Have you ever thought to yourself, "If only I had a Scrabble tile pendant, my life would be complete?" Fret no more: Go here and click the Scrabble button. All 26 letters are available, but no blank tiles.
October 23, 2008
Scrabble jewelry
October 22, 2008
Thursday, 10/23
NYT 4:03
Sun 3:39
LAT 3:25
CS 2:32
I feel like I've been a less attentive crossword blogger than usual lately—I blame this month's cold, which focuses its attentions primarily on making me cough.
Patrick Blindauer's New York Times puzzle has a somewhat subtle, if buggy, theme. The ANTS that are ["Marchers" through the answers to the five starred clues] start at the left of a 7-letter word and march one square over through a progression of five words, ending at the right side of the fifth word:
ANTACID is a stomach [Settler in a pharmacy].
FANTASY completes the TV title, ["___ Island"].
PHANTOM is (was?) a [B'way hit beginning in '88].
ATLANTA is [Where Delta Air Lines is headquartered].
ENCHANT means to [Cast a spell over].
Including the theme entries, there are 20 answers containing 7 or more letters, giving this puzzle a moderately themeless vibe. Among the more interesting bits:
Holy cow, are there ever a ton of Smurfs characters—more than 100. Just five of them made the cut to be included in Kevan Choset's Sun crossword theme. The cartoon Smurfs are blue, hence the "Blue Man Group" title for this puzzle. I know next to nothing about The Smurfs, having never watched the cartoon (I was too old when it began airing here) or sought out the original Belgian comics—so this theme had no resonance for me. These long answers begin with SMURF (71-Across) names:
Here's one reason the Smurfs are dumb: More than 100 of 'em, and only three are female. Or maybe they're just a largely gay group of blue men, I dunno. The crossword seemed a good bit easier than the usual Thursday Sun puzzle, but October 23 marks the 50th anniversary of the Smurfs' creation.
Updated:
Sarah Keller's CrosSynergy crossword, "What a Trooper!", has an arresting theme featuring slang terms for law enforcement officers:
Cute theme!
Dan Naddor's LA Times crossword has an explosive theme, with five theme entries starting with synonyms for "explode":
This puzzle contained one completely unfamiliar name: [1980s KGB defector Gordievsky]'s first name is OLEG. On the plus side, it's a familiar enough Russian first name. [Saints' quarterback Drew] BREES and LEORA, [Arrowsmith's first wife] in the Sinclair Lewis novel, sit beside each other and potentially knot up the left side of the grid. Favorite fill entry: "IS IT EVER!" clued with ["You got that right!"].
October 21, 2008
Wednesday, 10/22
Tausig 5:05
Onion 4:22
Sun 3:33
NYT 2:55
LAT 3:06
CS 2:55
(updated at 10 a.m. Wednesday)
There've been other puzzles with similar themes, I think, but Gary Whitehead sets his New York Times crossword above the usual Wednesday pack in a few ways. There are two unifying entries, 68- and 70-Across, spelling out BED and SIZE. The other four theme entries are particularly colorful phrases that end with bed sizes:
A noun phrase, a spoken phrase, a movie title, and a musical make for a livelier foursome than, say, four noun phrases. Further adding to this puzzle's fun is MR. SULU, a [Crewmate of Capt. Kirk] in Star Trek. (Mr. Sulu's portrayer, George Takei, recently married his longtime partner in California.) I do tend to enjoy crosswords that are packed with names, and this one has Mounts ARARAT and ETNA, the [Nile Valley region] of NUBIA, THAI food, and NATAL the [Brazilian seaport] in the category of place names; some people who aren't real, the [Poe maiden] LENORE, MOE'S Tavern from The Simpsons, [Don Juan's mother] INEZ, and an ADONIS; and real people from the arts (Dr. DRE, Lucy LIU, EFREM Zimbalist, ED AMES, E. M. FORSTER the ["Howards End" novelist], Anthony QUINN, LUKAS Haas, and James AGEE), sports (Max BAER, ILIE Nastase), business (T. ROWE Price), and history (ALS [Capp and Capone], BIBI Netanyahu). I know a preponderance of names in the grid gives some people fits, and that's why not every puzzle is as crowded with names as this one.
Samuel Donaldson's Sun crossword, "Threepeats," concocts three phrases that contain a 3-letter sequence tripled, with those consecutive 3-letter pieces split across words:
In the fill, highlights include SNAIL MAIL, PINOT NOIR clued as [Wine featured in "Sideways"] (Paul Giamatti's Miles prefers that varietal to merlot: "If anyone orders Merlot, I'm leaving. I am NOT drinking any f*cking Merlot!"), NAPTIME, and two old comics names (SLUGGO and THE ASP). Favorite clue: [Adjective or adverb, e.g.] for NOUN. I have never once had [Drinks made with sweetened spiced liquor and eggs]—those are FLIPS. I know LODI is a California town, but didn't know that it's also a [Song on Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Green River" album].
