Division signs, more formally / SUN 1-11-26 / Modern social media craze / Compound that ripens bananas / Bygone carrier that had a fleet of "Clippers" / Two-time capital of the Mughal Empire / Game on some kids' menus / Prank of doorbell ringing and running / Debaters who use deceptive arguments / Identifies digitally? / Mushroom often added to cream sauces / Classical Greek precinct with a noted oracle / Beast domesticated by the Incas

Constructor: Dylan Schiff

Relative difficulty: Easy-Medium

THEME: "It's All Greek" — a "PHI" (ϕ) rebus where the letters "PHI" work in one direction and in the other direction, both the letter "I" and letter "O" are required to make sense of the answer—the "PHI"-containing word must be read twice, first with an "I" and then with an "O" (because the Greek letter PHI (ϕ) looks like "an 'I' atop an 'O'") (107D: Greek letter that resembles an "I" atop an "O" = PHI).

Theme answers:

• PING-[PONG] PADDLE / AMPHIBIA (22A: Article of sports equipment that typically has two rubber sheets of different colors / 2D: Class with frogs)
• CRISS-[CROSS] PUZZLE / DELPHI (32A: Game on some kids' menus / 20D: Classical Greek precinct with a noted oracle)
• DING-[DONG] DITCH / SAPPHIRE (38D: Prank of doorbell ringing and running / 46A: Birthstone before opal)
• TIP-[TOP] SHAPE / SOPHIA (50D: Perfect condition / 56A: Oscar-winning actress Loren)
• TIK-[TOK] DANCE / APHID (41D: Modern social media craze / 51A: Ladybug's prey)
• SING-[SONG] VOICE / SOPHISTS (43D: Melodic way of speaking / 53A: Debaters who use deceptive arguments)
• FLIP-[FLOP] SANDALS / PHILBIN (97A: Beachy footwear / 99D: Longtime TV personality Regis)
• HIP-[HOP] ARTISTS / DOLPHIN (111A: Tupac and Eminem, for two / 92D: Intelligent sea mammal)

Word of the Day: OBELI (26A: Division signs, more formally) —

An obelus (plural: obeluses or obeli) is a historical annotation mark in codicology that has come to have three distinct modern forms, meanings and typographical uses:

• Division sign ÷
• Dagger †
• Commercial minus sign ⁒ (limited geographical area of use)

The word "obelus" comes from ὀβελός (obelós), the Ancient Greek word for a sharpened stick, spit, or pointed pillar. This is the same root as that of the word 'obelisk'. In codicology, a (usually horizontal) obelus in the form of a dagger was used to indicate erroneous or dubious content. The third symbol is an obsolescent mark used in some European countries

In mathematics, the ÷ symbol is mainly used in Anglophone countries to represent the mathematical operation of division (but has other meanings elsewhere) and is called an obelus in older textbooks. In modern typography, the second symbol, called a dagger mark † is used as a reference mark or footnote indicator. It also has other uses in a variety of specialist contexts. (wikipedia)

• • •

***THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU*** Today is the last day of my annual week-long pitch for financial contributions to the blog. This week has been delightful, if a bit overwhelming. I'm frankly at a bit of a loss for words. I've written and torn out these first few sentences over and over, trying to find a way to express how much I appreciate your support. I have been doing this—writing this blog—for twenty (20!) years as of this September. It is so tightly woven into the fabric of my life that I rarely think about what I'm doing, or why. I just do it. It's ... what I do. As regular a part of my day as brushing my teeth. But it takes a lot more time than brushing my teeth. I would not get up at 4am every day just to brush my teeth. But I do get up at 4am to write this blog, no matter what, rain/shine (or, where, I live, more like gray/grayer). Which brings me back to this question of "Why?" I know that part of it is pure obsession, genuine enthusiasm, a love for crosswords and (I hope you can tell) a love for writing. But a big part of it is you. I have a sense of obligation to a large and loyal audience who expect the blog to be there for them every morning, or every Sunday, or every time they get stuck. The obligation isn't onerous. Frankly, it's a privilege. I feel like I conjured you all out of thin air by some miraculous stroke of luck and every year I half expect that you'll just ... poof, disappear, gone as quickly as you arrived. This week, however—there you are, all at once, many of you offering messages of support and encouragement, or sharing your crossword-solving lives with me and telling me how much the blog is part of your routine.  

Look at that! I'm outranked only by "take pills"! Seems reasonable! This is the week when I really feel the broader blog-reading community most strongly, and if I had to give one reason why I keep writing every day—beyond habit, inertia, mania, etc.—it's community. You all make me feel like I'm part of something special. And as I begin to contemplate both retirement (from my day job) and relocation (not now, but not long from now either), your annual financial support of the work I do here means more and more to me. I can only say what I've said many times by now: thank you.

