THEME: "Six-Pack" — wacky phrases where first and second parts of the phrase have 6-letter overlap; in the grid, the overlap is represented literally, with the words entered into the grid as if they were actually overlapping. Thus:
Theme answers:
EPHEMERAL EMERALDS => EPHEMERALDS (23A: Very short-lived gemstones?)
AIREDALE RED ALERT => AIREDALERT (3D: Emergency situation caused by a terrier?)
GILGAMESH GAME SHOW => GILGAMESHOW (34A: TV quiz program about an epic poem?)
SUPERMAN PERMANENT => SUPERMANENT (11D: Salon job named after a comic book hero?)
FIRST-RATE STRATEGY => FIRSTRATEGY (93A: Magnificent plan of action?)
HAMMERING MERINGUE => HAMMERINGUE (63D: Pounding on a pie topping?)
Pépé began his senior club career with Poitiers in the Championnat de France Amateur 2. He signed for Angers in 2013, aged 18, and spent a season on loan at Orléans in 2015. He signed for Lille in 2017, and was named to the UNFP Ligue 1 Team of the Year in the 2018–19 season. That summer, Pépé joined Arsenal for a club-record fee of £72 million, and won the FA Cup in his debut season.
Pépé, who was born in France to parents of Ivorian descent, made his debut for the Ivory Coast on 15 November 2016 in a friendly against France. (wikipedia)
• • •
80D: Mustachioed Springfield resident
I see what the puzzle is doing, but I don't quite know why it is doing it, considering there's no real humor or wackiness payoff. There's just a kind of grid gibberish. "Ephemeral emeralds" is kinda fun to say, but EPHEMERALDS ... actually, you know what, that's almost fun to say. That one may be the best of the lot. But take SUPERMANENT. There's just no way to make that funny as one word. I get that the way that the answers are entered in the grid is merely a visual representation of the full phrase, but even then ... is FIRST-RATE STRATEGY fun ... on any level? This is an architectural exercise. On that level, I guess it's a success. But as a bit of entertainment, it's something of a thud. You do have to do some fancy thinking to get everything to work out, but ultimately it's pretty easy. In fact, probably much easier than if the theme phrases had appeared in the grid completely. This way, every time you get *one* of those six letters in the overlap, you're actually getting *two* letters of the entire phrase. So, yeah, the theme felt very easy to untangle once you tumbled to the core concept. Beyond that, you've got a solid if fairly old-fashioned grid. When's the last time anyone said PEP PILL? Sounds like some kind of '50s/''60s euphemism for speed. When's the last time someone was STINKO? (aside from in the '40s/'50s movies I watch all the time)? Still, beyond the always-awful INAPILE and the plural suffix -ENES, nothing really grates today. I really liked SIDEMAN on the "side" of the grid with its plus one, PLUS ONE. Quite a pair, those two. Mostly, though, this was a thrill-less task.
I didn't even have interesting struggles or mistakes today. No idea who PÉPÉ was. Seems very very hard as proper nouns go, but in an easy puzzle, why not? Why not teach me about a PÉPÉ who is not LePew? Can't hurt. I actually knew TYLER, The Creator, so that somewhat toughish (depending on your musical knowledge / tastes) clue didn't faze me. Had my usual RHINE v RHONE confusion (24D: River near Rotterdam). Thought the clue on METRONOME was clever (76A: Beat box?). Sorry, really wish there were interesting things to talk about today, but if they're here, I can't see them.
Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld
P.S. Russ. Hey, Russ. Yeah, you. Your wife Jennifer says "Happy Anniversary!" There's no one she'd rather crossword with than you. Aren't you lucky? The answer is 'yes.' Happy anniversary, you two.
THEME: the big brawl — All theme clues begin, "At the big brawl..." and then, well, the clue and answers basically indulge in boxing puns:
Theme answers:
CAME OUT SWINGING (16A: At the big brawl, the jazz musician ...)
BOBBED AND WEAVED (36A: At the big brawl, the hairstylist ...)
PUT UP THEIR DUKES (55A: At the big brawl, the king and queen ...)