Updated:
Robert Doll's LA Times puzzle teaches us some marine biology, as each theme entry begins with a SHARK. That unifying answer, SHARK, is clued [Ocean predator, of which there are five types starting this puzzle's longest answers]. Here are the beasties:
BULL MOOSE was [Teddy Roosevelt's party]. Bull sharks attack people near shore, and they can tolerate fresh water in rivers. Their range spans the globe.
TIGER IN YOUR TANK is the [End of an Esso ad metaphor]. Tiger sharks are also huge, they attack people, and they're found all around the world.
[Golfer's greenside choice] is the SAND WEDGE club. Sand sharks are a good bit smaller, and they're also known as ragged tooth sharks. A friend of mine went diving in a shark cage off the coast of South Africa to see these sharks.
LEMON TORTE is a [Tangy dessert] I'd take a pass on. What's a lemon shark? This.
NURSE BETTY is a [Renee Zellweger title role]. I never knew how nurse sharks got their name. They sound nurturing, don't they? "Nurse sharks are so-called because their method of feeding on prey larger than their mouths is to bite down and slowly suck the prey's flesh down their throats." Yow!
This crossword's a good example of what a Wednesday puzzle should be—Its theme isn't too obvious, and the overall fill and cluing hit right at a medium Wednesday level.
The CrosSynergy crossword by Stella Daily and Bruce Venzke is called "Fasten-ating" because each theme entry ends with a kind of fastener:
Nuts and bolts are hardware fasteners, as are washers and nails. The mighty screw did not make the cut today. Can you think of a good phrase that ends with SCREW, that doesn't use the hardware meaning of the word, and that passes the breakfast test better than LET'S SCREW? None of the other theme entries are compound words, so I don't think corkscrew works.
Deb Amlen's Onion A.V. Club crossword opens with a really long clue for 1-Across—the sort of clue that Across Lite doesn't display well. That clue reads [Start of an open letter from the puzzle constructor: ["Dear ___, you seem a bit confused about what the V.P. does every day, so here are some helpful hints..."]. Two pieces of advice are conveyed in the four longest entries in the crossword: CAST TIE-BREAKING / VOTES IN SENATE and ASK HOW MCCAIN / FEELS HEALTH-WISE. 50-Down is [End of the letter: "Thanks for the laugh. I'm voting for Obama/___."], or BIDEN. Heh. In the rest of the puzzle, here are my favorite spots:
I have no idea who ["Step by Step" actress Keanan], or STACI, is. Here's her Wikipedia page—Step by Step was a '90s sitcom I didn't watch. Boy, crossword constructors need someone named STACI to become really famous.
Ben Tausig's Ink Well/Chicago Reader crossword provides a theme hint in its title, "On the House." I misinterpreted that hint, though, and was perplexedly wondering how the word HOUSE or something like it might correspond to theme answers like WEIGHT RANGE and HAND PRESS. The secret's down at 69-Across, where the [Word that may precede twelve words in this puzzle's grid] is FREE. The six long Across answers are all two-word phrases in which each word can follow free. What ramped up the challenge level was the dryness and non-obviousness of the theme entries. WEIGHT RANGE is clued as [Ring category], but it would've been easier with "boxing ring" in the clue to make it more specific. [Gutenberg device] is a HAND PRESS, but the popular term is "printing press." A [Government employee] is a STATE AGENT, but who calls them that? [Likely purchasing demographic] is the MARKET BASE, but those of us who aren't in retail don't much think about market bases, do we? VERSE FORM is a [Rhythmic composition]; I've never heard the term before. [Contemplative guy] is a THINKING MAN. Favorite clues: [Record weakeners of a sort] are ASTERISKS in sports record books. The KKK is the [Org. that suggests Obama's success is attributable to his being half-white]. POSHER is clued as [More likely to have heated floors, e.g.]—hey, I stayed in the lovely Hope Street Hotel in Liverpool, which heated the rooms via the floors. No icky carpeting! Despite a visit to England, [Legendary cricketer Brian] LARA is not a name I know. (He's from Trinidad.)
October 20, 2008
Tuesday, 10/21
Sun 4:18
CS 3:35
NYT 3:17
LAT 2:54
(updated at 9 a.m. Tuesday)
Randall Hartman's New York Times crossword feels a little more Wednesdayish than Tuesdayish, doesn't it? The five 15-letter theme answers (that's 75 theme squares, which is quite a lot) are the sort of phrases that seem better suited to clues than to crossword answers, as the theme gimmick resides in the clues and solvers need to piece together the answers bit by bit.
