LAT 8:39
PI 8:29
NYT 7:21
BG 7:05
CS 4:10
What do you write when you want to say just "One More Thing"? Zack Kushner's New York Times crossword adds a P.S. somewhere within a phrase or at the end of it to change the meaning. The hands-down winner, the theme entry that made me laugh out loud, was USE THE FORCEPS, LUKE, clued as [Advice to actor Perry when delivering a baby?]. I just picked up my son from a Star Wars: The Clone Wars-themed birthday party where there was a Yoda hippity-hop ball, so the 90210-ization of Jedi force was welcome. The other theme entries were pretty solid, but they didn't hit the funny bone like 47-Across did:
We've got one of those roll-your-own words here—REGRAB, or [Get a better grip on]. There's a smidgen of blah crosswordese, like EBOLI, or [Where Christ stopped in a Carlo Levi novel] and SISALS, or [Rope fibers]. But there's also lively stuff like a PRETZEL, or [Ballpark snack]. [Steal from, as in Grand Theft Auto] clues CARJACK. There's a comedian's SCHTICK, like ["I don't get no respect," to Rodney Dangerfield]. H.G. WELLS is [The Father of Science Fiction]. Someone's HIT LIST is clued as [It's dangerous to be on this]. There's some pasta etymology: RAVIOLI means [Literally, "little turnips"]. And GEORGE is clued as [Any of boxer Foreman's five sons]; yes, George Foreman likes to name his sons after himself.
Updated:
It took me a while to find the hidden word in Merl Reagle's Philadelphia Inquirer crossword, "See the Secret Word." In Across Lite, the note explaining the theme is appended to the first theme clue, 22-Across. And that note is long. As a Mac user, I can see the full clue only in teeny print with the Across Lite window components resized and stretched fully across a 21" screen (there's no mouse-over pop-up unless you're in Windows)—I don't know why the note wasn't moved to the Across Lite Notepad, where such things usually appear. Annoying. Anyway: The note says that the same six-letter word is hidden nonconsecutively within each theme answer, and it's left to the solver to figure out that the hidden word is...hidden. To wit:
Rich Norris, a.k.a. Gia Christian, constructed today's syndicated Los Angeles Times Sunday crossword (which isn't the puzzle the LA Times happens to run on Sundays). In "HR Derby," an H takes the place of an R in each theme answer:
The most interesting word in the fill is GYNARCHY, or [Government by women]. There is frightfully little of that to be found.
This weekend's old Boston Globe crossword in Across Lite is a savory treat from Henry Hook. In "Versatile Viands," each theme entry contains a word that's also a food. There's a HAM RADIO OPERATOR and KEVIN BACON, a Wisconsin CHEESEHEAD, and assorted veggies, like SERGEANT PEPPER, a MUSHROOM CLOUD, and the ONION NEWS NETWORK. There are two more theme answers stacked together to tie these all together—they are both OMELET FILLINGS and PIZZA TOPPINGS. Between the two-meal elegance of the theme, the stacking of theme entries, the sections of white space (look at the three sections running down the middle of the grid, with all those 6+ letter answers bunched together), and the overall smoothness of the fill, and you've got yourself a beaut of a Sunday puzzle. Really, the only thing I looked a little askance at was CAMIONS, or [Trucks]—it's a legitimate dictionary entry and all, but not a word I'd seen before. I wanted CAMINOS, as in the '70s car/truck blend, El Camino.
Bruce Venzke and Stella Daily's themeless CrosSynergy "Sunday Challenge" has an unusual-looking grid, with stacked pairs of 15-letter answers criss-crossed by single 15's going down. There are plenty of rather arid answers that look like the sort of things solvers will be Googling today:
March 07, 2009
Sunday, 3/8
March 06, 2009
Saturday, 3/7
LAT 6:35
NYT 6:13
Newsday (not timed, but not so tough)
CS 3:35
I liked how Joe Krozel's New York Times crossword broke the "no unchecked letters" rule with four single squares located in the middle of each edge of the grid. The pattern of black squares looks a little bit like a compass rose, with diagonals between centered straight black lines made of two squares pointing to the N, E, S, and W—and those are, in fact, the letters in the unchecked boxes. So those squares are checked, sort of, since the direction letters are not so hard to divine.
I only have a few minutes to blog now, so let me dispose of a few clues straightaway:
Updated:
Frederick Healy's LA Times crossword skews colloquial with answers like these:
We get a little inventor trivia. [They were invented by 15-year-old Chester Greenwood in the winter of 1873] clues EARMUFFS, and the first half of SKEE-Ball is [Part of a game name reportedly chosen because the game surface resembled a slope]. [Octet member with the shortest name] looks like it could be pop culture, but it's science—the planet MARS. Ask my kid how many planets there are and he says "eight," no hesitation. I tell ya, this scientific progress with planetary demotions makes me feel old. Another clue I liked is [Hit with a joint] for the past-tense KNEED.
