Brief in pants / THU 8-20-26 / Nags about noise? / Game of observation for travel / Checks with style / Out with ate, ate, ate / Try to place connoisseurs? / Land of Spot

Constructor: Hoang-Kim Vu

Relative difficulty: Easy

THEME: reading backwards — Across clues must be read backwards in order for them to make sense. That's it. There are three related themers that describe this phenomenon in punny ways:

Theme answers:

• PUT IN REVERSE (4D: Shift the gears of, in a way ... or a hint to this puzzle's Across clues)
• FORWARD-THINKING (7D: Visionary ... or what you'll need to return to when solving this puzzle's Down clues)
• TURN OF PHRASE (23D: Distinctive expression ... or a hint to this puzzle's Across clues)

Word of the Day: National Prison Project (10D: One advocated for by the National Prison Project = INMATE) —

The ACLU National Prison Project is dedicated to ensuring that our nation’s prisons, jails, and other places of detention comply with the Constitution, domestic law, and international human rights principles, and to ending the policies that have given the United States the highest incarceration rate in the world. We promote a fair and effective criminal justice system in which incarceration is used only as a last resort, and its purpose is to prepare prisoners for release and a productive, law-abiding life at the earliest possible time. Through litigation, advocacy, and public education, we work to ensure that conditions of confinement are consistent with health, safety, and human dignity, and that prisoners retain all rights of free persons that are not inconsistent with incarceration. Achieving these goals will result in a criminal justice system that respects individual rights and increases public safety for everyone, at greatly reduced fiscal cost. (ACLU)

• • •

The punny theme answers are By Far the best part here. The actual experience of solving all those Across clues was dreary—not tough, but also not entertaining at all, or rarely so. And beyond a couple of longer answers, the whole grid is extremely ordinary. USENET ISLET NDAS SSN ROO ATON RNA AFAR ARAL DOI ATEAM ESPY OLEG PSI ALT  ESS ... real MEH stuff for sure (side note: in real life, a "C-" is much worse than merely MEH) (41A: Say "minus C"). The one real execution failure here is that for this puzzle to really work, those Across clues have to make some kind of surface sense every time. Take [Sound like heaven]. That one works, because it looks like a real clue, and you can (maybe) imagine a real answer. But [Brief in pants]?? I mean, I laughed, a little ("you've got what in your pants?"). But it's obviously not a real clue. The phrasing makes no sense. Same with [Lines some over draw], unless "over draw" is supposed to be "overdraw," one word, and maybe you're overdrawing your a credit "line" or a checking account or something? Merely running clues backwards is extremely non-interesting. And furthermore, the "trick" tricked me for about ten seconds. All the short Downs in the NW were gimmes, so I had HAR- and TRO- very quickly at 1A and 14A, respectively. The bizarreness and infeasibility of [Brief in pants] got me to TROU because ... well, it's short for "pants," so ... brief in pants ... pants, in brief ... got it! OK, so then [Sound like heaven] is [Heaven-like sound]. Alright, cool. Wait, is that it? Essentially,  yes. There are three long theme answers doing some cute wordplay stuff, but basically this is a Tuesday-level puzzle once you simply read the Across clues backwards. Aside from those three long Downs, all Thursday trickiness was over right ... here:

I wouldn't call solving this a slog, since it was so easy, and since I guess there is at least a novelty in having to read backwards so many times, but reading backwards on its own is not a sufficiently pleasurable activity. The backwards clues should've been funnier, more outrageous, more clever, more ... something. Otherwise, this ends up as a kind of paint-by-numbers puzzle where the magic fizzles out early and you're left to just dutifully complete your box-filling task. Again, thumbs up for those themers, they're the only thing keeping this thing alive. But not alive enough.

A few of the Across clues work, in that they were amusing all on their own, or else yielded a surprising answer. For some reason, I think 65A: Out with ate, ate, ate is my favorite of the clues—I know I said the Across clues should have plausible surface meaning, but if you're not gonna have plausible surface meaning, then yes, sure, go absolutely nuts. [Out with ate, ate, ate] makes no sense on any level ... until you reverse the words (and mentally repunctuate), and then you get a completely plausible clue for PIGGED. I think 49A: Nags about noise? may be the most perfectly executed clue of the bunch. It's got alliteration, it looks like a real clue, it's got the "?" in there. And then you get the very incongruous (-seeming) NEIGH! (a noise "about" nags). The "about" part makes the phrasing a stretch, but ... that is, historically, what the "?" is for. The sad thing is that none of these clues ever get the chance to really trick you or trip you because the entire game is given away so early. This means that "aha"s and "nice!"s are few and far between.