The least exciting bits of fill—answers like ELOI, suffix ERO, AM SO, and [Jack of "The Great Dictator"] OAKIE—tend to intersect with two of the long theme answers or sit astride a theme answer, so they're there in the service of a higher good.
Lee Glickstein's Sun crossword, "A New Beginning," has a theme that sounds simple enough on its surface—four words get new prefixes to change their meaning—but made me think from start to finish. In each instance, the result of the prefix change is a two-word phrase rather than a single word. A [Music nut?] is a STEREO MANIAC; an obsessive person is a monomaniac, and back in the days of vinyl, records could be recorded in stereo or mono. [Inmate dream?] is a CON VISION. The opposite of con- is pro-, and provision is a single word. [Where to buy underwater vessels?] is the SUB MARKET. Sub- means below, while super- means above, and we've all been to the supermarket. Reversing the pre- in precautions gives us POST CAUTIONS, or [Put up warning signs?]. Cool theme—just bendy enough to give the noggin a workout, but straightforward enough for a Tuesday...or maybe a Wednesday.
My favorite clues:
Updated:
Neville Fogarty's LA Times crossword invites all the famous WHITE SUIT men to a party:
I enjoyed this sartorial theme. Hovering around the theme entries are some unusual answers that don't appear much in Tuesday crosswords. ["The Sorcerer's Apprentice" composer] is Frenchman Paul DUKAS, not a household name. Then there's AZOIC [__ Era: old name for Earth's pre-life period]. Nautical terminology includes HAWSE, or [Anchor line's hole]. My favorite clue: [Athletic supporter?] for a TEE, as in the little doohickey that holds up a golf ball or a football.
I didn't recognize the constructor's name. Neville Fogarty is likely this young man who was on Jeopardy! in 2000 at age 11, and I think this puzzle is his constructing debut. Welcome!
Lynn Lempel's "Popinjays" puzzle for CrosSynergy pops in a J to alter four phrases:
In the past, SAUNA has been clued similarly, and some have argued that a sauna is not a [Steamy bath]. Mostly it's hot and dry, yes, but when water's thrown on hot rocks, there's temporary steam. Either way, I don't like the heat. There were two squares that led me astray temporarily. [Blackball] could be BAN or BAR, and I opted for the former until NIVERJOTTER made no sense. [Hold tightly] could be CLAMP or CLASP, and again I chose wrong. The crossing [Roman sun god] is SOL, not MOL.
October 19, 2008
Monday, 10/20
CS 3:06
NYT 2:56
Jonesin' 2:54
LAT 2:49
Sun 2:36
Daniel Raymon debuts as a New York Times crossword creator with his CHANGE DIRECTION puzzle. Did you realize that the four cardinal directions can all be anagrammed into other words? I wouldn't be surprised to learn that some other version of this theme has been done before. Each of four theme entries is a two-word made-up phrase with one direction word and its anagram, with north, south, east, and west states in the clues:
Aw, too bad WEST STEW is on the eastern side of the grid and EAST SEAT on the west. Perhaps the constructor tried the grid that way and the fill didn't wish to cooperate. Those two theme entries are sandwiched around the central answer, CHANGE DIRECTION, which restricted the flexibility of the surrounding fill. That fill is notable for the inclusion of a half dozen 8- and 9-letter answers. There's a CASE STUDY, or [Examined example]; PRAGMATIC, or [Hardheaded]; STOCKHOLM, or a [Capital on the Baltic Sea]; and a lovely DAFFODIL, clued poetically as the [Flower in Wordsworth's "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud"].
Updated:
I hit the sack early last night and slept for 10 hours, so I didn't see the Sun puzzle until this morning. I feel refreshed, but apparently my sinuses don't care how much sleep I got.
Caleb Madison's Sun crossword, "Water World," is among the easiest Sun puzzles ever. It's rare that an early-week Sun puzzle feels easier than the NYT. The theme entries are five movie titles that begin or end with bodies of water, and they alternate between beginning and ending. LAKE PLACID was a goofball horror/comedy movie about a man-eating crocodile in the lake. MYSTIC RIVER and SEABISCUIT were Oscar bait, but the latter wasn't about a body of water. RESERVOIR DOGS...did a reservoir figure into the movie at all? PEARL HARBOR, of course, relates to said harbor. I like the two corners with four 6-letter entries stacked together—that's not a Mondayish look.
Rich Norris's alter ego Lila Cherry (whom I picture as General Hospital's Lila Quartermaine—old, genteel, no-nonsense—though Rich himself does not look like a Lila) constructed today's LA Times crossword. The puzzle's easy, but the theme entries didn't leap out at me as being connected until I made sense of the unifying entry at 71-Across, HOOPS, or [This puzzle's theme, familiarly]. The other four theme entries begin with four things basketball players do:
Anyone else try TIED for [Playing a fifth qtr., say]? The abbreviation of "qtr." signaled an abbreviation in the answer, of course, but I don't recall seeing INOT (in OT, or overtime) in a crossword before.
