THEME: "... in the comics" — clues refer to visual representations of (mostly) invisible phenomena "in the comics":
Theme answers:
STORM CLOUD (16A: Anger, in the comics)
WAVY LINES (15D: Odor, in the comics)
LIGHT BULB (26D: Idea, in the comics)
SWEAT DROPS (59A: Nervousness, in the comics)
Word of the Day: Rembrandt PEALE (48D: Portrait painter Rembrandt ___) —
Rembrandt Peale (February 22, 1778 – October 3, 1860) was an American artist and museum keeper. A prolific portrait painter, he was especially acclaimed for his likenesses of presidents George Washington and Thomas Jefferson. Peale's style was influenced by French Neoclassicism after a stay in Paris in his early thirties. (wikipedia)
• • •
I love comics. I teach comics. I'm teaching a course on comics now, and I will teach another one in the spring. Thematically, this should be right up my alley. And it was, in the sense that the answers were all pretty easy to get. But there's a listlessness to the execution here. You know what would've been super cool? Well, it's likely impossible for the NYT to do this easily, but this puzzle is just screaming for visual clues. Like, work with the Charles Schulz estate and just use a series of single panels for your theme clues ... somehow.
That would be really innovative. As it is, "in the comics" just doesn't cut it. I mean, it's accurate enough, but all this puzzle does is make me wish I was reading comics. Also, it really feels like STORM CLOUDs are more commonly used to represent depression, sadness, or general sadsackery than anger.
Did you know that the unpronounceable symbols used to represent swearing in comics are called GRAWLIX? Why hasn't *that* been in a crossword puzzle!? I mean, besides its relative obscurity. It's a truly great word.
I mostly filled this one in as fast as I could read the clues / type. Hesitations for long-ass clues (e.g. 10D: In answer to request "Talk dirty to me," she sometimes says "The carpet needs vacuuming") (SIRI), slight forgetfulness (e.g. needing a bunch of crosses to remember MARACA (17D: Percussion instrument made from a gourd)), inexplicable blanking (e.g. couldn't remember EGRET??? Even after getting the "E"??? Actually considered EIDER for a half-second????) (65A: White-plumed wader), and, finally, in a single instance, absolutely positively not knowing something—namely, the portrait painter Rembrandt PEALE, who looks an awful lot like Hume Cronyn in "Shadow of a Doubt"
Anyway, Rembrandt PEALE seems pretty Saturdayish for a Monday (or any day, I guess). I know only one Rembrandt—the actually famous one. The actual Monday one. So I needed every cross there. But that's it for trouble. Hope it's a lovely autumn day where you are, and that you are able to enjoy it. Take care.
JUNO PROBE (11D: NASA spacecraft orbiting Jupiter)
UTAH STATE (36D: The Aggies of the N.C.A.A.)
Word of the Day: LEE Krasner (42D: Abstract Expressionist Krasner) —
Lenore "Lee" Krasner (October 27, 1908 – June 19, 1984) was an American abstract expressionist painter, with a strong speciality in collage, who was married to Jackson Pollock. This somewhat overshadowed her contribution at the time, though there was much cross-pollination between their two styles. Krasner’s training, influenced by George Bridgman and Hans Hofmann, was the more formalized, especially in the depiction of human anatomy, and this enriched Pollock’s more intuitive and unstructured output.
Krasner is now seen as a key transitional figure within abstraction, who connected early-20th-century art with the new ideas of postwar America, and her work fetches high prices at auction. She is one of the few female artists to have had a retrospective show at the Museum of Modern Art. (wikipedia)
• • •
I guess I don't have much to say about this. It's a fairly staid first-words-type theme. I don't know why it feels weird to commemorate such a bloody day with wordplay, but it does. Mostly I'm disappointed that I didn't get a proper Thursday puzzle. I mean, congrats on putting the D-DAY puzzle on actual D-DAY, but boo for bumping the tricksy / ambitious puzzle I've come to expect on Thursday. Best themed day of the week and poof, gone, not here. All so that we can trudge solemnly through a pedestrian theme with theme answers that feel mostly boring (GOLD ... ORE? UTAH ... STATE!? That's the best you can do with those!?!?!). SWORD DANCER is just ... what is that, actually? Well, in addition to being Horse of the Year in 1959, looks like it's ... a semi-militaristic phenomenon in other parts of the world that I know next to nothing about (Here's a not-terribly-helpful wikipedia page about it). JUNO PROBE is a cool and somewhat timely answer (it reached Jupiter just 3 years ago). I liked that, and the cluing of LEE as the artist Krasnick, and not a ton else.
