb." Moreso. I've heard of something being "the bomb," as in cool or fashionable, but if something is "bomb" it's ... what? A blazer is more bomb than a windbreaker? Is it an issue of formality? I am both at sea and ASEA (88: Not on solid ground). It's completely possible that there's just some Gen Z slang, some bending of pre-existing slang that I don't get, or hear, or whatever, but my god BOMBER and HYPER are fingernailing the chalkboard of my soul. I thought some of the theme answers actually worked pretty nicely—the ones that involved totally made-up comparative adjectives, like LITTER and OLIVER and SHUTTER and EASTER. The whole concept loses a little of its pizzazz when the -ER word is already a comparative adjective (e.g. SOONER, LIGHTER). But it's the beach answer and especially the BUFFER and HYPER answers that really did this one in.
ENOCH EZRA EYRE EIRE ARYA ONO UMA EVITE. There, I got that out of my system. Why are you hiding the gender of the FANGIRL in that clue??? (68D: One displaying enthusiastic devotion). So weird. Crossing "UH, NO" and "OH, OK"—not OK. SIGN crossing SEGNO, not much better. Cross-referencing them doesn't make me like SEGNO any better (37A: Dal ___ (musical notation)). Let's play some Dolly Parton and move on to bullet points:
[96D: Dolly Parton classic]
Bullets:
73A: Man's name that means "prosperous" in Arabic (YASIR) — one of the tougher names in the grid, made tougher by the fact that I had FERROUS running through there (instead of FERRITE) and I have no idea who EZRA Jack Keats is. With one cross an error and the other a mystery, YASIR took more effort than most things in this grid.
18D: Cover letters, say? (TEACH) — oof. I love when I figure out the "?" clue and it's clever or funny. This was not one of those times. TEACH KINDERGARTEN, maybe (in what other teaching context would you "cover letters"?). But just TEACH? Boo. I hiss at that answer.
39D: Richard who had his first starring role in 1978's "Days of Heaven" (GERE) — a beautiful man, a beautiful movie. Also a beautiful man—Oliver Reed in The Devils (1971), which has been rereleased and is in theaters now (I saw it yesterday). What a shocking, funny, fantastic film.
80D: Typical landing page, online (HOME) — why did you need to go "online" yet again for this one? Was AISLOP and BOTTED not enough? Can we not just let HOME be ... somewhere else? Something likable? Anywhere non-digital? That would be nice.
That's all for today. See you next time.
Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld
P.S. Jeff Chen wants you to know that he has recently launched two daily word games: Pair Down and Squeezy. If you're looking to add more word games to your daily menu, give them a try. They're fun.
[Follow Rex Parker on BlueSky and Facebook and Letterboxd] ============================= ❤️ Support this blog ❤️:
Word of the Day: ELI Stowers (34A: N.F.L. tight end Stowers) —
Elijah Stowers (born April 15, 2003) is an American professional footballtight end for the Philadelphia Eagles of the National Football League (NFL). He played college football for the Texas A&M Aggies, New Mexico State Aggies, and Vanderbilt Commodores, winning the 2025 John Mackey Award with Vanderbilt before being selected by the Eagles in the second round of the 2026 NFL draft. (wikipedia) // “Unfortunately, throughout camp Stowers hasn’t shown much to get excited about as a receiver or as a blocker. He has not exhibited the explosive traits that are in his body, he has sometimes looked tentative as a blocker, and he simply hasn’t made catches further than, like, 10 yards down the field. The guess here is that Stowers is swimming mentally, trying to learn an offense while acclimating to the speed of the NFL. He’s thinking, and not just playing. The hope is that in time he will catch up mentally and begin playing fast. // But for now, Stowers is unplayable, and likely to be a gameday inactive. He is also currently on the shelf with a hamstring injury." (Jimmy Kempski, Philly Voice, via heavy.com)
• • •
I had things to say, but am now completely distracted by ELI Stowers. This has to be the flimsiest, most obscure sports clue in history. The young man has played precisely zero games of regular-season N.F.L. football. None. He was drafted by the Eagles, and is currently on the team, so calling him an "N.F.L. tight end" is technically correct, but ... yeesh. If you can put ELI Stowers in a puzzle, you can literally put any member of any sports franchise in the history of the four major American sports in a puzzle. I demand to see Mike TIMLIN in a grid! An absolute workhorse of a relief pitcher—18 seasons in the bigs, four World Series championships. Getting dudes out in big games well into his forties. But so far, zero TIMLINs in the NYTXW. Also, zero MIKEs clued as Timlin. But one ELI Stowers, who, I repeat, has not played a game. Correction: ELI Stowers played in precisely one preseason game before getting injured. That's it. The end. I mean, hopefully not the end of his career. I wish him well, hope he goes on to do great things, but when I say he has done absolutely nothing to earn crossworthiness as an "N.F.L. tight end," please understand that this is a literal description of the truth and not a judgment call. He has played literally no regulation minutes. He was a second-round pick. Maybe the constructor is from Philly or went to Vanderbilt (where Stowers played college ball)??? I have no idea otherwise how you explain this ELI. Lucky for me (and probably lots of solvers), ELI was very easy to come up with, because almost every other answer in this grid was a cinch.