Bullets:

• 51A: Land of Spot (ISLET) — I'm just imagining the dog from Dick & Jane has gone off to found his own island country. "Come, Jane, tonight we sail for the Land of Spot. It will be good to see our old friend again after so many years at sea!" (from The Odyssey of Dick & Jane)
• 17A: Try to place connoisseurs? (TASTING ROOM) — I guess this is for wine connoisseurs. I had TASTING MENU at first ... but I see now that a "menu" is not a "place"
• 25D: Feature of San Francisco's Lombard Street (ESS) — famously curvy, but ESS? That's just like ... one segment of street that winds back and forth repeatedly. I wouldn't call one "ESS" segment a "feature." As you can see ... lots of "S"s. Which one is the "feature"? You don't count off the turns by "ESS"s. Not a real unit:

• 57A: For repentance some feel (RUE) — this is the Across clues at their most Yoda-esque. His voice I hear. Speaking of the Star Wars universe—it's been four days since the last Star Wars clue. I think the record for consecutive Star Wars-free days this year is something close to two weeks, so ... long way to go. 

Had a great first day of school yesterday, but also somehow my neck/shoulder has gone painfully stiff (can't tilt my head to the right very far at all). Residual stress? A chalkboard injury? Who knows. Gonna try to just keep moving and hope it works itself out. That's all for today. Time next you see.

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld

[Follow Rex Parker on BlueSky and Facebook and Letterboxd]
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Like some Scots / WED 4-22-26 / German river to the North Sea / Villain in the Bible's Christmas story / "Strega ___" (1975 children's book) / God served by the ravens Huginn and Muninn / Annual show with astronaut-shaped trophies, for short / Former N.B.A. champion Jeremy / Condition that might involve stimming, for short

Constructor: Hoang-Kim Vu

Relative difficulty: Easy

THEME: REDUCE / REUSE / RECYCLE (11D: With 31- and 43-Down, an environmentalist motto ... as suggested elsewhere in different ways in this puzzle) — some are "reduced" (with shorter synonyms found inside those answers in circled squares), some answers involve "reused" letters (with the second half (shaded squares) reusing the letters from the first half),  and one answer (CAN) is recycled (i.e. used four times) [apparently the CANs are actually the REUSEd bits and the shaded squares are RECYCLEd—this could’ve been clearer (more on this below)]

Theme answers:

• ENCOURAGED (17A: Spurred on) ("urged")
• DAUBS (36A: Applies, as facial cream) ("dabs")
• INSTRUCTOR (60A: One offering lessons) ("tutor")

• SHEESH (21A: "Good grief!")
• PULL-UP (28A: Exercise for the arms and back)
• REAPPEAR (31A: Emerge once more)
• TEAMMATE (44A: You might pass to one)

• CAN (35A: Ax)
• CAN (37A: Paint container)
• CAN (59D: John)
• CAN (42D: Is able to)

Word of the Day: LOUCHE (26A: Rakish) —

: not reputable or decent // Louche ultimately comes from the Latin word luscus, meaning "blind in one eye" or "having poor sight." This Latin term gave rise to the French louche, meaning "squinting" or "cross-eyed." The French gave their term a figurative sense as well, taking that squinty look to mean "shady" or "devious." English speakers didn't see the need for the sight-impaired uses when they borrowed the term in the 19th century, but they kept the figurative one. The word is still quite visible today and is used to describe both people and things of questionable repute. (merriam-webster.com)

• • •

An easy, dull puzzle with repeated CANs. That's the upshot. I went back and looked at the shaded squares, and the circled squares, and saw all the architectural business that was going on, but none of that was important to the solve. All the REDUCE and RECYCLE stuff would be invisible were it not for the shaded and circled squares, so all it gets from me is a post-solve "huh" [shrug]. The Actual Solve (which is the thing that so many Architectural Marvels™ seem to disregard) involved filling in a weak and lackluster grid with no distinguishing characteristics. Imagine a boring and easy themeless puzzle with a boatload of crosswordese and two extra CANs—that's what this felt like. We get to go to Initialism Hell over and over with ADHD RSVP VSOP UPC NSC EDU VMAS. We get a bevy of overfamiliar crossword names in AGEE ELISHA ARMANI UTA ELBE ET AL (I'd add GARR to this list, but all appearances of GARR are good, Teri GARR forever!). We get your usual assortment of crossword gunk in BANC HELI IMAC INNO (!) ENOS NONA, your usual assortment of crossword exclamations in SHEESH YEOW UGH. None of the theme answers are interesting answers per se. TEAMMATE? REAPPEAR? Not exactly blowing the doors off the place. No, this is a puzzle to be admired after the fact. The problem is: I like the fact. The fact itself. I don't want to wait til after the fact. Give me better fact!