It was all over pretty quickly, though the clues on BIT and BETS held me up a bit (!) in the east (I think of "memory units" as BYTES and I thought agreeing to "make things interesting" was maybe BIDding (not BETting). SE was hardest part for me, largely because of the DANCER part of SWORD DANCER, but also because the clues down there were often toughly vague (see clues on EVENT, CAST, TESTS, for example). Also took a while to get SHEDDER (25D: Labrador retriever or Alaskan malamute, notably) (I have a chocolate labrador retriever, and shedding isn't really an issue most of the time, so I can't relate to this clue), and the PISMO clue was hard (and I've been to PISMO Beach) (53D: ___ clam (mollusk found off the coast of California)). That's all, folks.
THEME:blank AND blank — theme clues are [What ___ can anagram to] and the answers are familiar phrases following the "___ AND ___" pattern (so, the AND is not actually part of the anagram—the idea is that the clue word anagrams into two words, and the answers represent some imagined person saying "first word" AND "second word")
Theme answers:
GIN AND TONIC (17A: What NOTICING can anagram to)
DATE AND TIME (29A: What MEDITATE can anagram to)
NEAT AND TRIM (44A: What MARTINET can anagram to)
KISS AND TELL (59A: What SKILLETS can anagram to)
Word of the Day:DORA(18D: "David Copperfield" wife) —
Dora Spenlow is a character in the novel David Copperfield by Charles Dickens. She is portrayed as beautiful but childish. David, who is employed by her father, the lawyer Mr Spenlow, falls in love with Dora at first sight and marries her. She proves unable to cope with the responsibilities of married life, and is more interested in playing with her dog, Jip, than in acting as David's housekeeper. All this has a profound effect on David, but he still loves her. However, a year into their marriage she suffers a miscarriage, and her health steadily declines until she eventually dies. // Charles Dickens named his daughter Dora Annie Dickens after the character on her birth in 1850, but she died the following year at the age of eight months. (wikipedia)
• • •
Didn't fully grasp this until it was over. That is, I got that I was supposed to be anagramming something or other, but I didn't really slow down enough to see that the emerging answers had extra letters (specifically the AND bit). So when I was done I thought the theme was really thin. Then I grasped the little bit of wordplay involved with the "AND" and the theme seemed slightly stronger. The fill is pretty olde-timey (your ENIDs and UGLIs and RAREDs and TOILEs and what not), but solid enough for what it is. I don't have much to say about it. It's fine. A placeholder. Something to tide me over until a (fingers crossed) tricky / brilliant Thursday puzzle. The one thing this puzzle was was Easy. I was 15-20 seconds under yesterday's puzzle, and that was despite a. not really getting the theme and b. nearly wiping out at DORA / DATE AND TIME. I needed every single cross. I flat-out didn't know DORA, and DATE AND TIME ... is a phrase? That ... people say? It's the weakest, or un-snappiest, of the AND phrases. NEAT AND TRIM isn't that great either. The other's are great—vivid, real *things*.
BONK held me up too, somehow. Wanted BEAN. And something about the cluing at 28D: Sleep-deprived employee, maybe kept WORKAHOLIC out of consideration for too long. I think the "employee" part is what did it. No, I know the "employee" part is what did it. It is needless. I get that it is supposed to evoke "office" or "workplace," but you could put "person" in there and it's the same. You're a WORKAHOLIC whether you are *my* employee or not. You can be a WORKAHOLIC without being anyone's employee (but your own). WORKAHOLIC relates to work, not to being anyone's employee, specifically. That damn word evoked a relationship that has nothing to do with the answer. [Sleep-deprived guy on subway, perhaps] is just as accurate. I have to go back to watching USA get destroyed by Argentina in the Copa America now. Good night.
20A: Politician in charge of pasta? (ZITI COUNCILMAN)
40A: Pasta, apparently? (ORZO, IT WOULD SEEM)
58A: Card game with pasta for stakes? (PENNE ANTE POKER)
Word of the Day:EVAN Hunter(12D: Hunter who wrote "The Blackboard Jungle") —
Ed McBain (October 15, 1926 – July 6, 2005) is one of the pen names of an American author and screenwriter. Born Salvatore Albert Lombino, he legally adopted the name Evan Hunter in 1952. While successful and well known as Evan Hunter, he was even better known as Ed McBain, a name he used for most of his crime fiction, beginning in 1956. He also used the pen names John Abbott, Curt Cannon, Hunt Collins, Ezra Hannon, Dean Hudson, and Richard Marsten. (wikipedia)
• • •
Pass.
