Animal whose crabeater variety does not, in fact, eat crabs / WED 6-3--26 / 1990s feminist movement rooted in punk rock / Research institute where radio astronomy began

Constructor: Jiahe Men

Relative difficulty: Easy (8:36)

THEME: TRIPLE THREAT — Many an EGOT contender … or what's spelled out by this puzzle's shaded squares?

Theme answers:

• I'M TOO OLD FOR THIS
• I loved this entry
• RIOT GRRRL
• PAD SEE EW
• BELL LABS
• CHESS SETS
• DEAD TREE EDITION
• The letters that spell out "OR ELSE" (a standard threat) appear in triplicate 

Word of the Day: ANT (Insect that has reportedly passed the "mirror test" of self-recognition) —

The mirror test is a behavioral technique developed in 1970 by American psychologist Gordon Gallup Jr. to determine whether an animal possesses the ability of visual self-recognition. An animal is anesthetized and then marked (e.g. paint or sticker) on an area of the body the animal normally cannot see (e.g. forehead). When the animal recovers from the anesthetic, it is given access to a mirror. If it subsequently touches or examines the mark on its own body, this behavior is interpreted as evidence that the animal recognizes its reflection as an image of itself, rather than another animal.

A 2015 study found that individual ants of these three ant species would attempt to clean themselves after being exposed to a mirror and seeing a blue dot on their bodies. [wiki]

• • •

Hey besties, welcome to another Malaika MWednesday! Congrats to Jiahe on his debut puzzle for the New York Times!

I thought this theme was very clever. When I hear a phrase with a hint of wordplay, I immediately jot it down to brainstorm later; I have "triple double" written down, but TRIPLE THREAT has never occurred to me! I am familiar with the term, but I wonder if others are. I probably would have written a more definitional clue, like [Performer skilled in singing, dancing, and acting ... or etc etc] rather than assuming every solver also knows what an EGOT is.

(Although I will admit, that term appears very frequently in crosswords.)

Shoutout to EGOT-er John Legend... although is he a triple threat??

There is a nice added layer here. I could imagine a totally valid puzzle where the letters T, H, R, E, A, and T all appear in triplicate, spelling out the revealer literally. Here, though, we have the jump to figure out that "or else" is a threat. The theme density is impressive! Eight entries are part of the theme, and two of them cross others. That probably explains some of the rough fill: OH HI / OR SO / ALTA to open the puzzle was a tough start for me. EAU, SHAKA, IDYL, ITAL, INOUT, and NYY were also not my faves to see in a grid.

I wondered if this movie would blow up enough to make it into crosswords, but I think it was too indie

I spent what felt like a long time (it was probably sixty seconds) considering a rebus because I wanted "act natural" where we instead of ACT CASUAL. That led me to consider if the two are perfectly interchangeable and I'm going back and forth on the answer. I feel like they're 99% interchangeable but not quite exact synonyms. RARE BIRD didn't fall into place for me either; I've never heard of that before though the clue made it easy enough to get.

I had an insanely good negitoro handroll for lunch over the weekend and now each day that I don't have one for lunch I yearn for it. Do you guys have a favorite handroll spot in NYC? 👀

Bullets:

• [Product of the internet that might be "dank" or "deep-fried"] for MEME — This felt insanely "How do you do, fellow kids" to me. That terminology is like a decade old, no?
• [Cheese in the Czech dish smažený sýr] for EDAM — People like to toss around varying definitions of "crosswordese," I myself no longer have one (though I think I did once). If I did, I would want it to encapsulate this solving phenomenon: When I see the word "cheese" in a clue, it's EDAM. I don't read the rest of the clue, it's EDAM. The clue functionally reads as "blah blah cheese blah blah blah" to me, and, whether the entry is obscure or not, foreign or not, trivia or not, vowel-heavy or not, that feeling while solving is what makes the entry feel like crosswordese to me.
• [Literary character who hopes to get whale soon?] for AHAB and [Pequod, e.g.] for SHIP — Two Moby Dick clues in one puzzle!! I have not read it, but plan to this summer. My friend jocularly refers to getting really into Moby Dick as d*ckmaxxing. Rex, if that joke is a hair too far for your blog I will delete expeditiously!!!!
• [M.L.B. team for "Mr. October" and "Mr. November"] for NYY — The New York Yankees had Reggie Johnson (Mr. October) and Derek Jeter (Mr. November)

xoxo Malaika

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Gets a pooch to attack / TUE 6-2-26 / Word after video or Scotch / Fusion weapon, familiarly / Hindi term meaning master or mister / Original name of a popular shared-ride service / Chris with the 1991 hit "Wicked Game" / Wash with a glycol spray, as an airplane / Silver weapon brandished by one hoping for gold / Sea sight in black and white / Rock that's fracked to release oil

Constructor: Rich Katz

Relative difficulty: Easy

THEME: "2, 4, 6, 8..." — first words of four themers are all homophones of the numbers in the chant familiar from the end of youth sports matches: "2, 4, 6, 8 ["TOO, FOR, SICS, ATE"], WHO DO WE / APPRECIATE! [The other team], [The other team], hurray!" (56A: With 63-Across, question hinted at by the beginnings of 17-, 21-, 25- and 48-Across)

Theme answers:

• TOO LATE NOW (17A: "You missed your chance!")
• FOR REAL (21A: "It's legit!")
• SICS THE DOG ON (25A: Gets a pooch to attack)
• ATE LIKE A BIRD (48A: Picked at one's food, in an avian metaphor)

Word of the Day: Chris ISAAK (53D: Chris with the 1991 hit "Wicked Game") —

Christopher Joseph Isaak (born June 26, 1956) is an American singer, songwriter, guitarist and occasional actor. Noted for his reverb-laden rockabilly revivalist style and wide vocal range, he is widely known for his breakthrough hit and signature song "Wicked Game" as well as international hits "Blue Hotel", "Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing", and "Somebody's Crying".

