Relative difficulty: easy AF (easily a low 3:xx on a new laptop with none of my usual settings applied, which meant the puzzle interface put up a fight; wish I could say the same about the puzzle itself)
Word of the Day: PRISM (Device featured in Newton's "Opticks") —
Opticks: or, A Treatise of the Reflexions, Refractions, Inflexions and Colours of Light is a collection of three books by Isaac Newton that was published in English in 1704 (a scholarly Latin translation appeared in 1706). The treatise analyzes the fundamental nature of light by means of the refraction of light with prisms and lenses, the diffraction of light by closely spaced sheets of glass, and the behaviour of color mixtures with spectral lights or pigment powders. Opticks was Newton's second major work on physical science and it is considered one of the three major works on optics during the Scientific Revolution (alongside Johannes Kepler's Astronomiae Pars Optica and Christiaan Huygens' Treatise on Light). [wikipedia]
• • •
Hey hi howdy hello, Christopher Adams here, going beyond the concept of "haha it's funny that he keeps copypasting the intro", well past the realm of BAD JOKES, and into this blog post. Did not immediately recognize the constructor's name, but I see they've had a good number of puzzles before, all themeless.
This is certainly a straightforward grid for such a puzzle, and not terribly intimidating as a constructor: the little tunnels of five letter entries give you just enough wiggle room to more or less put the two sides of the grid (and the stacks of eight letter entries they intersect) together independently, with minimal impact on the other half. So I would expect some good stuff in the downs (and a high floor elsewhere), and that mostly hit for me; I just wish things weren't so straightforwardly clued. Which, nothing wrong with easy clues, but things can still be fun and easy without being rote, and this felt more like the latter throughout, with some (much-welcomed, and much-enjoyed) exceptions.
if you want BEEFS [Interpersonal "issues"], here's a (very incomplete) playlist of beefs from secret base
Started with a gimme of BATTED at 1A ([Like baseballs and some eyelashes]) and immediately switched to the downs, and bang bang bang BAD JOKES / A DROP IN THE OCEAN / THE NEXT BIG THING went in like [1, 2, and 3, in that order]. In all honesty I started typing "bucket" before "ocean" because I miscounted briefly, but it was a very quick fix so I'm not counting that as interrupting the solve flow. Nothing terribly misleading here, and having the first letters is always a help. THE NEXT BIG THING is one of those rare entries, imo, that's better with the THE included.
Anyway, cleared out the rest of that corner (shoutout to DREXEL and one of my best friends who went there, go Dragons) and also the lower left, which was even more an exercise in letter patterns, especially after easily dropping in BRAHMA on my way down there. (Side note, that might have been the hardest clue I'd hit to that point, solely because Vishnu is also six letters, which says something about how easy this puzzle is.) Arguable didn't need [European brewer...] given the HEI... start, but with all of that it's a gimme. Ditto for MANI-PEDI; only kinda for ANGLAISE ([Crème ___ (custard sauce)]) in that I've never heard of that sauce, but given the ANG... start, I have seen that word in other contexts, and it was nice to learn something while also dropping in letters.
[Flugelhorn player on the 1978 instrumental hit "Feels So Good"]; RIP to the recently-deceased Chuck Mangione, whose name is supervocalic (i.e. contains all five vowels exactly once)
From there, had the choice to go to the right side via either side of the diagonal; chose the upper path because that'd give me starting letters for the upper right stack, which would give me starting letters for the downs, etc. I cannot stress enough how much starting letters are a huge part of my solving philosophy. Briefly confused by ST BARTS ([Vacation isle for many a Francophile, familiarly]) because I only know that as the London hospital; this is actually Saint Barthélemy, which is a French island located in the Caribbean near Saint Martin.
if I had a nickel for every fun thing I've learned about something French from an entry in this puzzle, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice
The rest was slightly slower than before; I didn't get AT ANCHOR, but the MANGIONE gimme basically functioned as a first letter; there was the brief dilemma of "is this MOMENT or SECOND" for 13D, but that was easily cleared up by HOMEMADE COOKIES giving me EMO and CMON; had to briefly jump over to the SE to work up from that corner (again, first letters >>>> end letters), and shoutout to HEPA which imo is a fun abbreviation (and, side note, has been clued [Big acronym in purifying filters] in every Shortz-edited puzzle; props to Joel for changing up the wording even while keeping the same general clue angle); finished on SWIMS, whose clue probably needs a few caveats (like, certainly not in cursive; even otherwise, it depends on how curvy / angular your letters are and whether or not you worry about the dot on a lowercase i, and also I'll note that the W and M on the NYT app are not rotationally symmetric, etc.).