Word of the Day: UPI (58D: News letters) —
United Press International (UPI) is an international news agency whose newswires, photo, news film, and audio services provided news material to thousands of newspapers, magazines, radio and television stations for most of the 20th century. At its peak, it had more than 6,000 media subscribers. Since the first of several sales and staff cutbacks in 1982, and the 1999 sale of its broadcast client list to its rival, the Associated Press, UPI has concentrated on smaller information-market niches. (wikipedia)
• • •
Dutchess, 2002-2019
HELLO, READERS AND SOLVERS IN SYNDICATION (if it's the week of Jan. 12-19, 2020, that's you!). It's January and that means it's time for my annual pitch for financial contributions to the blog, during which I ask regular readers to consider what the blog is worth to them on an annual basis and give accordingly. It's kind of a melancholy January this year, what with the world in, let's say, turmoil. Also, on a personal note, 2019 was the year I lost Dutchess, who was officially The Best Dog, and who was with me well before I was "Rex Parker." Somehow the turning of the calendar to 2020 felt like ... I was leaving her behind. It's not a rational sentiment, but love's not rational, especially pet love. Speaking of love—I try hard to bring a passion and enthusiasm to our shared pastime every time I sit down to this here keyboard. I love what I do here, but it is a lot of work, put in at terrible hours—I'm either writing late at night, or very early in the morning, so that I can have the blog up and ready to go by the time your day starts (9am at the very latest, usually much earlier). I have no major expenses, just my time. Well, I do pay Annabel and Claire, respectively, to write for me once a month, but beyond that, it's just my time. This blog is a source of joy and genuine community to me (and I hope to you) but it is also work, and this is the time of year when I acknowledge that! All I want to do is write and make that writing available to everyone, for free, no restrictions. I have heard any number of suggestions over the years about how I might "monetize" (oof, that word) the blog, but honestly, the only one I want anything to do with is the one I already use—once a year, for one week, I just ask readers to contribute directly. And then I let 51 weeks go by before I bring up the subject again. No ads, no gimmicks. It's just me creating this thing and then people who enjoy the thing supporting the work that goes into creating the thing. It's simple. I like simple. Your support means a lot to me. Knowing that I have a loyal readership really is the gas in the tank, the thing that keeps me solving and writing and never missing a day for 13+ years. I will continue to post the solved grid every day, tell you my feelings about the puzzle every day, make you laugh or wince or furrow your brow or shout at your screen every day, bring you news from the Wider World of Crosswords (beyond the NYT) every day. The Word of the Day is: Quotidian. Occurring every day. Daily. Whether you choose to contribute or not, I'm all yours. Daily.
How much should you give? Whatever you think the blog is worth to you on a yearly basis. Whatever that amount is is fantastic. Some people refuse to pay for what they can get for free. Others just don't have money to spare. All are welcome to read the blog—the site will always be open and free. But if you are able to express your appreciation monetarily, here are two options. First, a Paypal button (which you can also find in the blog sidebar):
Second, a mailing address (checks should be made out to "Rex Parker"):
Rex Parker c/o Michael Sharp
54 Matthews St
Binghamton, NY 13905
All Paypal contributions will be gratefully acknowledged by email. All snail mail contributions will be gratefully acknowledged with hand-written postcards. I. Love. Snail Mail. I love seeing your gorgeous handwriting and then sending you my awful handwriting. It's all so wonderful. This year's cards are illustrations from the covers of classic Puffin Books—Penguin's children's book imprint. Watership Down, Charlotte's Web, The Phantom Tollbooth, A Wrinkle in Time, How to Play Cricket ... you know, the classics. There are a hundred different covers and they are truly gorgeous. Please note: I don't keep a "mailing list" and don't share my contributor info with anyone. And if you give by snail mail and (for some reason) don't want a thank-you card, just say NO CARD. As ever, I'm so grateful for your readership and support.
Now on to the puzzle!
• • •
This was a middle-of-the-road puzzle from the 20th century. The gag is corny and kind of forced—"At the big brawl..."?? You say that like it's a normal kind of event. Like ... what? *The* big brawl? What? When? Where? I can imagine. Big party, big race, big sporting event ... I can imagine hypothetical theme answers taking place at the big a lot of things, but brawl? No. The very premise of this theme is hard for me to imagine. And anyway, these are specifically *boxing* puns. And did the king and queen ... like, get their dukes (their? possessive?) to fight in their stead, is that the joke. I mean, obviously the joke is king and queen are titles of nobility, and so is duke, but again, the situational premise is unclear and/or preposterous. Also old-fashioned (in a not-bad way) is the use of just three themers. That used to be much more common, but themes are usually at least a little denser these days. I have no problem with thinner themes if a. they are fantastic, and b. the fill is great. Thin themes should equal fantastic fill, and this ain't it. A bunch of longer answers, but they're just wasted. I mean, ABREASTOF is nothing anyone's gonna cheer for. NACHOCHIP ... is a different from a tortilla chip how? Everything just felt ... unflavored. Plain.