Miscellaneous clues that may cause a stumble:
Patrick Blindauer's CrosSynergy puzzle, "Full House," has a quip theme. I filled in the last two thirds of the [parent's wry quip] first, and it turned out that discovering the beginning last also gives a good punchline this time. The line is I CHILD-PROOFED / MY HOME BUT THEY / KEEP GETTING IN. This amused my husband and me. Favorite clues:
The [Court reporter's machine] isn't a very familiar word: STENOTYPE.
Doug Peterson's been making some enjoyable Newsday "Saturday Stumpers," hasn't he? I'm glad Stanley Newman has expanded his Saturday stable. They tell me Doug is also a new member of the CrosSynergy team, so that should mean a few easier themelesses from Doug each year too. (But I want the tougher ones.) I didn't time myself while doing today's Stumper, but it didn't feel that hard, so I'd guesstimate maybe the 5:30 to 6:00 range. The full solution is here for those who want to peek. My favorite fill and clues:
From the category of "dated pop culture I know only from crosswords," we have the [Richard Boone TV role], HEC Ramsey. It was a TV Western back in the early '70s.
March 05, 2009
Friday, 3/6
NYT 8:29
LAT 4:13
BEQ 4:13
CHE 3:58
CS 3:12
WSJ 9:21
Apparently this is one of those days when my ideal bedtime is 8:30 p.m., but I find myself fighting to stay awake while doing a crossword after 9:00. Newcomer (?) Corey Rubin's New York Times crossword mightn't be as hard as a tough Saturday puzzle, at least if you're awake. Because I'm drowsy, though, I'll just list some clues and answers in lieu of sentient prose:
Jack McInturff's Chronicle of Higher Education puzzle, "Leading Men," gathers up an assortment of Mideast rulers of the male persuasion and puts them into pun circumstances:
I note that none of these generic rulers have female equivalents, and I believe the words are all applied only to men. Sure, there's a sultana, but she's the sultan's wife or concubine and not herself a leader. (Harrumph.)
The toughest crossing in this puzzle was where botany collided with classical Greece—the [Peloponnesian city] ARGOS crosses GALLBERRY, or [Species of holly], at the G. ATMOS is a [Brand of clock powered by changes in temperature]; I know nothing about this. Same with WEIR clued as [Fish catcher]. I like the verb [Couch] as a clue for PHRASE, and the Middle Eastern inflection of HOOKAH, or [Water pipe]. POSEIDON was the [God with a grudge against Odysseus].
Randolph Ross's Wall Street Journal crossword, "Dispossessed," extracts the apostrophe from a dozen possessive phrases and slides the S over to the beginning of the next word. Like so:
Four of the theme entries run vertically, and all of them intersect Across theme answers. That's fancy constructin' there. In the non-theme fill, [Front runners?] confused me for a while. DESERTERS may run from the battlefront. MAPLE TREE is clued [One may be tapped]; yum, maple syrup. [Profitable Internet business] clued PORN, which I was not expecting to see here; EBAY just wouldn't fit the crossings. [Home of the Wildcats] is RUPP ARENA, at least for one university's Wildcats. Which one? University of Kentucky, Google says. [Season segments] are TV show EPISODES, not months of the year. [Old Finnish coin] clues PENNI; they use the euro now. I thought [Cardinal toppers] would be the hats those prelates wear, but they're the CRESTS of feathers on the redbird's head.
Updated:
There's more Jack McInturff puzzlin' in the LA Times crossword, with a theme summed up by the [Rhyme runaway] DISH ("and the dish ran away with the spoon"). Add a couple spaces and you get the phrase "D is H," which describes the change made to each theme entry.
Lots of tough clues in this puzzle. Such as:
Brendan Quigley kicks it themeless today for his BEQ blog puzzle, "In 70 Words or Less." I did this crossword in the standard order, starting in the 1-Across corner and working my way down and to the right. Hey-o! Look who's down there in the last Across answer: [Five-time American Crossword Puzzle Tournament winner] TYLER HINMAN. Normally I'd be rolling my eyes at fill like NAL, [Publishing house that's a div. of Penguin], but the L's a gimme if you know the name Tyler Hinman—and anyone who's been reading Brendan's blog probably does. Lots of other names in the grid, like EVA LONGORIA, KEN KESEY, the great EDDIE IZZARD, GEORGE IV, ISOCRATES, and MONTEZUMA—now, that's how you run the gamut in having names in crosswords, with Greek and English and Mexican history to offset pop culture and nerd culture. I didn't know that GRUMIO was ["The Taming of the Shrew" servant]—that's one of the Shakespeare comedies I never made it to. And EXMOOR, the [Stocky pony with a fawn-colored nose]? I don't know if that's a breed or a fictional name or what. And EIDOLON, a [Summoned apparition in "Final Fantasy IX"]—total mystery to me. I like the name ZATOPEK, as in [Emil ___, 1948 and '52 Czech track gold medalist], and want to see it paired with the Southern Mexican people, the Zapotec.