The CrosSynergy crossword called "Cinderella Story" is by Randall Hartman. Each of the theme entries begins with a word that figures into the Cinderella tale:
A couple clues for long fill required me to wait for a lot of crossings to guess the answer. [The nuts, in Texas hold 'em] is a ROYAL FLUSH. Poker slang is not my forte. [Like a Jedi] clues TELEPATHIC. Star Wars arcana are also not my forte.
Matt Jones's Jonesin' crossword, "So Cute," has four phrases that begin with baby animal names:
I know I said last week that I was shifting Jonesin' blogging to Tuesdays, but hey, the puzzle arrived in the morning and I'm busy procrastinating on a work project, so here it is. Overall, a lively puzzle with non-stodgy fill and clues. There's a typo in one of the clues in ym copy of the puzzle: [It's for children, in a Pat Benetar song]. The answer is HELL, and the singer is Pat Benatar. The song's about child abuse.
October 18, 2008
Sunday, 10/19
LAT 8:30
PI 7:55
NYT 7:47
BG 7:12
CS 3:50
Split Decisions, Second Sunday NYT puzzle 9:27
(updated at 9:25 a.m. Sunday)
I only saw half of the theme in Joe DiPietro's New York Times crossword, "Perjury." I saw the hidden OATH tucked inside all the long entries, but it wasn't until I reached 112-Across that I learned of the other half: [Perjure oneself ... or what can be found six times in this puzzle] clues LIE UNDER OATH, and below each of those five hidden OATHs, the word LIE appears.
CAN'T DO A THING, or [Is completely hamstrung], sits above LIE OVER, or [Completely cover]. The LIE portion is under OATH.
The visual rebus aspect of the theme is cool—"lie under oath" is represented by LIE beneath the word OATH, making it a far more intricate theme than one with just an embedded word.
Here's today's assortment of answers and clues:
Updated:
This weekend's second Sunday puzzle in the New York Times is another "Split Decisions" by George Bredehorn. I found the upper right corner to be kinda tough, and the lower left corner to be much knottier than the opposite side. From top to bottom, left to right, here are my answer pairs (use your mouse to highlight the white text to see the answers):
Across: THUS/TOSS, CHAPEAU/CHAPELS, CANTATA/CANASTA, STRAINER/STRANGER, RACKETS/RACISTS, ANVIL/ANGEL, DISASTER/DISPUTER, ISOBARS/ISOMERS, CADMIUM/CALCIUM, INSOMNIA/INSIGNIA, SCANT/SPENT, BASSOON/BALLOON, HEADLESS/HELPLESS, LEISURE/LECTURE, HONESTY/AMNESTY, RAPT/RIOT
Down: GRIDDLE/TWIDDLE, UPS/BUS, SUITORS/EDITORS, BURST/FIRST, HUMANLY/UNMANLY, FOLKS/FOCUS, SCRAWNY/SCRAWLS, BLATHER/FEATHER, LATCH/LYNCH, CARDIAC/CARDING, SWEPT/SWELL, ANCHORS/ANCHOVY, SPA/SAW, TRANSIT/TRANSOM
This kind of puzzle's good training for looking at spaces in a crossword and thinking about what words could fit there, narrowing down the list of options as you read the clue.
Merl Reagle's Philadelphia Inquirer crossword, "The NASA Gift Shop," marks the 50th birthday of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration with a batch of NASA-related puns. The ones I liked best were GEMINI CRICKET, the [NASA doll that sings "When You Wish Upon a Star"], playing on Jiminy Cricket, and ORBITAL REDENBACHER'S, [NASA's special-edition popcorn?], citing Orville Redenbacher. I liked the puzzle just fine, but find myself having nothing much to say about it. (This coughing, sneezing, and sniffling business is distracting.)
Pamela Amick Klawitter's syndicated Los Angeles Times Sunday crossword, "All Is Lost," dumps an ALL from eight phrases to change the meaning. The most amusing theme entries were:
My favorite bit of fill here is CAMP IT UP, clued as [Act in an amusingly affected way].
Liz Gorski's Boston Globe crossword in Across Lite, "I'll Pencil U In," inserts a U into eight phrases to change the meaning. I had a little trouble with one crossing, where a ["TV Guide" acronym] that's really an abbreviation (acronyms are pronounceable words) crosses a [Baroque dance]. There are four time zones in the U.S., but apparently the one TV Guide mentions is Central, or CST (the other time zones' TV shows are scheduled an hour off from when they air in the Midwest, where prime-time shows run from 7 to 10 p.m.). The dance is CHACONNE, and I'll bet not many people know that word. I'd have clued CST more specifically to unknot that square. My favorite theme entries are CARPENTER AUNT (ant), or [Kin seen sawing?], and LOBSTER FRAU DIABLO (Fra), or [Mrs. Freud's spicy seafood recipe?]. That last one's just plain nuts, but it goes for broke so I like it. Highlights in the fill include GLASNOST, THINK BIG, LAKE ONTARIO, USER'S MANUAL, and SPY RING.