Worse, the theme itself, for all its elaborateness, is still a little murky. I'm still not 100% sure which is the REUSE part and which the RECYCLE. I figure the repeated CANs have to be the RECYCLE part, since you RECYCLE cans (beer, soda, etc.). But CAN is definitely reused ... three times. With the shaded squares, you could also make an argument either way. The letters in the first half are definitely reused in the second half, but they are also recycled (i.e. transformed into something different—in this case by reordering/reversal). Also, the symmetry of the puzzle is oddly ... off. You get symmetry for the circled-square answers, but with the shaded-square answers, two of them are symmetrical, but the other two just ... aren't. And then with CAN ... you have this perfect symmetrical pattern going, why not finish it off? Instead we get CAN ... CAN ... CAN ... PHO!?  That fourth CAN is in the dumbest place (42D). There's no joy in the solve and an awkwardness in the execution. 

The puzzle was easy except for a couple of moments. I know that some mattresses sit on SLATS, but I did not know that BEDSLATS was a term, so when I got BED and had no idea what was supposed to follow (9D: Supporters of a king or queen?). FRAMES, SHEETS, LINEN? That answer was the only way out of the N/NW section, so I had to interrupt my flow and go start again in the NE. I weirdly had trouble coming up with both Scots clues today (47A and 34A: Like some Scots). I say "weirdly" because I've been to Scotland many times, studied abroad in Scotland in college, written about Scottish literature in grad school, etc.). Those repeated ("reused") clues added another bit of confusion today—were they part of the theme? The answer is no, I think, as repeated clues (unlike repeated answers) are a conventional feature of crosswords. And yet in a puzzle with a REDUCE REUSE RECYCLE revealer, the reused clues seemed thematic. Again, a carefully made puzzle would've avoided the repeated-clue gimmick and avoided the confusion.

[Some Scots]

Bullets:

• 1A: "All the world," per Shakespeare's Jaques (STAGE) — first, all the world's a stage. Feels weird to be asked to remember the line, and then be required to leave a word out of the line. Second, I've totally forgotten who Jaques is. Who is this "c"-less Jaques!? Oh, right, As You Like It. Never was a huge fan of the Shakespeare comedies. They all bleed together in my head. Mistaken identity, Forest of Arden, bawdy hijinks, what not. This particular Shakespeare line is obviously famous. So famous that you end up finding references to it in the unlikeliest of places ...

• 8D: James who wrote "Let Us Now Praise Famous Men" (AGEE) — he was just a crossword name to me for the longest time, but I started reading some of his film criticism and it's stunning—smart, engaging, energetic, original. I got the first half of this Library of America set at a used bookstore in Rochester, and I keep it by the comfy chair downstairs and dip into it from time to time.

• 20A: Condition that may involve stimming, for short (ADHD) — "stimming"  = self-stimulation through any number of repeated movements or sounds. Remember fidget-spinners? Do those still exist? Those are stimming tools.

• 10D: Dish traditionally flavored with Saigon cinnamon (PHO) — good clue. I learned something about PHO that I did not know, but not knowing the PHO factoid ("phoctoid!") did not prevent me from getting the answer (three letters, "dish," "Saigon," inferable)

That's all. See you next time.

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld

[Follow Rex Parker on BlueSky and Facebook and Letterboxd]
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Domaine d'Agnès Varda / SAT 11-9-24 / Ride arranged on one's own / Mononymous baseball star who played 28 seasons / Portmanteau for a moody and strong-willed toddler / Replace with a new contract in legalese / Musical counterpart of pizzicato / Something the floundering are said to be on

Constructor: Chandi Deitmer and Hoang-Kim Vu

Relative difficulty: Easy

THEME: none 

Word of the Day: Tyronn LUE (20D: Tyronn ___, N.B.A. champion as both player and coach) —

Tyronn Jamar Lue (/təˈrɒn ˈluː/ tə-RON LOO; born May 3, 1977) is an American professional basketball coach and former player who is the head coach of the Los Angeles Clippers of the National Basketball Association (NBA). He formerly served as the head coach of the Cleveland Cavaliers, helping them win their first and only NBA title.