I haven't done a Saturday this easy in a long time. Took me about half the time of Friday's puzzle. Crazy remedial. The grid is very smooth, so hurray for that, and I got a great feeling of whoosh-whoosh zoom-zoom on this one, for sure, but unlike with yesterday, the clues didn't really seem to be trying. ELI's obscurity makes it a massive outlier—almost all the answers in the grid were familiar to me today, and the clues did almost nothing to hide them from me. I took one look at 1A: Doves, mentally filled in PEACENIKS, started in on the crosses, and the dam just broke:
Look at all that solid coverage I had, all inside of twenty seconds or so. From there I was able to PILE ON the answers, starting with PILE ON, then INEPT, EPT. Both the other longer Acrosses were obvious from there, and very shortly I had finished the top and broken into the center via an obvious S---T at 18A: Speak recklessly, with "off" (SPOUT). From there, everything in the center went up in flames. I don't think more than 90 seconds or so had gone by before I was here:
From there, all the middle Acrosses are Monday-easy. And on the sides of the grid, I'm really well set up to crush those long answers, with all the initial letters in place. First thing to go: SLEEP-DEPRIVED (11D: Like many new parents). From there, work the short crosses and boom, east side done. I think that maybe it will be hard to round the corner into the bottom of the grid, since I'll be coming at those long Acrosses from the back end. But no...
It's true I botched one of the crosses here (YEN for SEN) (53D: Cent : U.S. :: ___ : Japan), and I weirdly couldn't think of a three-letter univ. ending in "L" at first (CAL), but AWARE MENSA MANTA went in one two three, and so those little three-letter hiccups didn't stand a chance against the momentum of my onslaught. Rounded the last corner and, aided by YEAST (23A: Sourdough starter component) and ADELE (38A: Singer who had us at "Hello"?) (again, just child's-placemat-level clues), I handled the west coast easily. Again, my biggest problems there were with the short stuff, specifically IFSO (which I had as ALSO and then ERGO before finally straightening things out) (43A: "Following that .."). I wasn't timing myself, but this would've been a sub-4-minute Saturday, which, for me, is record territory. I do love the feeling of speed and power that comes with slaying a Saturday so easily, but I think I like wrestling with clever cluing more. Great grid, but weak cluing, and not an ounce of Saturday fight in it.
Bullets:
10A: The practice of growing plants without soil (HYDROPONICS) — never even saw the clue. Had the thing almost filled in before I ever considered it, and then the missing letters were obvious. Thing is, if I had looked at the clue with zero letters in place, I still would've gotten it. Easy. The clues, as I say, just seemed like they weren't in the game (kinda like ELI Stowers so far this season)
17A: What might get filled up around dinnertime (OVEN) — weird attempt at double-cluing led to two of the less transparent answers in the grid: PITA and OVEN. In a doubled clue scenario, there's always one answer that feels like a stretch. Today, it's PITA. I mean, yes, you can "fill" a PITA with ... whatever, but it's a bizarrely specific food item, as opposed to OVEN, which is a general thing that might be used at "dinnertime" worldwide. But at least the clues showed a tiny amount of life here.
41A: Ball game in which you call your shots (H-O-R-S-E) — in case you're unfamiliar:
3D: Butter up? (ARIES) — the puzzle's finest hour, at least as far as cluing goes. I had no idea, even with the "A." Once I got the "ARI-" I had a nice aha moment. "Butter" = "one who butts" = ram, and the ram that is "up" (in the sky, as a constellation) is ARIES. A great, clean, concise "?" clue.
22A: Tip of Baja? (PESO) — wanted "B" or "A" here (the tips of the word "Baja"), but no, it's money you might leave as a tip. One PESO. I'm not aware of the current conversion rates, but I don't think that's much of a tip.
9D: Ubiquitous head coverings (SCALPS) — I kinda like this clue. After scanning my mental inventory of hat types, I thought "wait, if they're truly 'ubiquitous,' then they're Everywhere ... but hats are culturally specific, so ... must be anatomical?" Bingo.