With a career spanning four decades, Isaak has released 13 studio albums, toured extensively with his band Silvertone, and received numerous award nominations. His sound and image are often compared to those of Roy Orbison, Elvis Presley, Ricky Nelson, and Duane Eddy.

Isaak has associated with film director David Lynch, who has used his music in numerous films. As an actor, he played supporting roles and bit parts in films such as Married to the Mob, The Silence of the Lambs, Little Buddha, That Thing You Do! and Lynch's Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me, and starred in two television series: the sitcom The Chris Isaak Show and the talk show The Chris Isaak Hour. (wikipedia)

• • •

It should be WHOM.*

Do teams still do "2, 4, 6, 8"!? Are people from other countries familiar with this chant? I haven't thought about it since grade school—very familiar, but not something I've heard in a long time. I don't know of any context for it besides youth sports. I'm not sure it makes for much a crossword theme. It's vaguely interesting that there are ordinary-word homophones for each of the first four even numbers (not true for the odds, except 1), but the operative word here is "ordinary," and these phrases are either not very interesting (FOR REAL) or exceedingly contrived. Thematically, this one lost me completely at SICS THE DOG ON, both because the phrase is long and clunky and doesn't sound great as a standalone answer, and because it's so grim. No using dogs for violence. Gross. And that clue ... [Gets a pooch to attack]!? You don't get to use a term of endearment ("pooch") if this is how you use your dog. You've lost the privilege! No "doggo" or "buddy" or "pupper" either. SICS is a desperate homophone. I guess it's the only word you can use if you want to pull off this theme, but ... maybe that's a sign. An OMEN. That the theme isn't worth it. SICS THE DOG ON also crosses a mess of the worst fill, stuff like REWOVE (?) and UBER POOL (ugh, how many various UBER product names can the puzzle possibly shill for? It's like it finds a new one every month) (10D: Original name of a popular shared-ride service), and then a mess or crosswordese like NYET HBOMB and ANAIS. An SAHIB is right there as well—all stuff that people used to cram into puzzles seemingly every day when I was starting out, but which as (thankfully!) faded from view somewhat in the intervening decades. EMEND EKED ISAAK OWLETS EPEE EPPS ... the overfamiliar stuff keeps coming. And it's all point-and-shoot easy. No real trickery or cleverness anywhere, beyond the theme. A tidal wave of 3-4-5s. No real high points. Felt like a filler puzzle from days of yore.

The clues are kind of trying to liven things up. There are four "?" clues, but three of them aren't much trouble at all (the clues on UMP, NYET, OWLETS). Only the fourth made me go "huh?" ... and not in a good way. I truly do not understand how my HEEL helps me get my leg up. Your hip flexors and quads are largely responsible for lifting your leg. Is the idea that you're pushing off with your HEEL to ... what, climb stairs? That's not how people climb stairs? I'm at a loss. Maybe you're doing squats and driving through your HEEL? I do not understand what the clue means by "up" here. "Get a leg up" is a familiar idiomatic phrase, yes, but the "?" here indicates that there's a play on words here, presumably that the idiom is meant to be taken literally, but as I say, I'm at a loss as to how this works (someone in the comments suggested that HEEL refers to part of a shoe—huh, OK). One other question, which may be more of a comment: why is "avian" necessary in the ATE LIKE A BIRD clue? (48A: Picked at one's food, in an avian metaphor). I see how it makes the clue a lot easier, but it's totally unnecessary. The metaphor is well known; you don't have to shout "the one with the bird in it!" Trust solvers to figure out simple things like this. It's insulting otherwise.

Bullets:

• 42A: Part of a shoe or many a bra (LACE) — Me: "STRAP! It's STRAP! ... why won't STRAP fit!? It's obviously STRAP. STRAP, I say!" This is the one clue that seems to at least be trying for trickiness, in that the "LACE" is different in these two contexts (i.e. a shoe LACE is a very different thing from the LACE on a bra). I don't understand why it's "a shoe" but "many a bra." True, not all bras have LACE, but then not all shoes have LACEs either, so ... ??? "Many a" should apply to both or neither.
• 52A: Wash with a glycol spray, as an airplane (DEICE) — unlike with "avian" in the ATE LIKE A BIRD clue, I appreciated the extra help here ("as an airplane"), as I could not have told you what "glycol spray" was. 
• 49D: Emirate that was the site of Operation Desert Storm (KUWAIT) — like siccing dogs on people, Operation Desert Storm is something I'm fine never seeing mentioned again in my crossword. You've already got H-BOMB in here (29D: Fusion weapon, familiarly), isn't that enough militarism?
• 53D: Chris with the 1991 hit "Wicked Game" (ISAAK) — he really had a moment in the early '90s. I have no idea how well known he is any more ... outside of crosswords, that is, where his name is occasionally very handy (double-A!) and not to be confused with ISAAC or IZAAK (as in IZAAK Walton, who is real, old-school crosswordese; I don't think I'd know him or the work he wrote (The Compleat Angler) without crosswords ... although he did write a bio of Donne, but I know that only because I teach Donne, which most people ... don't). Coincidentally, I encountered Chris ISAAK just yesterday, as we watched David Lynch's Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me (1992) just last night, and ISAAK has a pretty large role as an FBI detective early in that movie (alongside Kiefer Sutherland, who I forgot was even in the movie). 