A former point guard, Lue played college basketball for the Nebraska Cornhuskers before being selected by the Denver Nuggets in the first round of the 1998 NBA draft with the 23rd overall pick. He was traded to the Los Angeles Lakers shortly thereafter. As a member of the Lakers, Lue won two NBA championships in his first three seasons. (wikipedia)

• • •

Two constructor names I have come to look forward to individually ... together on one byline. Nice. This is a very well-made puzzle, which I mostly enjoyed. The parts I didn't enjoy had very little to do with grid or clue quality and everything to do with the fact that I have a deep and admittedly only semi-rational aversion to Millennialspeak. Not to Millennials, per se, whom I tend to think of as ... well, just people. Dividing people by generation doesn't do most of us any good, so I try not to think that way. And yet. Yet. When it comes to certain expressions, slang, etc., there's no question that generational divides exist, and I guarantee you no one my age ever called their kid a THREENAGER (16A: Portmanteau for a moody and strong-willed toddler). What a ridiculous, unnecessary word. You already have "toddler," why did you need this other thing? Are you so portmanteau-deprived? I am admittedly not searching too hard, but the earliest references I see are circa 2016. Help me, OED! (Sorry, OED has only SCREENAGER (which was my first thought, actually) and TWEENAGER (which obviously couldn't be true, given the age restrictions)). The term THREENAGER also seems to be playing on negative stereotypes of actual teenagers, i.e. defiant, strong-willed, etc. so boo to that. The whole thing seems like a marketing gimmick. "We invented a new kind of toddler, buy this thing, take this advice, worry more than you already are!" The kid is three. Soon he'll be four. Come on. 

After THREENAGER came STRUGGLE BUS, another term I never heard until I was well into middle age (10D: Something the floundering are said to be on). I never liked it because initially I thought it was playing on the term "short bus," the term for the bus used to transport kids with mental or physical disabilities to school. So STRUGGLE BUS seemed inherently offensive. The term appears to be of uncertain, early 21st-century origin (online OED's got nothing), and I doubt it's actually offensive, but even if I wanted to use it now (and I don't), I just can't. It's ruined for me. And then, after those answers, after THREENAGER, and STRUGGLE BUS, after I already thought to myself "this is a heavily Millennialspeak puzzle...," came the Millennialspeak term I hate most of all: ADULTING (19A: Making a car payment, dusting the living room, scheduling a doctor's appointment, etc.). There's something so whinily self-infantilizing about it. Nothing makes me want to shout "Grow up!" more than someone talking about ADULTING. It's not cosplay! You get old. Then you die. Childhood is meant to be left behind and fondly remembered. Aging isn't bad—desperately clinging to youth is. Look, I'm just being honest about the gut reactions of the cranky old man who lives inside me. I believe only good and kind and warm things about Millennials as human beings, and I love everything about them, except for their invented vocabulary, which is frequently embarrassing. Avocado toast, however—delicious.

But less about getting off my lawn and more about how generally beautiful this puzzle is. It's full of freshness and surprises, and I suspect that even the slang that made me wince will give others great joy. I CAN TAKE IT! In fact, I'll take any puzzle that puts PANDA CAM alongside ALOO GOBI. Imagine eating delicious Indian food while watching adorable pandas (I am imagining it right now, and it's great). The NE corner is only so-so, but every other corner is bursting with life (or bursting with blood, in the case of the NOSEBLEEDS)). NOSEBLEEDS would be better at the top of the grid, but I like that CRAWL SPACE is down low where it belongs (I also love the clue: 54A: Very short story?). There's a clunky answer or two, here and there. KNEELAT, for instance, is a bit ungainly, and NOVATE ... well, I don't know what that is, but "legalese" is not exactly rich ground for fun fill (44D: Replace with a new contract in legalese). But this puzzle made me remember ICHIRO (good) and Ed "TOO TALL" Jones (good) and—once again, for the second time this week—Agnès Varda! (18A: Domaine d'Agnès Varda). So glad to see the NYTXW finally coming around on her. It's the Age of Varda! I hope my gushing about her at every opportunity helped you piece together CINÉ (the French word for "cinema") today.


It's note time:

• 11A: Plant also known as Pisum sativum (PEA) — I want at least one of you to have written in POT ("sativa" is a strain of cannabis).
• 17A: Actress Shawkat who played Maeby on "Arrested Development" (ALIA) — first thing I wrote in the grid. She's this century's EERO, or ELIA, or ENYA (technically ENYA is this century's ENYA, but you get my point). Straight-up crosswordese. And you no longer have to go to the Latin phrase "inter ALIA" to clue ALIA, hurray. I last saw ALIA Shawkat in Blink Twice (2024), where she plays Jess, a woman whose bright yellow lighter (with her name on it) becomes an important recurring object in the film.