The thing that really killed it for me, though, was ACNED (29D: Benefiting from benzoyl peroxide say). I'm sure it's a word, it's just ... not a good one. I'm actually stunned to see that it has now appeared seven (7) times since I started blogging. I must've blocked all those others out. I think of that word as a joke because Raymond Chandler went after Ross Macdonald for using it once in a very memorable letter to mystery critic James Sandoe, and then Macdonald found out Chandler was trashing him behind his back and spent the rest of his life seething in resentment. Here's a passage from the letter:
A car is "acned with rust", not spotted [...] "The seconds piled up
precariously like a tower of poker chips", etc. The simile that does
not quite come off because it doesn't understand what the purpose of
the simile is [...] When you say "spotted with rust" (or pitted, and
I'd almost but not quite go for"pimpled") you convey at once a
simple visual image. But when you say "acned with rust" the
attention of the reader is instantly jerked away from the thing
described to the pose of the writer. This is of course a very simple
example of the stylistic misuse of language, and I think that
certain writers are under a compulsion to write in recherche phrases
as a compensation for a lack of some kind of natural animal emotion.
They feel nothing, they are literary eunuchs, and therefore
they fall back on an oblique terminology to prove their
distinction.
Ever since I read this letter (in the course of writing an article on the Macdonald/Chandler relationship) I've never been able to take the word ACNED seriously, as all it makes me think of is cruddy, amateurish writing. Chandler was undeniably a jerk much of the time. But man he could write. I know Macdonald has his devotees, but ... find me the absolute best sentence in any Macdonald novel, and I'll open to a *random* page of The Long Goodbye and find a better one. People say Chandler couldn't plot to save his life. Knopf himself once wrote of Chandler: "He just can't build a plot: in fact, I don't think he even tries." To which I say, when you write that beautifully, who cares? I don't read Chandler for the intricacies of plot or to find out who "done it." I read him to live in a beautiful sad fallen world, one where I can smell the cigarettes, taste the whiskey, hear the surf, and feel the disillusionment. . . . aaaaaanyway, I didn't care for ACNED, is what I'm saying. The whole thing just was not for me. Again, not bad. I'd call it very competent last-century work.
Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld
P.S. LOL the clue on DIDO (37D: Aeneas' love). Lavinia's gonna be so mad when she hears ...
NOTE: Apparently this puzzle is a contest. I found this out after I solved, after I wrote about the puzzle, after I already posted. Having done the work, there's no way in hell I'm taking down this post, but I am telling you not to read on if you don't want the contest "spoiled" for you. If you are sincerely irate that someone might use my post to "cheat," enter this contest, and dishonorably win the huge pile of riches, I don't know what to tell you.
*****
Constructor: Eric Berlin
Relative difficulty: Easy (8:59)
THEME: "Escape Room" — theme answers are instructions on how to "escape this crossword": you need the LETTERS ON THE KEYS (because four different squares have "KEY" going in one direction and a single *letter* (which you need to escape...) going in the other). You take those KEY-crossing letters (which are Y, A, T, and W) and literally PLACE THEM IN THE CORNERS, after which you can READ NEW DOWN WORDS, namely: "YOU / ARE / OUT / NOW" — here's the grid with the letters actually placed in the corners:
[Side note: Are you having trouble getting the app to take your solution? I solve in AcrossLite, and it took my grid when I entered the single letters in the "KEY" squares (i.e. I wrote in NASTINESS, IMARET, SWEET, and SNOW DAY, even though it left the crosses looking funny). Maybe the app works the same way?]
Word of the Day: Peter STRAUB (33A: Horror writer Peter) —
Escape Rooms are entirely not my jam. Many, many of my friends are very, very into them. I feel about them the way I feel about most other things that combine group activities and being locked in a room I can't immediately get out of, i.e. nope. I like crosswords, and I like some crossword variants like Vowelless crosswords or ... what are they called, Something Different or something like that, where most of the answers are ridiculous / nonsensical entries that are still somehow gettable through inventive cluing; and I'll do an Acrostic if I'm bored, and I'll have a look at a Spelling Bee or even a Jumble if I'm waiting for the water to boil, buuuuuuut ... Escape Rooms, no. See also Puzzle Hunts and Learned League and etc. I'm very anti-social, or narrowly social, and my puzzle tastes are kind of narrow too. Where was I going with all this: oh yeah, Eric's puzzle. I was deep enough into my Manhattan to feel very open-minded about this. Enthusiastic, even. I mean, I gotta do it, so why not do it with a spirit of adventure? And what can I say? The thing where theme answers are instructions—not my favorite kind of solving experience. Tab A in Slot B, Fold Here, etc., just doesn't make for hot fill. That said, this particular gimmick is neat and tidy and clever and not a fussy nuisance—and the grid was crisp and clean—so a good time was had. By me.