• 28D: Bone in the lower leg (TIBIA) — lots of leg anatomy in the puzzle today. Your shin bone (TIBIA) is not connected to your HEEL bone, but it gets pretty close.

That's it. See you next time.

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld

*No, I'm not serious. Grammatically correct, but not serious.  

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Coolness, in Gen Alpha slang / MON 6-1-26 / High-waisted fashion trend of the 1990s / Physiques that aren't quite perfect / Superfan's ticket purchase / It measures audience feedback / Pouncing predator / Southernmost country in Central America / Reality show starring the "Fab Five"

Constructor: Kenneth Cortes

Relative difficulty: Easy (solved Downs-only)

THEME: CAME OUT ON TOP (43A: Emerged victorious ... or what this puzzle's constructor did, as indicated by the shaded squares) — the shaded squares at the "top" of the grid contain a message: "MOM, DAD ... I'M QUEER!" 

Theme answers:

• MOM JEANS (3D: High-wasted fashion trend of the 1990s)
• DAD BODS (4D: Physiques that aren't quite perfect)
• "I'M THERE!" (9D: "Sign me up!")
• "QUEER EYE" (10D: Reality show starring the "Fab Five")

Word of the Day: CLAP-O-METER (30D: It measures audience feedback) —

A clap-o-meter, clapometer or applause meter is a measurement instrument that purports to measure and display the volume of clapping or applause made by an audience. It can be used to indicate the popularity of contestants and decide the result of competitions based on audience popularity. Specific implementations may or may not be based on actual sound level meters. Clap-o-meters were a popular element in talent shows and television game shows in the 1950s and 1960s, most notably Opportunity Knocks, but have since been supplanted by other, more sophisticated, methods of measuring audience response.

Today, various digital implementations exist across different platforms. Mobile applications for iOS and Android offer portable measurement, while specialized browser-based tools or PC software provide solutions for live events. Some free-to-use software, such as the "Applaus-O-Meter", provide full features without advertisements or in-app purchases, often including event management tools like integrated timers. (wikipedia)

• • •

Well it turns out I'm not made of stone. I sat here looking at the message in the shaded squares thinking "well, that's an interesting theme for the start of Pride Month" (Happy Pride Month, btw), and then (beat, beat) I was like "wait a minute ... is he ... is this ... no? that can't be right." Since I was solving Downs-only, I pieced together CAME OUT ON TOP but I never saw the clue until I was finished. And omg, there it is: "What this constructor's puzzle did..." Now I've been solving puzzles forever—forever, I tell you!—and I've seen constructors do a lot of creative things. Marriage proposals, that's been done a bunch. Election predictions—that one was famous! And while I've seen a number of insanely creative queer-themed puzzles, I have never, and I mean never, seen someone come out (To Their Parents!) in a crossword puzzle. I printed out a clean puzzle, took it into my wife, and said "you have to solve this right now." She also solves Mondays Downs-only, and two minutes later she marched into my office holding the puzzle up with just the shaded message part filled in, looking at me with amazement. I was like "I Know" and suddenly there were tears in my eyes goddamn it, what the hell, this is not supposed to happen. Puzzles are not supposed to be unaccountably moving. I'm supposed to come up here on Sunday evenings, knock out the Monday puzzle, do my little write-up and then go to bed, happy in the knowledge that I get to sleep in tomorrow! It's Monday! Mondays are light, breezy, badda boom, done and done. But no, this puzzle had to go and get all emotional and joyful and ... original on me. And aside from being an important life event (!), the theme is actually well executed. Nice little play on words. Clean fill. Snappy longer answers. If this doesn't deserve five stars, nothing does. Congratulations, kid. I hope your parents are proud. You certainly should be. 

The Downs-only solve was a breeze, which was nice, for once. The last thing I needed was a catastrophic failure to ruin the good vibes of this puzztheme. I did have some trouble parsing APEXAM when it was just APE-AM. I was like "the ape is doing what now? APE JAM? is that something?" But once I got out of there it was smooth sailing all the way to the end. ADMONISH off the "A"! (37D: Give a tut-tut, e.g.). SEASON PASS off the "S"! (29D: Superfan's ticket purchase). CLAP-O-METER off the "C"! (30D: It measures audience feedback). HAT STAND off the HAT, even though my whole brain was like "the term is HAT RACK!" (39D: Place to hang a fedora). I couldn't miss. That is, I couldn't miss until I could. At the very end. The very very end. I ended up at the last clue: 53D: Pouncing predator, and ... uh oh. The answer was not, uh, leaping out at me, and all of the crosses had multiple possibilities. PO-E = POKE? PORE? POPE? POSE? Was it ABIT or ABUT? SOLE, SOME, SORE? SEER or SEAR? But more importantly, what four-letter predator pounces? Finally I was like "hey, what about PUMA? That works. They pounce. Feels ... wrong, but give it a try." And so I did, and ... no "Congratulations" message! What!? "What the hell?! That has to be right!" And it was. See if you can find what I had wrong:

Got a little hasty / sloppy in the SW corner, and wrote in ATONED instead of ATONES (44D: Makes up (for)). If I'd checked the crosses carefully, I'd've noticed my mistake (SADH is not a word!) (61A: It might read "Miss Universe" = SASH). I found the error eventually, and all was right with the world again. And once again, hurray for everyone being able to be themselves and loving whoever they love. Every coming out is a beautiful little victory against the CREEPY people who want us to live in a bigoted DYSTOPIA. Gonna have some RYES tonight to celebrate this damned puzzle (Piña COLADAs aren't really my thing). Once again, hurray for this puzzle. My CLAP-O-METER is at 11.