• 1D: Ride arranged on one's own (KIT CAR) — this is a car you assemble yourself. So "arranged" as in "physically put together," not "ordered (like an Uber)." 
• 47A: Accomplish with precision (DOTOAT) — allow me to parse this for you: it's "DO TO A 'T'." Four words. I know, it's awful, let's not think about it. (Or, you can have fun pronouncing it "doe tote," as I'm doing in my head currently)
• 34A: Get hot and bothered (SWELTER) — first thought: "STEAM UP." The clue wanted me to think about sex so I thought about sex, what can I say?
• 48A: Purchase on an island? (GAS) — those little areas where you pump your GAS are sometimes called "islands." Hope you didn't write in LEI here.
• 53A: Falsify, in a way (COOK) — as in "COOK the books" (i.e. falsify financial records). I had -OOK and wrote in ROOK. So I was in the Fraud ballpark, but just ... off.
• 2D: Mononymous baseball star who played 28 seasons (ICHIRO) — I don't think of anyone whose last name is well known and frequently used as "mononymous." But yes, he's commonly referred to by ICHIRO ... so I guess it's OK. Is SHOHEI mononymous too now? PELE, now he's mononymous, as I cannot tell you any other part of his name. See also, once again, ENYA. (the "e" key just went out on my wireless keyboard, R.I.P. little keyboard, hello new tech expenditure)
• 51D: Musical counterpart of pizzicato (ARCO) — ARCO = played with the bow (pizzicato = plucked with the fingers)
• 41A: Like i, say (NONREAL) — very proud of getting this one fairly quickly, of the -EAL. I know "i" as the square root of "-1"—thus, a NONREAL number. Here's a more technical definition. Mathematicians will no doubt chime in in the comments. They tend to be big chimers when their field is at issue ("As a mathematician, ...”).
• 56D: Shot one waits to knock back (LOB) — alcoholic misdirection, my favorite kind of misdirection. Obviously the real context is tennis. 

Gonna go knock back several shots of coffee now. Not gonna wait. Take care, see you next time.

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld

***

Important Note:

As of Monday, 11/4/24, the NYT Tech Guild is on strike. 

From The Guardian:

The Guild is asking that readers honor their picket line by boycotting the Times’ selection of games, including Wordle and the daily digital crossword, and to avoid other digital extensions such as the Cooking app.

Annie Shields, a campaign lead for the News Guild of New York, encouraged people to sacrifice their streaks in the wildly popular Wordle and Connections games in order to support the strike.

You can read more about the strike here (nyguild.org).

There were some anti-union talking points being credulously repeated in the comments recently, so just to be clear (per Vanity Fair): "The union said Tech Guild workers' main concerns that remain unresolved are: remote/hybrid work protections; “just cause” job protections, which “the newsroom union has had for decades”; limits on subcontracting; and pay equity/fair pay." 

Since the picket line is "digital," it would appear to apply only to Games solved in the NYT digital environment—basically anything you solve on your phone or on the NYT website per se. If you get the puzzle in an actual dead-tree newspaper, or if you solve it outside the NYT's proprietary environment (via a third-party app, as I do), then technically you're not crossing the picket line by solving. You can honor the digital picket line by not using the Games app (or the Cooking app) at all until the strike is resolved. No Spelling Bee, no Connections ... none of it. My morning Wordle ritual is was very important to me, but ... I'll survive, I assume.   

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Stovetop convenience / SAT 6-22-24 / Some theatrical transitions / Fermented mixture in Japanese cooking / Handheld object used to release excess energy / Cuban instrument that ironically has six strings

Constructor: Hoang-Kim Vu

Relative difficulty: Medium

THEME: none 

Word of the Day: FRAPPÉS (36D: Ballet exercises done at a barre) —

Literally, struck beating. From the sur la cou-de-pied position (working foot cupped around the ankle of the supporting foot), thrust the working foot forcefully outward to an extended position, a few inches above the floor, devant (in front), à la seconde (to the second position) or derriere (in back), with the ball of the foot brushing on the floor as it moves outward. (Fundamentals of Ballet, Dance 10AB, Professor Sheree King, Long Beach City College)

• • •

["... come on, pretty mama"] 