Patrick Jordan's CrosSynergy crossword, "Intermittent Showers," reminds me of the Ella Fitzgerald/Ink Spots song, "Into Each Life, Some Rain Must Fall." (Go have a listen if you're in the mood for some moody music.) Patrick drops a little RAIN into each theme entry:
March 04, 2009
Thursday, 3/5
NYT 4:14
3/4 CS 3:54
LAT 3:12
3/5 CS 2:56
David Kahn's New York Times crossword is running with an Iditarod theme now because the [annual March event] kicks off this Saturday: The IDITAROD TRAIL / SLED DOG RACE. Its setting is largely the ALASKAN INTERIOR, and the final theme entry ponies up some etymology: [What the Athabaskan word for the beginning of 33-Across means] is FAR DISTANT PLACE. Is that as opposed to a near distant or far near place? This 70-word grid has a low enough word count to pass for a themeless, meaning that there are plenty of longish answers in the fill. To wit:
I haven't been doing most of the themed CrosSynergy crosswords in the last month or two—all the zingy new puzzles added to my weekly crossword diet were taking up a lot of time, so something had to give. Now that the Sun crosswords are gone (at least for now—go here to signal your interest in the Sun's return), I'll try to get back to blogging the CrosSynergy puzzles, at least on lighter days. This is Thursday's post, but I just did Wednesday's CS puzzle by Tony Orbach, "Moving Through History." The theme means almost nothing to me—I've only heard one of the three songs—but I really like the non-theme fill. The theme answers are songs "calling for movement" from 1949 (DO THE HUCKLEBUCK), 1968 (DANCE TO THE MUSIC, Sly and the Family Stone), and 1999 (Ricky Martin's SHAKE YOUR BON BON). Highlights throughout the puzzle:
Updated:
I liked Dan Naddor's LA Times crossword a lot, but I have to dock him 20 points for scientific inaccuracy. There are six starred theme entries, each of which ends, 45-Down tells us, with an INSECT. But two of the six critters are arachnids, not insects. Despite that, I enjoyed all the sections of wide-open themeless-style space with 6- and 8-letter answers. Here are the theme answers:
It occurs to me that these creatures have some hardcore pop-culture involvement. The superhero The Tick (star of a comic series, a TV cartoon, and a live-action TV series) had a sidekick named Arthur who was a moth. (The live-action show also had a Latino Batman type named Batmanuel, played by the actor who plays Richard on Lost. I still call him Batmanuel.) Jerry Seinfeld's animated feature, whatever that was called, was all about bees. There were two ant movies. And one of last year's subpar kids' movies involving animal space travelers featured flies (the other was Space Chimps, I think). The lowly mite demands its turn in the Hollywood spotlight—but it may have to settle for appearing in the LA Times crossword.
Assorted clues I liked: [Crude thermometer in the pool?] is your TOE. TYROLEAN means [From Innsbruck]; back in the day, my German textbook's featured teens included an Alois from Tirol. He was nerdier than the blond Hans-Peter. Why do I remember this? [Bit of pole support?] means a bit of logistical support for Santa at the North Pole—an ELF. While I liked having the longer fill, it seemed to cross a lot of iffier short stuff (e.g., RST, NTS, LARC, BCDE) so...maybe the trade-off's not worth it this time.
Randy Ross's Thursday CrosSynergy crossword hews closer to the CrosSynergy team's stated goal of Tuesdayish puzzles—Tony Orbach's was tougher, but I like that. The Ross puzzle is called "Adopt a Kitten," and that's what each theme entry does—it adopts a CAT:
[Participant in the Camp David Accords] threw me. Five letters, that's got to be SADAT or BEGIN, right? Almost—EGYPT was Sadat's country. BALL OF WAX, clued as [Whole thing?], sounds incomplete to me without an introductory "whole," but there's reference support for the three-word phrase. Having been part of the first Sesame Street generation, my first thought for [Smiley on TV] was the Muppet Guy Smiley. It's NPR and PBS's TAVIS Smiley, though; I like him too.