Patrick Jordan's themeless CrosSynergy "Sunday Challenge" is the week's easiest themeless puzzle. Patrick is perhaps more drawn to pangrams than any other constructor, and he did manage to get all 26 letters of the alphabet into this grid without having any horrid abbreviations or woebegone obscurities. He did trick me with [Pina colada ingredient], 3 letters—not rum but ICE. [Engages in logrolling] is BIRLS—this lumberjack sport is sometimes called roleo, which is another word that seems to pop up more in crosswords than in day-to-day living.
October 17, 2008
Saturday, 10/18
NYT 7:08
LAT 4:38
Newsday 4:24
CS 2:50
Aw, not again? One of the 15-letter answers in Brad Wilber's New York Times crossword is a showy one, no doubt about it, but when an answer as memorable as that appears in multiple crosswords, it loses its surprise. Yes, GONZO JOURNALISM ([Writing that mixes reportage and fiction]) has that Hunter S. Thompson vibe and good Scrabble letters, but it's been done before. Here, it's stacked atop LOCAL ANESTHESIA, which has the great clue [It's not a total knockout]—technically, local anesthesia isn't any kind of knockout, but given that general anesthesia does totally knock one out, the clue's spot on. That pair of 15s crosses SKIRT THE ISSUE ([Equivocate]), which links to another pair of stacked 15s. The top stack consists of an OPEN AND SHUT CASE, clued as a [Court slam dunk] as in a trial court, not a basketball court, and GO TO RACK AND RUIN, or [Seriously deteriorate].
Favorite clues and answers:
Things that were less obvious:
Updated:
Doug Peterson's Newsday "Saturday Stumper" (PDF solution grid here) struck me as much less of a stumper than most recent offerings. It helped that I was recently stumped by the [Soccer Hall of Fame city] in another crossword, because that experience scarred ONEONTA into my brain. An INSIDE JOB is a [Kind of crime]—and hey, this "kind of ___" clue actually has a noun for its answer, rather than having, say, SEA as a [Kind of anemone], when a sea is no kind of anemone at all. NITROGEN is a [Product of star fusion]? I know nothing about star fusion. I don't care for [Thoughts on paper] as the clue for an EEG, because electrical activity in the brain is not the same as thoughts. I do like [Be sedimental] for SETTLE; sounds like "be sentimental" spoken by someone with a stuffy nose.
Holy cow! Look at the theme entries in Paula Gamache's CrosSynergy puzzle, "Pre-tense." Why couldn't this puzzle have run a few days ago? Then I would have heard of PAST MASTERS before the word stumped me in the Friday NYT. The theme entries are phrases that begin with grammatical tenses, so of course PLUPERFECT JONES anchors the puzzle. No, wait, I made that up. The first theme entry is PAST MASTERS, clued as [Rembrandt and Picasso, to the art world], which doesn't quite convey the same meaning as in the NYT puzzle. The second one's the PRESENT MOMENT, or the [Here and now]. The third is FUTURE SHOCK, the [Result of "too much change in too short a period of time" (Alvin Toffler)].
Updated Saturday evening:
Barry Silk's themeless LA Times crossword seemed about as difficult (i.e., not very) as the Newsday puzzle today. It's late, so I'll just mention some of my favorite parts of this puzzle:
In the "unfamiliar clues" category, we have [Cerussite or wolfenite], referring to LEAD ORE, and a quote: ["The even mead, that ___ brought sweetly forth / The freckled cowslip": "Henry V"] clues ERST. I originally had EXHALING instead of EXHALANT for the crossing, and thought I was contending with an E**G word. Eek!
October 16, 2008
Friday, 10/17
NYT 11:05
Sun 6:14
CHE 4:54
LAT 3:53
CS 2:56
WSJ 9:18
(updated at 5 p.m. Friday)
Friday's two themeless puzzles offer about as much contrast as two very good themeless crosswords can. Patrick Berry's New York Times puzzle contains a super-low word count of 54; there has been just one 52-worder and three other 54-worders in the NYT. David Quarfoot's Sun crossword, a "Weekend Warrior," has the highest allowable word count for a themeless, 72. The Quarfoot puzzle has six 10-letter answers plus an assortment of 3- to 8-letter answers. The Berry has two 12's, one 11, mostly 6- to 8-letter answers, and just one 3 and a pair of 5's. Quarfoot's puzzle has colorful phrases and surprising letter sequences where Berry's has mostly single words containing lots of common letters (including plurals with S and -EST superlatives). Berry's 54-worder was undoubtedly much more challenging to make, and I found it much harder to solve—but that experience wasn't universal.