[59A]
I didn't really know what to do with the KEY squares in the grid, so I left them blank and went back to check them out once I'd filled in the rest of the grid. It took me a minute or two of fiddling around and writing out the KEY letters and then plugging them in to see the "escape." It's nice that when you plug in the KEY letters in the corners, not only do the Down answers spell out the escape phrase, but the Across answers also form perfectly acceptable words (YEAR CHINA TOAST SLEW). Is that how you spell GASSES? I think I would write GASES. Oh, man, that looks bad too. Nevermind. Coolest answers, to my ears / eyes, are oddly symmetrical: NEKO CASE and LAST GASP. I had never heard of NEKO CASE and then for some reason I can't recall "Fox Confessor Brings the Flood" (2006) fell into my lap about a decade ago and I was like "whaaaaat is this?" This song in particular.
Not much in the way of trouble here today. What didn't I know? STRAUB. That's a name I've seen in bookstores, I guess, but I know nothing about his work. Thank god that "B" was crystal clear, 'cause I was fully ready to go with STRAUS. The only other part of the grid that made me squirm a little was NICAD over MEDI- crossing DISS (and I once wrote a DISS, so dis whole situation is a little weird). I see NICAD from time to time, but it still doesn't come easily to me. And what ever was MEDI- ...? 97A: Prefix on some first-aid products. I guess that's ... correct. Let's just say that that little patch is not one of the lovelier parts of the grid. But that patch is anomalous. Whoa, I just looked at LESSSO and it freaked me out a little, so I'm gonna stop now. Hope you escaped. See you tomorrow, or next Sunday, or whenever you read me next, I guess.
Lehrer’s work often parodies popular song forms, though he usually creates original melodies when doing so. A notable exception is "The Elements", where he sets the names of the chemical elements to the tune of the Major-General's song from Gilbert and Sullivan's Pirates of Penzance. Lehrer's early work typically dealt with non-topical subject matter and was noted for its black humor in songs such as "Poisoning Pigeons in the Park". In the 1960s, he produced a number of songs dealing with social and political issues of the day, particularly when he wrote for the U.S. version of the television show That Was the Week That Was. Despite their topical subjects and references, the popularity of these songs has endured; Lehrer quoted a friend's explanation: "Always predict the worst and you'll be hailed as a prophet." (wikipedia)
• • •
I love Weird Al. I grew up on Weird Al videos. I have been listening to Weird Al's "Hamilton Polka" fairly regularly for the better part of a month now. With him, the bar is pretty high as far as exceptionally clever wordplay is concerned. And these puns ... I don't know, man. Maybe these are the best cheese / movie puns out there—don't know, haven't brainstormed farther than a few low-hanging GOUDA puns. But these aren't groaners so much as shrugs. None of them seem particularly outrageous or inventive. "FETA ATTRACTION" is the clear winner of the bunch, in that GOUDA puns are old as the hills and BRIE for BRIEF is not exactly spot on, and MUENSTERS is plural, which is both awkward and not in keeping with the other cheeses. Yes, I am overthinking theme consistency here, but only because the puns are not undeniable winners. If they were, I would have to give into the force of the pun, succumb to the punniness, kneel before Punz. But because they're actually kind of tepid, their weaknesses stand out. Would've liked this much more if the puns *and the clues* had been much more outlandish. Maybe imagine the cheese titles as if they were real. The "cheesy" movie angle is clever, but it gives all the clues a bland uniformity. Better for the clues to have to imagine what "FETA ATTRACTION" or (dear god) "PELICAN BRIE" might actually look like. [1993 legal drama about the illegal trade in shorebird-flavored soft cheese?]. Think of the weird places you could've gone with titles like "BRIE ENCOUNTER" or "MUENSTER'S BALL". This version is just a little too staid, a little too dad joke, not quite Weirdish or Alish or Yankovician enough.
The fill skews a little old and a little old-fashioned, with more old-school crosswordese (ONAGER!) than I'd expect in a simple, four-theme-answers Wednesday grid. The grid design really limits the potential for interesting fill, as there are no non-theme answers longer than 7 letters, and only two of those. I am having very mixed feelings about BIC PEN, which seems both original and "original" (in the sense of weird, redundant, made-up). I mean, Bic makes pens, sure, but I'm having trouble imagining anyone saying BIC PEN in any context, nowadays. My favorite part of the puzzle is actually the inclusion of Tom LEHRER, a nice little nod from one song parodist to another. Hope you didn't think it was spelled LAHRER, and that Wall-E's love was EVA, because that would've been most unfortunate and I'm certainly glad I definitely definitely did not make that error.
Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld
P.S. Eric Berlin, this puzzle's non-Weird contributor, is one of the only people I know of making very high-quality puzzles (of all kinds) for children. You can get one (free) every week at puzzleyourkids.com, and if you wanna get your kids started on actual crossword puzzles (and, come on, you know you do), you can get a set of 20 mini-crosswords for kids for just $4.99 at Eric's store.
P.P.S. Eric is also the author of the Winston Breen series of puzzle/mystery novels, so you should probably go ahead and buy those for your kids, too.
P.P.P.S. this is what happens when you unleash the cheese pun concept on Twitter very late at night. Warning: it's not pretty.
THEME:"The Magic Show" — theme answers are magic tricks that are literally depicted elsewhere in the grid:
Theme answers:
VANISHING COIN (23A: Magic trick performed at 78-Down) (78D: Provide part of a coverage policy for) should be COINSURE, but the COIN ... has vanished)
LINKING RINGS (47A: Magic trick performed at 119-Across and 104-Down) (those answers intersect at a RING rebus square)
SAWING A LADY IN HALF (67A: Magic trick performed at 123- and 124-Across) (LADY is split across ELLA and DYS)
CHANGING CARD (91A: Magic trick performed at 55-Across) ("Peking" changed to PEACE ... I am just noticing this one as I type it, holy hell, no Wonder that area destroyed me)
LEVITATING MAN (115A: Magic trick performed at 15-, 16- and 17-Down) (all those Downs have their first letters missing and those letters spell out M-A-N ... presumable "MAN" has "levitated" above the grid)
Word of the Day: CONIES (96D: Furs from rabbits) —
noun, plural conies.
1.
the fur of a rabbit, especially when dyed to simulate Hudson seal. (dictionary.com) ("Hudson seal" wtf?!)
• • •
This is ambitious and, at times, very clever. But too often the phrasing on the themers felt quite off, and the overall quality of the fill was on the low side. The short bad stuff becomes a major issue when it's not offset by a preponderance of wonderful fill and/or a great theme. ERGOT LAH IBN OTOE ANNI and I hadn't gotten out of the NW yet. You can tell what the tolerance level is going to be for elder-fill pretty soon after starting a crossword. There just wasn't nearly enough snappy fill to rescue this thing. IN A SNARL ... you don't ever want to give your long answers over to such awkward phrases. Or to bygone things like the ACE AWARDs or to arcane things like TRIOLETS. Or to arbitrary things like TEN TO ONE. Or to actual old terms *signifying* oldness like GRANDDAD. It was very interesting to see how the various theme answers played out in their respective parts of the grid, but awkward theme phrasing + DUDS aplenty in the fill meant the overall solving experience wasn't so hot.
I have no idea what CHANGING CARD is. That is not a trick I know or have every heard of. I mean, I'm guessing that the magician somehow makes a card appear to change ... but it's no SAWING A LADY IN HALF, in terms of iconic magic tricks, I'll tell you that. LEVITATING MAN is worse. What is that? I know that Blaine has appeared to make himself levitate, but is that the LEVITATING MAN ... trick??? Oy. Changing KING to ACE at 55A: PEACE was absolutely brutal, especially considering that section was already blarghishly tough, what with GYM SHOES (I had OLD SHOES) and GLYPH (??) and is-it-LOA-or-is-it-KEA (worst magic trick ever) and the utterly ridiculous, please-take-it-back-and-smash-it YOWEE. I thought I was going to die in that section. And I mean die, as in not finish. At all. I stalled for what felt like a long time. I guess I would've gotten in there eventually once I noticed the theme clue indicating a CHANGING CARD but yowie that hurt. Anyway, I like the ambition but it was too rough and wobbly for me.
That said, Eric Berlin is in general an excellent puzzle-maker *and* he is one of the only people I know making top-notch puzzles *for kids*. Solve sample puzzles and sign up for a free weekly puzzle here: www.puzzleyourkids.com.
THEME: "Masquerade" — Note: "Ten famous people are attending a costume party in this crossword. After the grid is filled, change the two circled letters in each theme answer to "unmask" a celebrity."
Word of the Day: John GUARE (100D: "A Free Man of Color" playwright) —
John Guare (pronounced gwâr; born February 5, 1938) is an American playwright. He is best known as the author of The House of Blue Leaves, Six Degrees of Separation, and Landscape of the Body. His style, which mixes comic invention with an acute sense of the failure of human relations and aspirations, is at once cruel and deeply compassionate.