Bullets:

• 12D: Dated (OLD) — had this as SAW for a second, then noticed that that gave me QUS URA and ENW in the crosses. Very helpful when *every* cross is a fail. No chance you're gonna mistake your dumb answer for the correct one.
• 46D: Southernmost country in Central America (PANAMA) — shall I tell you about my brain's insistence that, and I quote, "there are no Central American countries that start with 'P'!" To be fair(ish), I was actually looking at an answer that started "PL-" because at that point I assumed that MUSC- was MUSCLE (it's MUSCAT) (48A: Capital of Oman).

• 52D: Thin woodwind (OBOE) — brain: "FIFE!" I mean, he's not wrong, but as with SAW (above), those letters just didn't check out.

That's all for today. Hope it's a joyful day for you. See you next time.

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld

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Tenth, in Latin / SUN 5-31-26 / Small flycatchers named for their call, not their size / Sacsayhuamán fortress builders / Jasmine's tiger companion in "Aladdin" / Longtime jazz bandleader with an Egyptian-inspired name / "Drat!," in Dortmund / Absolutely whomps, in sports lingo / Negative logic gate in electrical engineering / Where Cary Grant orders a Gibson in a classic scene from "North by Northwest"

Constructor: Jeffrey Martinovic and Evan Park

Relative difficulty: as easy as it gets

THEME: "Target Practice" — a WILLIAM TELL-themed puzzle with shaded squares that form a BOW and ARROW and a single "APPLE" square (which the ARROW is aimed at), plus a lot of related trivia and puns:

Theme answers:

• SWITZERLAND (22A: Home of the legendary folk hero at 116-Across)
• MARKSMANSHIP (32A: Expertise demonstrated by 116-Across in a fabled feat of precision)
• ARCHERY (41A: Athletic skill mastered by 116-Across)
• ROSSINI (91A: Composer of an overture dedicated to 116-Across)
• SHOOTING STAR (103A: Streaker in the sky ... or a punny description of 116-Across)
• FRUITFUL (38D: Productive ... or a punny description of the feat performed by 116-Across?)
• TAKE A BOW (56D: What 116-Across did before and after this puzzle's feat?)
• WILLIAM TELL (116A: Legendary figure who's the subject of this puzzle)

BOW and ARROW and APPLE answers:

• 42D: Many a liquor license applicant (CLUB OWNER)
• 66A: Chirruping bird (SPARROW)
• 69A: City sobriquet that might describe the target for 116-Across / 59D: Popular beverage brand (THE BIG APPLE / SNAPPLE)

Word of the Day: PEWEES (54D: Small flycatchers named for their call, not their size) —

The pewees are a genus, Contopus, of small to medium-sized insect-eating birds in the tyrant flycatcher family Tyrannidae.

These birds are known as pewees, from the call of one of the more common members of this vocal group. They are generally charcoal-grey birds with wing bars that live in wooded areas.

• • •

Grim. It's so disappointing to see the Sunday puzzle reduced to this complete non-challenge, this child's placemat of a trivia / pun puzzle. I stopped early to screenshot the moment when I could feel the bottom fall out of this thing:

From the clue on SWITZERLAND, I knew the topic immediately, and I could see that all I was gonna get, or most of what I was gonna get, was just random WILLIAM TELL trivia—assorted related answers arranged symmetrically, none of them particularly interesting or clever. I guess they eventually give you a couple of puns in there, but otherwise it's just a predictable parade of answers, many of whose clues I never even had to look at: MARKSMANSHIP, ROSSINI, WILLIAM TELL—I didn't need the clues for any of these because the rest of the puzzle was so damned easy they basically filled themselves in. The whole concept here was transparent, and even the visual gag (which is probably the best thing about the theme) offered no real surprise or challenge. ARROW / BOW / APPLE / Shrug. The APPLE was probably the "hardest" part, but it wasn't hard. THE BIG ___ made it obvious. But that answer is oddly inapt (what the hell does NYC have to do with any of this? And was the apple in the WILLIAM TELL fable particularly big? I don't remember that). I don't think the puzzle is poorly constructed from a technical standpoint, just remedial and without any real pleasure (unless the punny stuff brings you pleasure, in which case, lucky you). 

