"Duino Elegies" poet / FRI 12-12-25 / Word from the Greek for "folded paper" / Hagfish lookalikes / Tropical plants said to bring good fortune / Distinction for a classic underground work / Conspiracy theorist's accessory / Main component of a "gutbucket," a jug band instrument / "Buss It" rapper Banks

Constructor: Adrian Johnson and Jess Rucks

Relative difficulty: Easy-Medium

THEME: none 

Word of the Day: MONEY TREES (29D: Tropical plants said to bring good fortune) —

Pachira aquatica is a species of tropical wetland tree in the mallow family Malvaceae, native to Central and South America where it grows in swamps. It is known by its common names Malabar chestnut, French peanut, Guiana chestnut, provision tree, Saba nut, Monguba (Brazil), Pumpo (Guatemala) and Jelinjoche (Costa Rica) and is commercially sold under the names money tree and money plant. This tree is sometimes sold with a braided trunk and is commonly grown as a houseplant, although more commonly what is sold as a "Pachira aquatica" houseplant is in fact a similar species, Pachira glabra. [...] The name "money tree" is believed to refer to a story of its origin, in which a poor man prayed for money, found this "odd" plant, took it home as an omen, and made money selling plants grown from its seeds. (wikipedia)

"Money Trees" is a song by American rapper Kendrick Lamar, taken from his major label debut studio album Good Kid, M.A.A.D City (2012). The song, which appears as the fifth track on the album, features a guest appearance from his Black Hippy cohort, fellow American rapper Jay Rock, and was produced by DJ Dahi. It entered the Billboard Bubbling Under Hot 100 chart at number 19 due to high downloads, following the album's release. The song, mixed by Top Dawg engineer Derek "MixedByAIi" Ali, features background vocals from American singer Anna Wise of Sonnymoon. Money Trees samples the 2010 song "Silver Soul" by Beach House, as well as vocals from Lamar's "Cartoon and Cereal" and interpolates lyrics from E-40's "Big Ballin' With My Homies". (wikipedia)

• • •

***ATTENTION: READERS AND FELLOW SOLVERS IN SYNDICATION*** (if you're reading this in January, that's you!) : It's early January, which means it's time once again for my annual week-long pitch for financial contributions to the blog. Every year I ask readers to consider what the blog is worth to them on an annual basis and give accordingly. 2026 is a big year for me, as Rex Parker Solves the NYT Crossword will celebrate its 20th birthday in September. Two decades. The big 2-0. A score of years. One score and no years ago, I brought forth on this Internet a new blog, conceived in ... I think I'll stop there, but you get the idea. I've been at this a long time, and while it has been my privilege and joy, it has also been (and continues to be) a lot of work. Very early mornings, no days off—well, no days off for the blog. I do have two very able regular subs (Mali and Clare) who write for me once a month, as well as a handful of other folks who stand in for me when I go on vacation. But otherwise, it's just me, every dang day, up by 4am, solving and writing. I've never been this disciplined about anything in my life. Ask anyone. "Is he disciplined about anything else?" "No, he is not. Just this one thing. It's weird." And it's because I have a responsibility to an audience (that's you). Even after nearly 20 years, I'm still genuinely stunned and exceedingly grateful that so many of you have made the blog a part of your daily routine. Ideally, it adds a little value to the solving experience. Teaches you something you didn't know, or helps you look at crosswords in a new way, or makes you laugh (my highest goal, frankly). Or maybe the blog simply offers a feeling of commiseration—a familiar voice confirming that yes, that clue was terrible, or yes, that themer set should have been tighter, or wow, yes, that answer was indeed beautiful. Whether you find it informative or comforting or entertaining or infuriating—or all of the above—if you're reading me on a fairly regular basis, there's something valuable you're getting out of the blog. And I couldn't be happier about that.

["That's upside-down, sweetheart"]

Hopefully by now you can tell that for better or worse, what you get from me is my honest, unvarnished feelings about a puzzle. There's an explanatory element too, sure, but this blog is basically one person's solving diary. Idiosyncratic. Personal. Human. I'm not interested in trying to guess consensus opinion. I'll leave that to A.I. All I can do, all I want to do, is tell you exactly what it was like for me to solve the puzzle—what I thought, what I felt. Because while solving may seem like mere box-filling to outsiders, crossword enthusiasts know that the puzzle actually makes us feel things—joy, anguish, confusion (confusion's a feeling, right?). Our feelings might not always be rational, but dammit, they're ours, and they're worth having. And sharing. I love that crosswords engage the messy, human side of you, as well as the objective, solution-oriented side. If I just wanted to fill in boxes, without any of the messy human stuff, I'd solve sudoku (no shade, sudoku fans, they're just not for me!).