Olio:
TWEENIE [Preadolescent, informally] — The one answer in this puzzle that made me grimace; TWEEN I've heard of, and TWEENER I've heard of (in the context of "a tennis shot hit between the legs"), but the infantilizing -IE suffix, to me, screams "out of touch older people who don't know how to use slang trying to refer to a younger generation"
DOLE [Founder of the Hawaiian Pineapple Company in 1901] — As with so much of this puzzle, easy, but also fun in that you have to make a little leap from clue to "what are some fruit brands I've heard of" to answer, rather than just filling in the answer directly from the clue.
TAMERS [Certain circus performers] — Are there actually still tamers at circicircopodes circuses? Not that I've ever been to one, but my understanding is that animal acts are pretty much a no-go nowadays.
TATER TOT — As a card-carrying Midwesterner, I will heartily accept any hotdish recipes, especially if they will make me the star of my next potluck. I will also take any hotdishes and eat too much of it and tell you how much I love your cooking.
HOMEMADE COOKIES — As a card-carrying carb lover, I will heartily accept any and all homemade cookies, with the except of oatmeal raisin cookies because they are the devil's handiwork. (It's not that they're bad cookies; it's that I have shit eyesight and they look like chocolate chip cookies from a distance and I love me a nice warm chocolate chip cookie, and I start thinking about how much I'm gonna enjoy it and then I get close and all my hopes and dreams are dashed and that's why I don't like them.)
AMIRITE ["Agreed?"]— It's a valid entry, but it does feel a little dated, amirite?
Yours truly, Christopher Adams, Court Jester of CrossWorld
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Word of the Day: SISALS (16D: Natural rug fibers) —
Sisal (/ˈsaɪsəl/, Spanish:[siˈsal]; Agave sisalana) is a species of flowering plant native to southern Mexico, but widely cultivated and naturalized in many other countries. It yields a stiff fibre used in making rope and various other products. The sisal fibre is traditionally used for rope and twine, and has many other uses, including paper, cloth, footwear, hats, bags, carpets, geotextiles, and dartboards. It is also used as fibre reinforcements for composite fibreglass, rubber, and concrete products. It can also be fermented and distilled to make mezcal.
Sisal has an uncertain native origin, but is thought to have originated in the Mexican state of Chiapas. Sisal plants have a lifespan of 7–10 years, producing 200–250 usable leaves containing fibers used in various applications. Sisal is a tropical and subtropical plant, thriving in temperatures above 25 °C (77 °F) and sunshine.
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***ATTENTION: READERS AND FELLOW SOLVERS*** : 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. Writing this blog is a joy, but it is also a job—an everyday, up-by-4am job. My morning schedule is regular as hell. So regular that my cats know my routine and will start walking all over me if I even *stir* after 3am. You ever lie there in the early morning, dying to simply roll over or stretch, but knowing that the second you do, the second you so much as budge, the cats will take it as a signal that you're through with sleep and ready to serve them? So you just lie perfectly still, trying to get every ounce of bedrest you can before the cats ruin it all? That's me, every morning. I guess you could say they "help" get me up on time to write, but come on, I have an alarm for that. The cats are adorable, but frankly they're no help at all. After I feed them, I go upstairs to write, and what do they do? They go straight back to sleep. Here I'll show you. This was two days ago, when I came downstairs after writing:
And this was yesterday, same time:
Those pictures are from two different days, I swear. And I'm guessing when I go downstairs this morning, I'll find much the same thing. They are beautiful creatures, but they cannot solve or type or bring me warm beverages. When it comes to blogging, I'm on my own. And look, I'm not asking for pity. The truth is, I love my life (and my cats), but the truth *also* is that writing this blog involves a lot of work. I get up and I solve and I write, hoping each day to give you all some idea of what that experience was like for me, as well as some insight into the puzzle's finer (or less fine) qualities—the intricacies of its design, the trickiness of its clues, etc. The real value of the blog, though, is that it offers a sort of commiseration. While I like to think my writing is (at its best) entertaining, I know that sometimes all people need is someone who shares their joy or feels their pain. If you hate a clue, or get stuck and struggle, or otherwise want to throw the puzzle across the room, you know I'm here for you, and that even if my experience is not identical to yours, I Understand! I understand that even though "it's just a puzzle," it's also a friend and a constant companion and a ritual and sometimes a Betrayer! I don't give you objective commentary—I give you my sincere (if occasionally hyperbolic) feelings about the puzzle, what it felt like to solve it. I can dress those feelings up in analytical clothes, sure, but still, ultimately, I'm just one human being out here feeling my puzzle feelings. And hopefully that makes you feel something too—ideally, something good, but hey I'm not picky. Whatever keeps you coming back! Hate-readers are readers too!