This puzzle feels like an emergency replacement. Like, the puzzle you had booked canceled to do something better and now you're scrambling to find a new puzzle so you go halfway through your rolodex until finally this puzzle goes, "Sure, I'm not doing anything these days. Put me in." Even leaving my reasonably well-known pun aversion aside, this puzzle's theme feels weak. And thin. Puns are deathly boring. Clue on ORZO, IT WOULD SEEM doesn't make much sense. Not enough context for it to be amusing. [Pasta, apparently] is way way too general a clue for ORZO, IT WOULD SEEM to apply. Also, you have to pause (after ORZO) to make grammatical sense of the answer, in a way you wouldn't when just saying the base phrase. Bah. The other two seem like actual, viable puns, but [shrug]. And then the grid—it's all short stuff, all dull / ancient. This crossword actually seems nostalgic for a time when crosswords were more terrible. See the clue on OREO (35D: Dessert item that was clued as "Mountain: Comb. form" in old crosswords). Seriously? This puzzle belongs in 1986, and while I know there are some who long for Reagan's America, as it relates to crossword puzzles, this is not a nostalgia anyone should be getting behind.
Looking it over, I have no idea why it didn't play Easy. Possibly the puns, which I just couldn't make sense of. I had ZITI COUNCIL--- and still didn't know. COUNCILLOR? It's possible that once I got a whiff of the fill (right away), I just checked out mentally, and went about solving the whole thing half-heartedly, with worse and worser political speeches playing in the background. Is it possible that I would have enjoyed this puzzle had the soundtrack not been so dispiriting and heinous? No, it is not. But I might have disliked it slightly less. Slightly. I mean, there is Nothing of interest outside the three themers, and even with the themers, "interest" is being very kind. Missteps? Well, I had WHAT? for AHEM (1A: "Beg pardon...") so that was exciting. Also TRICE for TRACE (8D: Tiny amount). LADED for LADEN (53D: Filled with cargo). My mistakes are about as interesting as the puzzle was. I should go to sleep now.
THEME: JAR (54D: Where you might find the thematic parts of 17-, 26-, 41- and 54-Across) — theme answers all contain spreads one might find in a JAR: JAM, MARMALADE, PRESERVES, and JELLY
Word of the Day: RIPON (61A: Wisconsin college or its city) —
Ripon is a city in Fond du Lac County, Wisconsin, United States. As of the 2000 census, the city population was 6,828. The City of Ripon's official website claims the city's current population to be 7,701. The city is surrounded by the Town of Ripon. // Ripon, named for the English cathedral city of Ripon, North Yorkshire, was founded in 1849 by David P. Mapes, a former New York steamboat captain. Within two years the city had absorbed the nearby commune of Ceresco, established in 1844 by the Wisconsin Phalanx, a group of settlers inspired by the utopian socialist philosophy of Charles Fourier. Mapes also initiated the formation of Ripon College, originally incorporated as Brockway College in 1851. (wikipedia)
• • •
Not much to this one. Blew right through it in near-record time (held back by stupid mistake; see below), never even noticing the theme, which is about as basic as they come. Don't like the "thematic parts" part of the JAR clue at all. Awkward. That's what happens when your theme words are half at the front, half at the back, I guess. Too bad there's not a ___ JELLY phrase (a non-edible one, that is ... besides K-Y, which wouldn't fly for many reasons...), because then you could just change that first answer to TRAFFIC JAM and you'd be in business. Oh well. I don't have anything to say about this one, beyond the fact that I made a stupid, time-costing mistake and wrote in FIJI for FUJI (1D: Volcano viewable from Tokyo) (I make that mistake a lot, sadly), and that I knew RIPON without having any idea why. It must be in puzzles from time to time. I think I assumed it was Much bigger than it is.