13D: Becomes less interesting over time (LOSES LUSTER) — a fine answer, and maybe the only longer answer that made me hesitate—I needed a few crosses to get LUSTER to come to me.
29D: Norma who gave Sally Field her first Oscar (RAE) — crosswordese of yore. The clue is really oddly phrased. "For which Sally Field won her first Oscar" makes more sense. I'm imagining her character (or the real-life woman she was based on, Crystal Lee Sutton), standing on stage literally handing Field the statue.
30D: Photographer Goldin (NAN) — more crosswordese of yore. Both RAE and NAN were autofills. The other major NAN is editor/publisher NAN Talese. NAN is also one of the Bobbsey Twins (again, of yore). It can also be the Indian flatbread, though that typically gets a double-A spelling (it's been five years since we've seen the single-A spelling of the bread—we've seen 29 double-A NAANs since then)
That's all for today. See you next time.
Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld
[Follow Rex Parker on BlueSky and Letterboxd] ============================= ❤️ Support this blog ❤️:
Word of the Day: A Woman of Substance (2D: Emma ___, protagonist of "A Woman of Substance" (HARTE)) —
A Woman of Substance is a novel by Barbara Taylor Bradford, published in 1979. The novel is the first of a seven-book saga about the fortunes of a retail empire and the machinations of the business elite across three generations. The series, featuring Emma Harte and her family, also includes Hold the Dream, To Be the Best, Emma's Secret, Unexpected Blessings, Just Rewards and Breaking the Rules.
Barbara Taylor BradfordOBE (10 May 1933 – 24 November 2024) was a British-American best-selling novelist. Her debut novel, A Woman of Substance, was published in 1979 and sold over 30million copies worldwide. (wikipedia)
• • •
Except for SLANT RHYME (nice) (29D: Poetic device with inexact sound-alikes), the fill here wasn't that exciting to me, but I did appreciate how hard the clues were trying to make the puzzle tricky—mission largely accomplished! The grid is very clean, which is another mark in its favor, but it's also loaded with names, many of them, let's say, OLDEN, so I expect the name-haters to come out in force today. I capitalize OLDEN, even though it's not in the grid, because it was the first thing I actually put in the grid, at 1D: ___ days (times past) (THOSE). One of several mistakes that kept me from ever getting up a proper whoosh-whoosh / zoom-zoom with this thing. But back to the cavalcade of names: Bobby DARIN! Sonia HENIE! Amanda BYNES! KYRA Sedgwick! Joyce Carol OATES, RON Chernow, somebody named HARTE (checks puzzle...) ... ok, Emma HARTE, in something called A Woman of Substance (!?) (sounds familiar, but I honestly have no idea what that is, let alone what the protagonist's last name is) (see "Word of the Day," above), and finally, team captain, NITRO! IIf I left someone out, I apologize to that person. There's also Jimmy Buffet, about whom I know several things, none of which would've led me to connect him to LEIs (26A: Band at a Jimmy Buffett concert?). I was like "... OBI?" Then after the "L" showed up, I wrote in LSD ("LSD comes in 'bands' now?"). I admire the lack of real crosswordy gunk in the grid, but what I primarily remember about it, besides some clever cluing, is the names (and my mistakes, of course, but that's true with every puzzle).
I started the puzzle ... strangely. The whole OLDEN (wrong) HARTE (who?) thing in the NW forced me to abandon it, and so I ended up following crosses out of that section all the way to the NE corner, in lightly interlocking fashion:
That's about the most zoom I got out of this puzzle, blazing my way across the top, getting each new word off just one letter. After that, things settled back to a slowish but steady pace. Never totally hung up, but never really speeding either. My OLDEN mistake wasn't actually my worst (as you can see, THINK BIG managed to eliminate OLDEN). No, my worst mistake was a compound mistake that no one else on earth is likely to have made. I somehow convinced myself that the clue on 20D: Daughter of one's 9-Across was going to be a foreign-language answer. Like TIA or something. Once I pieced together MOMMA, I sincerely Still Thought 20-Down Was Foreign—like, maybe MOMMA was Italian (!?!?). And so I ultimately convinced myself that SIA was a word, primarily because I had no idea what "America's Largest Classroom" was and had put in first NEA and then PTA. So ... SIA, not SIS. This left me briefly confounded by what the hell was in my minestrone (8D: Minestrone morsel). A GREEN ... TEAL? TEAK? TEAT? I spent many seconds carefully constructing a mental image of minestrone. No TEALs, no TEATs. As I say, I dare you to find a dumber cascade of mistakes today than the one that started with me convincing myself that SIS was going to be in a foreign language, or that SIA was anything but a pop singer. Mercifully, once I fixed all that, I had no other errors for the entire second half of the puzzle.