ACPT roundup (no spoilers)
Who wants to hear about the non-crossword portions of my American Crossword Puzzle Tournament weekend? Can I get a show of hands? Great, it's unanimous! Here it comes, after the jump—
Friday a.m.:
As I've done for the last few years, I flew out from O'Hare with Nancy Shack. The craziest part of the flight is when approaching the runway at LaGuardia—you look out the window and think "gee, it's weird having a body of water so close to the runway on this side," and then you glance out a window on the other side and realize you're on a teeny isthmus. At least the geese stayed out of the engines, eh? Nancy and I split a cab to the Marriott, and man, is that a quick trip. I feel for the schmos who can't get direct flights to LaGuardia and use JFK or Newark instead.
Friday p.m.:
Byron Walden and I went out for lunch at Junior's upon my arrival. Grilled cheese and fries for nine bucks? Welcome to New York! There goes the Junior's cheesecake budget—and who has room for dessert at lunch when the judges' dinner is only about three hours later? Will Shortz kindly invited the blogging panelists to attend the judges' dinner at Eamonn's. There was surprisingly little in the way of arcane rituals—just dinner and conviviality. (Here are official photographer Don Christensen's photos from the event.) I got to know Ryan Hecht and Brian Cimmet (co-bloggers at Ryan and Brian Do Crosswords) and Michael Smith (genial blog commenter PhillySolver) better, as well as discovering that Irish soda bread is not something to be consumed in big bites without ample beverage. Good gravy, was that a dry, starchy hunk of bread. It looked like a soft wheat bread, but it lied.
It drizzled all the way back from dinner to the Marriott, so of course my umbrella was snugly tucked away in my luggage back at the hotel. Hello, blow dryer! How I missed you. Post-drying, I headed to the lobby bar to grab a drink with Michael Sharp (a.k.a. Rex Parker). After an exhaustive search of Wikipedia to identify an old-school cocktail I could call my own, I'd settled on the Tom Collins. It was tasty, but I fear it may have led to a migraine a few hours later. Clearly, more research into cause-and-effect is needed, as the sample size is too small to draw solid conclusions.
Michael and I and the other bloggers headed to the ballroom for the panel discussion, and I think it went well. The bloggers had a good time, and hopefully the audience enjoyed themselves as well. The aforementioned Nancy Shack videotaped the session (for posterity! posterity needs to know!) and you can watch the QuickTime video here. I didn't talk too much, but (a) there were five of us and (b) I was fighting a cold bug.
The KenKen creator had a droll speech, and when things looked to be heading towards the KenKen competition, I skedaddled. To the bar! To see people! The crossword tournament has become a big ol' class reunion, and there are so many people you adore but only see once a year. I could see staying in the ballroom for a team puzzle competition on Friday evening, but not for doing puzzles quietly alone. I can do that at home.
Michael Sharp and Angela Halsted (a.k.a. PuzzleGirl) were hosting a small party with good wine, but I got whacked with a migraine once I began sipping the wine. Maybe it was the wine and not the Tom Collins? I don't know. After the party, I was abjectly miserable thanks to the headache, and got about four hours of interrupted sleep. Awesome! On top of the cough and cold, I would be well-positioned to have a lousy tournament.
Saturday a.m.:
Saturday morning, I loaded up on food and caffeine over breakfast with women constructors Nancy Schuster, Andrea Michaels, Bonnie Gentry, Sarah Keller, Karen Tracey, and Deb Amlen. We talked about shoes and shopping and cooed over babies, of course. No, actually, we talked about the role of women in the crossword construction business and speculated on the societal reasons that about 80% of constructors are male. At last year's women's breakfast we were seated in the front of the restaurant, and poor Randy Ross tried to join us. ("Without estrogen? As if!") This year, our table was in the back so no menfolks passed by looking for familiar faces to sit with.
I wound up sitting next to Trip Payne for the Saturday solving sessions. Felt like crap in the morning, but made it through the puzzles not too far behind the lead pack and without mistakes. Big surprise: Easy-peasy puzzle #1 was by Byron Walden. Boo! Hiss! I am one of those who appreciates a tough Byron puzzle to separate the puppies from the big dogs. But now the ACPT crowd might no longer boo when Byron's name is mentioned because their last experience with him was a gentle one. Puzzle #2 was by Brendan Quigley, and...I erased a lot along the way. It wasn't easy but I made it through without errors. Puzzle #3 came from Merl Reagle and—this really isn't a spoiler if you've ever done a Merl puzzle—it had a pun theme.
During the many interim periods after finishing puzzles, I talked to people in the hallway (a key activity for the top 10 contingent—you need to know who finished in what minute and how many minutes behind the leader you are) and also wandered about the vendor tables. One had puzzler Steve Smith showing the board game he created, Word Sweep. Looks cool. Emily Jo Cureton was selling prints, original drawings, and tote bags featuring her awesomely macabre Daily Crossword Drawings.