Whatever kind of reader you are, you're a reader, and I would appreciate your support. This blog has covered the NYTXW every day, without fail, for over eighteen (18!?) years, and except for two days a month (when my regular stand-ins Mali and Clare write for me), and an occasional vacation or sick day (when I hire substitutes to write for me), it's me who's doing the writing. 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 Main, 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):
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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. Love. Snail Mail. I love seeing your gorgeous handwriting and then sending you my awful handwriting. It's all so wonderful. My daughter (Ella Egan) has once again designed my annual thank-you card, and once again the card features (wait for it) cats!
Ida & Alfie, my little yin/yang sleepers! (They're slowly becoming friends, but don't tell them that—it makes them mad and they will deny it). 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...
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A mostly smooth effort, with a couple of hard bumps along the way. Toughest part was just getting started, as is (fairly) typical with late-week puzzles. I found 1A: Ducked (out) oddly tough. Wanted the last two letters to be -ED but then also wanted CIA at 4D: Counterpart to Britain's MI6 and so committed to neither. Wondered if it was not CIA but OSS (a precursor to the CIA). Bah. Had to move on, and I moved on right into SAUCY for 1D: Salacious (SPICY). So close! 60% close! The "Y" was correct, but all that "Y" did was tempt me into thinking that 22A: "No doubt in my mind" started "YOU..." ("YOU'RE RIGHT"??). I feel almost guilty that my first real anchor in the puzzle was SISALS because it's such a weak crosswordy answer and the only reason I even know what it means is because I've seen it in crosswords so often (16D: Natural rug fibers). Maybe I knew "sisal" outside of crosswords, I dunno ... over decades, with certain words you see a lot in grids, it's hard to remember exactly how you learned the word. Did crosswords teach me ORCA? No. OREO? No. ESAU? ... honestly, maybe (not a big bible reader as a kid). Anyway, back to the SISALS—from there, it was STROLL and LULL and then, because I had guessed CNN correctly at 18A: "This is ___", I could see that 3D: Opens, as a onesie was UNSNAPS (probably didn't need any crosses there, but they helped). The NW filled itself in from there. SPICY not SAUCY; SNUCK out; the very tough NOONE'S (2D: Unclaimed). Also, my first long answer: "YEAH, I'M SURE," which was also my first real grimace. I dunno. Just doesn't seem like a coherent standalone phrase. Or maybe the clue didn't nail the tone. Not sure. Just know I didn't like it. I did, however, like the next long answer I got:
Now that is a tight standalone expression, even in the past tense. I also liked SPITBALL (as clued) and a bunch of other colloquial terms and expressions I'd encounter along the way: KINDA SORTA, "WHO KNEW?," "LET'S SAY ..." I also liked "HIT ME UP," but for some reason that feels very different, tonally, from the clue expression: 23D: "Feel free to reach out". The latter is some bland, anodyne, pseudo-comforting offer of assistance that the speaker probably doesn't really mean, whereas the latter is an ultracasual offhand expression you'd say when leaving your friends, or perhaps someone you just met who you hope will end up being a HOT DATE. The two expressions feel like they're from completely different contexts. One banal and anodyne and kinda formal, the other superchill and highly informal. My ear just didn't like this clue. Though admittedly the best equivalencies for "HIT ME UP" have "me" in them (["Text me!"]) and so are unusable in this context.
Double-eyerolled in the SE, as I hit one long answer I'd already seen recently (BENDY STRAW) and then a variation on a second answer I'd already seen very recently (Jan. 5!) (NERFING) (34D: Making weaker, in gamer jargon). Both answers are trying to be whimsical and/or current, but the effect of that is blunted when I Just Saw These Answers. No more "nerfing" for at least three months, come on. And BENDY STRAW, you're banned for like a year. Too long and ostentatious an answer to be appearing more than once every few years. It only just debuted in December and now we're repeating it already? Nah. No. Desist. Also desist with this L'ORANGE garbage—a perfect example of a Debut Nobody Wanted (DNW). The inclusion of the article ("L'") is just awkward, and necessitates awkward cluing (the addition of the article "un" in "un cognac," the clunkily hybrid English/French phrasing). The only acceptable clue for L'ORANGE is [Duck à ___]. That's a thing. A thing I've heard of. A thing I've eaten (and enjoyed). This clue is ungainly, and the answer wasn't good to begin with, so let's ban L'ORANGE forever. All in favor? Motion carries. Case dismissed. Yahtzee!
Bullet points:
15A: GarageBand and iMovie, e.g. (IOSAPPS) — it's a fine answer, but it looks so ugly in the grid, and it's so blandly corporate ... I dunno. I sighed dispiritedly as I filled it in.
21A: It might change your perspective (LSD) — Look, I've never taken LSD before, so I'm hardly an expert, but ... "might"? Does it often just not work?