Bullets:
14A: Annual appraisal statement ("WHAT A YEAR!") — cute. I don't know when you say this exactly (sometime in December, probably), but I can definitely imagine someone saying it.
16A: Track event won by the fastest four legs (HORSE RACE) — this clue kind of trips over itself because it wants to make you *think* the clue is about human racing, but the syntax is so awkward that it's easy to guess that they're trying to trick you. I actually thought they were trying to reverse-psychology trick me—like, the clue was so obviously suggesting horsiness that it must actually be about a relay race. But no, it's horses.
19A: Ensemble piece (ACCESSORY) — from not-humans-but-horses to not-music-but-fashion. I actually thought the answer was about furniture. A living room ... ensemble? Maybe it has ... ACCESSORY pieces. And maybe SIA lives there? (My brain is clearly still sleep-fogged)
30A: With whom one pools pounds for quarters (FLATMATE) — the "quarters" misdirect is one of the oldest in the book, so I got this easily.
38A: Boundaries between areas with different coverage (TANLINES) — boring-sounding clue that ends up being pretty clever.
55A: Penalty for exceeding a payroll threshold, in sports lingo (LUXURY TAX) — this answer has appeared twice before in the NYTXW, but never with this clue, which is the only way I've ever heard it outside a Monopoly board. A nice answer, an original clue, and, for me, a gimme.
59A: They can help one get a leg up, informally (QUADS) — more slanty misdirective ambigu-cluing (Ambicluity!) from this puzzle.
57A: Cartoonish bouncing sound (BOINK) — pretty sure you mean BOING. BOINK means ... something else.
11D: One may sit near a bench marking time (METRONOME) — and still more. It never stops (which is fine, it's Friday, bring it on)
12D: Strap-and-buckle shoes named for a comic strip character who wore them (MARY JANES) — always proud to be able to slap down anything from women's fashion without tripping all over myself. I don't know why this shoe type is familiar to me, but it is, and I got the answer off the first few letters. I do not, however, as of this second, know the "comic strip character who wore them." Hang on ... oh wow, she was Buster Brown's sweetheart, so we are going way back, comic strip-wise. Buster Brown also had a dog named TIGE, whose name you used to see in crosswords sometimes (69 total appearances, last seen in 2019). Holy cow, TIGE was in one of my puzzles (!?!!?)
[IMONA ELHI TIGE I,TINA and EHUD are killing me rn. I plead "it was 2012"]
Buster Brown is a comic strip character created in 1902 by Richard F. Outcault that was adopted as the mascot of the Brown Shoe Company in 1904. The characters of Buster Brown, Mary Jane, and his dog Tige became well known to the American public in the early 20th century. [...] The comic strip began in the New York Herald on May 4, 1902. Outcault left to work for William Randolph Hearst in January 1906. He continued to produce the comic strip in Hearst's newspapers after a court battle which left it nameless, while the Herald continued their own version of Buster Brown with other artists. The Herald version lasted until January 1911, and Outcault's version until May 13, 1923. (wikipedia)
25D: Beat a map app's arrival time estimate, say (SPED) — ambiguity here is in the verb tense—your instincts will tell you "present tense," but this "Beat" is past.
49D: Cellphone hot line? (SEXT) — splitting "hotline," nice.
47D: Writer of the story "Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?" (OATES) — this story was the basis for the movie Smooth Talk (1984), starring Laura Dern in one of her very first movies. Excellent. Gripping. Disturbing. Co-starring the late great Treat Williams in a memorably terrifying role.
That's all for today. See you next time.
Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld
[Follow Rex Parker on BlueSky and Facebook and Letterboxd] ============================= ❤️ Support this blog ❤️:
A long time ago, I was solving this puzzle and got stuck at an unguessable (to me) crossing: N. C. WYETH crossing NATICK at the "N"—I knew WYETH but forgot his initials, and NATICK ... is a suburb of Boston that I had no hope of knowing. It was clued as someplace the Boston Marathon runs through (???). Anyway, NATICK— the more obscure name in that crossing—became shorthand for an unguessable cross, esp. where the cross involves two proper nouns, neither of which is exceedingly well known. NATICK took hold as crossword slang, and the term can now be both noun ("I had a NATICK in the SW corner...") or verb ("I got NATICKED by 50A / 34D!")