• • •
This was very smooth—so smooth that it was hardly there. Blew through it in near-record time without having any idea what the theme was, which is surprising given that every single theme answer is a made-up, odd, or unnatural phrase. Theme answers that require you to work crosses can be tedious to get through, but not this one. Torched it. Didn't look at the note until well after I was done. Figured out that there was something going on with the circled letters hiding celebrity names (ALEX TREBEK leapt out from behind ALERT REBEL pretty readily), but thought I must be missing something—maybe the letters in the circles had some significance, followed some pattern, etc. But no. The phrases are just two letters off from the names of famous people. Seems a little slight for a puzzle theme ... but it's always possible I'm missing some level of complexity (already happened to me once today with Patrick Blindauer's new free puzzle for October).
Theme answers:
23A: Rods on a cowboy's truck (RANCH AXLES) => RAY CHARLES
25A: Environmentally sound keyboard (GREEN ORGAN) => GREG NORMAN
42A: 007 strategy (BOND PLAN) => BOB DYLAN
44A: High card up one's sleeve (INNER ACE) => ANNE RICE
66A: Narrow overhang (SLIM AWNING) => ELI MANNING
68A: Government resister standing ready (ALERT REBEL) => ALEX TREBEK
85A: Shock a fairy-tale monster (JOLT OGRE) => JOE TORRE
89A: Nocturnal birds liable to keep people awake (LOUD OWLS) => LOU RAWLS
109A: Soup spoon designed for shellfish (CONCH LADLE) => DON CHEADLE
111A: Last costume at a costume party (FINAL GUISE) => TINA LOUISE
GUARE was the only answer I flat-out hadn't heard of before, and the only place I struggled in the slightest was at the very end, in the SE—couldn't come up with either author (semi-ironically), or OPOSSUM (92D: Smallish marsupial), and had ACNE before I had SCUM (116A: Cleaner target). Other than that ... I did have a little hesitation with both OIL SEED (26D: Canola, for one) and NUT TREE (45D: Cashew, for one), and for the same reason each time—I got the first word easily and then had no idea what second word could be. Canola is an oil. Cashew is a nut. The other parts of those answers needed help from crosses to emerge.
Bullets:
33A: Only nonsentient zodiac symbol (LIBRA) — interesting clue. But can we really be sure that centaurs are sentient?
48A: French river or department (AUBE) — ugh, one of my least favorite clues. In my attempt to remember what obscure four-letter French place name this could be, I came up with ... ARNE. I was probably thinking ORNE. ARNE is a British composer or an American Secretary of Education.
99A: Former Portuguese colony in China (MACAU) — sometimes MACAO. No idea if MACAW live there.
103A: 1983 domestic comedy ("MR. MOM") — gimme! I was weirdly proud to come up with this one, no help from crosses. I watched a 1984 comedy today: "Ghostbusters"
119A: 1999 Broadway revue ("FOSSE") — weird way to clue this famous choreographer. Weird to me, anyway, as I've never heard of said "revue."
7D: Green-headed water birds (MALLARDS) — the most famous of which is, of course, politically conservative reporter Mallard Filmore.
10D: Celestial being, in France (ANGE) — another gimme. Sometimes seven years of French pay off. Classical literature also paid off today with "ORESTEIA" (12D: Trilogy that includes "Agamemnon").
87D: Unfilled spaces (LACUNAE) — one of my favorite SAT-type words. I usually dislike preposterous-sounding and unnecessary Latinate words, but this one's an exception.
Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld
Read more...
THEME: FULL CIRCLE — Theme clues apply both to the theme answer in question and the subsequent theme answer, creating a kind of cluing chain, with the last theme clue applying back to the first theme answer.
Word of the Day: TOCCATA (64D: Improvisatory piece of classical music) —
Toccata (from Italiantoccare, "to touch") is a virtuoso piece of music typically for a keyboard or plucked string instrument featuring fast-moving, lightly fingered or otherwise virtuosic passages or sections, with or without imitative or fugal interludes, generally emphasizing the dexterity of the performer's fingers. Less frequently, the name is applied to works for multiple instruments (the opening of Claudio Monteverdi's opera Orfeo being a notable example). (wikipedia)
• • •
I really liked the theme, though the interlinkedness helped me not at all. I just liked (loved) that, with so many clues that start [With X-Across...], I never ever ran into the typical cross-referenced clue at X-Across: [See The Clue That Sent You Here]. Instead, each theme clue just passed the buck down the line, which never required me to look back at other clues to remember what the hell was going on. Because of this, the theme answers were Super easy to get. The puzzle seems to have known this would be the case, and made the rest of the grid more difficult than usual in order to make up for it. Nothing particularly brutal, but a lot of stuff designed to slow you down. I got ANAPESTS fine (51A: Some poetic feet), but everything between there and, let's say, MURALIST, was a fight. Never heard of TIN GODS (53D: Small-time tyrants), and the "small" part of that clue had me really wanting TINY in the answer. I over thought MT ETNA (63A: Sicilian tourist attraction) and tried MT ENNA (ENNA being a city in Sicily that occasionally shows up in the grid). Cluing on OLEG is wholly new to me (71A: ___ Kalugin, former K.G.B. general with the 1994 book "Spymaster"). TOCCATA is a word I've heard of ... it must be on some recording of someone I have somewhere ... but I wasn't sure of it for a while. And then CLEON — I had CREON in my head (76A: Opponent of Pericles). That's somebody, right? CREON? Yes, he is the non-small-time tyrant in Antigone. Throw in NITRATE (83D: Fertilizer ingredient), which I was none too sure about, and that whole section ended up being a battle. There were other hang-ups along the way too, but none where my ignorance was so concentrated.