Theme answers:
17A: Informal gathering of musicians (JAM SESSION)
26A: 1975 #1 hit for LaBelle ("LADY MARMALADE")
41A: Outdoor homes for endangered species, perhaps (GAME PRESERVES)
54A: Park that's home to Yogi Bear (JELLYSTONE)
Favorite part of the grid by far was LUXEMBOURG (26D: Country wedged between France, Belgium, and Germany), which is long and X-otic (especially next to the Frenchy ÉLYSÉE (42D: French president's palace)). I hesitated for a split second on the spelling of FLOYD, thinking perhaps it had two Ls (46A: "Pretty Boy" of crime). Turns out that's LLOYD. Brain isn't always sharpest at high speeds. Best / most interesting clue was 36A: Dish rated in alarms (CHILI). Makes perfect sense, but I still had to stare at it for a second or two, and get some crosses, before I understood what the hell it meant. Everyone knows OTIS of elevator fame, but perhaps slightly fewer know that his first name is Elisha (7D: Elevator pioneer Elisha). Consider yourself edified.
THEME: OR to -ER — common blank-OR-blank phrases are reimagined as "blankER blank" phrases, and clued "?"-style
Word of the Day: ALAN Freed (63A: Pioneering D.J. Freed) —
Albert James "Alan" Freed (December 15, 1921 – January 20, 1965), also known as Moondog, was an Americandisc-jockey. He became internationally known for promoting African-Americanrhythm and blues music on the radio in the United States and Europe under the name of rock and roll. His career was destroyed by the payola scandal that hit the broadcasting industry in the early 1960s. (wikipedia)
• • •
Felt easy, but stupid mistakes (several) kept me at or maybe even a little higher than my average Tuesday time. Somehow thought JAPAN was the 10D: Onetime colonial power in the Philippines (SPAIN). Later thought ALAN was STAN and GLUM (36D: Wearing a long face) was GRIM. The latter two errors were particularly costly, time-wise, because the crosses didn't help me correct them, so I just got stuck. I mean, Dover SOLE?? Not on my menu (53D). As for the puzzle a whole: the theme—not very interesting. The fill—fine, with ATTU (19A: Westernmost Aleutian) and DIRK (40A: Dagger) being the icky crosswordese outliers in an otherwise pretty solid, mostly unremarkable grid.
Theme answers:
17A: Seventh day, in the Bible? (MAKER BREAK)
11D: One-third of a strikeout? (HITTER MISS)
28D: Statue of a post-W.W. II baby? (BOOMER BUST)
60A: $10 bill enclosed in a Valentine card? (LOVER MONEY) — this one doesn't work so well; "Love or Money" is not really a self-standing phrase—kind of stupid-looking without the "For" in front of it, or some context to make it meaningful
Bullets:
45A: Hunter's garb, for short (CAMO) — Like it. Seems like a word that should appear in the grid much more often than it does.
64A: Home, sweet home (ABODE) — "sweet home" is gratuitous, even misleading. There is nothing "sweet" about ABODE (a clinical term that no one would use in an affectionate way)
55D: Man-shaped mug (TOBY) — also, the not-very-lovable loser HR guy on "The Office"
5D: Ricocheted, as a cue ball (CAROMED) — Love the word — feels almost onomatopoetic, while also sounding like "caramel." Silent 't' in "Ricocheted" looks nuts if you stare at it too long.
P.S. Pomona College Magazine's fall issue is out, with nice article on crossword puzzles featuring several students and alums who are constructors, including Xan Vongsathorn ('09), Joel Fagliano ('14!), and ... me ('91). Online edition is not up yet—I'll link to it when it is. I've done many interviews in the past few years, and this one came out better than any of the others.
Read more...
Under 3 = Easy. Surprised I wasn't faster than I was, actually, as my fingers never stopped typing. I think I lost time when I balked at a few answers, most notably POLLUTE (5D: Foul the water, e.g.), which prevented me from shooting out of the NW, and DUCK / SOUP, which had the kind of cross-referenced cluing I *never* look at (if I can help it) on early-week puzzles (slows me down more to check the clue than it does to just blow by it and get answer from crosses ... usually). Other small hesitations that likely cost me seconds: EASY AS PIE instead of ABC; SCOTSMEN instead of SCOTTISH; REBEL for R.E. LEE; and, because of a misreading on my part, ESCAPES instead of ESCAPED. Also balked briefly at 51D: Whacked plant (WEED), when I had just -E--. Otherwise, NO PROBLEMO. Finished RAPIDLY.