29A: M.L.B. team that was the first to trade a player for himself (Harry Chiti in 1962) (METS) — how is this possible? Basically you trade a dude for a "player to be named later," and then the traded dude eventually becomes that named player. I'll let wikipedia explain:
On April 25, 1962—before he played a game for the Indians—Chiti was acquired by the expansion New York Mets for a player to be named later. However, he was sent back to the Indians on June 15, 1962, after 15 games and a .195 batting average. Chiti was the "player to be named later"; he became the first MLB player to be traded for himself. Three other players have been traded for themselves: Dickie Noles, Brad Gulden, and John McDonald.
51A: Growing pain? (ANGST) — because when you are ... growing? (i.e. an adolescent?) ... you (might?) experience the "pain" of ANGST? This is like the ouroboros of clues, in that ... it's a "?," wordplay-type clue, but ... isn't this exactly what the term "growing pains" refers to. Like ... you've played on the term "growing pains" but your wordplay led you right back to a version of what the clue means on the surface: pains you experience as a result of growing (up). Unless literal growing pains are the physical pains you (allegedly) experience when you grow very quickly, around puberty, and I'm thinking of the term metaphorically because my brain has been poisoned by an '80s sitcom (wouldn't be the first time)
10D: Hypothetical starting point? ("LET'S SAY...") — now that's a good clue. A properly tough late-week clue, one that yielded an "Aha, good one" and not a "[shrug], I guess."
33D: Court seat (BANC) — it's French for "bench." Hey, that rhymes. Apparently BANC is the term for the judge's seat. Even in America. You used to see it in the puzzle a lot in the olden days (up to 6x year), but the Shortz Era brought BANC incidents down to a mere one or two a year, on average. So now, when it appears, it's less likely to be familiar to people.
31D: ___ poet (description of Robert Burns) (PEASANT) — really wanted something exceedingly Scottish here ("BONNIE?"), but even though I've never heard him described this way, it wasn't hard to get.
47D: Start to work?: Abbr. (MON.) — Because Monday is the "start" of the "work" week, typically.
This week I'm highlighting the best puzzles of 2024 by focusing on one day at a time. I kept a spreadsheet of every puzzle I solved last year, complete with ratings from 0-100 (with 50 being my idea of an "average" NYTXW) (They really did average out to around 50, with Saturday being my fav day (avg 57.7), and Sunday (obviously) being my least fav (avg 42.9).
Here are my Top Three Friday Puzzles of 2024. (I'm not ranking them; it's nicer that way)
Relative difficulty: Easy-Medium (closer to Easy for me, but these clues were *trying*, so maybe they managed to hold people up for a bit)
THEME: golf? — no, there's no theme, but the grid kinda looks like a golf ball, and there are two golf clues, so ... SHRUG ...
Word of the Day: RIALTO Bridge (41A: Famous bridge site) —
The Rialto Bridge (Italian: Ponte di Rialto; Venetian: Ponte de Rialto) is the oldest of the four bridges spanning the Grand Canal in Venice, Italy. Connecting the sestieri (districts) of San Marcoand San Polo, it has been rebuilt several times since its first construction as a pontoon bridge in 1173, and is now a significant tourist attraction in the city. [...] The present stone bridge, a single span designed by Antonio da Ponte, began to be constructed in 1588 and was completed in 1591. It is similar to the wooden bridge it succeeded. Two ramps lead up to a central portico. On either side of the portico, the covered ramps carry rows of shops. The engineering of the bridge was considered so audacious that architect Vincenzo Scamozzi predicted future ruin. The bridge has defied its critics to become one of the architectural icons, and top tourist attractions, in Venice. (wikipedia)
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The grid is interesting-looking, I'll give it that. Looks like it has ... all the symmetries? 180-degree rotational, 90-degree rotational, mirror (along all axes) ... it's basically shaped like a golf ball. Or any ball, I suppose, but something about its whiteness and pockmarkedness suggests golf to me. Two golf clues in the grid also suggest golf (20D: Ones helping players get a round? => CADDIES; 18A: Areas to practice driving skills => RANGES). It would be impossible for me to care less about golf. But the golfiness didn't bother me, and maybe it appealed to some of you, who knows, you folks are weird. I liked that the grid had a novel shape, but not one of those novelty shapes that look interesting but result in ugly fill or a cruddy solving experience (see the Great HH Disaster of 2023, earlier this week). In fact, the shape of this one ended up giving the solve a semi-whooshy feeling—you could really only whoosh around the perimeter, but you could whoosh *all* the way around the perimeter, as long 3-stack led into long 3-stack four times, for a full lap around the puzzle. The center played like its own separate puzzle, a little sequestered bit that was a tad harder than the rest of the grid, but only a tad.