Theme answers:
22A: With 24-Across, two things that are stuffed (ROAST TURKEY)
24A: With 36-Across, two things on a farm (SCARECROW)
36A: With 38-Across, two things associated with needles (HAYSTACK)
38A: With 55-Across, two things that spin (RECORD PLAYER)
55A: With 82-Across, two things at an amusement park (FERRIS WHEEL)
82A: With 95-Across, two things that are sticky (COTTON CANDY)
95A: With 99-Across, two things with brushes (RUBBER CEMENT)
99A: With 115-Across, two things with ladders (MURALIST)
115A: With 117-Across, two things that are red (FIRE TRUCK)
117A: With 24-Across, two things associated with Thanksgiving (CRANBERRIES)
My wife pointed out to me that all the theme answers are two-word phrases except two: MURALIST and CRANBERRIES. Clearly, this didn't bother me at all. Wife also shared my understandable distaste for ISTS (58A: Believers), my strange affection for OLDISH (26A: Getting up there in years), and my surprise that the word GLADLY (2D: With a smile) had never appeared in a (post-mid-'90s) crossword puzzle. Not in the NYT, and not in any puzzle in the cruciverb.com database. Weeeeeird. It's not exactly obscure.
Bullets:
1A: City SE of Delhi (AGRA) — In India, four letters — gimme.
10A: Cumberland Gap explorer (BOONE) — I have no idea where the Cumberland Gap is, HA ha. I still got this easily (it's a passageway through the Appalachians, btw).
18A: Supermax resident (FELON) — I taught for a while in a (mere) maximum security prison in Elmira. The supermax is a couple of miles away from that, in Southport, NY.
44A: Balloonist's baskets (GONDOLAS) — I'd forgotten that's what those are called.
59A: "Hair" song with the lyric "Hello, carbon monoxide" ("AIR") — something unsettling about "Hair" cluing "AIR" — too close. And yet I really like the clue (despite never having seen "Hair").
90A: Second track on "Beatles '65" ("I'M A LOSER") — I think I've seen this title in crosswords (in whole or in part) more than I've actually heard the song.
106A: 1922 Physics Nobelist (BOHR) — wife very happy with the crossword muscle she's developing: gimme!
113A: Adjective for a bikini, in a 1960 song (TEENIE) — I think it's a compound adjective, "TEENIE-weenie."
120A: Drug company behind Valium (ROCHE) — not on my radar. Needed crosses.
121A: "Pearls Before Swine," e.g. (COMIC) — by which the puzzle means COMIC strip. Really not on my radar. Needed crosses.
1D: Region in ancient Asia Minor (AEOLIA) — know this term only from Coleridge and the AEOLIAN harp, which is some kind of contraption you put in your window (memory ... foggy ...) so it can be "played" by the wind. Yes, that's right. This is a toughish ancient Greek answer, as is IONIAN, potentially (100D: Sea between Italy and Greece).
18D: Latte topper (FROTH) — wanted FOAM. FROTH sounds sooo much less appetizing.
69D: "Southland" airer (TNT) — never heard of "Southland." Maybe because I don't watch any TNT.
77D: Scientist with multiple Emmys (NYE) — Bill NYE the Science Guy. Never really watched him, but still a gimme.
85D: Biochemical sugar (RIBOSE) — only very vaguely familiar. Looks like a word meaning "funny" — a hybrid of RIBALD and JOCOSE.
Will bring the "Tweets of the Week" feature back next week. Til then, enjoy your long weekend (if you've got one).