Theme answers:
17A: "It ain't hard!" (SIMPLE AS ABC)
11D: "It ain't hard!" (CHILD'S PLAY)
28D: "It ain't hard!" (NO PROBLEMO)
53A: "It ain't hard!" (PIECE OF CAKE)
24A: With 46-Across, "It ain't hard!" (DUCK / SOUP)
It's a clean puzzle, nicely filled. Theme is a bit straightforward and dullish. Not much else to say.
Bullets:
44A: Singer Flack or Peters (ROBERTA) — Don't know the latter, but the former has (or had, at least) an exquisite voice. Loved her solo stuff, as well as duets with the late, great Donny Hathaway.
44D: Uses a Kindle, e.g. (READS) — aaargh. So simple. I hesitated here too. Figured there would be E-prefixing afoot.
48D: Ad-libbing vocal style (SCAT) — would've gone with "singing" style over "vocal" style; not that it made much difference.
THEME: "Pair of" sure does sound like "PARA-" — words beginning "PARA-" get wacky "?" clues suggesting they actually begin "Pair of ..."
Word of the Day: JOTTO (29D: Word-guessing game) —
Jotto (sometimes Giotto{pol: Dżiotto}) is a logic-oriented word game played with two players, a writing implement, and a piece of paper. Each player picks a secret word of five letters (that is in the dictionary, generally no proper nouns are allowed, and generally consisting of all different letters), and the object of the game is to correctly guess the other player's word first. Players take turns guessing and giving the number of Jots, or the number of letters that are in both the guessed word and the secret word. The positions of the letters don't matter: for example, if the secret word is OTHER and a player guesses PEACH, he gets a reply of 2 (for the E and the H, even though they're in the wrong positions). Using a written-out alphabet, players cross out letters that are eliminated with Jot counts of 0 and other logical deductions. (wikipedia)
• • •
OK, before you go all "How could you call this 'Medium-Challening!?' Why, I did it so fast that blahbitty blah blah blah blah..." on me, let me explain. I have recorded 10 Monday NYT scores this year (I think this is technically the 11th Monday puzzle of the year, but I spent one of those Mondays incapacitated by a stomach virus, clearly too sick to bother recording my time). Of those ten recorded times, today's time (3:24) was my 9th fastest. But it's only 34 seconds slower than my fastest time. And my very slowest Monday time, even as a freakish outlier at 3:45, is still not even a full minute slower than my fastest. So, what I'm saying is, Mondays are easy, and even the slightest hesitation can give me a "bad" time. I will say that JOTTO and LAUGHER (42D: Lopsided win, in slang) are unusual for a Monday. Wife hadn't heard of LAUGHER, and neither of us had heard of JOTTO (though it seems like something that's been in some puzzle in my past). Also, unusually, I floundered for a few seconds in the NW. Also, unfathomably, I blanked on OLAN *again* (2D: "The Good Earth" heroine)! Twice this month! What the hell. Her name will Not Stick. Stupid crosswordesey name from a book I've never read. Speaking of which ...
As you all know, there are things I don't know. Many things. I tell you about them. Every day. I'm fundamentally ignorant in a million ways. So why does this fact continually come as a shock to so many people? You should know that if you write me an email that begins, or even includes the phrase, "I can't believe you didn't know," or "I'm shocked and saddened you didn't know," or "How could you not know," etc. (all actual phrases people have used), well, first of all, you are about the 5 millionth person to write such an email, and second, I almost always delete or bounce such messages. OK, that isn't true: I reply to 95% of my mail (most of which I'm quite grateful for), and actually, many of these "you are ignorant" messages are from very well-meaning people, who usually start out by saying nice things, e.g. "I love your site, but even my half-witted nephew knows ..." I just wonder why people seem to expect me to be omniscient, and to know and care about everything *they* know and care about. Look, if you want to fill me in on why something I don't know about is worth knowing about, awesome. I'm all ears. But if you're just wagging your finger, well, I have suggestions about other uses to which you might put said finger. Unless you, too, expose your ignorance to the world 365 days a year. In which case, have at me. [this paragraph inspired by the weirdly fervent fan base of Jack Finney's novel "Now and Again," from whom I heard in scolding droves yesterday ... OK I probably heard from only three of them, but man they cared a lot. I wonder how many of them are composing emails right now, explaining that the title in question is actually "Time and Again" ...]