The clue editing is also really uneven today. It's a small detail, but the puzzle doesn't seem to know when to use "?"s. If you tell us the answer is punny, then there is no need to put the "?" on the clue, which makes the FRUITFUL clue ... just ... not right (38D: Productive ... or a punny description of the feat performed by 116-Across?). If you don't believe me, just look at the clue for SHOOTING STAR (103A: Streaker in the sky ... or a punny description of 116-Across). See: no "?" Because it's not necessary. Because you've already (painfully, unnecessarily) told us that the answer is a pun. Now look at the clue for TAKE A BOW (56D: What 116-Across did before and after this puzzle's feat?). That clue demonstrates the proper use of a "?" (the "?" indicates the punniness). So the clue writing was sloppy. And not terribly imaginative (the clues use the word "legendary" twice, and there's a similar phrasing to a lot of the clues). And we get BOW twice? (as a visual element, inside of CLUBOWNER, and as a word in TAKE A BOW). Things are just ragged around the edges. I can see how a certain segment of solvers might find this puzzle breezy and delightful, but difficulty-wise and concept-wise, it just didn't feel up to NYTXW Sunday standards (or what I wish those standards were). 

There are no tough parts to this puzzle. I had trouble nowhere. I wrote in CERA for CENA, which I do all the time, despite the fact that Michael CERA and John CENA look nothing alike (19A: Wrestler/actor John). I did have trouble with SNAPPLE ... for a few seconds. Until I checked the cross and realized I was dealing with a rebus square ("APPLE"). That was my favorite moment of the puzzle—and there's a connection between the (slight) difficulty and the pleasure. The appearance of the apple was a genuine (if mild) surprise. Nothing else about the puzzle was surprising. The handling of the ARROW/BOX squares was clever, but you can see that coming a mile away if you know you're dealing with WILLIAM TELL. The rebusing of the APPLE, however, was unexpected. Hurray for the unexpected. I needed a bunch of crosses to get the OVER part of SENT OVER (77D: Forwarded) (SENT ON is the only phrase that made sense to me), but I wouldn't call that answer "hard," exactly. Just awkward. Everything else in this grid, I blew through like it was Monday. The only part I truly enjoyed was that clue on BAR CAR (35D: Where Cary Grant orders a Gibson in a classic scene from "North by Northwest"). Peak Hitchcock, peak Cary Grant (that suit! and sunglasses!), peak train scene, peak hot people meet-cute. Cinematic nirvana. I have an 8x10 of Cary Grant hanging on the wall right behind me (along with similar promotional photos of Janet Leigh, Kirk Douglas, and W.C. Fields—I picked them all up at a second-hand store, preframed, somewhat beat up, but perfect in my eyes). Here's the North by Northwest scene in question. Never gets old.

["Think how lucky I am to have been seated here." "Luck had nothing to do with it."]

Bullets:

• 29A: Hero of Arabian tales (ALI BABA) — I watched Salesman (1969) yesterday for the first time. It's a classic documentary about bible salesmen. It was a hard watch for me—the relentlessness and occasional desperation of the salesmen up against the credulousness and economic desperation of the people they're selling to. Starts feeling like con men trying to rope in the suckers, only it's all done under the auspices of the Church, so ... much of the time the interactions in people's homes are so awkward and strained that I could barely look at the screen. It's hard to believe these guys and their racket ever existed. They are an amazing set of characters, though, and the movie is fascinating as a character study—lots of footage of the salesmen sitting around motel rooms smoking (so much smoking!) going over the successes and failures of the day. Speaking of failures ... the reason I'm telling you all this here is that there's a scene, maybe my favorite scene in the movie, where the main salesman ("The Badger"!) is driving around Opa-Locka, FL, trying to find an address and the street he wants is a plain old numbered street but every street he sees has some name out of Arabian Nights (including ALI BABA). And the city hall is shaped like something out of Arabian Nights. And basically he drives in circles going crazy trying to find his way out of the Opa-Locka Arabian Nightsmare, asking directions and literally getting nowhere. It felt ... like a metaphor. Ooh, looks like Documentary Now! did a parody of Salesman called Globesman, so I'm gonna have to track that down today.

• 74A: Appointments that may lead to better contacts (EYE EXAMS) — having just watched Salesman, I figured the "contacts" were business contacts, like sales leads, but ... no. Contact lenses! Good misdirection, enjoyable clue.
• 84A: $5 bill, slangily (ABE) — this remains a non-thing, despite decades of crossword insistence. No one calls a five this except me, ironically.
• 12D: Absolutely whomps, in sports lingo (CREAMS) — Is the "sports lingo." It feels like playground lingo. I don't think I've heard this particular expression for "soundly defeats" since the '80s. I love "whomps," though. More WHOMPS in the puzzle, please.
• 23D: Jasmine's tiger companion in "Aladdin" (RAJAH) — didn't know this, but it basically filled itself in. Yesterday RANEE, today RAJAH—these words for Indian royals were some of the first "crosswordese" I ever learned. You see them a lot less these days (also, in crosswords, they're somewhat more frequently spelled RANI and RAJA).

• 33D: Longtime jazz bandleader with an Egyptian-inspired name (SUN RA) — have you ever seen Space is the Place (1974). You should see Space is the Place.

• 51D: Tenth, in Latin (DECIMUS) — what are we doing here? Come on. You're debuting this in 2026? smh.
• 97D: Australian city named for a scientist (DARWIN) — that scientist: Pete DARWIN, inventor of the Jell-O mold. Not Jell-O itself. That was Pearle Bixby Wait. What a great name. A great man's name. Not many guys named Pearl(e) any more.* 
• 117D: Bucket list item? (MOP) — I get that MOPs go in buckets, but how exactly does "list" work here? I mean, on a literal level. I know the term "bucket list," but if the clue is going to work in some kind of punny way for MOP, then ... "list" has to be relevant somehow. I don't see it. Is there some imagined list of "Things That Go In Buckets" and MOP is simply on that list? Who keeps this list? What a weird idea for a list. Or is the idea that the MOP "lists" to the side when you try to stand it up in the bucket? I'm sincerely curious about the rationale.