Word of the Day: STRETTI (36A: Climactic musical finales) —
The term stretto (plural: 'stretti') comes from the Italian past participle of stringere, and means ‘narrow’, ‘tight’, or 'close’. In music the Italian term stretto has two distinct meanings: (1) In a fugue, stretto (German: Engführung) is the imitation of the subject in close succession, so that the answer enters before the subject is completed. [...] (2) In non-fugal compositions, a stretto (also sometimes spelled stretta) is a passage, often at the end of an aria or movement, in faster tempo. Examples include: the end of the last movement of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony; measure 227 of Chopin's Third Ballade; measures 16 and 17, of his Prelude No. 4 in E minor; and measure 25 of his Etude Op. 10, No. 12, "The Revolutionary."
• • •
Like two puzzles in one — train wreck up top, cake walk down below. Not knowing STRETTI killed me, as I couldn't foresee the Italian "I" plural, and thus couldn't see GNARLIER (18D: More difficult, in slang), and so on, and so on, and so on. Also, really, desperately wanted TAPAS something for 17A: It has a lot of small dishes (TASTING MENU), so everything after "TA-" was empty for a while once I realized TAPAS wouldn't work. Had EGYPT at SINAI (9D: Six-Day War setting). Later, had JOIN at OLIO (15A: Mix). Didn't know "COULDABeen the One" (2006 Rihanna song) and took ForEvah to get the (to my mind, yucky, and yuckily clued) IDENT. at 25A: Security need: Abbr. Clue on ANIMAL PELT was so oddball that it took many crosses to turn up (21A: Forest cover?). So, essentially, everything west of PARENTHOOD (11D: Pop's condition) was rrrrough up there, even with ILLINI (14A: Marching ___ (Midwest college band)), ASLAN (23A: Narnian guardian), and SCARECROW solidly in place.
The rest of it — about a Wed-Thu level for me. Minor hesitations here and there, but nothing major at all. LETTER N? (42D: End of discussion?)?? Can you do that? With any letter? I tried ET CETERA in that slot, I think. Then possibly LECTERN, but that made no sense. Finally acquiesced to the improbable LETTER N. It may surprise those of you who are aware of my math / science ignorance that I took CATHODE RAY (27D: Crookes tube emission) down off just the "C"; I also took SCARECROW (26A: Its purpose is frightening) down off just the "W," but that didn't feel as impressive. Overall ... well, I've seen more inspired work from Eric. This was Just OK for me. Solid. Fine. No big complaints. COULDA been worse.
Bullets:
16A: Post-Manhattan Project agcy. (AEC) — Atomic Energy Commission. Learned from xwords. Often want NEC, which is ... a Japanese IT company.
19A: Guilty, in a legal phrase (REA) — as in "mens REA"
33A: They're checked for life (PULSES) — sooo good, this clue. I couldn't get beyond coats and hats for some reason.
58A: Women who may break people up? (COMEDIENNES) — had the ending and was briefly wondering if there was an opposite of YENTAS...
[yeah, there's some profanity in here]
64A: Rialto attention-getter (NEON) — "Rialto" = theater. I was thinking more along the lines of "AHEM" or "Turn off your cell phone you #$$%ing *%!@"
2D: Offerer of the Matmid frequent flier club (EL AL) — no clue, but didn't matter. Entered EL AL with no crosses. This clue is kind of awesome in its attempt to be fresh. See also the clue on OMOO (52D: Novel with the chapter "Farming in Polynesia").
5D: Clandestine maritime org. (ONI) — Office of Naval Intelligence. I really want ONI to be clued as [Creature of Japanese folklore]. ONI is also a comic book press, which is how I know the Japanese monster meaning.
7D: Company with the stock symbol DPZ (DOMINO'S) — wow, makes a lot of sense in retrospect. In prospect, however, it looked like a drug company.
8D: I, for one (ELEM.) — Iodine is an ELEMent. I was like "I is ELEMentary how?"
26D: Longtime human "Sesame Street" role (SUSAN) — Could remember only GORDON. Then got some crosses.
47D: Michael with the memoir "work in Progress" (EISNER) — back-to-back media exec clues, with 49D: TV executive Arledge (ROONE).
One final announcement:The Crosswords L.A. Tournament is coming up in just over 2 weeks (May 1, 2010, at Loyola-Marymount University). If you live in the general vicinity of Southern California, you should strongly consider coming. I'll be there, but that's probably not the biggest selling point. You should go to enjoy the company and competition in a *very* low-stress setting. You can even solve in a team with a partner if you like. Many constructors you know and love (or hate) will be there — Tyler Hinman, Doug Peterson, Andrea Carla Michaels, Alex Boisvert, etc. My fellow xword blogger PuzzleGirl will be there. It's inexpensive, it's for a children's charity, it's very professionally run by the lovely Elissa Grossman. Seriously, it's all good. You should go. More info here. If you do decide to go, let me know. Thanks.
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!")
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