[conferring w/ my editor]

Over the years, I have received all kinds of advice about "monetizing" the blog, invitations to turn it into a subscription-type deal à la Substack or Patreon. And maybe I'd make more money that way, I don't know, but that sort of thing has never felt right for me. And honestly, does anyone really need yet another subscription to manage? As I've said in years past, I like being out here on this super old-school blogging platform, just giving it away for free and relying on conscientious addicts like yourselves to pay me what you think the blog's worth. It's just nicer that way. 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 three options. First, a Paypal button (which you can also find in the blog sidebar on the homepage, as well as at the bottom of every write-up):

Second, a mailing address (checks can be made out to "Michael Sharp" or "Rex Parker") (be sure to date them with the new year, 2026!):

Rex Parker c/o Michael Sharp
54 Matthews St
Binghamton, NY 13905

The third, increasingly popular option is Venmo; if that's your preferred way of moving money around, my handle is @MichaelDavidSharp (the last four digits of my phone are 4878, in case Venmo asks you, which I guess it does sometimes, when it's not trying to push crypto on you, what the hell?!)

All Paypal contributions will be gratefully acknowledged by email. All Venmo contributions will get a little heart emoji, at a minimum :) All snail mail contributions will be gratefully acknowledged with hand-written postcards. I know snail mail is a hassle for most people, but I love it. I love seeing your (mostly) gorgeous handwriting and then sending you my (completely) awful handwriting. The human touch—it's nice. In recent years, my daughter has designed my annual postcards, but this year, grad school and NYC theater work are keeping her otherwise occupied, so I had to seek design help elsewhere. Enter Katie Kosma, who is not only a professional illustrator/designer, but (crucially!) a crossword enthusiast. She listened patiently to my long and disorganized list of ideas and in very short order was able to arrive at this year's design, inspired by film noir title cards. 

I'm very happy with how it turned out. The teeny boxes inside the letters, the copyright credit ("Natick Pictures, Inc."), and especially that pencil lamppost—mwah! I know most people solve online now, and many paper solvers prefer pen, but the pencil just feels iconic, and appropriate for the card's throwback vibe. That lamppost was entirely Katie's creation. She was a dream to work with. Can't say enough good things about her.

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 indicate "NO CARD." 

Again, as ever, I'm so grateful for your readership. Please know that your support means a lot to me and my family. Now on to today's puzzle... 

• • •

My favorite part of this puzzle is how I keep looking at my grid print-out and reading SOFA BED as "SON OF A BED!" In case you were looking for a new minced oath, there you go. From me to you, free of charge. Could come in handy. "'SON OF A BED!,' he exclaimed at his puzzle, repeatedly." Not this puzzle, though. This puzzle was fine. Solid. Right over the plate. Just fine. The marquee stuff didn't hum as much as I'd like in a late-week puzzle, but none of it is outright disappointing. The fill ... is the fill. It hangs in there. Maybe leans a little too much to the ERG/OSHA/ICEE/ETRE side of the tracks, but it holds up. The highlight for me was "I KNOW, RIGHT?," a colloquial expression popular enough to have its own texting initialism ("ikr"). According to howtogeek dot com (!), "The colloquial phrase, "I know, right?" has been around since the 1990s. It's strongly associated with the "Valley girl" stereotype, but gained more popularity in 2004 when the movie Mean Girls was released." I also liked CULT STATUS (11D: Distinction for a classic underground work). Great answer. Let's use it in a sentence:

It originated as a low-budget attempt to cash in on the enormous success of FAST TIMES AT RIDGEMONT HIGH, but VALLEY GIRL's genuine charm, perverse period flavor and breakout performance by Nicolas Cage ensured its enduring cult status. (AFI)

You know, Valley Girl! AS SEEN ON TV (if you have cable, probably). I'm gonna see how many times I can work Valley Girl into this write-up. . . nah, I think I'm done. Let's see, that's one two three ... four Valley Girls. Whoops, that's five. OK, now I'm done. Almost.