Today's theme was not very likable. The plurals (necessitated by the "Pair of" concept) were uwelcome, esp. PARAMOUNTS. Further, PARATROOPS, while a valid word, makes me wish I were seeing PARATROOPERS. And since PARATROOPS actually use PARACHUTES ... that was a bit too much PARA-overlap for me. In general, the governing pun is corny and the resulting fill boring. As a palate cleanser, I watched this:
Theme answers:
17A: Two steeds? (PARAMOUNTS)
11D: Two scout groups? (PARATROOPS)
27D: Two charts? (PARAGRAPHS)
57A: Two water slides? (PARACHUTES)
Bullets:
24A: Industrialist J. Paul ___ (GETTY) — eponym of a great L.A.-area museum. You have to ride this tram thingie to get up there, and then you get this beautiful view of the ... whatever valley that is. The art isn't bad either.
41D: Mannerly guy (GENT) — I thought "isn't there someone named 'Guy Mannerly?'" But I was thinking of Walter Scott's novel 'Guy Mannering," which, you have to admit, is pretty close.
44D: Rocking toy, in tot-speak (HORSEY) — I strangely enjoyed this clue. And answer. I think "tot-speak" is about as fresh and imaginative as this puzzle got today. Well, no ... I have to admit to liking LAUGHER quite a bit, actually.
51D: Greek Cupid (EROS) — Oh, *Greek*. I really should read the clues more carefully. Had the "O" and wrote in AMOR.
56A: Cuts off, as branches (LOPS) — LOPS would like you to know that it is sad because the clue for LAUGHER ([LOPSided win, in slang]) stole its thunder.
PS It's NCAA Basketball Tournament time. Join my ESPN Tournament Challenge Group, "All Hail OOXTEPLERNON" (pw: obolsmiff). Winner will get a copy of Bob Klahn's new crossword book, "The Wrath of Klahn" (unused!). Go here to sign up. [Crossword publishers should always feel free to send me swag that I can give away, hint hint]Read more...
THEME: FOUR/FOR/FORE — first words of three theme answers are homophones of one another
Word of the Day: BARI (32D: Italian port on the Adriatic) — Seaport city (pop., 2001 prelim.: 332,143), capital of Puglia, southeastern Italy. Evidence shows that the site may have been inhabited since 1500 BC. Under the Romans it became an important port. In the 9th century AD it was a Moorish stronghold, but it was taken by the Byzantines in 885. Peter the Hermit preached the First Crusade there in 1096. Razed by the Sicilians in 1156, it acquired new greatness in the 13th century under Frederick II. It became an independent duchy in the 14th century, passed to the Kingdom of Naples in 1558, and became part of the Kingdom of Italy in 1861. (Brit. Concise Encyc.) -----
This was pretty bad all around. The theme is not just tired (again with the homophones), but poorly expressed. FORE AND AFT SAILS is particularly wobbly as a theme answer, and FOUR MINUTE MILER ... well, when I Google it, Google wants to know if I meant FOUR MINUTE MILE. I wish. FOR OLD TIMES' SAKE is nice, but it hardly matters. The rest of the fill in this puzzle is dull and lazy. There is no way you should have MOIRES (19D: Fabrics with wavy patterns), BARI (32D: Italian port on the Adriatic), and LAMINA (36D: Thin layer) in your Monday puzzle. Those are all dusty, high-end crosswordese words that you should pull out only if you have no other options. On a Monday, with such an easy grid to fill (your "long" answers are six letters, for god's sake), maybe you get one of those words, but not three. And EENS? (61A: Poetic nights). Ugh. The very best part of this puzzle is WAMPUM (5D: Indian beads used as money). The rest, you can have back. No idea why this passes muster in the NYT. Last time I saw LAMINA ... well, I didn't like that puzzle either, but at least it had some kind of ambition.
Theme answers:
17A: Roger Bannister was the first (FOUR-minute miler)
35A: How something may be done, nostalgically (FOR old times' sake) — [Nostalgically] works fine just by itself.
54A: Features of yawls or ketches (FORE and aft sails)
Bullets:
39A: Old competitor of PanAm (TWA) — do we need "old?" "PanAm" already conveys old (as in bygone, as in no more).
42A: Mensa-eligible (smart) — this is just inaccurate. You have to get a certain score on a test to qualify for Mensa, don't you? So simply being SMART is irrelevant. This clue assumes the Mensa test is an accurate measure of SMARTness. I have never understood the desire to be in Mensa. At all.
43A: Area west of the Mississippi (plains) — true enough, but weirdly hard for me to see coming at it backwards, ---INS.