That's all for today. See you next time.

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld

P.S. a belated R.I.P. to Manny Nosowsky, one of the all-time great NYTXW constructors, who died earlier this week (obit here). He made 254 puzzles for the Times starting in 1992. I remember his puzzles as being really playful and entertaining. Looking through my write-ups of his puzzles (primarily in the late '00s), I notice I'm using the word "legendary" a lot. He was the real deal, and the puzzlescape is poorer without him.

*of course I was kidding about Pete DARWIN. But not about Pearle Bixby Wait, that dude was real.  

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Mideast yogurt dip eaten with pita / SAT 5-30-26 / Perpetual homebody? / Flying ___ (train between Mumbai and Surat) / Color effect of a lunar eclipse / Gathering with grills and grilles / Music recording space, informally / Mutual aid event that originated in 1920s Harlem / What's represented by a jiggled thumbs-up, in sign language / Part of a cabinet that's made overseas / Movie trailer narrator's first words, often / Rodent that lives in South American marshes

Constructor: Malaika Handa and Erik Agard

Relative difficulty: Easy-Medium

THEME: none 

Word of the Day: BREAD AND ROSES (32A: Old political slogan of the women's suffrage and labor movements) —

"Bread and Roses" is a political slogan associated with women's suffrage and the labor movement, as well as an associated poem and song. It originated in a speech given by American women's suffrage activist Helen Todd; a line in that speech about "bread for all, and roses too" inspired the title of the poem "Bread and Roses" by James Oppenheim. The poem was first published in The American Magazine in December 1911, with the attribution line "'Bread for all, and Roses, too'—a slogan of the women in the West." The poem has been translated into other languages and has been set to music by at least three composers.

The phrase is commonly associated with the textile strike in Lawrence, Massachusetts, between January and March 1912, now often referred to as the "Bread and Roses strike." The slogan pairing bread and roses, appealing for both fair wages and dignified working conditions, found resonance as transcending the "sometimes tedious struggles for marginal economic advances" in the "light of labor struggles as based on striving for dignity and respect", as American sociologist and activist Robert J. S. Ross wrote in 2013. (wikipedia)

• • •

A perfect Friday puzzle. Didn't get here til Saturday, but that's fine. It had enough bite to feel not completely out of place on a Saturday, and it was so entertaining that I didn't care what day of the week it was, frankly. I loved this one despite its being absolutely jam-packed with names, a thing that can be irritating and off-puttingly exclusionary in a puzzle. There are seven (7!) people in this puzzle. That's a lot of people for a puzzle. I don't know what the norm is, but seven seems high. But here's the thing: however you felt about those names, they were all short (5 and under) and they were all crossed very fairly. The only one I out-and-out didn't know was Jessie REYEZ (27D: Singer Jessie with the hit 2020 album "Before Love Came to Kill Us"). I can't believe anyone remembers anything that happened in 2020 (besides ... you know). The others either appear in the puzzle with reasonable frequency (CHU, NAST, ANN) or are famous enough in their fields that I managed to pick up their names (the MYERS-Briggs test is famous, BOWEN Yang has a podcast that Instagram keeps showing me clips of, and LYDIA Ko is a New Zealander, and, as someone who is married to a New Zealander, I tend to notice and think about New Zealand things more than most people Americans, probably—I've long thought that LYDIAKO's full name would look amazing in the grid). So I definitely noticed the names, and the puzzle felt a little like a crowded party, crowded in a way that usually makes me want to head for the door; but today, the longer, marquee stuff shines so bright that I didn't care about all the people. I just wanted to bounce from room to room and bask in its glow.

[17A: Movie trailer narrator's first words, often]

Also, this party had food! Like, a lot of food! Before I'd even circulated very much, I'd had SESAME OIL on NAAN and some LABNEH (which I managed to spell correctly on the first try, [fist pump]!) (20D: Mideast yogurt dip eaten with pita), and then I chased it all down with a couple of PROTEIN SHAKES, which was kind of gross, but, you know, culinarily creative. After that, cleanse the palate with a little BREAD (AND ROSES ... were the roses edible? I hope so. Too late to ask that now), and then a full DINNER (something out of the OVEN BAGS, whatever those are), and then, to round the evening off, you could choose between SCOTCH and PROSECCO. Nice. Oh, and the TINS of popcorn, forgot about them. Thought they were BINS at first, but the puzzle corrected me (53D: Popcorn holders). Overall, an enjoyable eating experience. Probably wouldn't voluntarily drink the PROTEIN SHAKES again, but the rest of it, mwah, delicious. In addition to the people and the food, there were beautiful word installations. Creamy stacks in the NW and SE, crunch colonnades in the NE and SW. I was genuinely sad to hear "PLAYTIME'S OVER!" because I was having such a good time. This grid is polished in ways that so many these days are not. Whatever common / crosswordy stuff you find is small and marginal. Scattered. Inconsequential. This means I can whoosh around the grid without wincing (my preferred way of whooshing: winceless). IN A WORLD overrun by awkward abbreviations and word parts and laugh syllables and archaic phrases no one actually says, this puzzle comes along and it feeds and it entertains, with a great sense of play and humor. I had fun. Turns out this is all I really Really want from a puzzle. SWAMP RAT! Now I remember! That's what was in the OVEN BAGS (it's an acquired taste, I'll admit, but don't knock it etc.).