The first of the thank-you cards are already in the mail (they arrived from the printer earlier this week looking perfect):

[illustration by Katie Kosma]

If you were able to contribute this year, that is thrilling to me, but if you weren't able, that's also OK. Money is tight for many and you can only manage what you can manage. This blog is free to anyone who wants it or needs it, whether you are a financial backer or not. I just want you to keep solving and keep reading. Thanks for taking the time to pay attention to any of this. One last time, here are the various ways you can contribute (now, or at any time during the year). 

There's Paypal:

There's Venmo: @MichaelDavidSharp (the last four digits of my phone are 4878, in case Venmo asks you, which it apparently does sometimes)

And if you want one of the film noir-inspired postcards, there's the actual mail (you can make checks payable to either "Michael Sharp” or “Rex Parker"): 

Rex Parker c/o Michael Sharp

54 Matthews St.

Binghamton, NY 13905 

All this contact information lives full-time in the sidebar of my website and at the bottom of every post, in case you feel inclined to contribute months from now :) 

OK. That's it. To all my readers (and my hate-readers)—welcome to another year of this here blog. I'm so grateful for your company. Now buckle up. Let's go.

• • •

Truth be told, I found this one a little boring. My feelings about it were three-star, but the commitment to the PHI bit was so total, so wall-to-wall, so ornate, that I had to give it a grudging little bump. I don't much care for picture-based puzzles, since they add nothing to to the solving experience, but the architecture of today's grid—with its depiction of a giant black-square PHI / ϕ actually makes the grid kind of interesting to navigate. Creates these weird little pockets in the center of the grid, one just to each side. I liked those. I also liked the attempt to make the theme execution somewhat orderly, with the ϕ  (I/O) being part of the Across themers at the top and bottom of the grid, but part of the Down themers in the middle. Something about the way those four Down themers line up in a row like that, one in each of the four chunks of white space in the middle of the grid, seemed very neat, tidy, orderly. Also, the idea that you have to repeat the word to make sense of the answer (once with the "I," once with the "O") is a bit of genius. Architecturally, it is impressive. Solving it was a bit monotonous (all ϕ, all day long), but the execution was nonetheless impressive.

Do you think this puzzle needed a revealer? It struck me as completely anticlimactic and unnecessary, but I guess it does go some ways toward explaining the theme concept, which might have been unclear. Or maybe people found the revealer first and the clue helped them decipher the theme concept. I don't know. All I know is I'd been writing "PHI" into squares over and over and then got to a revealer that had nothing to say to me but "PHI"! Yeah, PHI, I know, PHI, I've been writing PHI, I see the big PHI symbol depicted in the grid, stop saying "PHI!" Is it PHI Day? Oh, wait ... is PHI a secret wink to crossword tournament-goers, a subtle celebration of the fact that the American Crossword Tournament (ACPT) is moving to PHI-ladelphia in 2027? Tragically, my wife and I did not register for this year's tournament right away and registration is already closed (!?). Guess we won't get to defend our Pairs title. Oh well, we'll just have to wait for 2027, when we can be the first PHI-ladelphia champions.

Figuring out the theme gimmick today was probably the hardest part of today's puzzle, and for me it wasn't that hard. Had the gist of it before I ever got out of the NW, though weirdly didn't get the rationale for the "I"/"O" thing until several themers later. Hilarious to look at the grid and (eventually) see a giant PHI (ϕ) staring at me. Like "hey, dummy, it's me, ϕ, the key to understanding the puzzle, hiding in plain sight!" But not fully understanding the ϕ part at first didn't impede my actually solving. I flailed around the NW a bit trying to grasp that first theme square, which was slippery as a bar of soap thanks to the weird-word team of AMPHIBIA and OBELI. But after I made it out of there, very few answers gave me trouble. I have no idea what songs Flo Rida ever sang. I thought maybe he tried "just a little." But no, apparently he cries (77A: Flo Rida title sung before the words "just a little" = "I CRY"). I have no idea what ETHENE is (84A: Compound that ripens bananas). I definitely had ETHANE in there for a while. In that same section, I thought maybe 48D: Identifies digitally? was pointing TO rather than pointing AT somebody (POINTS AT). I never see the word CONTES unless it's on the cover of a book of French short stories, so that answer was a little tough, as clued (95D: Short adventure tales). But I've got hardly any green ink on my puzzle print-out, which means genuine trouble spots were almost non-existent.

Bullets:

• 16A: Bygone carrier that had a fleet of "Clippers" (PAN AM) — these were apparently flying boats (!?). Did regular passengers actually fly on these? Looks like, yes, they were some sort of luxury option (??).