Saturday p.m.:
Dave Sullivan and I walked down to Heights Café on Montague for lunch for the second year in a row, again just barely making it back to the Marriott in time for the afternoon session. I violated my Pancake Prime Directive: Do not order pancakes that aren't IHOP. I paid the price. (This was avenged today when I had a short stack for Second Breakfast at my local IHOP.)
The afternoon session featured another easy one for puzzle #4, by Andrea Carla Michaels and the not-in-attendance Myles Callum. The "bastard" puzzle, #5, was by Patrick Merrell, who is the sweetest, funniest guy—until now. It's possible that he and Byron have switched ACPT reputations, with Byron being that sweet guy with that fun puzzle and Pat turning into the constructor whose puzzle vexed so many. (Check out Pat's website for a cartoon about the finals but don't click that link if you're playing by mail because there are spoilers.) Saturday's competition drew to a close with #6, by Maura Jacobson—she's had a puzzle in all 32 tournaments.
Late Saturday afternoon, I killed some time doing a teeny bit of blogging and checking the internet in the hotel lobby with Dave Sullivan and Visual Thesaurus's lexicographer Ben Zimmer (access to his post may require a VT subscription). I'd written a rambling post about how I thought I was doing and what the standings probably looked like—and then the preliminary standings for the first four puzzles got posted and I had to scrap pretty much everything I'd said and start over. Blurgh!
Dinner at The Grocery was superb. Thanks to the efforts of Penny and Janie (following up on Harris Ruben's raves about having the best meal of his life there), we lined up a reservation back in December, and I'm so glad because the food was fantastic. Penny, Janie, Brian, Dave, Linda, Pamela, Chris, Dan, Monica, and I all received a teeny conical dish of parsnip soup with a wee spoon. I felt like a giantess—a giantess with delicious soup. Then came the teeny butter and egg croquettes, which explode in one's mouth with lightness and The Deliciousness. I wanted to snack on a whole bowl of them...but we were given one apiece, about the size of a big gumball. I ordered a salad labeled as "teenaged greens" (that's like mixed baby greens, only the leaves had grown bigger) with a bed of mystery grains (the menu says "wheatberry pilaf"). I followed that with the perfect, tender, flavorful chicken with farro grains. I found out only later than the "hen of the woods" ingredient was mushroom and not hen, and I hate mushrooms, but appear to tolerate expensive fancy mushrooms. For afters, the Bonny Doon Vin de Glaciere Riesling dessert wine paired perfectly with a few bites of Janie's chocolate/fig cake (crunchy fig seeds?). If you're a foodie heading to the tournament next year, call The Grocery this December to book your table. Tiny restaurant, but excellent service and food to die for.
The official ACPT Saturday evening event was Game Show Night. I know nothing about it because it was nearly over by the time we got back from The Grocery. Outside the hotel bar, Patrick Blindauer and Peter Gordon were showing off a beautiful little hardcover Patrick Berry variety puzzle book, Puzzle Masterpieces. I requested a review copy and will write it up this spring. Berry's introduction says the puzzles are of medium difficulty—but I'll try not to hold that against them. There may also be a book of his Rows Garden puzzles, which always challenge me in Games Magazine.
Once again I stayed up later than I'd planned to, but I was feeling much better (crosswords have miraculous healing powers!) and got a solid five hours of sleep rather than the fitful four of the night before.
Sunday a.m.:
Last year, I shared a breakfast table with a random person from the breakfast line. That guy, Jerry Cordaro, was in the C finals this year. This year, my Sunday breakfast companion was Bruce Fleischer. Hey, maybe he'll be in the finals next year! Bruce's son is Ari Fleischer. (No, not that Ari Fleischer.) My first year at the tournament, I had room-service breakfast by myself. You know what? Everyone at the ACPT is so nice, you can just join a random person for breakfast and find plenty to talk about. Don't be shy about trying this yourself if you've come to the tournament alone. Really. Strike up conversations with plenty of strangers all weekend, in fact—everybody digs crosswords, so right there you've got something in common.
Heading into puzzle #7, I knew I'd be squashed out of the top 10 with a mistake, and I knew I needed to go fast enough not to get nudged out of the way by someone ranked below me going 3 minutes faster. It worked! I remained in the top 10, though not by much. Number 9! Anyone else remember the Saturday Night Live skit with fake John and Paul operating some sort of Beatles fried chicken restaurant? They called order "#9...#9...#9?" (No response.) "#10?" Ah, that slays me every time I think of it. (Nobody else seems as amused.)
The A finals were super exciting and others have written about that so well already. The luncheon was a Food Network thing and—hey! Why did we all pay money for that banquet? Shouldn't the Food Network have treated us? I want to get this up now since it's already three days after the fact and my kid's calling for me.
