Relative difficulty: Medium-Challenging (all of the challenge is in the theme discovery)
THEME: PIGEONHOLES (63A: Typecasts, in a way ... or a hint to four squares in this puzzle) — the pigeon sound, COO, can be found in four boxes in this puzzle:
Theme answers:
KEEP A COOL HEAD / SCOOCHED (16A: Good advice during an emergency / 14D: Slid over a bit)
OLD COOTS / "WHAT'S COOKING?" (29A: Geezers and fogies / 10D: "How are plans coming along?")
COORS LIGHT / OIL TYCOON (49A: Brand with a snow-covered mountain on its label / 23D: Rockefeller or Getty)
COCOONING / "ME WANT COOKIE!" (56A: Doing dinner and a movie at home, say) / 27D: TV monster's catchphrase)
Word of the Day: LASH (50D: Tie down securely) —
Nope, that's not it. Let's see ... (scrolls way down) ... ah, here we go:
merriam-webster.com
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I was not on this puzzle's side for the longest time, first because ugh, put the rebuses on rebus day (i.e. Thursday), not Wednesday, this is just annoying, and second because the fill was, er, rough in many places, and third, because the rebus seemed absurd. COO and COO etc. I was actually dreading the revealer. But then the revealer came and I have to admit it's actually a very cute idea, and the execution is pretty nifty as well—those themers are By Far the best part of this grid. Usually I'm ugh-ing at a theme and finding something to like in the fill. Today, the opposite. The theme is a gem. Just, you know, put it on Thursday, make the clues somewhat harder, and maybe take another pass at some of the fill, and you've really got something here. It's really adorable and slightly brilliant to have the little bird sounds (instead of the birds themselves) inside the rebus squares. It gives the puzzle an auditory dimension that is both unusual and soothing. The puzzle has birds in it and they are cooing at me. I like this. I am not IRKed, nor do I look ASKANCE at this theme. It is well CRAFTED. I don't know that I'm in AWE, but I definitely think it's A-OK (why am I doing this, I don't like doing this, I'll stop doing this now). The real winner of the day is the Cookie Monster answer, which is also the answer that gave me the theme—I drifted down the west coast, got MEW- at the front of the answer, and realized it was going to be "ME WANT COOKIE," only at that point I didn't know what part of the answer, exactly, was going to be rebused. Then I drifted over and got OIL TYCOON, discovered its "COO" square, and everything was easy from there on out.
I misspelled COMANECI (with an "E" on the end) (25A: Gymnast on Time's August 2, 1976, cover with the headline "She's perfect"). Not sure what gave me that idea. I feel like I've heard her name pronounced a bunch of different ways, with different vowel sounds at the end and even different syllable numbers. But that was back in the '70s, when no one knew how to pronounce anything ... or else the intervening time between when she was famous and now has just garbled my memory. I forgot WPA even though I think it was just in the grid. I wrote in DUH before D'OH (40D: "I'm such a meathead!"). I don't really know what COCOONING is... I think it's been replaced by "Netflix and chill: ... unless that too has been replaced, which seems very possible. Doing dinner and a movie at home just sounds like ... life. Like, every day. It's weird to think it needs a special name. COCOONING is when you never get old and you never die, like Wilfred Brimley, than whom I am now older (that is, older than he was when he made that movie about COCOONING ... I forget the title, but it was pretty famous). OK, that's all for now.
This puzzle had so many answers ending in prepositions that it actually began to grate on me. MEW AT, GEAR TO, FED ON, EGG ON. AN ON. OK, not AN ON, but still, that's four, and four is a weird lot. Enough for me to notice. And as I said earlier, the fill could be fresher. You know, less OTT ESSE LAI EKE NOH D'OH EDT EDU LYRA TERR ESPY ETSY EDDA LEN ICH ODES IDES IPAD (not all of these are bad, most are tolerable, but this is an tidal wave of weak stuff). But as I say, the theme wins out, in the end. Hope you liked the cooing. I've rarely found pigeons so endearing.