The Boeing 314 Clipper was an American long-range flying boat produced by Boeing from 1938 to 1941. One of the largest aircraft of its time, it had the range to cross the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. For its wing, Boeing re-used the design from the earlier XB-15 bomber prototype. Twelve Clippers were built, nine of which served with Pan Am. It was the first aircraft to carry a sitting American president, when in 1943 Franklin D. Roosevelt flew from Miami to the Casablanca Conference in Morocco, via Trinidad, Brazil, and The Gambia. (wikipedia)

• 53A: Debaters who use deceptive arguments (SOPHISTS) — one of the things that made the grid interesting today was all the "PHI"-containing words. SOPHISTS and SAPPHIREs and DOLPHINs etc. The "I"/"O" answers are flashier, of course, but I'm surprised how solid and (relatively) colorful all the "PHI" words are. 
• 70A: Two-time capital of the Mughal Empire (DELHI) — my brain short-circuited here and instead of selecting a "Mughal"-appropriate place, it just started cycling in familiar five-letter cities. My first thought was CAIRO (!?). I think I also considered DUBAI at one point. Bizarre.
• 91A: Bit of entertainment for a morning commute, maybe (PODCAST) — true enough, I suppose, but this was a little hard for me, as I don't have a much of a "morning commute," don't usually listen to PODCASTs in the mornings, and don't really think of PODCASTs as "entertainment." Of course they are, but my brain has categorized them as "informational" more than "entertaining."
• 13D: Mushroom often added to cream sauces (MOREL) — crossword mushroom protip: it's MOREL or ENOKI. If you've got a five-letter mushroom on your hands, it's a MOREL or an ENOKI. And since "cream sauces" seem more French than Japanese ... MOREL.
• 103A: "I'm fine, but thanks anyway!" ("OH, THAT'S OK!") — really stretching the "OH" limits here. Are we just adding "OH" to the beginning of any expression? OH HI, OH YES, OH SURE, OH GIVE ME A BREAK, OH YOU MUST BE KIDDING, where does it end!? I'm not actually that mad at this answer, since I can definitely hear someone (me?) saying this phrase. I just want to raise "OH" proliferation as a matter of potential public concern. I'm raising awareness here. Let's all just keep an eye on it.

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld

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Wellness product derived from an Australian bird / SUN 5-25-25 / Spot of madness, metaphorically / Melittologist's study / Battle of Normandy city / Spot of madness, metaphorically / Mammals with prehensile feet / Compound used to make synthetic rubber / Leathery-skinned hopper / Coatrack, in many a lodge

Constructor: Dylan Schiff

Relative difficulty: Medium

THEME: "Travel Bug" — answers "travel" through WORMHOLES (69A: Theoretical paths depicted by the circled squares), in two senses of the term: first, the answers enter the wormhole (i.e. the circled square) and then reemerge from a different such hole in the rotationally symmetrical position (i.e. on the other side of the grid); second, the wormholes themselves are rebus squares, and each of the three pairs contains a different kind of "worm" (INCHworm, BOOKworm, EARworm):

Theme answers:

• BRAINCHILD / STAYINGINCHARACTER (30A: Inventor's pride / 110A: Not breaking, as an actor)
• "WHO'SINCHARGE?" / BORNAGAINCHRISTIAN (3D: "Can I speak to your manager?" / 67D: Many an evangelical)
• OPENBOOKTEST / MACBOOKAIR (28A: Exam in which using notes is allowed / 115A: Lightweight Apple laptop)
• PREBOOKING / FACEBOOKPOST (15D: Making hotel reservations in advance / 90D: Certain social media update)
• ESCAPEARTIST / RICEARONI (43A: Harry Houdini and David Blaine, for two / 97A: Brand known as "The San Francisco Treat")
• "IHEARYA!" / AREARUG (33D: "Ain't that the truth!" / 85D: Floor covering in many a living room)

Word of the Day: EMU OIL (77A: Wellness product derived from an Australian bird) —

Emu oil is an oil derived from body fat harvested from certain subspecies of the emu, Dromaius novaehollandiae, a flightless bird indigenous to Australia.

Unadulterated emu oil can vary widely in colour and viscosity anywhere from an off-white creamy texture to a thin yellow liquid, depending on the diet of the emu and the refining method(s) used. Industrially refined emu oil is composed of a minimum of 70% unsaturated fatty acids. The largest component is oleic acid, a monounsaturated omega-9 fatty acid. Emu oil also contains roughly 20% linoleic acid (an omega-6 fatty acid) and 1–2% linolenic acid (an omega-3 fatty acid). Fully refined emu oil has a bland flavour.

Emu oil has previously been wrongly promoted as a dietary supplement with the claim it can treat a variety of human ailments, including cancer and arthritis. (wikipedia) ["wrongly promoted as a dietary supplement with the claim that it can treat a variety of human ailments" is a longer way of saying "wellness"]

• • •

["The Son of Man," RENÉ Magritte (13D)] 