I'll post separately about the individual puzzles from this year's ACPT...soonish.
MGWCC #39
crossword 6:23
puzzle 0:20 or so
matt gaffney's weekly crossword contest: episode 39, "On Your Marks, Get Set, Begin," was a treat. looking for a four-letter answer word, we had the following theme entries to puzzle over:
one other hint from the puzzle: [How some of you will arrive at the contest answer word] is, apparently, AMTRAK. huh? oh... you mean literally arrive? because AMTRAK wasn't helping me crack the metapuzzle. but as you've already worked out by now, the contest answer word is ACPT, or the american crossword puzzle tournament, which took place this past weekend. (or actually, which is taking place right now, as i type this on saturday at noon.) each of the theme answers begins with a permutation of those four letters: CAT People, PAT Cash, CAPTain eo, PACT of steel, and ACT Properly.
sundries:
see you next week.
March 03, 2009
Wednesday, 3/4
Onion 7:43
NYT 4:26
BEQ 4:08
Puzzazz 3:47 (PDF here)
LAT 3:25
Tausig (not timed)
Hmm, I still need to finish up that post about the tournament weekend...and then get going on blogging about the ACPT puzzles themselves. I'm still working on getting my sleep account out of arrears, so the big wrap-up won't come tonight.
One regular feature of ACPT weekend is the easy availability of other puzzles. You looking for the Saturday Times puzzle? Check the table in the hotel lobby. (If only all hotels would offer that, year-round! Imagine: going to a hotel and having a ready alternative to USA Today.) The registration folders included something billed as the World's Hardest Crossword, from Esquire magazine in 1965. It's got plenty of obscure and arcane words in it, that's for sure. I sat next to Trip Payne for the Saturday solving sessions, and he was combining his answers with those of Jon Delfin and Google. I joined the team effort and that puzzle was yielding, but certainly wasn't finished by Saturday afternoon. Does this sound like a fun puzzle, a crossword that three of this year's top 10 contestants plus Google couldn't polish off in short order? Oy.
Another puzzle that was made available to event-goers was the March 1 Puzzazz.com puzzle (PDF link above) by Roy Leban. Puzzazz puzzles are more often short wordplay puzzles, but this one's a crossword. The instructions say, "Solve the puzzle to learn about three famous sales, then anagram the circled letters to make the two-word name of something that's been 'sold' many times." The theme entries have clues about specific sales—the GUTENBERG BIBLE [sold for $5.4 million in 1987]. MANHATTAN ISLAND [was sold for 60 guilders in 1625]. Cheap! And BUSINESS DOT-COM (meaning the domain business.com, I believe) [sold for $7.5 million in 1999]. The anagrammed circled letters spell out BROOKLYN BRIDGE, an apt answer for a puzzle distributed a short distance from said bridge. Highlights in the fill: GUMBY the rubber animation character; Vince LOMBARDI; PLANETOID clued with reference to Pluto; CAMERA-SHY; and UNDO clued as [Control-Z, usually] (it's command-Z on the Mac).
The comparatively long solving time for the Onion A.V. Club crossword by Matt Jones reflects the tiredness I was mentioning—I kept nodding off and could scarcely keep my eyes open, which doesn't bode well for the NYT puzzle that launches in a few minutes. WET SOUTER is [Justice fresh from the shower]. Is a person in a wet suit called a wet-suiter? I don't know. [Kids' game pitting enforcers of the law against the Justice who wrote them] is COPS AND / ROBERTS—John Roberts, cops and robbers. [Justice who prefers soft, natural shirts] clues COTTON KENNEDY, which I think is a pun on "cotton candy" but the pronunciation is a bit of a stretch. [Prop for a Justice moonlighting as a magician?] is BREYER RABBIT, playing on Brer Rabbit. NUM SCALIA is [Justice with a keyboard lock key]; there's a num-lock key that facilitates the typing of numerals and...I'm not sure. "Numbskull" with added vowel sounds after it? The toughest answers for me here are MINYA, or [El-___ (area of the Nile River Valley)], and POTEET, clued as ["Designing Women" character B.J. ___]. Other pop-culture clues that might not be obvious to many: DYNOMUTT was a [Robotic "Dog Wonder" of 1970s Saturday morning TV] and STEVE-O was the ["Jackass" member who got a tattoo in a moving vehicle]. Also tough: [Multipurpose doc, for short] clues ENT, an ear, nose, and throat doctor. I was thinking the doc was a document. [Rocket section behind a nosecone] is an AFTERBODY, and I don't think I've encountered that word before.