Puzzle felt easyish from the start despite my muffing not one but two answers in the NW (I had us riding on the Flying RUPEE (2D: Flying ___ (train between Mumbai and Surat) (RANEE)), and I thought the warning sign said DO NOT ENTER (3D: DO NOT ___ (ERASE))). After that, no real missteps, except when I tried to spell the Japanese island HONCHU (60A: Osaka's land) and ended up with someone named AUNT C at 42D: High-ranking women in "The Handmaid's Tale" (AUNTS). I always forget the word DEMUR exists, mainly because I never quite know what it means and (therefore) would never use it myself. It has killed me more than a few times when I'm playing Quordle or Octordle—even when I have most of the letters, I can never make anything out of them until suddenly (if I'm lucky) I remember that the word DEMUR exists (50A: Express misgivings). I think one of the things that confuses me about DEMUR is its near-identical cousin, DEMURE. That's an adjective, and that one, I know. 

Bullets:

• 1A: Man's name that, like Otto, is also an Italian number (TRE) — I guess TRE was at the party too. Left his name off the guest list. Sorry, TRE. This was a great clue. Had me running through my Italian numbers real awkwardly (the only way I can run through Italian numbers, since I don't speak Italian and know the numbers only from crosswords). The coffee place I go to nearly every day, the one where I buy all my beans (because the roaster really knows his craft), is called Otto (the Italian number, not the man's name).
• 29A: "French" or "sliced" haircut (BOB) — got this off the "B"; otherwise, no clue. "French or sliced?" sounds like something someone would ask you at the sandwich counter.
• 57A: Gathering with grills and grilles (TAILGATE) — nice clue. Grills (barbecue) and grilles (front ends of automobiles). 

• 12D: Semi professional? (TEAMSTER) — made me laugh. Professional semi (truck) drivers are TEAMSTERs.
• 28D: Like Cheerios vis-à-vis Lucky Charms, say (OATIER) — this also made me laugh. I'm gonna need to see some data here. What oatiness metric are we using here? Is it just the addition of marshmallows that make Lucky Charms (pound for pound) less oaty? Because the non-marshmallow part of Lucky Charms consists of (I'm told) "shaped pulverized oat" (wikipedia). Lucky Charms is just Doing More. OATIER sounds like something out of Cheerios PR. I can see how they'd prefer that term to BORINGER. 
• 45D: Perpetual homebody? (SNAIL) — just a great clue. Smiled when I figured it out. (the SNAIL of course carries its "home" (shell) around with it at all times)
• 59A: Part of a cabinet that's made overseas (MINISTER) — if you live overseas, this one might've been confusing. The president's "cabinet" in the U.S. is made of "Secretaries" (no MINISTERs) but overseas (UK, India, maybe elsewhere?) you get Cabinet MINISTERs.
• 31A: Music recording space, informally (STU) — again, I laughed. Mainly at how dumb this sounds. I was like "'recording space' ... do they mean like the studio ... oh, noooo is it STU!?!?!" LOL, yes. At least the clue is original. Not just another [Disco ___] or [Poker great ___ Ungar].
• 32D: Color effect of a lunar eclipse (BLOOD MOON) — a great answer—the anchor of a really terrific corner. The PRUDISH PROSECCO BLOOD MOON! ICONIC! Best observed while sipping SCOTCH in HONCHU (helps if you're RICH). Not sure what more you can ask from a Saturday corner. Just lovely.

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld

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"Oscar" of the French film industry / FRI 5-29-26 / Currency in The Legend of Zelda / Road maneuvers featuring lazy braking / "La Tulipe Noire" novelist, 1850 / Someone attracted to intellect over looks, say / Swing dance originating in Harlem / Adhere to the kashrut dietary rules / Smurf who is more than 500 years old / Dream interrupter / Redheaded monster on TV

Constructor: Hemant Mehta

Relative difficulty: Medium

THEME: none 

Word of the Day: LINDY / HOP (20A: With 19-Across, swing dance originating in Harlem) —

The Lindy Hop is an American dance which was born in the African-American communities of Harlem, New York City, in 1928 and has evolved since then. It was very popular during the swing era of the late 1930s and early 1940s. Lindy is a fusion of many dances that preceded it or were popular during its development but is mainly based on jazz, tap, breakaway, and Charleston. It is frequently described as a jazz dance and is a member of the swing dance family.

In its development, the Lindy Hop combined elements of both partnered and solo dancing by using the movements and improvisation of African-American dances along with the formal eight-count structure of European partner dances – most clearly illustrated in the Lindy's defining move, the swingout. In this step's open position, each dancer is generally connected hand-to-hand; in its closed position, leads and follows are connected as though in an embrace on one side and holding hands on the other. [...] 

Lindy Hop is sometimes referred to as a street dance, referring to its improvisational and social nature. In 1932, twelve-year-old Norma Miller did the Lindy Hop outside the Savoy Ballroom with her friends for tips. In 1935, 15,000 people danced on Bradhurst Avenue for the second of a dance series held by the Parks Department. Between 147th and 148th street, Harlem "threw itself into the Lindy Hop with abandon" as Sugar Hill residents watched from the bluffs along Edgecombe Avenue.