As for those long answers around the perimeter, I had two really strong negative reactions. The first to "NO APOLOGIES," which does not (at all) sound like anything I can imagine anyone saying, as clued (12D: "Stop complaining. I didn't do anything wrong"). "Stop complaining" is in the imperative (command) voice, and there is nothing about the answer that is a command. It seems to be a shortening of "(I make) NO APOLOGIES," which, yes, is roughly equivalent to "I didn't do anything wrong," but the way the clue was elongated really muffed things up. I think people these days are more like to say / write "NOT SORRY" or even more likely "SORRY NOT SORRY." The cluing here today just clanked. And oof, do I hate the whole concept of SENIOR MOMENTS. There's something so cloying and cutesy and euphemistic and condescending about it. I've hated it from the first time I heard it, and I only hate it more as I age. Most of what gets called SENIOR MOMENTS is actually dumb forgetful stuff *everybody* does, it's just that when you're 30 you don't ascribe the "moment" to encroaching brain fall-apart. I mean, here's the National Institute on Aging:
As people grow older, changes occur in all parts of the body, including the brain. As a result, some people notice that they don't remember information as well as they once did and aren't able to recall it as quickly. They may also occasionally misplace things or forget to pay a bill.
"Occasionally misplace things or forget to pay a bill"!!?!?! Apparently I have had age-related memory problems my whole life! Sigh. Anyway, the clue on SENIOR MOMENTS is total garbage today. How in the world are they *caused* by "old memories" (50A: What old memories often cause)? Am I having a senior moment, because ... that makes no sense. I thought SENIOR MOMENTS were episodes of forgetfulness (Yes, "temporary mental lapse," acc. to one online dictionary). But "old memories" are the ones that come most easily to older people. (I guess your memory itself, ie your capacity to remember, could be what is old, but that is grammatically tortured—truly awful). So aside from just hating SENIOR MOMENTS as a term, I hated its clue today. Way off the mark. I do kinda like SENIOR MOMENTS in a golf-themed puzzle, though. Lots of seniors spend their moments on golf courses, for sure. (If you want to hear a delightful senior talk about all the great moments of her life, including her current crossword and Wordle routine, please listen to the truly inspiring interview that Julia Louis-Dreyfus did with Carol Burnett earlier this year on her "Wiser Than Me" podcast; I promise you won't be sorry) (oh, look, here's the whole thing on YouTube!)
But there were definitely "moments" that I liked in this one, starting with "WHO DOES THAT!?" (10A: Question suggesting "What odd behavior!") which was actually the answer that opened things up for me. It's the first long Across I was able to infer from the measly number of short Downs I had in place. I had MESA ESTD NTH ... but also VOW at 3D: Utterance with one's hand on a Bible, maybe ("I DO"). I didn't know people were "sworn in" to marriage like that [jk I know it’s the “whole truth and nothing but the truth” bit]. Interesting. Anyway, "WHO DOES THAT!?" helped me blow VOW away and replace it with "I DO," and I was pretty much off to the races after that. Ironically, the races were impeded by HORSEY (again with the cloying cutesiness, bah). But then the races were back on with The BRICKYARD. Zoom zoom. Loved TURNED HEADS and SEED BANKS down below, NARROWS THE GAP above, and most everything else in the grid seems at least solid. I wanna like "WANNA MAKE A BET?," but the truth is anyone who is apt to say "wanna" is also apt to shorten this phrase to "WANNA BET?" I don't mind the version we get here, but it felt a little unnaturally elongated.
Perhaps because the puzzle is built in a way that makes quick solving more likely, the clues felt *very* amped up today, in terms of how hard they seemed to be trying to misdirect you. "Driving skills" are for golf, not cars. [Middle of Middlesex] is not a location (or letters in the "middle" of the word "Middlesex"), but a synonym for "Middle," as it would be spelled in Middlesex (CENTRE). [Broke] means not "caused not to work" or "lacking money" but TAMED. [Words that guide] does not lead to multiple words, but just one word: CREED. "Drawers" and "chests" both get the misdirection treatment at 11D: Drawers on chests, maybe (TATTOO ARTISTS). Then you've got the pair of clothing-related misdirections at 38D: What's going on? (ATTIRE) and 39D: Barely run (STREAK). Clothes on, clothes off, misdirection everywhere. I don't think any of this misdirection is likely to flummox a solver for too long, which will likely make it more enjoyable than annoying. The only proper noun in this thing that's likely to make some solvers draw a blank is KLAY Thompson (31A: Five-time N.B.A. All-Star Thompson), or maybe (if you're younger) COMA (27A: 1977 best-selling novel set in a hospital). Strangely, those two answers sit one on top of the other, but still, with fair crosses all around, I doubt they're gonna wreck any perfect grids today. Only the unusual "K" spelling of KLAY is going to be hard to infer, and BRICKYARD should get that "K" for you no problem. Oh, wait, SATCHMO! (19D: Jazz sobriquet). It's possible that that "sobriquet" (for Louis Armstrong) was unfamiliar to some solvers, esp. younger ones. If so, you should fix that unfamiliarity right now.