Do not put FONDANT on your APPLE SAUCE irl, it will turn out bad. Speaking of one answer on top of another, AS SEEN ON TV and "THERE'S MORE" pair very nicely. Unfortunately they both come from the world of adspeak, which I could always use less of, but I do like that the answers make sense together. Cohere as a corner unit. I doubt that RILKE is ever seen much on TV, but he is seen on AS SEEN ON TV today, so good for him. Sidenote: I don't think I've ever read a word by RILKE (50A: "Duino Elegies" poet). I associate his poetry with sallow romantic types. Wikipedia tells me: "In popular culture, RILKE is frequently quoted or referenced in television shows, motion pictures, music and other works when these works discuss the subject of love or angels. His work is often described as "mystical" and has been quoted and referenced by self-help authors." Gotta say, you're not really selling me on him, wikipedia.

OMG I only just noticed that this puzzle does CRISS CROSS / APPLESAUCE! And it literally crosses them. Amazing. Gimmicky, but sly. Clever. 

My biggest TIE-UP today involved, yes, TIE-UP, which is to say it involved the latter part of WASH TUB and everything that ran through it (20A: Main component of a "gutbucket," a jug band instrument). I know the washboard is a "jug band instrument," but the WASH TUB, well, news to me. I feel like this isn't the first time I've been stumped by a "jug band instrument" this year. Oh yeah, here we go—had to know the whole gosh darn band for this puzzle back in September. That puzzle had WASHBOARD in it, as is right and true and good. This "gutbucket" stuff feels pretty Inside Jug Band to me. I don't dislike the answer WASH TUB though. Just ... when "board" wouldn't fit, I came to a stop. Not a T STOP, but ... actually, kind of a T STOP. A "Tub" STOP, anyway. I also had no idea what MONEY TREES were; or, rather, I had no idea that they were an actual non-metaphorical not-made-of-physical-money tree. I was gonna say that I only know MONEY TREE as a chain of dollar stores, but that's (more aptly) DOLLAR TREE. Lastly on the "I struggled with that" list is ERICA Banks. I know lots of ERICAs and a decent number of Bankses (Tyra, Ernie ... piggy?), but I do not know ERICA Banks. The title "Buss It" sounds promising, though. Let's find out.

[cw: profanity, booty, WASHTUB washboard abs]

"ASS!? E'EN ON TV!? 'Zounds!" — Shakespeare reacting to television nudity. Actually, more likely reacting to television donkeys. Actually, more likely reacting to television as a concept. Zombie Shakespeare would indeed be astounded by ass, or anything, on TV.

Bullets:

• 17A: Conspiracy theorist's accessory (TIN FOIL HAT) — conspiracy theorists are no longer funny to me in the least since they're currently busy at the HHS trying to kill everybody [I initially miswrote "DHS," but that's probably true too]
• 29A: What blue crabs do roughly 20 times in their lifetimes (MOLT) — look, I did not *know* this, but I was very proud to have gotten it off just the "O," which itself was, at that point, entirely theoretical (from "SHOOT!," which I wasn't sure of (21D: "Fiddlesticks!")).
• 34D: Hagfish lookalikes (EELS) — I kinda like the EEL clue arms race we're currently in the middle of. If I gotta see it every other day, then by all means, throw new stuff at me. Stuff like "HAGFISH" (NYTXW appearances to date: 0) (I was wrong! HAGFISH did appear once, back in 1966 [Cousins of eels]) (HAGFISH also appeared in A NYT acrostic from 2013). Why are they called HAGFISH? I guess eels do kind of (???) look like hags. HAGFISH are also known as "slime EELS." Are hags slimy? 
• 36D: Company whose logo has a hidden arrow between its fourth and fifth letters (FEDEX) — is it "hidden" if it's in plain sight? Yeah, yeah, I read "The Purloined Letter," but still. Actually, you know what, I never noticed that arrow before, so I take it all back. Objection overruled!

• 40D: Word from the Greek for "folded paper" (DIPLOMA) — me: "ORIGAMI" also me: "That's not Greek, that's Japanese" further me: "ORIGAMI!!!!" Actually I had "DIP-" and thought to myself "DIP? Nothing starts with DIP-!" I was reading the "Di-" as a prefix, rhyming with the "Di" in "Lady Di." Whose DIPLOMA comes "folded?" Is rolling a kind of folding? Where am I? What are words?
• 55D: Whitehouse in D.C., e.g.: Abbr. (SEN.) — "Sheldon Whitehouse (born October 20, 1955) is an American politician and attorney serving as the junior United States senator from Rhode Island, a seat he has held since 2007" (wikipedia).
• 56D: Physics unit equivalent to roughly 624 gigaelectronvolts (ERG) — pure crossword reflex. [Physics unit] three letters ERG. An electrical impulse at this point. I definitely knew what an ERG was at one point in my life (Physics being my only A+ in college—I know, right? stunning!). But whatever it means, the only thing it has meant to me since roughly 1991 is "a common three-letter crossword answer."