• • •

This played somewhat harder than most recent Fridays, which isn't saying too much, but it's saying something. The bulk of it was fairly whooshy, but I got very bogged down in a couple of places: the NE and especially the dead center. Could not get into the center of the puzzle via either HOLY (... MOLEY?) or ZEN (... KOANS? MASTER?). I figured with momentum on my side and two paths in, handling the center would be a breeze, but ... nope. I also didn't recognize the word "kashrut" and so could not parse EAT KOSHER (30D: Adhere to the kashrut dietary rules). So ... I ended up stopped dead right here, around the halfway point:

That's right, I had ZEN STA- and still no idea what the answer was supposed to be. In retrospect, the problem for me was the cluing—ZEN STATES don't "make you" one with everything. If you're in a zen state, then you already are "one with everything." That's the state. The state you are in. Whatever you use to get into that state, that is what "makes you" one with everything. The clue seemed to be confusing cause with effect, at least the way I was reading it. This is why ZEN MASTER or ZEN KOANS were the only things my brain could think up. ZEN MEDITATION, maybe, but that (like the others) just wouldn't fit. As for HOLY MOSES, I should've remembered that, but MOLEY really ran interference, and then COW jumped in there and started mooing and I couldn't think of anything else. I had to start all over in the NE, which was not nearly as welcoming to me as the NW had been. I knew SARA, but RUPEE? (12D: Currency in The Legend of Zelda). No clue. ALARM? (11D: Dream interrupter). I had APNEA!!!! ALUM? Of course, makes sense, but w/o crosses I couldn't see it. I figured the 500yo Smurf had to be PAPA (there is no MAMA, that I recall), but even his "P"s didn't help much. I think I finally plunked down AMASS (13D: Hoard), and that got me the traction I needed. Oh, and SAPIOSEXUAL?! (10D: Someone attracted to intellect over looks, say). Come on, man. No one says that. I guess I've heard it before, but it's such a made-up, created-in-a-lab media-driven non-thing. No one is attracted to one thing alone. The fact that you find smartness hot does not mean you have some niche sexuality that needs a name. You're just straight, or gay, or whatever you are. Boo to this dumb word.

Outside the middle and the NE, though, the puzzle was pretty simple, and largely delightful. Nice start with ALL TOO SOON and "SMALL WORLD!" and then the puzzle rolls right into ROLLING STOPS, which I loved as answer almost as much as I hate them in real life, especially as a pedestrian (5D: Road maneuvers featuring lazy braking). We called them "California stops" when I was growing up, but I grew up in California, so ... maybe every state thinks they invented it. Hmm, looks like only Rhode Island wants a piece of the action (wikipedia is telling me that in addition to "California stop," the rolling stop is also called the "Rhode Island roll"). I think the vast majority of people do ROLLING STOPS at lightly-trafficked stop signs. But I love coming to a complete stop. It feels almost perverse, especially when there's no one around. But I find it satisfying, especially if someone is behind me and seems, let's say, impatient. I don't hang out at the stop sign, but I damn sure come to a full and complete stop. Just for a little treat. And for the children and animals and cyclists and other drivers etc. It's a little reset. A road awareness check-in. Stop. Look. Go. Relax. Have a nice day. 

LINT SCREENS is another good answer, and I love "WHAT'D I MISS?" over TERRY GROSS, as you can imagine a car passenger listening to "Fresh Air," popping out of the car to run a quick errand, then getting back into the car and asking "WHAT'D I MISS!!?" Oh, nothing, just Christian Bale admitting on air that he's doing this interview and all his Batman Begins promotional interviews not in his natural voice, but in a put-on more-or-less inflection-less American accent. Also, he thanked Terry for noticing that his body in Batman looked like it was bulky and muscly from real physical activity, not like it was sculpted at the gym. Hard bod, not gym bod. (Why do I remember the details of this one Terry Gross interview from over two decades ago so clearly??). 

Bullets:

• 23A: Only player to win three Super Bowl M.V.P. awards before turning 30 (MAHOMES) — I stopped paying attention to the NFL a long time ago now, but this guy's name definitely broke through to me at some point. It's pretty crossword-friendly, as seven-letter words go. I saw this clue and my mind went to older players (Brady, Favre, Montana, Bradshaw...), but of those, only MONTANA fit, and crosses made that impossible. Once I had the answer to MAH- ... well, then it was easy. MAHOMES has played in five Super Bowls and won three (all with the Kansas City Chiefs).
• 39A: "La Tulipe Noire" novelist, 1850 (DUMAS) — because ["The Three Musketeers" novelist, 1844] and ["The Count of Monte Cristo" novelist, 1846] would've been too obvious, I guess. I'm rereading the first two books of Colson Whitehead's Harlem trilogy in anticipation of the third installment (which comes out this summer), and in those books, there's an elite association of Black leaders and businessmen called The DUMAS Club (DUMAS‘s father, Thomas-Alexandre, was born in present-day Haiti, the son of a French nobleman and an enslaved woman).

• 15D: Outstanding, in a way (OWING) — there's nothing remarkable about this answer except that it starts an -ING avalanche: OWING ROLLING RAZING ICING ing ing ing ing. It's like the grid is glitching and I need to smack it in order to get regular reception back.
• 28A: Apt anagram of NOTES (TONES) — me, confidently: "STENO!"

That's all for today. See you next time.

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld

[Follow Rex Parker on BlueSky and Facebook and Letterboxd]
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