All in all, more enjoyable than not today. See you tomorrow.
Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld
P.S. please enjoy this picture of a cat judging me
THEME: old-fashioned slang? — no, actually, there's none. No theme.
Word of the Day: Alice PAUL (36A: Alice ___, 20th-century women's suffrage activist) —
Alice Stokes Paul (January 11, 1885 – July 9, 1977) was an American Quaker, suffragist, feminist, and women's rights activist, and one of the foremost leaders and strategists of the campaign for the Nineteenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, which prohibits sex discrimination in the right to vote. Paul initiated, and along with Lucy Burns and others, strategized events such as the Woman Suffrage Procession and the Silent Sentinels, which were part of the successful campaign that resulted in the amendment's passage in August 1920.
Paul often suffered police brutality and other physical abuse for her activism, always responding with nonviolence and courage. She was jailed under terrible conditions in 1917 for participating in a Silent Sentinels protest in front of the White House, as she had been several times during earlier efforts to secure the vote for women in England.
After 1920, Paul spent a half-century as leader of the National Woman's Party, which fought for the Equal Rights Amendment, written by Paul and Crystal Eastman, to secure constitutional equality for women. She won a major permanent success with the inclusion of women as a group protected against discrimination by the Civil Rights Act of 1964. (wikipedia)
• • •
Lots of whooshing around today. This grid design seems to allow for maximum whoosh. The whooshing got so extreme that there were whole long answers I never even saw the clues for. SPECIAL SAUCE? Never saw it. CALL CENTER? Never saw it. The short crosses were falling so easily, everywhere I went, that for those two answers, at some point I just looked at the grid, realized there was nothing else those answers could be, and just wrote them in. I probably had SP- and -AL SAUCE already in place when I threw that one down. I know I threw down CALL CENTER from CALL CE-. The thing about these no-looks is that they not only seem undeniable, they immediately mesh with their adjacent answers. You can tell a bad guess pretty quickly (sometimes!) by the way it clashes with its neighbors, and SPECIAL SAUCE and CALL CENTER just slid right in, obviously at home. A great and good answer, respectively, but I never had to look at the clues ... which, in the case of SPECIAL SAUCE, is probably good, because that clue is just confusing (39A: Trademark difference-maker). I guess this is referring to the generic use of the term. I always think of it as a McDonald's-specific term. I wonder if the term ever existed before "two all-beef patties SPECIAL SAUCE lettuce cheese pickles onions on a sesame-seed bun"? Whoa, apparently the term predates the McDonald's jingle by a good century! I guess the term is used a lot now in business-speak, and sometimes takes the form of "secret sauce." In fact, it looks like when the Big Mac first came out, McDonald's referred to the sandwich's trademark thousand island-esque goop as "secret sauce"...
... but that all changed with the 1974 ad campaign, when the rat-a-tat ingredient list became part of the jingle.
Anyway, [Trademark difference-maker] would've thrown me if I'd looked at it too early. When I saw the clue in isolation just now, going through the clue list, I thought, "I don't remember that clue ... what was the answer? DAY?" But no, SPECIAL SAUCE. Splashy!
Some of the longer answers felt a bit ... I dunno, forced. Slightly. The oddly specific JEEP SAFARIS, the phrase "IT'S A BEAUT"—I want it to be "SHE'S A BEAUT" (which googles better), but I guess "IT'S A BEAUT" has some authority, if only from this scene from National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation (which is the first thing that comes up with you google ["IT'S A BEAUT"]):
["IT'S A BEAUT, CLARK! IT'S A BEAUT"]
But though a few longer answers wobbled slightly, most of the rest were great. Old-fashioned slang can be hard to take at times, but when you stack it—well, now it looks like an intentional quaintness party, and turns out I don't mind that at all. "DARN IT ALL!" over "OKIE DOKIE!"? Dadgummit (and/or dagnabbit), why not!? I would never spell OKIE or DOKIE that way, but maybe that's how they spelled 'em in Norman Rockwell times, what do I know? Even though the crossword has always (as far as I know) spelled them as "Y" words, I didn't have trouble with the alt-spelling, and I appreciated the bygone colloquial energy a lot.
Notes:
16A: Sanskrit for "force" (HATHA) — my longtime (Iyengar) yoga teacher, who moved away many years ago, is going to be back in town this week teaching a few special classes, and I'm going, but omg why did I start a new lower-body routine at the gym this week!? My ... well, every part of me, from knee to ass, is absolutely wrecked. Like, I have to lower myself into chairs using my arms and standing / climbing stairs / etc. is an Adventure. Luckily, they also do yoga who only stand and breathe, so I should be fine. Just not physically impressive (not that that was ever likely, but one can always dream). So, as they say, never skip leg day, but know your limits.