A textbook Saturday, by which I mean something close to a perfect Saturday. Felt very hard, and yet after the typical early flailing, once I got a toehold, I kept making steady progress and never got what you'd call Stuck -stuck. Even places that initially felt intractable (once again, for me, the NW) eventually opened up once I was able to give them a proper shove, coming at them from a different angle. That's one of the other things that's nice about this grid—you have four discrete corners, but you can come at them all from two different directions, so while you may get slowed down, you're never likely to feel cornered. But being appropriately difficult is not the primary thing that makes this puzzle great. As always, it's the quality of the fill that matters most. I think my standards are higher for Fridays than for Saturdays—what I want out of Fridays are scads of colorful marquee answers whooshing across the grid, whereas what I want out of Saturdays is a fight. A fun, fair fight, but a fight. So I'm always happy when Saturdays are not just hard, but bring some brightness and originality in the fill as well. There's not a ton of room for sparkle in those banks of 7s in the NE or SW, but out of those corners come DEATH SPIRAL and PLANT SITTER, two gorgeous, fresh answers. MISO PASTE (1A: Fermented mixture in Japanese cooking) and SPOON REST (17A: Stovetop convenience) also make a gorgeous pair in the NW, with the devilish / hard-to-parse ENTR'ACTES in between (15A: Some theatrical transitions)—love when old crosswordese gets dressed up in its full-phrase regalia. You used to see ENTR' as a standalone entry back in the day, kids; the good old days weren't always good ... oh, damn, looks like we *still* see ENTR' from time to time, though things aren't nearly as bad as they were:

[from xwordinfo ... oof, poor 2005 (eight ENTR's!)]

Then you've got your HOT DATE with your SWEET PEA(S) at the TROPICANA down there in the SE. It's always nice when the puzzle makes your work but makes you feel like the work was worthwhile. I got frustrated a bunch, but I never groaned or eyerolled. I honestly can't ask much more from a Saturday. This is Hoang-Kim Vu's third puzzle of the year. His January 13 themeless was a Puzzle of the Month for me. Wouldn't be surprised if this puzzle finds itself in the same category for June.

The trick with these toughies is getting started. I tend to work short stuff first, so I had ORO and ACRE ... but then not a lot else. Plus I doubted ORO (since there was no Spanish *language* indication in the clue) (4D: What the Royal Crown of Spain is plated with). Oh, I knew ESTHER and guessed MEET, but still, I couldn't gather enough short answers together to get things really moving, so I jumped to the NE where I tried STAT at 10D: "Now!" (ASAP) but then, from the gods of cheesy late-80s pop music came a golden life preserver, thrown just for me, a cheesy late-80s pop connoisseur. I cannot believe that, after 35 years, having the lyrics to "Kokomo" permanently embedded in my head finally paid off. But if you know the song then ARUBA is probably the very first thing that popped into your head at 10A: Locale named in the Beach Boys' "Kokomo." I would sing the chorus for you, but it has the phrase "come on, pretty mama" in it, and so I just can't. Too unbecoming. Oh, what the hell. ARUBA, Jamaica, oooh I'm gonna take ya / Bermuda, Bahama, [whispers] comeonprettymama / Key Largo, Montego, baby why don't we go etc." My wife and I (and maybe our friend Lena) once made up a version of this chorus, but with central New York cities instead of tropical islands. "Elmira, Owego, don't forget Oswego / Deposit, and Conklin, come on Oneonta" etc. Try it with the towns in your area! Anyway, how do you not love a corner that's giving you ARUBA ADUBA (18A: Emmy winner Uzo). Shooby dooby doo. Amazing.

[WARNING: Ear Worm levels = toxic]

The NE corner filled itself in and I was off ... not exactly "to the races," but I was off. Toughest part of the puzzle, for me, after I got moving, was the STIMTOY / ATRA crossing. I did not know what -DAY was allegedly a [Dreaded time for many], so the MON- part wasn't there. I think I had PEER AT before PEER IN (27A: Go window shopping, perhaps). So the missing MON- and errant AT were already gunking that section up. Then, after I accepted that the puzzle was not going to be a rebus and thus STRESS (BALL) couldn't be right, I thought I'd hit gold (ORO!) with STIMMER. I thought that was the general name of the [Handheld object used to release excess energy] (We had STIMMING in a recent puzzle, so the concept should be familiar to most of you by now if it wasn't already). But the STIMMER is the person STIMMING—a STIM TOY is what they're STIMMING with. As for ATRA, ugh, not good fill, ever (big crosswordese), and the clue did nothing to endear it to me. If it weren't in this crucial position, I wouldn't have cared, but here, ugh. My one "ugh" for this puzzle (35A: ___Plus (pharmacy brand)). Nothing else in the grid really held me up once I got going. Lucked out guessing PÈRES (instead of MÈRES) at 23D: French family members and then lucked out again guessing KAPPA off that "P" (22A: 10th in a series) (once I get past Epsilon, I have no idea what Greek letter goes where). Those answers and ICEE gave me the NW. The SE was easy. The SW felt treacherous (ballet moves! Mysterious Cuban instruments!?). But I had the FESS of FESS UP and the PLANT of PLANT SITTER (51A: Temporary water provider) in place, and I knew who Arundhati ROY was (43A: Arundhati ___, Booker Prize-winning author), so that corner wasn't so tough after all. 