I've seen a version of this theme before*—answer goes into a (worm)hole and then comes out another (worm)hole elsewhere in the grid—but the Actual Worm twist is new, and clever. But for me this was yet another puzzle that is far more impressive as a feat of architecture than it was entertaining to solve. A very, very "Look what I did!"—one that is meant to be admired after the fact, but that wasn't so very fun to solve. Having to move clear across the grid every time I wanted to enter a theme answer ... and then having all the  theme answers look like nonsense as entered ... all this rig(a)marole ultimately took its toll on me as a solver. I found it wearisome. I am intrigued, I will say, by the answers that actually end up in the grid, and wish there had been some way to tap into their wackiness. I mean, ESCAPE-A-RONI!? Now that's wacky. How about [Rice-and-pasta dish that'll give you the energy to bust out of Alcatraz?]? Something like that. I guess the other "wacky" hybrid phrases don't quite rise to such wackiness heights, but I'm definitely having more fun thinking about how I might clue something like "WHO'S IN CHRISTIAN?" (!?) than I had actually solving the puzzle in real time. The colors of the squares were arbitrary and ultimately meaningless (i.e. there's no specific meaning to "pink" or "yellow" or "blue," they're just being used to differentiate the pairs from one another). Because the paired squares are symmetrical, I don't think you really need the colors at all, but I guess they are helpful to people who are truly baffled by the concept here, and if nothing else they liven things up, visually. Leaving the colors out would've made this puzzle at least somewhat harder. But maybe with an already complicated concept, you don't want to add layers of difficulty, which would only drag an already potentially unpleasant experience. The fact that the WORMHOLES are also rebus squares containing types of worms—that is applause-worthy, for sure. Museum-quality stuff. I definitely had an "aha" and "nice" moment when I figured that part out. But all the shuffling back and forth ultimately wore me down and tired me out.

Another problem with the puzzle, for me, was that you could really feel the "giant uncurated wordlist" quality of the fill. Like, why would you ever go for something like WATER GAS (?) (9D: Mixture of carbon monoxide and hydrogen) or ISOPRENE (122A: Compound used to make synthetic rubber) or for god's sake EMU OIL??? I am happy to concede ISOPRENE, despite its manifest ugliness, because it's got some grid precedence (fourth NYTXW appearance in all time) and seems like it's probably a real enough thing, but WATER GAS and EMU OIL are debuts For A Reason. Who'd want them? Ick. Anything that has to be clued with "Wellness" is not well-come in my grid. "Wellness?" Tell that to the emu. EMU OIL is the new snake oil. Bah. Overall, though, the grid felt fairly smooth and nonirksome. My print-out is hardly marked up at all, which suggests that aside from the answers I just mentioned, and a ridiculous lot of "answers ending prepositions" (DRILLED IN, ACT ON, ICE IN, NEED TO, RID OF, GAGS ON), there wasn't much that was truly bugging me. I feel I should charge MISS A CUE with an "EAT A SANDWICH"-type violation, but MISS A CUE actually works as a standalone phrase, so ... not guilty. 

Before I got the theme, this puzzle played very hard, and very weird. Lots and lots of fumbling to understand the theme-affected answers in the NW. Totally inscrutable and semi-maddening. At some point, I could see that the circled square up there, the blue one, was going to be an "INCH" rebus, but even with that information, I was getting nothing but gibberish. The answers couldn't go through the circled square, and they didn't turn at a ninety-degree angle, as some theme answers have been known to do, so ... pfft. Here's how far I got before the penny finally dropped: 

Note the WATER___ answer, because, as I say, WATERGAS, WTF? Also note the early mistake of PUT for LAY (68A: Set (down)). You know I'm getting at least a little desperate when I break connectivity and just start trying to throw anything I can at the grid. I also kept reading 40A: Going on to say as [Going to say] and could think of no -ING word that would work there. But the theme breakthrough was a real turning point. Just after the above-pictured moment in the solve, I unfurled all four themers, which really broke the grid open, and I was off. I like that even after I "got" the structural gimmick, there was yet another element of the theme still to discover, i.e. why "INCH"? And what are the other colors going to be? Even though I would've described the circled squares as "WORMHOLES," I hadn't yet gotten to the revealer, nor really thought the concept through. So the connection among INCH, EAR, and BOOK was a nice discovery. And EAR and BOOK were a hell of a lot easier to uncover than INCH was, that's for sure. But that's typical theme stuff. The first one's always the hardest.

More stuff:

• 25A: Melittologist's study (BEES) — how is the study of BEES not something like APIOLOGIST. Puzzles made me learn APIAN ... but somehow the relevant -OLOGY has a totally different root? Aha! Turns out "Melittology" can, and I quote, "also be called apiology or apicology" (wikipedia). I feel (a little) better. Weirdly I had both BREW and BEER as the answer here, at different points (it was BREW when I thought SABER was SABRE :( (1D: Fencing discipline)). 
• 35A: Search around, as a truffle-hunting pig (ROOTLE) — when I went to bed last night after solving (on Sundays I solve the night before and then do most of my writing in the morning), my wife was solving the puzzle on her clipboard, and the first thing she said when she was done and I asked her how it went was "... ROOTLE?" It's a word I think we both recognize, but it is also a profoundly silly word, particularly if you are not a truffle-hunting pig.
• 82A: "Hang loose" sign (SHAKA) — I learned this term from crosswords. In case this "sign" is unfamiliar to you: "The shaka sign, sometimes known as "hang loose", is a gesture with friendly intent often associated with Hawaii and surf culture" (wikipedia). It looks like this:

• 106A: Battle of Normandy city (CAEN) — sometimes having solved crosswords for over three decades really comes in handy. CAEN is a place name I carry with me from the bad old days, when four-letter geographical obscurities ran roughshod over the grid. In the pre-Shortz days, you'd get six or seven CAENs a year some years. Shortz brought that number down pretty fast, to about 1.5 appearances a year, on average. Today is the first CAEN appearance in close to two years. 
• 130A: Spot of madness, metaphorically (DEEP END) — I know this "metaphor" only from the phrase "go off the DEEP END." It's a weird metaphor. If you can swim ... the DEEP END of the pool is not a place of madness. In fact, it's the only place you can dive safely. Maybe the metaphor came from a non-swimming people.
• 70D: Best place to go in London? (LOO) — I get why this is a "place to go," but "Best?" What's ... next best? An alley? Your pants? What's the worst? Please don't answer.
• 80D: What disbudding prevents the growth of (HORN) — so many ways you might clue HORN, and you went with... the maiming of animals for farming purposes? Why would you do this? Again, I direct your attention to the literally infinite more pleasant ways to clue HORN.

• 121D: "Miracle" product from inventor Joy Mangano (MOP) — what are we doing here? Did Joy Mangano (whoever that is) pay for product placement? It's MOP. As with HORN, billions of cluing opportunities. Come on. Make better choices. 

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld

*turns out there was a Fireball Crosswords puzzle with this *exact* theme (worm rebus and all) that came out a little over four years ago, constructed by Jordan Hildebrandt. That doesn't diminish today's puzzle—two different people come up with the same theme ideas independently from one another all the time. I'm just happy to receive confirmation that I had, in fact, seen something like this before (at least once).

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Eponymous mineralogist Friedrich / SUN 9-3-23 / Hindu scripture on meditation / Ancient manuscripts discovered in the Qumran Caves / Medical attendants at boxing matches / Shiny balloon material / Soup stock in Japanese cuisine / Titular love object on old TV / TV personality often referring to himself in the third person

Constructor: Dylan Schiff

Relative difficulty: Easy

THEME: "Computer Games" — circled squares in the top half of the grid represent literally some computer-related phenomena, which are named in the bottom half of the grid:

Theme answers:

• HATE MAIL / EMAIL ATTACHMENT (22A: Derby, for one / 65A: What a paper clip may indicate online ... as represented in 22-Across) [A derby is a HAT … and then EMAIL is “attached” to HAT … to make (unclued) HATE MAIL]
• SURF THE NET / SPREADSHEET (29A: Wander around online / 92A: Excel offering ... as represented in 29-Across) [the word SHEET is “spread” throughout the phrase SURF THE NET]
• LINCOLN PARK / BROKEN LINK (35A: Chicago neighborhood with a namesake zoo / 100A: It may lead to a 404 error page ... as represented in 35-Across) [the word LINK is “broken” inside the name LINCOLN PARK]
• THE DEAD SEA SCROLLS / POP-UP ADS (59A: Ancient manuscripts discovered in the Qumran Caves / 109A: Browser annoyances ... as represented in 59-Across) [the word ADS literally “pops up” in the middle of DEAD SEA SCROLLS (as it’s represented in the grid]

Word of the Day: TERRENCE Mann (46D: Tony-nominated actor Mann) —

Terrence Vaughan Mann (born July 1, 1951) is an American theatre, film and television actor and baritone singer. He is best known for his appearances on the Broadway stage, which include Chester Lyman in Barnum, The Rum Tum Tugger in Cats, Inspector Javert in Les Misérables, The Beast in Beauty and the Beast, Chauvelin in The Scarlet Pimpernel, Frank N. Furter in The Rocky Horror Show, King Charlemagne in Pippin, Mal Beineke in The Addams Family, and The Man in the Yellow Suit in Tuck Everlasting. He has received three Tony Award nominations, an Emmy Award nomination, and an Outer Critics Circle Award for Outstanding Actor in a Musical. 

His film credits include the Critters series, A Chorus Line, Big Top Pee-wee and Solarbabies. He also starred as the villain Whispers in the Netflix series Sense8 from 2015 to 2018. He is a distinguished professor of musical theatre at Western Carolina University, and is an artistic director of the Carolina Arts Festival and the North Carolina Theatre. (wikipedia)