THEME: PRIME REAL ESTATE (54A: Asset that's all about "location, location, location" ... with a hint to the starts of 21-, 26- and 49-Across) — places that start with a prime number:
Theme answers:
THREE MILE ISLAND (21A: Location of 1979 accident)
SEVEN HILLS OF ROME (26A: Location where Italy's capital is said to have been founded)
THIRTEEN COLONIES (49A: Location in the New World until 1776)
Word of the Day: Geico (52A: The "G" of Geico: Abbr.) —
The Government Employees Insurance Company (GEICO/ˈɡaɪkoʊ/) is an American auto insurance company with headquarters in Maryland. It is the second largest auto insurer in the United States, after State Farm. GEICO is a wholly owned subsidiary of Berkshire Hathaway that provides coverage for more than 24 million motor vehicles owned by more than 15 million policy holders as of 2017. GEICO writes private passenger automobile insurance in all 50 U.S. states and the District of Columbia. The insurance agency sells policies through local agents, called GEICO Field Representatives, over the phone directly to the consumer via licensed insurance agents, and through their website. Its mascot is a gold dust day gecko with a Cockney accent, voiced by English actor Jake Wood from 2005 until his termination due to a pay dispute in 2015. GEICO is well known in popular culture for its advertising, having made numerous commercials intended to entertain viewers. (wikipedia)
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Not sure I think much of these "locations"—a nuclear disaster site (thanks, I'm all set for apocalyptic scenarios right now), a place that's more famous because *another* place was founded there, and then a place that doesn't exist anymore. Wish this were a tighter and more solid collection of "location"s. But I do like that the revealer not only unites all the themers by the "prime" in its answer but by the "location, location, location" in its clue. That is, all the numbers are PRIME, yes, but the themers also act out the expression "location, location, location" (there are three locations, each of their clues starts with "Location"). So that's cute. Oh, look, yet another oversized grid. Huh. Interesting. You gotta find some use for those 16-letter phrases. Seems kinda unfair that they don't fit in regular grids. I wonder what kind of enormous 16-letter phrase stockpile someone's sitting on out there... the Strategic 16 Reserves. I'm sure there's all kinds of great stuff that's 16 letters long, though I don't think either SEVEN HILLS OF ROME or THIRTEEN COLONIES is particularly great. But they'll do. Just like this puzzle, they'll do.
The only thing I remember about this solve was the part where I got exceedingly stuck. The center of the mess was GOVT, which ... what??? I know Geico as the gecko insurance company and that is it. I have no other frame of reference. I assumed it was a private insurance company and that the name was just a name, like any dumb corporate name. I had *no* idea it was an acronym, and the way the NYT style guide works, with long acronyms written out with lower-case letters like that (i.e. Geico instead of GEICO), the clue made the acronym thing even harder to see (on its website and its wikipedia page, it's ALL CAPS). So I wrote in LOGO, thinking the actual "G" didn't stand for a word. What a horrible, bizarre clue for GOVT. Always horrible to clue an abbr. as an acronym part, so that one shortening ends up cluing yet another shortening. This is that thing I talk about a lot that you absolutely should Not do, which is get fancy and complicated with your Not-Good fill. Anyway, I had no idea it was common knowledge that "Geico" was an acronym. Without the "G" or "V," I was really hurting. Also *really* hurting because I had ACT- and wrote in ACTING at 42A: De facto (ACTUAL). That was a brutal mistake. ACTING plus mystery-Geico clue = total shutdown. Could not see SURGICAL at all. Still don't really get the clue on ATOM (43D: Little wonder?). Am I supposed to find the ATOM "wondrous"? Do I "wonder" what it is? Yeesh. And then LEVERET, hoo boy (44D: Young hare). Weirdly, I have seen that word and know what it is (from medieval literature, primarily, I think), but with the first letter wrong and no help from GOVT's "V," I was in the dark. This puzzle is probably actually Easy if not for this section (for me).
THEME: "Say Say Say (Say)" or "Talk Talk" / "Talk Talk" or ... — theme "?"-clues that seem to be about speaking have answers that are (in regular usage) not at all about speaking (... except the last one ... although I guess the speak in SPEAK VOLUMES is almost always metaphorical so ... OK):
Theme answers:
UTTER RUBBISH (19A: Talk trash?)
STATE MOTTOES (33A: Recite aphorisms?)
EXPRESS LINES (41A: Perform poetry?)
SPEAK VOLUMES (54A: Narrate audiobooks?)
Word of the Day: BENICIO Del Toro (8D: Del Toro of "The Usual Suspects") —
This was Medium in just about every way. My time was Medium and my feelings are Medium and fill quality is Medium. SO-SO, stem to stern. The theme was reasonable right up until the end, where you really have to lawyer that last one into agreement. In the other themers, the clue truly repurposes the first word, away from a completely non-talking-related word and toward talking. "Utter" = total. "State" = part of the union. "Express" = fast. "Speak" = ... well, speak, just a metaphorical kind of speak?? The repurposing there is super-weak, and since that's the final themer (assuming you're solving top to bottom, as I did), the theme really ends with a thud, a pfft, a whimper. Obviously the phrase SPEAK VOLUMES has been reimagined by the clue, but it's still a swing and a miss. Or maybe a pop-up, or a weak grounder. Anyway, it's 3/4 solid and 1/4 wonky, which is actually probably above average for a NYT themed puzzle these days. Still not terribly satisfying, but not fundamentally broken, at least, which is something. The fill is also not atrocious. UAR (23A: Bygone Mideast inits.) (United Arab Republic) was the only answer that had me going "oh, wow, ok, are we doing this?" But most everything else was just fine. Totally unexciting / inoffensive fare. I did like seeing BENICIO Del Toro and SOFTPEDAL (the marquee answer of the day, for me).