49A: Visitor in "District 9" (alien) — nice, timely clue.
60A: Fabric introduced by DuPont (Orlon) — would make a good ALIEN name.
11D: Politico Sarah (Palin) — get used to it. She's never going away.
29D: Predecessor of bridge (whist) — don't play bridge, wasn't aware it had a lineage. Know WHIST from 18c. novels, I think.
THEME: political spectrum — theme answers begin with LIBERAL, MODERATE, and CONSERVATIVE, respectively
Word of the Day: MOIRE (11D: Wavy pattern on fabric) — adj.
Having a wavy or rippled surface pattern. Used of fabric.
n.
Fabric, such as silk or rayon, finished so as to have a wavy or rippled surface pattern.
A similar pattern produced on cloth by engraved rollers.
[French, from past participle of moirer, to water, from mouaire, moire, moiré fabric, probably alteration of English MOHAIR.]
I learned the word MOIRÉ from this past Friday's puzzle, though I didn't learn 'til just now that the final "E" had an accent aigu. MOIRÉ seems like a word that belongs in a Friday puzzle. Sticks out horribly in a Monday puzzle. I'm guessing the etymological connection to MOHAIR (47A: Angora goat's fleece) is not something the constructor was intending to evoke today, but the fact that both words are in the puzzle is an interesting, loopy coincidence. Still MOIRÉ feels out of place, and this whole puzzle feels slightly wonky all over. I thought I'd seen this theme before — turns out, I've just seen the (not wonderful) theme answer LIBERAL BENEFITS before, in a puzzle that focused only on the LEFT end of the political spectrum (Lynn Lempel, Feb. 18, 2008). Today's theme is unambitious and the theme answers kind of dull. MODERATE DRINKER is OK, but CONSERVATIVE TIE is weak. It's barely a thing, any more than a CONSERVATIVE SHIRT or HAIRCUT is a thing. That is, I can imagine that a CONSERVATIVE TIE is one that is less bright and wacky and Snoopy-covered than some of its counterparts, but the phrase does not feel very snappy or in-the-language. Googling CONSERVATIVE TIE gets you some tie-related sites, but not many that use the phrase "CONSERVATIVE TIE" as if it had much clout. First page of results also turns up a site with the sentence "CONSERVATIVE group tries to TIE Obama to Ayers."
Theme answers:
17A: Company-paid medical and dental coverage, college tuition, etc. (LIBERAL benefits)
37A: A sot he's not (MODERATE drinker)
59A: Bit of attire for a business interview, maybe (CONSERVATIVE tie)
Rest of the grid just felt blah. An overall crosswordiness (AIDA and ARIA?) and a bunch of words that were valid but more common as other parts of speech. MOTTLE wants to be a verb, or, with a "D" on the end, an adjective, but it's a noun (46A: Pattern on a pinto horse). SIMP (25D: Nincompoop) wants to be the verb SIMPER. EFFUSE (10D: Pour forth) wants to be the adjective EFFUSIVE. Whole puzzle just had this slightly off feel to me. And two partials containing the word "GO?" — GO NO (ouch, hurts to write that, 42A: "This will _____ further!") and I GO (39D: "Here _____ again") — Is that even legal?
Bullets:
20A: Controversial substance in baseball news (steroid) — again, it's valid, but as a singular, it just feels ... off.
63A: Bowlful accompanying teriyaki (rice) — mmmm. Now I'm hungry (I do my write-ups before breakfast, so it doesn't take much).
64A: A slave to opera? (Aida) — kind of a cute clue, insofar as slavery can be cute.
66A: Pindaric pieces (odes) — klassic krosswordese (clue and answer)
4D: Baltic sea feeder (Oder) — ditto ... and just one letter's difference from ODES.
6D: Hard-to-find guy in children's books (Waldo) — not that hard. He's on every page.
48D: Egg-shaped (ovoid) — went with OVATE at first.
54D: Politico Bayh (Evan) — Senator from Indiana and onetime darling of the Democratic party. Backed the wrong horse in the last primary. Why is he intersecting CONSERVATIVE?
60D: _____ Tafari (Haile Selassie) — exclaimed "D'oh!" when I got this. RAS Tafari ... RASTAFARI!
61D: Beaujolais or Chablis (vin) — nothing here really signals the Frenchness of the answer, as both wine words, while undoubtedly French, are common in English.