53A: Biopharmaceutical giant in the Fortune 200 (AMGEN) — woof. Just an awful five-letter flop. I have no idea what this even stands for. Apparently I've seen it twice before, but ugh, a pharma co.? Of some sort? There has gotta be a better way to do this corner. I'd tear it back to the studs to get rid of AMGEN (it was the last thing I got—an unpleasant way to end things). AMGEN is a portmanteau (!) of "Applied Molecular Genetics," the company's original name. I'm hoping that typing this out will help me remember this time the next time AMGEN (unfortunately, inevitably) shows up. But I doubt it. I've probably typed these exact words before.
35A: The late Mrs. Flanders on "The Simpsons" (MAUDE) — quarter-century later, I still can't believe they killed her off. With a T-shirt cannon, no less. The indignity. (The great voice actor Maggie Roswell quit in 1999 because the producers of the show were bizarrely cheap. They hired her back in 2002 because, well, she was just too important. In the interim, they killed Maude, one of the characters she had voiced).
21D: Nonfruit ingredients in some healthful smoothies (OATS) — had the -TS and wanted to write in PITS. Then figured that was unlikely, possibly hazardous, and then remembered that OATS are sometimes involved. Much better.
45D: City east of Montpellier (ARLES)— that's France, not Vermont. The Vermont capital just has the one "L."
(Showing you the grid in my handwriting, eraser marks and all!)
THEME: None
Word of the Day: LIAR'S DICE (9D: Game with rolling and bluffing) —
Liar's dice is a class of dice games for two or more players requiring the ability to deceive and to detect an opponent's deception. In "single hand" liar's dice games, each player has a set of dice, all players roll once, and the bids relate to the dice each player can see (their hand) plus all the concealed dice (the other players' hands). In "common hand" games, there is one set of dice which is passed from player to player. The bids relate to the dice as they are in front of the bidder after selected dice have been re-rolled. Originating during the 15th century, the game subsequently spread to Latin American and European countries. In 1993, a variant, Call My Bluff, won the Spiel des Jahres.
• • •
Hi all, it's Rafa back again for another guest blog post. I'll be here again tomorrow, so I hope you're not tired of me just yet.
I found this puzzle to be very hard! I printed a PDF and solved on paper instead of my usual in-app solving, so I wonder how much that contributed. I always feel like I'm slower on paper, floundering around looking for the clues I want. The zippy experience of a digital solve feels nicer to me, but sometimes a change of pace is nice.
Onto the puzzle. I thought I'd make quick work of this (hubris!) after plopping in HOME REMEDIES with no crosses, but things slowed down after that! Eventually the top left fell (DEGAS was somehow my toehold, though art history is certainly not my forte), and the top half came decently easy. DOUBLE DOG DARE was totally new to me (have I been living under a rock?!) and my friend who was with me while I solved said TRIPLE DOG DARE felt a lot more familiar to her. Do we agree? Dissent? Let me know in the comments. LIAR'S DICE was also new to me (the rock over my home must be very large), but was easy to infer.
This is "L'Absinthe" by DEGAS
I wasn't really getting anywhere in the middle, so I went to the bottom. Here, I *desperately* wanted ARTS AND SCIENCES. I wanted it so bad that I convinced myself that ARTS AND SCIENCE might be a thing (it is not) ... but eventually I accepted that it would be ARTS AND something else. I thought I was being so smart putting in ANTE for [What goes to pot?] (I was not) ... thankfully I was decently sure about BINDI and LATKES so things came together eventually.
I thought the clue was about this kind of seal, but it was not
The center was brutal for me. I could not see HANG GLIDERS (beautiful clue, though!) ... and convinced myself that WIND GLIDERS or HAND GLIDERS might be the answer? My brain was in a weird place solving this. SIGNETS being totally unfamiliar to me and a devilish clue on VAIN did not make things easier. Also, and this is very specific to me, but Spanish in crosswords very often trips me up. I'm a native Portuguese speaker and the vocabulary is similar enough that I almost always just assume the words are the same. Glass in Portuguese is "copo" not "vaso" ... so that slowed me down a lot. Eventually SUSAN RICE came to the rescue.
Is a DOUBLE DOG DARE when two cute dogs make you do something?
Anyhoo ... we got there eventually! This is a very impressive construction, at just 62 (!) words. (Themeless puzzles can go up to 72 words. In general, having more words (and words here mean total entries in the puzzle, not individual words) makes the grid more flexible and easier to fill.) There are a handful of compromises but really it's just ATWT, and maybe LETT and EDDA that gave me any pause. Plus there's a lot to love in the long stuff ... I MET SOMEONE and CARTWHEELS being highlights for me.
Bullets:
22A SNAFU: [Military acronym first used in W.W. II] — Surprised they chose to highlight the fact this is an acronym since the F stands for F%@&#D!