Explainers:

• 44A: One in the last line of defense, typically (SAFETY) — important defensive position in (American) football
• 5D: It's black and white (or sometimes red) (PANDA) — gah! Such a good clue. Totally stumped me. I was considering PRADA at one point, thinking "well, that's a weird way to come at handbags, but OK!")
• 12D: Went from 0 to 180, say (U-TURNED) — degrees on a circle. Some math nerd will chime in on whether this is a valid clue or not. Felt fine to me. You do a 180, you go in the opposite direction ... yep, checks out.
• 52D: Cuban instrument that ironically has six strings (TRES) — excellent clue, since I had No Hope of inferring it without the number nudge (TRES = "three" in Spanish, of course). Looks like a guitar, but instead of six equally spaced strings, it's got three groupings of two strings each. This video gives you a good idea:

It's cooling down here in the NE, so I can finally start to *enjoy* summer. Off to Ithaca today. Hope you've got something fun planned. Or nothing at all planned—sometimes that's the most fun. See you next time.

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld

[Follow Rex Parker on Twitter and Facebook]

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Loose-fitting garment / SUN 3-3-24 / Tree with "eyes" on its bark / High times for the petroleum industry / French desserts whose name translates as "small ovens" / Chinese dish eponym / It can be written in scripts known as naskh and ruq'ah / Hush-hush pacts, in brief / Borough of New Jersey noted for its indoor shopping malls

Constructor: Hoang-Kim Vu

Relative difficulty: Easy-Medium

THEME: "Countdown" — ten theme answers contain the numbers "TEN" through "ONE" (counting down, starting with TEN at the top of the grid and ending with ONE at the bottom); though the theme answers are Acrosses, the numbers contained within them run Down wherever they appear: 

Theme answers: (RED letters run Down)

• 1A: Loose-fitting garment (TENT DRESS)
• 24A: It might help you keep up with old classmates (ALUMNI NEWSLETTER)
• 30A: Carrier of goods by rail (FREIGHT TRAIN)
• 47A: Stop on a publicity tour (PRESS EVENT)
• 61A: Chosen name of five popes (SIXTUS)
• 71A: Break for a bit (TAKE FIVE)
• 80A: French desserts whose name Translates as "small ovens" (PETIT FOURS)
• 108A: Concern at the end of a space journey (EARTH REENTRY)
• 115A: "Take it easy once in a while!" ("DON'T WORK TOO HARD")
• 118A: Sonny and Fredo, for two (CORLEONES)

Word of the Day: SANDRA LEE (89A: TV chef who wrote "Semi-Homemade Cooking") —

 

Sandra Lee Christiansen (née Waldroop; born July 3, 1966), known professionally as Sandra Lee, is an American television chef and author. She is known for her "Semi-Homemade" cooking concept, which Lee describes as using 70 percent packaged and 30 percent fresh products. She received the Daytime Emmy Award for Outstanding Lifestyle/Culinary Show Host in 2012 for her work and her show. As the partner of former New York Governor Andrew Cuomo, she served as the de facto First Lady Of New Yorkfrom 2011 to 2019, when the couple ended their relationship. (wikipedia)

• • •

Architecturally, this is reasonably impressive. It's just not that interesting, in the end. What I mean is, I figured out fairly early on how the "Countdown" concept was going to work—that it was going to apply in two senses (i.e. we're counting down from TEN to ONE, and each number in the "count" is actually going to head "down"). It's not too hard to find the numbers—they all have empty Down clues. So once you get TEN and NINE up top, you can just fill in the rest of those Downs with the remaining numbers if you want. I didn't, but I could have if I'd care to. So after you discover the theme, it really has nothing left to show you. There's nothing to discover. There's no wordplay. There's just a bunch of answers with numbers running Down inside them, only those aren't going to trip you up, because you know both where they are and what they are. So you've basically got a themeless puzzle on your hands at that point, and even though this grid has a few winners in it ("HE'S WITH ME," SLUSH PILES, "WANNA TRADE"), there's not enough to make a Sunday-sized grid terribly interesting. It's basically a diversion. A fine way to spend 10 minutes or half an hour or whatever, but whatever special magic the theme had to offer is all gone very early, and then it's just a matter of dutifully finishing the job. 