What gave me such difficulty in solving Berry's New York Times crossword? I got mired in a few spots in the northeast quadrant of the grid. I'd never encountered the term PAST MASTERS, clued straightforwardly as [People of much experience]. Having no organic chemistry knowledge, [Organic compounds used as solvents] stumped me too—the answer is ETHERS, which could have been clued in a way that made it easier for a non-scientist to tease out. I should've gotten TATTIEST for [Showing the most wear and tear]. [Sherlock Holmes story not by Conan Doyle, e.g.] clued PASTICHE, and that clue just wasn't pointing me there. Other trouble spots in this corner were GASPER, or [Coffin nail], meaning a cigarette in chiefly British slang; TESTATE, or having a will, clued as [Ready to go, you might say] (with a neighbor on his deathbed, I don't like this clue one bit). The friendlier parts of this corner were STARKERS, or [In the buff]; the Green Bay PACKERS; and GESTALT, or [Integration that exceeds the sum of its parts].
The northwest quadrant was far less vexing though it had a capital city I didn't know: MALABO is [Equatorial Guinea's capital]. (I just learned that an old friend is living in the capital of Turkmenistan, Ashgabat—another capital city that had eluded my notice.) MORALE is [What boosters boost]; I wanted that one to be a plural for a while, which impeded the discovery of EASELED, or [Like paintings in progress]. [Curacao flavoring] is ORANGE. (Holla!) [Delivery professionals?] are ORATORS. Joining the two upper corners is SPEEDOMETERS, clued with [They offer rates for automobiles]. The middle of the puzzle contains the one 3-letter answer, PAS, clued as [Things that talk in sch.?]—P.A.'s, or public address systems.
The southwest corner contains one of my favorite words, MORDANT, or [Bitingly sarcastic]. [Skin soother] tricked me into entering ALOEVERA, the crossword world's favorite skin soother, in lieu of the correct CALAMINE. RAIMENT is clued with the plural [Closet hangings]. A [Special announcer] announcing the day's specials can be a WAITRESS. MALAYA, the second MALA** geographic answer in this puzzle, is clued [Singapore lies just off its tip].
The southeast corner was also more pliant than the quadrant above it. This was the easiest corner for me, as the clues tended to be simpler. ELEANOR [of Aquitaine, Henry II's wife] was a big gimme. [Nickname for a cheater in the Oklahoma land rush of 1889] provides the background for the word SOONER. MALLOW is a [Plant family that includes the hibiscus], and ONSIDE, or [Not behind the defenders], is the opposite of offside in soccer and hockey. The long answer connecting the two lower quadrants is SPARES THE ROD ([Isn't strict enough, say])—I'll bet someone somewhere has put that in a cryptic crossword with the clue evoking sparest + Herod.
David Quarfoot's Sun crossword kicks off 1-Across with goofy pop culture: [Certain pet's refrain] is CH-CH-CH-CHIA, from the Chia Pet commercials. Those H's all needed vowels below them, but the C's could be followed by H's and L's (or R's), so 15-Across didn't need to begin with eight vowels in a row: "HI-LILI, HI-LO" is a [Song in a 1953 movie musical], Lili. I like the opposite corner even better, with YOU ARE HERE [Words by an arrow] stacked atop Gollum's classic line, "MY PRECIOUS," stacked atop SLEEP APNEA, or [Diagnosis from a polysomnogram].
Other clues and answers of note:
Updated:
I'm short on time today, having just gotten back from breakfast and awaiting the arrival of an out-of-town friend so I can go to second breakfast.
Jack McInturff's LA Times crossword lops off a W from the beginning of five phrases:
Patrick Blindauer's CrosSynergy puzzle was a breeze for me (for a Friday, anyway). All four theme entries in "Have You Herd?" are people's names that contain a hidden ELK. There were plenty of other names in the fill, so the puzzle had a contemporary pop culture feel to it. The themers:
What's this SO BAD that was a [1984 Paul McCartney hit]? Why don't I remember that song at all?
I didn't get a chance to do the Wall Street Journal and Chronicle of Higher Ed crosswords yet. Maybe later...
Updated again:
Will Nediger's Chronicle of Higher Education crossword, "Puzzle 4.0," has a perfect 4.0 GPA in that the letter string GPA appears in four rebus squares. For extra elegance points, the rebus squares are in exactly symmetrical locations. I'm guessing there weren't all that many theme-entry phrase candidates that contain an embedded GPA at a specific point—how many other phrases could replace MOVIN[G PA]RT as 10-letter phrases with GPA in spots 6, 7, and 8, for example?