I did not like the grid shape, in that it was black-square heavy, super-segmented (i.e. fussy), and it's got what I'd call 'useless corners': these completely cut off little 3x4 bits in the NE and SW that require you to go up and get them, but only out of a sense of duty—they connect to nothing, and they contain no revelations (how can they? they're 3x4). These are segments where a constructor will be tempted to Scrabblef*ck with you, in the mistaken belief that a J-tile will make your efforts in these dusty corners feel worthwhile. The good news is, you can't really Scrabblef*ck a 3x4 corner too bad if it's not compromised by the lone answer running into it. Thus, nothing awful about those corners. I just resented having to go into them to pick up a bunch of short stuff I didn't even really want. Highly segmented grids slow me down and add unpleasantness, but sometimes the grid just is what it is and you have to roll with it.
Slow parts for me: figuring out that the "meal" in 5D: Fine meal (FLOUR) was not a repast; figuring out that RUS- did not not not have a fourth letter "H" at 20D: Prepares on short notice (RUSTLES UP); figuring out that 36D: Slider on an abacus (BEAD) was not DISC or BALL; figuring out what the hell could in -OTTOES (!?); figuring out SORE ARM and especially NO LOSS (I was just slow on those). The end.
THEME: BUTTON DOWN (30D: Very conventional ... or a hint to the starts of the answers to the four starred clues) — themers (which all run "down") all start with kinds of "buttons":
Theme answers:
SNOOZEFEST (3D: *Bo-o-o-ring event)
"LIKE YOU KNOW" (24D: *Scoffing remark to an ignoramus)
BELLY UP THE BAR (6D: *Go order a drink)
PANIC ATTACK (9D: *Flop sweat producer)
Word of the Day: PEWEE (65A: Bird in the flycatcher family) —
: any of various small largely gray or olive-colored American flycatchers (genus Contopus) (m-w)
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Felt like I was flying on this one, but ended up with a time pretty close to average. I think the grid is so choppy and fussy that I spent more time on cursor management than I might have otherwise. 80 words!? 78 is the max ... for a reason! Why would a theme this basic need to go to 80 words!? And higher word count should mean easier grid to fill, which should mean cleaner grid, but that's not really true here. So many 3- and 4-letter word, useless little NE / SW corners not connected to anything ... really don't like the way this grid is built. I do like the themers, and the theme, though a common ("first words...") type, is neatly executed. But again I wish the editor cared more about the overall solving experience, not just the theme. I wish he insisted on cleaner fill, and sent grids back for revision or did a little grid-fixing himself. EEKS is really rotten, esp. up there with ASA and OTOS (the second crosswordese tribe of the day) (see 35A). The SE has some issues too, with CPL ELEA and PEWEE kinda mucking things up. But the main problem, as I said up front, is the grid design—it just invites crosswordese, which, even when it's not bad (say, IRE), really does pile up after a bit. Still, if you tear this thing down to just the themers, you've got something.
A couple more things. First of all, UNGARBED? I am sure that the dictionary will tell you that that is, indeed, a word, but wow, why, why would you use that? Who says that? Is there a more contrived, more fake-ye-olde, less sexy way to say "Naked" in all of the English language? I might give you GARBED, if you were going for "ironically fusty," but UNGARBED I will not give you. Actually, the U--A-B-- letter pattern (necessitated by the grid design) is very unfavorable, and UNGARBED is probably the best thing that could go there, but this brings us back again (again again) to grid design. Maybe make a grid where you aren't trying to run an answer through *three* themers. That's brutal. Running answers through two themers is tricky enough. If you run one through three, then you have to basically *start* filling your grid there, and if you can't get a good answer to fit with a completely stripped-down, themers-only grid, then yeah, You Need To Rebuild Your Grid.