[35A: Haim of "Licorice Pizza" (ALANA)]

There's one notable issue with the theme execution, but it's a problem that was quite possibly unavoidably—namely, that all the numbers from TEN to ONE are well and truly hidden inside their respective answers. That is, TEN does not appear as the number TEN, but as the letter string T-E-N, and all the other numbers do likewise ... except FIVE. FIVE just cannot hide. It appears as itself, in the answer TAKE FIVE. It's a tribute to how well, how cleverly the other numbers are hidden, that the FIVE stands out so glaringly. Like, "hi, I'm FIVE, sorry, I don't know how to hide inside other answers, just pretend I'm not here." But what longer answer could possibly contain the letter string "F-I-V-E"? SCIFI VENTURE? WIFI VENDOR? "... IF I'VE EVER SEEN ONE"? That last one is at least a phrase people say. But my point is, there are next to no options. So ... TAKE FIVE. 

There were some awkward moments while solving this, most notably ... SIXTUS!!? Five popes actually chose that name, and I've heard of precisely none of them? Wow. I really (really really) wanted the answer to be SEXTUS, which sounds so much more popey, but SEX is not a number (well, it is, in Latin, it's "six," but ... it's not one of *our* numbers). So that was awkward because it was arcane. Then there was TINDERS, which was awkward because it was an Improbable Plural (71D: Birch bark and pine cones, e.g.). And then ASPIRER, awkward because no way, not a thing, please stop (111A: Ambitious sort). And something about STOLEN ART feels kind of "green-paint"-y to me.* You could put anything after STOLEN and kinda sorta justify it, but STOLEN ART doesn't quite feel strong enough to stand alone. Mostly, though, I thought the fill held up just fine, especially considering the fairly demanding theme. 

The cluing felt sufficiently difficult for a Sunday. Despite the theme's revealing too much of itself too quickly, the grid still had some resistance to offer. Something about the phrasing of the clue on COW POX made it hard for me—I think it's the "used it" bit (11D: Edward Jenner used it when developing the world's first successful vaccine). Accurate enough, I'm sure, but I'm not used to think of viruses being "used." I had to go through both REAIR and RERUN before I got to RERAN (31D: Put on the air again) (really should've noticed that "air" was in the clue and so couldn't be in the answer). Had "UH, NO" before "UM, NO" (19D: "Yeah ... pass"). No idea who SANDRA LEE is, despite the fact that she was apparently First Lady of my state from 2011 to 2019 (!?!?!). SANDRA DEE and SARA LEE, them I know, but SANDRA LEE—this is the first I'm hearing of her. I had SEETHES before SEES RED (129A: Rages). I wish I had more interesting errors. Sorry.

A reminder that the Boswords Spring Themeless League starts this week, with Puzzle #1 dropping tomorrow, Monday, Mar. 4! There are three different difficulty levels so if you're crossword competition curious, why not give it a go? Here's League coordinator John Lieb with the deets:

Registration for the Boswords 2024 Spring Themeless League is open! This weekly event in March and April features weekly themeless puzzles -- clued at three levels of difficulty -- from an all-star roster of constructors and are edited by Brad Wilber. To register, to watch a short video about the league, to view the constructor line-up, and to learn more, go to www.boswords.org.

Also out this week:

[cat not included]

So excited that the world (Crossworld and normal world) finally gets to read this beautifully written, deeply engrossing, and often wryly funny memoir/history about the connections between crosswords and feminism, written by the brilliant Anna Shechtman, crossword constructor for the New Yorker and (as of very recently) Cornell University English professor. Anna writes about her own life in candid, surprising ways, and her research on the roles women have played in the history of the crossword is original and revelatory. The Riddles of the Sphinx is the best writing on crossword puzzles that I've ever read. So treat yourself. Go get it. And if you can, go see her!:

Enjoy the rest of your Sunday. See you next time.

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld 

*"green paint" is a term for an answer you can imagine someone saying, but that doesn't seem strong enough to qualify as a standalone crossword entry

[Follow Rex Parker on Twitter and Facebook]

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