Some of the GPA phrases are terrifically fresh—BEG PARDON crosses DOG-PADDLES, and [Formulator of the exclusion principle] WOLFGANG PAULI (who??) goes to a STAG PARTY. The SWING PATH, LONG PANTS, and DRAG PARACHUTE are a bit drier. Favorite clues and fill: [Climate gaugers, in a way] are POLLS. I went with the physical climate and the earth's POLES—so close, and yet so far! HORRID, or [Absolutely atrocious], is a woefully underused word (as is TREACLY). DELETE crosses STETS in a corner that's not sure what the proofreader should be doing. I appreciate goofball vocabulary like [What a peccatophobe is afraid to do] as the clue for SIN.
Mike Shenk's alias, Maryanne Lemot, dwells in the byline of this week's Wall Street Journal crossword, "Convenient Cash." Each theme entry has a convenient ATM inserted into its midst. My favorites among the theme entries are as follows: Flapdoodle + ATM is a FLAT MAP DOODLE, or [Cartographer's sketch, but not for a globe?]. A combover + ATM is a COMBAT MOVER, or [Tank?]; this one I like because of the combover action. Honeybee + ATM is "HONEY, BEAT ME," a [Masochist's request to his sweetheart?]—a tad outré for a business-oriented newspaper, not that I'm judging anyone. Most troublesome clue for me: QUIBBLE is [Small grouse]. If you think of grousing as complaining, it makes perfect sense, but if all you can think of is a bird, QUIBBLE makes no sense—and it wasn't until after I finished the puzzle and began blogging that I realized a QUIBBLE wasn't a little-known cousin of the quail.
October 15, 2008
Thursday, 10/16
Sun 4:38
NYT 3:57
LAT 3:48
CS 2:33
Short and late blogging night—it's debate night! (Longer write-up of the Sun puzzle, which I tackled before the debate started.)
The New York Times crossword was constructed by someone whose name I don't recognize. A debut for Ian Tullis? If so, congratulations! The theme isn't particularly Thursdayish, but the overall difficulty is just past Wednesdayish. The theme is EXPANSION TEAMS, and three baseball teams are "expanded" by the insertion of an extra letter:
Favorite answers: BEESWAX, or [Affairs, slangily]; ENTOMOLOGY, or [Buggy field?]; THE SAUCE, or [Alcohol, slangily]; LONE RANGER, or [Silver topper?]; IXNAY], or ["Uh-uh"]; and SPERM (!), clued as [Kind of whale]. Lots of goodies sandwiched in around those theme entries, yes?
Tougher bits:
The Sun crossword (which I was able to retrieve by going to the Sun archive page and having the 10/16 puzzle e-mailed to me) is by Robert Doll. It's called "Four Letter Words," but the 4-letter words in the grid are immaterial. The title instead refers to four words that are represented by single letters (and appear twice in each theme phrase): U GET WHAT U PAY FOR stands in for "you get what you pay for." FROM C TO SHINING C swaps C for "sea." "Be" becomes B in B THERE OR B SQUARE. And the stealth theme entry is the 5-letter Down answer in the middle of the grid, I I SIR—with I standing in for "aye."
There are plenty of cool answers in this crossword. BRAILLE is [on Alabama's state quarter], along with Helen Keller. Eugene IONESCO is the ["Rhinoceros" playwright] whose work we studied in a "Plays and Antiplays" lit class. (Please don't ask me to define an antiplay.) The BRONZE AGE is notable because [The wheel was invented during it]; that Z intersects the [Pez product] SOURZ that I haven't seen. The [Jack worth one point in cribbage] is called HIS NOBS. Is this akin to his nibs, or are the two separate terms? Favorite clue: [Prescriptivist's concern] for USAGE. (We've been chatting about prescriptivism at the "Language, Etymology, Grammar" board at the Crossword Fiend forums.)
Updated:
Hmm, the LA Times crossword doesn't seem to be posted in Across Lite at Cruciverb yet.
Martin Ashwood-Smith's CrosSynergy puzzle, "Now See Here," hits at about a Monday level of difficulty. The three theme entries have the same one-word clue, though one adds punctuation: [See] clues both DATE REGULARLY and GET THE PICTURE, while ["See!"] clues "WHAT DID I TELL YOU?" Among the longish non-thematic answers in the puzzle are LEXICONS, or [Dictionaries]; GARY PLAYER, the [US Open winner of 1965] in golf; ITAR-TASS, a [Russian news source] (most often, just half of its name is in the grid and the other half sits in the clue); DYNAMITE, clued loosely as [It's a blast].