Lastly, whoever wrote the clue for PANIC ATTACK has clearly never had one (9D: *Flop swear producer). "Flop sweat"? Yeah, no. A person having an actually PANIC ATTACK *wishes* they were experiencing mere "flop sweat." Sigh. Just look up what a PANIC ATTACK is, maybe? They often come out of nowhere, in situations that do not look stressful at all. They are not about performance. They are about your body being out of control and you feeling like you are dying but you don't know why. Like someone turned your fight/flight response on and just ... left it on. With no threat in sight. Anyway, "flop sweat" is insulting. PANIC ATTACKs can be debilitating and have nothing to do with bombing on stage or whatever one-off situation "flop sweat" is supposed to imply. I had PANIC ATTACKs for a brief, terrible period in my early 20s; flop sweat shmop sweat.
Happy almost Halloween, everyone! Most people celebrate by dressing up or doing something festive, while law school professors seem to celebrate by giving us even more work than usual. Yay! I've been getting into the Halloween spirit by watching The Haunting of Hill House (a new Netflix show that's pretty great). Kinda creepy, not too scary. Except for when I watched an episode this weekend and literally screamed. Did I just say that out loud? Constructor:Jules Markey
Relative difficulty:Medium
THEME: GRAVEYARD SHIFT (34A: Late night for a working stiff ... or a hint to the shaded squares) — RIP shifts across the puzzle from top to bottom.
Theme answers:
RIPOSTES (13A: Witty comebacks)
TRIPTYCH (16A: Picture often used as an altarpiece)
MRRIPLEY (27A: "Talented" title character played by Matt Damon)
SUNRIPEN (42A: Put on a windowsill to mature, say)
EGOTRIPS (57A: Narcissists' excursions?)
GIVEARIP(60A: Care about something, in slang)
Word of the Day: TRIPTYCH (16A: Picture often used as an altarpiece) Triptych: A triptych is a work of art (usually a panel painting) that is divided into three sections, or three carved panels that are hinged together and can be folded shut or displayed open. The middle panel is typically the largest and it is flanked by two smaller related works… From the Gothic period onward, both in Europe and elsewhere, altarpieces in churches and cathedrals were often in triptych form. Although strongly identified as an altarpiece form, triptychs outside that context have been created, some of the best-known examples being works by Hieronymus Bosch, Max Beckmann, and Francis Bacon. (Wikipedia)
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The theme was clever, obviously given that Halloween is this week. It might have been even more on the nose if the New York Times waited until it was actually Halloween for this puzzle (though this might have been a bit too easy for a Wednesday puzzle). The shift aspect of RIP was fun, even if I'm not a huge fan of the grey squares aspect. The shift was symmetrical, and I thought that the theme answers were all pretty good/clever.
Overall, the puzzle wasn't too hard, but I definitely got tripped up in a few places. Is SEEPYeven a word? I tried to make "seeps" work there, which messed me up for STYLIZEDcoming down. BOO (55D: Halloween cry) was on-theme, albeit quite easy, but the clue for PLURALS (44D: like ghosts and goblins?) seemed to just be a way to throw some more theme in there; it didn't make a whole lot of sense as the answer. AOKAY is a pretty odd form of "aok." And, who ever saw OPIE clued based on Sons of Anarchy? I've seen maybe two episodes of Sons of Anarchy and had no idea of the names of any of the characters.
I liked the rest of the fill, though. Maybe my favorite was PAST for 41A: It's prologue, they say. That was just a perfectly clever clue and answer. I also loved GO FLY A KITE (10D: "Get lost!") and EGOTRIPS. The way the constructor used 29D: JFK Alternative and 36D: J.F.K. Alternative in 1960 to clue to an airport (LGA) and a president (RMN), respectively, was also fun. I tried to make LBJ work for 29A at first but soon realized that it was meant to be an airport. But then for 36D I tried to think of another airport that could work before realizing that this one meant a politician. I can't decide if AYE for 31A: Assent at sea is clever or just annoying. Misc:
I really liked TRIPTYCH. I studied those a lot in art history classes, which I always enjoyed. The photo above is of The Garden of Earthly Delights by Bosch. I saw that in a museum with my sister and have been weirdly fascinated with it ever since.
I got SRA easily for 42D: Lady of Spain: Abbr. but DAMA (30A: Lady of Spain) took me longer; I wanted to make "doña" work instead.
Matt Damon was amazing as MR RIPLEY. Matt Damon is amazing in every movie.
I liked SPIN for 53D: What a pool shark puts on a ball. I wanted to put "chalk" there, but SPIN definitely makes more sense for the clue — as well as being the right number of letters. I once thought I might have a future as a pool shark, but then my dad sold our table. He opposed having anyone break my hands.
Although there weren't too many crossword-y words, some did jump out: like ERL, LENAPE, and EGIS.
Ah, the age-old problem of ENT vs. "orc." It feels like constructors just flip a coin or something to decide whether they want to use one or the other in the puzzle for a "Lord of the Rings" creature.
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!")