• • •

The word that best describes this puzzle is "anti-climactic." That is, the "computer games" that are going on up top, with the circled squares, are all pretty obvious, so that by the time you get to the bottom, you're probably not gonna have anything like an aha moment when you get, say, BROKEN LINK. You can see that LINK is "broken" inside LINCOLN PARK, and you can see that the title of the puzzle is "Computer Games," and you can see that while there are circles in the top half of the grid, there are none in the bottom, and so, yeah, I knew the bottom was just gonna be explanations of what was going on up top, and what was going on up top was, as I say, pretty obvious. I will admit that I thought HATEMAIL was going to have something to do with "spam," i.e. unwanted EMAIL, so EMAIL ATTACHMENT surprised me a bit, but the others did not. You can see the SHEET spreading in SURF THE NET, you can see the ADS popping up in THE DEAD SEA SCROLLS. So there was no gas left in the tank there at the end. Things just kind of sputter to a conclusion. The little turned-up ADS bit was probably the most interesting thing, thematically. Otherwise, kind of a shrug today. The puzzle is very easy, so I imagine a lot of people will be fairly warmly disposed toward it. But after the first answer or two, the puzzle has nothing left to surprise you with. And the fill, while mostly solid, is no great shakes. Kinda BEIGE, overall, this one.

["Searching for my / Lost shaker of SALT" — RIP Jimmy]

Two proper nouns right in the middle of the grid—symmetrical sentinels—were the only things I didn't know today. TERRENCE Mann? TED ALLEN? (48D: Longtime host of Food Network's "Chopped"). I'll take the puzzle's word for it that these people are who the puzzle says they are. Most everyone else, from Ginger ROGERS to ADELE to Zora NEALE Hurston, was familiar to me. Had a bit of trouble with ISRAEL (25A: Biblical name that means "one who struggles with God") because I though ISMAEL might be the name in question, and IN REASON, yeesh, what? (14D: With good sense). I've heard the phrase "within reason," but just IN REASON? Nuh uh. Just 'cause your massive word list tells you something's good doesn't mean it is. Ooh, what's DASHI, I totally missed that when I was solving (13D: Soup stock in Japanese cuisine). Must've just filled it in entirely from crosses. Once again, no-looking an answer proves to be to my great advantage. I have heard of DASHI, but I definitely would not have remembered it. Along with IN REASON, I can't really imagine "CARES of the world" either (76A: ___ of the world). I haven't a care in the world, that's an imaginable phrase. I guess "far from the CARES of the world" is semi-familiar, but it feels quaint, and it did not come to me quickly at all. Speaking of quaint, ILL USAGE? I think I know ILL USE, but that also sounds quaint. This puzzle is scoring low on the freshness factor, is what I'm saying. Not a big fan of VERSE crossing AVERSE. Once Letter strings of longer than four letters generally shouldn't be duped at all, and certainly shouldn't be crossed, especially when (in this case) we're talking about one of those strings being a whole-ass word. I also don't really get the clue on VERSE (96D: Writer's block?). VERSE is no more a "block" (of text?) than any other bunch of text is. I do like the symmetrical pair of SHUTTERS and CURTAINS. Very windowy. Very nice.

Notes:

• 67D: Ptolemy was one, famously (ASTROLOGER) — wow, really thought he was an astronomer. I mean, he was. But apparently also this other thing. According to wikipedia, Ptolemy (who lived during the second century AD), was a "mathematician, astronomer, astrologer, geographer, and music theorist."
• 103A: Class speakers, for short (PAS) — oof. Not sure why you opt for this cluing of PAS instead of the plural slang of "fathers" or the French word for "not" (or "step," i.e. "Faux PAS"), but apparently someone thought "public address (systems)" would be a good idea, so here we are. 
• 44A: "___ for Tinhorns" ("Guys and Dolls" number) ("FUGUE") — No idea. And I've seen (the movie version of) "Guys and Dolls." This must be some desperate attempt to make a very easy puzzle a little bit harder.

• 113A: Tours with? (AVEC) — "Tours" is a place in France, and AVEC is French ... for "with."
• 72D: Diamond theft (STOLEN BASE) — presumably by now you know that the "diamond" in question is a baseball diamond. I did not know that until after several crosses into BASE. Wanted STOLEN ICE or STOLEN GEMS or something like that. 

I still haven't had time to review all the puzzles for July and August to figure out my favorites, so I'm deferring the "Best of..." for another week, I think. See you then (or whenever).

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld

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Sir Walter Raleigh's goal / WED 3-2-22 / Cookie with a green creme center / Big name in gumdrops / Energy-healing discipline

Constructor: Dylan Schiff

Relative difficulty: Medium (seemed slowish, but it's oversized (16x15), so maybe that was it)

THEME: Three-in-two — clues ask for three geographical entities, and they give you numeration, but rather than getting the three entities in a row, you get them overlapping, i.e. the second entity in the list is made up of the latter part of the first entity + the opening part of the third element. The upshot is: the second entity on the list looks like it's missing, but it isn't. So:

Theme answers:

• CAIROMEXICOCITY (21A: Three world capitals (5, 4, 10)
• OHIOWASHINGTON (38A: Three U.S. states (4, 4, 10)
• PANAMALITHUANIA (59A: Three countries (6, 4, 9)