Now the Los Angeles Times crossword's available in Across Lite. Donna Levin's theme is similar to the one in today's CrosSynergy puzzle—four phrases are all clued with the same word, this time [Swell]. There's the verb phrase BECOME BLOATED. There's the slangy adjective GINGER-PEACHY, which sounds frightfully quaint. I've never heard it before, but apparently "ginger-peachy-keen" had its heyday once. The CLOTHES HORSE is a noun phrase, as is a CRESTLESS WAVE. Only the second and fourth of these answers qualifies as a stand-alone piece of crossword fill, but this type of theme often includes theme entries that would normally be seen as clues for SWELL rather than answers for [Swell]. (That makes sense, doesn't it?) I had no idea that [Bill Maher's film debut, in which he played a hack] was D.C. CAB, but that was the first answer I put in the grid. How many 5-letter movies involve "hacks," or cab drivers?
Clues of note:
October 14, 2008
Wednesday, 10/15
Tausig 4:48
Onion 4:40
Sun 3:32
LAT 3:29
CS 3:27
NYT 3:12
(updated at 10:40 a.m. Wednesday)
The New York Times crossword by Kevin Der packs in six theme entries with a unifying BABY at 53-Down, plus all manner of au courant techspeak. In the latter category, we have an iPHONE ([Macworld 2007 debut]), a URL ([WWW address]), CHAT ([Online activity]), RIP clued as [Copy, as from CD to PC], WEBCAMS ([Videoconferencing devices]), and TEXT clued as [Communicate without speaking]. Throw in the DATA that's [What pollsters need], and that makes a whopping seven high-tech answers. The theme entries are all phrases whose first word can follow BABY:
I extend kudos to Kevin for putting GRAND POOBAH into a puzzle. That Wikipedia article reminds me that I picked up that phrase from The Flintstones and Happy Days. The quasi-theme of computers and cell phones is fun, and I also liked the gambling combo of ODDS-ON ([Heavily favored]) and HOT TIP ([Tout's offering]).
Donna Levin's Sun crossword, "You've Got Male," includes six male animals at the end of the theme entries:
The theme entries make a lively batch of phrases, don't they? IDAHO gets a topical clue, [Where Sarah Palin was born]. I like NORTH and STAR clued together via [With 35-Down, Polaris].
Don't be fooled by the imminence of October 31—Brendan Quigley's Onion A.V. Club crossword may have a theme clue that reads [Characters who "haunt" this puzzle's theme answers], but there's no Halloween scaring going on here. The "haunters" in question are THE PACMAN GHOSTS, and their names appear in other contexts in the other theme entries:
Tough stuff pops up throughout this puzzle. [Obliquely] clues ASKANT, which is another version of askance. XEON is an [Intel processor]. MARL is an [Earthy deposit]. RUB is clued [Get the knots out of, say], as in Swedish massage and muscle knots. ARMA is the [First word of the "Aeneid"]. SST is a [Record label started by Black Flag]. A [1962 musical co-directed by Bob Fosse] is LITTLE ME. U-TWO is a [Classic spy plane]. T'PAU is the ["Heart & Soul" one-hit wonder who took their name from a "Star Trek" character].
In his Ink Well/Chicago Reader puzzle, "Ladies and Gentlemen," Ben Tausig has crafted a super-Scrabbly crossword filled with X's. The "ladies" theme entries contain XX, in honor of women's XX chromosomes, and the "gentlemen" answers contain XY:
Favorite clues: [Final event?] for FUNERAL; [Substance of a newspaper article?] for INK; [Mad skills, as it were] for WIZARDRY; [Character issue?] for DYSLEXIA; [Take, and be taken by, someone with whom you're taken] for WED; [Highway crosser] for DEER; [Presley's middle name] for MARIE (as in Lisa MARIE Presley); and ["Smooth move, ___!"] for EX-LAX.
OXYMORON and OXYGENIC fill out the theme, clued with [Original copies, e.g.] and [Like some photosynthesis], respectively.
Updated:
Raymond Hamel's LA Times crossword is gushing with theme entries: Each one begins with a word that means "something from which a stream of water may issue" in a different context. To [Rant and rave] is TO SPOUT NONSENSE. [Writer with a reservoir] is a FOUNTAIN PEN with an ink reservoir. A [Fast flier] is a JET AIRLINER. And one [Youngster metaphor] is SPRING CHICKEN. A rather subtle theme, isn't it? There's no title or unifying answer to make the connection between the theme entries obvious. This puzzle has some trivia clues. LIFE is clued as the [Board game whose earliest version came out in 1860]. 1860?! Wow. I like the '70s and '80s version of the game better than today's SpongeBob Life edition. Hey, I liked having to buy life insurance and other insurance policies. DUBAI is the [Second-most populous of the United Arab Emirates]. ALBERTA is an [Oil-rich Canadian province]. Did you know Ray Hamel's a hardcore trivia nut? It's true. He's in Ken Jennings' book, Brainiac.
Randolph Ross's CrosSynergy puzzle, "Layoffs," may be a harbinger of future unemployment, as each theme entry presents another layoff:
Subscribe to:
Comment Feed (RSS)