Time once again for 🌲🐈Holiday Pet Pics🐕🌲! Let's see who we've got today:

First there's Winnie, who's wondering "How in the world is this a 'holiday' picture? Are there presents? There better be presents, lady."

[Thanks, Gingy!]

Not much that's "holiday" about this next one either, though if you've ever tried to lie down to read a book (perhaps as a break from the hustle and bustle of the holiday season), and you own a cat, you've probably experienced something like this. 

[Wesley cares not for Jane Austen. Stop reading this instant!]

[Thanks, Laurie (and Cynthia, Laurie's daughter, to whom Wesley actually belongs)] 

Bochy here seems to have a toy in his mouth already but he's sure there are more toys under there. Quite sure. 

[Thanks, Jim]

Rebecca sent in not only her gorgeous Pete the Cat (R.I.P, Pete) ...

... but also two views of Sunny, who is not going to miss a reason to celebrate this holiday season: 

[Thanks, Rebecca]

A different Rebekkah (the two-K variety) sent in her whippet Sparkie, seen here at 9 weeks old, chewing on some kind of elf larva:

[Thanks, Rebekkah]

The next photo in the queue was also, improbably, sent in by a Rebecca, but we're gonna save that for next time ... nah, let's just do it now. Astrolabe here is being so dutiful and patient, I don't want to make him wait even one more day.

[Thanks, Rebecca]

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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Jason's pet in "FoxTrot" / SAT 4-13-24 / Street food filled with queso / Capellini lookalike / Modern fashion portmanteau / Marion Crane's sister in "Psycho" / Cry while swishing one's hand / Creatures with the scientific name Monodon Monoceros / Eponym for a dish / Portmanteau for a rare winter phenomenon / Song title shared by Schubert and Beyoncé

Constructor: Jess Rucks

Relative difficulty: Easy-Medium (Easy + PADIDDLE) (?!)

THEME: none 

Word of the Day: PADIDDLE (1D: Game played on a road trip) —

An exclamation shouted in a game by the first of a group of people who spots a motor vehicle with only one working headlight, this person being entitled variously to kiss or hit the others. (OED)

• • •

Well this was great, but unfortunately I ended on PADIDDLE, which is ridiculous. Just completely ungettable nonsense for me. The wikipedia description of the "game" is so full of "[citation needed]" that I couldn't use it, so I went to the OED, where the first citation was from a 1940s Archie comic strip, and OK, that starts to explain things. 1940s teen slang, I am not up on (despite my fondness for Archie). One indication this term is dated is that the OED has citations going up through 2003 but everything after the '60s frames the game as something bygone: "Years ago, in some parts of the country," begins one of them (1991), and "It's just one of those one-eyed cars. What was it she used to call them when we were little, my mother?" reads another. Maybe this "game" is making a comeback with Generation Whatever-Is-After-Z, but from where I'm sitting, PADIDDLE looks like a bloated wordlist word, one that should have had "in old parlance" or some such qualifier in the clue (not that that would've helped). I mean, if you're going to introduce a word like this (and it is a debut), at least give some clue what the "game" entails.

[from OED.com]

As far as I'm concerned, there are only two valid [Game(s) played on a road trip]: I SPY and PUNCH BUGGY (self-descriptive games, the both of them). But then this 2012 "article" about PADIDDLE at B98.5, which appears to be a radio station (?) ("Central Maine's Country"), starts with the claim, "We've all played it," so ... maybe you've all been playing this game behind my back my whole life and this puzzle is some kind of colossal "Gotcha!" project aimed solely at me. Well, if so, mission accomplished. (Apparently the term started out as "padoodle"; I encourage crossword constructors not to take this new-found fact as some kind of dare) [OK OK, turns out many of you know PADIDDLE and still (?) play it? Including the kissing/slapping part? How many one-headlighted cars even *are* there on the road? I wish more people would confess to not knowing this “game” so I could determine if it’s regional (non-California) or if I’m losing my mind—though the answer could of course be “both”]