And now for the New York Times crossword by C.W. Stewart. Hey! It's Wednesday! It's not Thursday yet, so what's this flip/flop rebus puzzle doing here? The theme is encapsulated by IN OR OUT, a [Choice for a dog, as well as a hint to this puzzle's theme]. Each rebus square means IN in one direction and OUT in the crossing. I think the rebus squares are all in symmetrical spots, too—that's fancy crosswordin'! No, wait, I described the rebus squares wrong. (Tired.) The clues for both directions are for phrases or words with both the IN and OUT options:
Hey, that's 16 theme answers. That's quite a lot. Outside the theme, here are the gnarliest bits. What are [Steel helmets with visors]? They're called BASINETS, not to be confused with bassinets. [India's ___ Coast] is MALABAR. ISLES is a straightforward word, but the [Antilles, e.g.] clue didn't quite point me in the proper direction. LABAN was [Brother of Rebecca, in the Bible].
Updated:
Don Gagliardo's LA Times crossword is a flavor explosion. You've got your TASTE BUDS down at 63-Across tying these things together:
I impeded my progress here by answering [In an unfortunate way] with PITIABLE rather than PITIABLY, which tucked the SALTY LANGUAGE out of reach; the clue works as both an adverb and an adjective, but only the Y fit the crossing. [Dracula weapon] isn't merely a fang, it's a CUSPID tooth, and dentists don't customarily call those teeth "fangs." [Utility bill details] clues GAS RATES, which is likely the dullest answer in this puzzle.
On the heels of the super-busy American Crossword Puzzle Tournament, Brendan Emmett Quigley's crossword is another repeat from his run of Time Out New York puzzles. The title and blurb read "Number Please: Can you digit?" The theme entries are three phrases that start with numbers, only the numbers have been lopped off. [___ (trashed)] is four SHEETS TO THE WIND. [___ (kissing game)] is Seven MINUTES IN HEAVEN. And there are the Twelve DAYS OF CHRISTMAS, a [___ (classic carol)]. Theme, shmeme—what I like in this puzzle are the triple-stacked 11-letter answers in the fill and the colorful 10-letter answers that intersect them. ["Ta-ta!"] clues "ADIOS, AMIGO." [Polishes, army-style] is SPIT-SHINES. Full-name EDDIE ARCARO is the legendary [Jockey who had the nickname "Banana Nose"], and I didn't know that trivia bit. [Free game that comes with Windows] is MINESWEEPER; luckily, I'm a Mac user so I am unable to destroy my productivity that way. I have no idea why [Green Tag: Abbr.] clues REC. Who can explain that to me?
When I test-solved Ben Tausig's Ink Well/Chicago Reader crossword, "Animal Tails," he had a gross clue for EX-LAX—gross, but definitely funny. Turns out he had a couple other clues he liked, so he ended up going (!) with [It makes waste with haste]. Enjoy the potty humor in the alt-weekly and indie crosswords, 'cause you won't be seeing it in the NYT any time soon. With the pair of X's, though, EX-LAX really livens up its corner of the grid, doesn't it?
The theme entries have an animal "tail" appended:
Random clues and answers I enjoyed:
PDF of the Tribune article
What do Michelle Obama, the Jonas Brothers, and I all have in common? We were on the front of the "Live!" section of last Thursday's Chicago Tribune. Okay, so my picture didn't show up until page 4, but now I have PDFs of page 1 and page 4 to share with you. (The setting for the photo is Dollop Coffee & Tea.)
March 02, 2009
Tuesday, 3/3
Jonesin' 3:41 — get this now via the Jonesin' Google Group (#404)
LAT 3:09
NYT 3:06 (there's someone there after the jump, but it's not Amy)
Hey, everybody! PuzzleGirl here doing that thing that I do so well. Amy wasn't feeling well tonight and asked me to whip a little something up for the blog so you all could start your gabbing. I'm sorry I'm a little late posting this but I got caught up in "The Bachelor." I have Never watched the show, but PuzzleHusband is totally into it and I had to find out if he won the office pool or not. Did he? I don't want to spoil it for anyone who hasn't seen it yet, so let's just say that it's not exactly clear. I mean he didn't, but then maybe he did? I'm thinking hubby's co-workers may be rehearsing their technicalities for tomorrow. Oh and two more things but, really, I don't want to spoil it for anyone so I'm going to to try the little trick I've seen on other sites from time to time (if you don't mind being spoiled, you can drag your cursor over the seemingly blank space): (1) Did anyone else just wish Jason would Stop Talking once they brought Molly back out?? and (2) From what I can tell, the guy who agreed to appear on national television to choose a wife turned out to be something of a selfish dick! Who could have seen that coming?? Okay, sorry, the puzzle already:
We are talking about Jeffrey Wechsler's New York Times crossword which contains five — count 'em five — theme phrases that take some unusual suspects and throw them in jail.