Word of the Day: REIKI (17A: Energy-healing discipline) —

Reiki (霊気, /ˈreɪki/) is a Japanese form of energy healing, which is a subset of alternative medicine. Reiki practitioners use a technique called palm healing or hands-on healing through which a "universal energy" is said to be transferred through the palms of the practitioner to the patient in order to encourage emotional or physical healing. Reiki is a pseudoscience, and is used as an illustrative example of pseudoscience in scholarly texts and academic journal articles. [...] Clinical research does not show reiki to be effective as a treatment for any medical condition, including cancer, diabetic neuropathy, anxiety or depression; therefore it should not replace conventional medical treatment. There is no proof of the effectiveness of reiki therapy compared to placebo. Studies reporting positive effects have had methodological flaws. (wikipedia) (emph. mine)

• • •

I can't say I didn't have an 'aha' moment with this one, but I also can't say it was very satisfying. "Oh ... a trick. Well, you tricked me there for a bit. And now it will be easier to do the last theme answer." That was me at my most elated today. It's really, really hard to get excited about a theme with clues that are just [Three of this thing]. Like ... [List some stuff] ... Lists are not exciting, even when they do weird tricks like this. They're still just lists, and have all the excitement of ... lists. I don't quite understand why all the lists are geographical today. It does give the theme a kind of unity, but a wholly arbitrary one. Mammals, insects, birds would've done as well, or is at least theoretically possible, and still there would be no hook, no revealer or phrase or anything that makes the allegedly unifying concept make sense. Wait, is EL DORADO supposed to be the revealer? (5D: Sir Walter Raleigh's goal). It *is* a legendary "Lost City," right? And you kind of "lose" ... a city ... in that first themer (and EL DORADO crosses the "lost" city, i.e. ROME). But then EL DORADO also crosses the "lost" state of IOWA ... and it's nowhere near MALI, which isn't a "city" either. Is EL DORADO a "revealer," and if so, What in the world is the NYTXW doing with its "revealers" this week? First (Monday) there was that ridiculous repeating letter string that was supposed to be "revealed" (or so people have told me) by the "Two HEADS are better than one" clue ... only there was no indication that that was a revealer. And again today, a revealer with no indication. Or not. Maybe I am seeing things, drawing a connection where there is none. The point is, if you have a point, indicate that the point is in fact the point. EL DORADO is not exactly in a revealer position in the grid, and it doesn't have a revealer clue. Maybe it's just a winky "bonus" answer. Sigh, the theme is not strong enough for "winky" bonus answers. Give me a powerful revealer or give me ... well, something short of death, but you get the idea. This puzzle feels like it's in draft form—like the execution just hasn't been worked out properly yet. And yet here it is, published. I don't get it. [Extreme Don Henley voice] "EL DORADO ... why don't you come to your senses ....?"

The NW was hard, and TROPE was ultra-hard (1A: The girl next door, for one). "Why is the girl next door TRIPE? That seems mean." The rest of the grid isn't so tough. I weirdly had more trouble with "NO DUH" (41D: "Obvs!") than almost anything else (outside of that NW corner). In five letters, I wanted "TOTES!". Then with the "N" in place, I wanted "NOTED!" Once I solved it correctly, I noticed that "NATCH!" might also have worked. Live by the slang, die by the slang. I confused my "Reeses" and spelled Jean (RHYS) like Jacob at first (RIIS). The grid has a couple of highlights—MON CHERI, "OKAY THEN!"—but most of the rest of it is just OK, a little on the sloggy side. I find RENTACOP depressing for a host of reasons and wish it would go away (29A: Hired security guard). It's sneering and derisive. If you don't like cops, don't put them in your puzzles. Easy. RENTACOP is far from original at this point, anyway, so maybe leave it behind. Not thrilled by repetitions today, namely two forms of the verb "to eat" (EAT UP and ATE IT) and two ITs (HAVE AT IT and, again, ATE IT). Never that thrilled to see noted ethnic caricature TONTO (68A: Role once played on TV by Jay Silverheels) (and speaking of grid repetitions: you've already got "TV" in one of your answers (TVMOM), so you could lose it here). I want to call AGOG a kealoa** (I had the "A" and wrote in AVID), but AVID is not a very good answer for that clue—doesn't really convey the "anticipation" part, so it's probably not a true kealoa. False kealoalarm. See you tomorrow.

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld 

**kealoa = short, common answer that you can't just fill in quickly because two or more answers are viable, Even With One or More Letters In Place. From the classic [Mauna ___] KEA/LOA conundrum. See also, e.g. [Heaps] ATON/ALOT, ["Git!"] "SHOO"/"SCAT," etc.