But besides PADIDDLE, everything else about this puzzle was delightful. OK, asking me to know Jason's (?) pet (??) in "FoxTrot" (!??) is very close to a bridge too far, but the rest of it: gold. Big Friday Feelings. A 72-worder with marquee colloquial answer after marquee colloquial answer. Whoosh and zoom and hurray. Much better energy and much more freshness than yesterday's puzzle. Love the sarcasm and "had it up to here" tone of some of these: "HAPPY NOW?" "YOU TELL ME!" "I'M WELL AWARE." "IS THAT A NO?" The disbelief of "SAY AGAIN?" The friendliness of "COME ON IN." The Dolly Parton of DOLLY PARTON. All of that and very little dreck. DAH is about the only answer I would insist on throwing into the sea. Oh, and GIBE, but that's more a me problem, as my brain refuses, after decades of trying, to sort out the whole JIBE / GIBE business. Yes, sitting here now, I can tell that JIBE means "agree" and GIBE means "taunt," but JIBE is also a variant spelling of GIBE, so I just give up. I never use either word and I wouldn't care if I saw neither of them again. But I will. I have come to terms with that. So I'm not mad at GIBE. The only thing I'm mad at is PADIDDLE, which we've established.

Are SNOWNADOs real? They sound about as real as Sharknados, but the puzzle is telling me they're real, and I had fun inferring the answer, so COME ON IN, SNOWNADO! I guess you might be mad at "SAY AGAIN?," thinking it should be "COME AGAIN?" (which is what I tried to squeeze in there at first). But I say "SAY (it) AGAIN?" all the time, largely eating the "it," and with a polite excuse-me kind of "?" tone, so "SAY AGAIN?" tracks reasonably well for me. In general, I thought this puzzle had a very good ear, and a pleasingly broad range of interests—light on the narrow-demographic pop culture, heavy on familiar and/or sparkly phrases and terms. I had a wide range of initially wrong answers today, the dullest of which was ELEC for ECON (40A: Utility subject, in brief), and the most fantastic of which was DAYBED for GAY BAR (26D: Place to go out and be out). I was thinking of napping, as I often do (when I'm not actually napping). Actually, it looks like I had only one other initially wrong answer (that I can recall): I had SO-SO where I should've had "SHOO!" (57A: Cry while swishing one's hand). I was thinking of that gesture where you hold your hand out flat, palm down, and turn it back and forth real quick ... you know, the "SO-SO" gesture. The "not really" "it's iffy" "kinda sorta" gesture!? It comes with accompanying dubious facial expression. But yeah, "SHOO!" is good too. A lot depends on what the word "swishing" suggests to you.

Notes:

• 29A: Marion Crane's sister in "Psycho" (LILA) — first thing in the grid. I'm obsessed with this movie, and with LILA in particular. She's our protagonist, the one we sympathize with and care about, after her sister, uh, leaves the picture. She never smiles and doesn't take *&$% from the P.I. (Ar-bo-gast) and I love her. A grown-up Nancy Drew.

• 52A: What's sharp near the bottom? (DIAPER PIN) — oh, that bottom. Good one.
• 3D: Creatures with the scientific name Monodon Monoceros (NARWHALS) — I can't believe the scientific name actually helped me out! I figured "-ceros" was "horn" (from "rhinoceros") and "mono-" is obviously "one" so what has "one horn"? Well, a unicorn, yes, but also: NARWHALS! When it fit, and worked—thrilling.
• 25A: Fit for a queen? (DRAG) — "Fit" = slang for "outfit." This is quite a good "?" clue. Not forced at all. "Fit for a queen" is a perfectly familiar standalone phrase, and then the "?" just ... bends it. 
• 28A: Music disc? (GONG) — took me until -ONG to have any idea, and even then I was like "... SONG?" This isn't quite as good as [Fit for a queen?] — "music disc" not being a phrase anyone says — but it still works. It evokes "compact disc" (as well as records, which are disc-shaped) but then what you end up getting is a musical instrument that's shaped like a disc. Unexpected.
• 13D: Street food filled with queso (AREPA) — The Age of AREPA is upon us and you don't have any excuse for not knowing this one any more. It's the ARENA of street foods, i.e. it's gonna appear in grids a lot, forever and ever, amen. Also, delicious.
• 33D: Personal styles, in brief (MOS) — "M.O." = modus operandi ("way of operating")
• 46D: Modern fashion portmanteau (JORTS) — second portmanteau of the day (after SNOWNADO). This one is "jeans" + "shorts." We used to just call them "jean shorts," but apparently that was exhausting.

See you next time.

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld

[Follow Rex Parker on Twitter and Facebook]

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