34D RIDERS: [Parts of some contracts] — Apparently a "rider" is a legal term referring to additions made at the end of an article. I had no idea. *Rock I live under grows*
27D HUSTLES UP: [Finds, and fast] — Is this a thing? I have never heard of this usage before. *Rock I live under grows even more and crushes me under its immense weight*
33D BONKERS: [Nuts or bananas] — Fun clue, and I immediately went to listen to Hollaback Girl after solving this puzzle.
THEME: EVEN ODDS (64A: A 50/50 chance ... or a description of the lengths of this puzzle's Across and Down answers respectively) — Acrosses have even number of letters in them, Downs have odd
Theme answers:
all of them, I guess
Word of the Day: Aidy BRYANT (9A: Aidy of "Saturday Night Live") —
I got bad, eerie vibe off of this one right from the start. The grid has a weird look—boxy and plain, like a generic "crossword grid," with no answers over 10 letters long, so it looked like it was gonna have bad "flow" and few if any real marquee answers. So my gut was telling me something was up, and then I dove in and that gut feeling only got stronger. I finished the NW corner and there was nothing shiny or sparkly about it, nothing that seemed purpose-built—why would you stack 8s in a themeless? What good could come of that? The best you're gonna get is "OK." And the worst you're gonna get is ... well ADP (5D: Big inits in payroll services). That answer alone was like a giant red alert. It's a terrible bit of fill, the kind you'd only trot out if you needed it to hold together an *amazing* corner ... and that NW corner is not amazing. I kept going, of course, and found that the fill wasn't bad so much as blah. Then I got a bit worried a theme was developing when "YOU BETCHA" crossed "YES, INDEEDY." This worry only intensified when I hit "OKEY DOKEY" ... Am I really enduring this bone-dry grid just so I can have a "folksy phrases of agreement" theme? Because that would be bad. But then "HARD TO TELL" interrupted the apparent theme pattern, and I was back to just an inexplicably bland puzzle. But then, at the end, explicability. Tragic explicability. A genuine revealer, one that brings sudden and, in this case, truly horrid illumination. A Bizarro revealer with an upside-down "AHA" (which is "AHA" spelled backward ... see, you can't even tell it's Evil. It looks just like the Good "AHA"! Scary!). The jolting, abrupt ending to all this Uncanny-Valley Friday nonsense was the revelation that the puzzle did, in fact, have a theme. Not "folksy phrases of agreement." No, that theme actually seems reasonable now. No, our theme is a completely invisible, no-enjoyment-added letter-count theme. The Acrosses have even letter counts and the Downs have odd. This would've been disappointing on a *Wednesday* (which is about where the difficulty level was); on a Friday, it's criminal.
I like themes on Friday (or Saturday) even less than I like themelesses on Sunday, but at least a themed Friday (or Saturday) has a chance with me. The theme just has to be stellar. You took away my favorite puzzle of the week from me (the themeless Friday), so OK, replace it with something better then. But this ... isn't better. It's so far from better that it has left "better"'s gravitational pull entirely and floated off to become basically space junk. There was some incidental fill that I would've liked in a better conceived puzzle that wasn't intruding on my Friday themeless pleasure. I actually like "A WORD..." and "YES, YOU!" They're terse yet colorful. Colorful is hard to do in short fill. But on a Friday I should not be telling you that my favorite fill was 5 or 6 letters long. Why make a less-than-mediocre themeless just so you can make the EVEN ODDS joke!? Which doesn't even really work on a literal level—as a "description of the lengths of this puzzle's Across" answers, EVEN is (adjectivally) correct. As a "description of the lengths of this puzzle's [...] Down answers," ODDS is non-adjectival, and thus not really a "description" at all. Ill-conceived and extremely ill-slotted on a Friday, this puzzle. Baffling, truly. But people will likely be so focused on their personal best Friday times (YES, YOU) that they won't care much that the puzzle was, at best, a shrug. To which I say, great. Take your enjoyment where you can get it!
See you tomorrow.
Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld
P.S. Happy to see the wonderful Aidy BRYANT in the puzzle, but surprised we didn't up seeing her as AIDY first. Seems like a potentially useful four-letter answer. If y'all wanted to make AIDY the next ENYA, I would not be mad.
A long time ago, I was solving this puzzle and got stuck at an unguessable (to me) crossing: N. C. WYETH crossing NATICK at the "N"—I knew WYETH but forgot his initials, and NATICK ... is a suburb of Boston that I had no hope of knowing. It was clued as someplace the Boston Marathon runs through (???). Anyway, NATICK— the more obscure name in that crossing—became shorthand for an unguessable cross, esp. where the cross involves two proper nouns, neither of which is exceedingly well known. NATICK took hold as crossword slang, and the term can now be both noun ("I had a NATICK in the SW corner...") or verb ("I got NATICKED by 50A / 34D!")
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