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Architect of original Sisyphean task / THU 2-25-21 / Collaborator on 1968's Two Virgins familiarly / Garment whose name comes from Malay for sheath / Surname of two former Chicago mayors / Vintage diner fixture in brief / Psyche's mate in Greek mythology

Constructor: Dylan Schiff

Relative difficulty: Easy-Medium

THEME: DOUBLE DOWN (32D: Blackjack bet ... or a hint to applying the five circled regions in this puzzle) — wow, "applying" is a weird word here; you just "Double" the circled squares in the long "Down" answers to get your actual answers:

Theme answers:

• HANGING INDENT (3D: Feature of some bibliographic citations)
• COVER VERSION (36D: Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You," for example)
• HEART MURMUR (6D: Stethoscope detection)
• BARBARA BUSH (41D: Former first and second lady)
• STEAK TARTARE (10D: Dish often topped with raw egg yolk)

Word of the Day: Bill AYERS (22A: Bill ___, noted Vietnam War-era activist) —

William Charles Ayers (/ɛərz/; born December 26, 1944) is an American elementary education theorist. During the 1960s, Ayers was a leader of the Weather Underground that opposed US involvement in the Vietnam War. He is known for his 1960s radical activism and his later work in education reform, curriculum and instruction.

In 1969, Ayers co-founded the Weather Underground, a self-described communist revolutionary group that sought to overthrow imperialism. The Weather Underground conducted a campaign of bombing public buildings (including police stations, the United States Capitol, and the Pentagon) during the 1960s and 1970s in response to U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War.

Ayers is a retired professor in the College of Education at the University of Illinois at Chicago, formerly holding the titles of Distinguished Professor of Education and Senior University Scholar.^[ During the 2008 U.S. presidential campaign, a controversy arose over his contacts with then-candidate Barack Obama. He is married to lawyer and Clinical Law Professor Bernardine Dohrn, who was also a leader in the Weather Underground.

Also

William Oscar Ayers (September 27, 1919 – September 24, 1980) was an American Major League Baseball pitcher from Newnan, Georgia. He played for the New York Giants during the 1947 season. (wikipedia)

• • •

Interesting concept, but very unevenly developed, and with a high level of thematic density that causes the grid to groan terribly under the pressure. My first thought with the theme was "Why three letters?" and "Why *these* letters?" When the answer ended up being "no reason, totally arbitrary" to both, things got less interesting, and when the final (moving west to east) three themers all ended up having their three letters merely repeated inside of one word instead of strung across two (which is the much much the more interesting / elegant way to do things), well, that was pretty deflating. The revealer felt like kind of an afterthought at that point—not surprising or clever enough to rescue the ho-hum theme execution. At least HANGING INDENT was tough to work out, its three letters doubled across two words and masked by not being doubled in sound. COVER VERSION was likewise an interesting choice here—it's the same sound doubled, but each VER is in a separate word, so the doubleness doesn't announce itself so strongly, and you probably need to get crosses to work it out. Whereas ... MURMUR and BARBARA and TARTARE were all painfully simple to discover because the repeats are such distinctive and obvious parts of these single words/names (esp. MURMUR, the cheapest repeat of them all, and TARTARE, a close second). There's just nothing creative about those last three themers. You'd think a three-letter repeat could've yielded more interesting answers, where the repetition was more disguised and harder to suss out. 

The fill was especially weak today. It was so bad early on that I stopped to take a photo:

Note: I took the photo *before* filling in OCTANT (more unloveliness). ATHOS is an age-old repeater, but if your fill around it is fresh and clean, an age-old repeater can be highly tolerable. And yet ... today ... we got from ATHOS straight into a truly ugly abbr. (ATTS) (I like this better clued as a QB stat, but I like it best when it's not in my grid at all), and then TROU, ugh, a "word" that baffles so many solvers (esp. younger solvers) every time it appears because no one says it except maybe in some olde-tymey jokey way; I have never heard it except in the phrase "drop trou" (i.e. "pull your pants down"), which I have heard only in movies??? Not sure. And yet I see it in crosswords All The Time (or ... far too regularly for my taste). So, ATHOS ATTS TROU. That's your opening gambit. And then TONTO!? LOL, nice save there, I guess, with the clue, but the thing about TONTO, however you clue it, is that people still see the Lone Ranger's sidekick, which evokes all the racial unpleasantness your new clue is trying to avoid. And then there's OCTANT! ATHOS ATTS TROU TONTO OCTANT. Quite a series. At that point, I truly wanted out. And things don't get much better: REWON and REUSE. The vintage crosswordese horror that is ONERS. Some relatively harmless classics like AGORA, ALERO, and the OGEES. Pretty crusty all over. Some obvious Scrabble-f***ing in the NE and SW corners, but those corners are so cut off that there's no way the Q and J and K can really compromise anything. They're actually handled fairly neatly.

The names might prove slightly troubling today, esp. since ALLIE (a toughie) and DALEY cross. DALEY is such a major name in politics that I assume he'll take care of any problems with ALLIE, but still, any letter can cause trouble when you're dealing with an uncommon name like ALLIE, which I couldn't remember at all (Holden, Phoebe ... that's it, that's all I got in the Catcher memory bank). I know AYERS only from all the Obama-era "controversy." AYERS has more commonly been clued as AYERS Rock (Australia), but that's a colonialist term no longer in use. It's officially ULURU now. Put that in your grid and smoke it (seriously, ULURU deserves grid time). 

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld 

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