62D: Critic _____ Louise Huxtable (Ada) — as my wife said last night, I know only one lady Huxtable. Her name is CLAIRE.
THEME: The puzzle is brought to you today by the letter C. Each theme answer begins with a homophone of "cee."
Word of the Day: AXON (38A: Neural transmitter) — An axon or nerve fiber is a long, slender projection of a nerve cell, or neuron, that conducts electrical impulses away from the neuron's cell body or soma. ... Axons are in effect the primary transmission lines of the nervous system, and as bundles they help make up nerves. Individual axons are microscopic in diameter (typically about 1μm across), but may be up to several feet in length. The longest axons in the human body, for example, are those of the sciatic nerve, which run from the base of the spine to the big toe of each foot. These single-cell fibers of the sciatic nerve may extend a meter or even longer. (Wikipedia)
Hi, everyone. It's PuzzleGirl hanging with you today. Rex is a little under the weather and asked me to cover for him which, of course, I'm always delighted to do. Why? Because I crave attention. But you knew that already.
Seems like every time I turn around I'm solving a puzzle by Fred Piscop. Fortunately, Fred is an awesome constructor, so it actually turns out to be a good thing! I pretty much glided my way through this puzzle with only two minor hang-ups. First, I entered cactus for NETTLE (49A: Prickly plant). Totally understandable, right? But then I didn't know 64A: Aviator WILEY Post and I feel pretty bad about that. He was the first pilot to fly solo around the world! His plane, the Winnie Mae, is on display at the Air and Space Museum out near Dulles, which I keep meaning to take my kids to, but I just haven't gotten to it yet. Dang! My procrastination bites me in the butt again! When will I learn?
Theme answers:
17A: Emphatic south-of-the-border assent (Sí SÍ SEÑOR)
26A: Beginning piano student's exercise (C MAJOR SCALE)
45A: Parting words (SEE YOU LATER)
62A: Wind that cools a beach (SEA BREEZE)
Straightforward theme, well-executed. And, ya know what makes a good Monday puzzle? A minimum of crap fill. (Actually, that makes a puzzle good on any day of the week, but it's so much less likely on a Monday.) This puzzle includes the regulars RENO, ELIE, ORCA, DDT, ESSEN, IRE, and OSHA, but look what else we get: JAPE, DEBIT CARD, ACURA, ARAMIS! Good stuff! Let's talk about it:
Bullets:
4A: Trailer's connection to a car (HITCH). I wonder if this would have been easier or harder if it had been clued to the Will Smith movie.
15A: Japanese automaker (ACURA). It's a luxury Honda. When I don't need the mini-van any more, I'd like to get a Honda.
21A: Mocking remark (JAPE). Sounds like remark that might be made by a scamp or a scoundrel. Or maybe these guys.
33A: Feeds, as pigs (SLOPS). That's the coolest word ever for feeds.
39A: Vagrant (HOBO). I think I've mentioned before that one of the characters on my favorite kids' show — iCarly — is obsessed with hobos. Here's one of my favorite exchanges.
Sam: Let's do a project about hobos! Carly: What's the connection between hobos and science? Sam: Aren't they affected by gravity or something?
66A: Suffix with rocket or racket (-EER). Okay, this should have gone on the "puzzle regulars" list.
5D: Winter river obstruction (ICE JAM). This sounds like it might be the catch-phrase for a winter concert that takes place in my hometown (Fargo, ND).
9D: Fragrance named for a Musketeer (ARAMIS). Can you name all three? I sure can't, but I'll look them up for you. It's just one of the services I offer. ... They are Athos, Porthos, and Aramis. You're welcome.
10D: Quick, cashless way to pay for things (DEBIT CARD). PuzzleHusband and I decided that we were going to stop using our debit cards because it made it way too easy to go over budget. So, he gave me a bunch of cash the other day to last me until the end of the month and ... yeah. I'm gonna need some more.
32D: Outfielder Slaughter in the Baseball Hall of Fame (ENOS). This is a gimme for everyone by now, right?
40D: Hatfield/McCoy affair (FEUD).
46D: Cyclops feature (ONE EYE). I wonder why I always picture some sort of marine creature when I think of cyclops. I'm constantly amazed at the things I know enough for crosswords but not at all in real life. For example ...
56D: Storage for forage (SILO). I don't believe I've ever seen the word forage used as a noun. Something new. Every day.
With any luck, Rex will be back tomorrow. See you in the comments.
Read more...
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!")
.png)