Missteps for me included vie for TRY [Go for it], stet for DELE [Proofer's mark], sassy for SAUCY [Smart-mouthed], SSN for TEL [10-digit no.] (yes, I know), and ate for WON [Took the cake]. NENES are [Spanish babies]? Really? Huh. JOCOSE, [Full of merriment], is a great word. Overall, I really liked this puzzle. The theme answers are pretty snappy for a Tuesday (generally not my favorite day of the week) and the non-theme fill included some good stuff and a few entries that were just tricky enough to make it interesting. And, ya know what? I'm still kind of riding the high from the cruciverb-y weekend and I think that's all I'm going to say about this one. With any luck, Amy will be back tomorrow morning with the rest of the puzzles. See ya!
Updated:
Amy/Orange here, back after 10 hours of sleep. Thanks for facilitating that, PuzzleGirl! Much appreciated. My neck is still tweaked and if anyone knows how to fix it so that I can look to both sides again without wincing in pain, I'd love to hear from you.
Timothy Meaker's LA Times crossword is a good puzzle for a SMOKE break, as 65-Across explains that SMOKE can [precede the last word of answers to starred clues]. The theme entries are as follows:
Greatest hits from the land of crosswordese: The name for a [Jai alai basket] is CESTA. The only famous TIA is [Actress Carrere]. Luckily, it's also Spanish for "aunt," so crossword constructors have other options for cluing TIA. [Hoarfrost] is RIME, as in the frosty ice that forms on a window when it's super cold out. In "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner," rime = rhyme or poem, right? We know that comets have visible tails, but [Comet head?] with a question mark clues the letter CEE that begins the word comet. SAS is the [Airline with a hub in Oslo]. ["SNL" alum Cheri] hasn't been seen much in popular culture in the last few years, but Ms. OTERI was funny on Saturday Night Live.
Hey, I really liked the theme in Matt Jones's Jonesin' crossword, "A Slash of Inspiration." There's a little gimmick—five squares contain a slash. (My answer grid leaves those blank because I couldn't type one in Across Lite.) If you groove on hardcore symmetry in crossword themes, then you'll like how these five slash/rebus squares are perfectly symmetrical. The [1963 Peter Weiss play set in the French Revolution, briefly] is MARAT/SADE, and it crosses F/X, the [1986 thriller starring Bryan Brown and Brian Dennehy]. Four of the five long answers are titles of movies, plays, or TV series, so the slashy business is deep in pop culture. Speaking of pop culture, my favorite answer is MR. ROPER, [Jack's first landlord, on "Three's Company."
Gotta run right now—
—and now I'm back, an hour later. All righty, here are Matt's theme answers:
March 01, 2009
Monday, 3/2
BEQ 4:25
NYT 3:42
LAT 2:49
Hello, all. Just got back from the tournament a few hours ago, exhausted from getting 8 hours of sleep for Friday and Saturday nights combined but invigorated from spending the weekend with all those kickass crossword people.
Not invigorated enough to avoid being incredibly bleary-eyed while doing Lynn Lempel's Monday New York Times crossword. I set a goal of solving and blogging it in 12 minutes, so I have a couple more minutes to go before I log off Blogger and log into bed. The theme entries are colored animals from the artis (movie, novels, short story, poetry)—PINK PANTHER, PURPLE COW, GOLD BUG, RED PONY (which is ringing no bells for me tonight), and WHITE RABBIT. Lotsa fresh and lively entries, a few oddball ones for a Monday (ASHBIN...). And I'm falling asleep mid-paragraph here, so that's my cue to retire for the night.
Will try to post more about ACPT weekend tomorrow, kid permitting (he's off school for Pulaski Day).
Updated:
Today's LA Times crossword by Elizabeth Babikan is preparing for a wedding with something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue:
I remain bleary-eyed after the exhausting weekend, what with the dearth of sleep and the recurrent migraine action. Highlights in the fill include the [Brunch cocktail], a MIMOSA; WET BAR, or [Bachelor pad amenity]; [Undersea explorer Jacques] COUSTEAU; Smokey Robinson and the MIRACLES ([Turning water into wine, and others]); and the intersecting pair of P_B words, PLAN B and PROB. (Aw, no PLUMB today.)
Today's Brendan Emmett Quigley crossword is a new-to-me retread from Time Out New York, featuring 12 symmetrical theme answers (some short) that are slangy synonyms for "drunk." Kinda like Tom Swifties for drunkenness slang. Mr. Magoo is BLIND, a mason is PLASTERED, a quarterback is BLITZED. Cute, and adroitly constructed given the 84 theme squares. Anyone know why UTAH's official state game is chess?
