Jonesin' 4:42
NYT 3:20
LAT 2:56
CS untimed
Vic Fleming and Bonnie Gentry's New York Times crossword
The three multi-part theme entries in this 16x15 crossword made an especially cohesive set for this solver, as I'd recently read this Language Log post refuting the idea that phrases like "at the end of the day" were management-speak. (Turns out everyone else is using these phrases, too.) The theme entries were split up into two or three chunks apiece, with cross-referenced clues flailing all over the place. This provided a rather choppy solving experience rather than a nice Tuesdayesque flow.
The theme pieced together three phrases that mean [everything considered]. 19A and 64A spell out AT THE END / OF THE DAY. 34A, 43A, and 48A say WHEN ALL / IS SAID / AND DONE. And 4A's clue is [After "in", and with 44-Down, everything considered], which is a crazily stilted clue. THE FINAL / ANALYSIS really wants its introductory IN to appear with it in the grid.
The fill's got some sparkle to it, particularly in the longer answers:
• 1A. [Eucalyptus] is the GUM TREE, as in "Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree..." Not to be confused with the sweetgum tree.
• 30A. ALAN BALL is the [Oscar-winning "American Beauty" writer] who went on to create the show Six Feet Under.
• 67A. Hey, look, it's ONASSIS, [The "O" of Jackie O.], rather than crosswordese ARI.
• 23D. A small [Traveling bag] is a VALISE. This word has always amused me. "Set down your valise, dear, and have a seat on the divan." Does anyone call it a VALISE these days?
• 47D. V.P.'S are [#2's, for short]. Can we start calling #2 pencils "V.P.'s"? Who's with me?
If you didn't know that 68D: [Soul: Fr.] is AME, make a note of it. This is Franco-crosswordese and while it doesn't come up often, you'll probably see it again. I needed all the crossings for 55A: LAIRD, [Melvin of the Nixon cabinet]. And I was briefly thrown by the 4-letter Roman numeral, 3D: [The year 1450], or MCDL. We don't often see 4-letter Roman numerals without an I, do we?
Matt Jones's Jonesin' crossword, "Initial Reaction: letters, not words"
The five theme entries change the first word of (semi-)familiar phrases into the single letters whose names sound the same:
• 17A. [Valentine sentiment to the 80-89% crowd?] is "B, MY LOVE" instead of "be my love." Does B MY LOVE make sense to you? It's eluding me. Is it "B, be my love" or "B, (you are) my love"? Is B the letter grade or a person who earns that grade?
• 26A. [Thankful thought toward a universal blood type?] is "O, WHAT YOU DO TO ME" (swapping O for oh). Wouldn't you be thanking O for what she/he/it does for you rather than to you?
• 32A. [Cloud shaped like a small Roman numeral?] is I IN THE SKY (swapping an I for an eye—wait, has that theme been done, or maybe "an eye for an I"?).
• 41A. [Tagline of a rap-oriented cologne slogan?] is "G, YOU SMELL GREAT." Urban Dictionary helps explain "G" if you don't grasp that part. I was hoping for an evocation of Gee, Your Hair Smells Terrific shampoo from the '70s-'80s.
• 53A. [Hassle at the local community gym?] is a Y BOTHER ("Why bother?"). My favorite among the quintet of theme entries.
The biggest "WTF" clue was right up top at 1A: [Numerical classification of some World War II U-boats]. As luck would have it, 1A intersected the second biggest "WTF" clue, 5D: [Surname of four generations of French painters in the Louvre]. Did not know of the TYPE VII boats, nor the VERNET artistic dynasty. I could see 39D: VALJEAN/["Les Miserables" surname] meeting 52A: ABUJA/[Current capital of Nigeria] mucking things up for some folks. Did anyone else want 43D: [North Africans disputed in a "Seinfeld" Trivial Pursuit question] to be the MOOPS rather than the MOORS?
Updated Tuesday morning
Randolph Ross's CrosSynergy/Washington Post puzzle, "On the Up and Up"—Janie's review
Synonyms for something or someone "on the up and up," include legit, honest, sincere. Today's puzzle easily qualifies—and is a great deal of fun as well. The word "UP" can be found embedded twice in each of Randy's theme phrases. There are five of them—and in the first two and the last two, there's an overlap factor of eight letters, which I do consider a BIG DEAL [Something worth making a fuss over]. The "UP"-camouflaging phrases are:
• 17A. PU-PU PLATTER [Appetizer assortment at a Chinese restaurant]. A tasty start to the proceedings—and also a little deceptive. Because of the phrase's initial "P," I first thought that all of the UPs were going to be reversed (cryptic-style, as if going ↑). This particular phrase supports that theory. But it didn't take me long to see that my hunch was wrong, wrong, wrong...
• 20A. SUPPORT GROUP [Alcoholics Anonymous, e.g.]. See what I mean? In this example and all the remaining ones, the UPs are not only separated out, but are clearly meant to be read from left to right.
• 35A. CUP OF SOUP [Lipton offering]. Or at 38%, more like Cup of Sodium...
• 55A. "SUPER TROUPER" [ABBA hit album and single of 1980]. Omg. That's almost 30 years ago! Um. Time flies when you're having fun? Even longer ago,
• 59A. "STUPID CUPID" [Connie Francis hit remade by Mandy Moore]. Here's Connie's version, 1959...
There was more in the puzzle that AMUSED [Entertained] me as well, and fave clue/fill pairs include:
• [They're set and broken]/RECORDS;
• [West of Nashville]/DOTTIE—so that's the country singer and not the direction. Now there's someone who made a lot of records (of the vinyl variety, that is);
• [Standing]/REPUTE (the noun and not the progressive tense verb form is what's required here);
• [Beat to the tape]/OUTRAN (because that gives me a good mental image)
• [Back for front?/IER → frontIER (as in "the wild West" [the region of the country and not Dottie...]); and
• [Great service]/ACE (tennis, anyone?). John McEnroe and [McEnroe rival] Bjorn BORG are both known to have put away their share of aces.
Also loved seeing the word NASCENT [Just starting to develop], which has great aesthetic appeal for me. EEL POT [Conger catcher]? Not so much. HONORER [The president at a medal ceremony, e.g.]? Not at all. Though I rather enjoyed UNFUNNY [Bad adjective for a comedian], because I'm still surprised to hear talk show hosts introduce "a very funny comedian." Who brings a comedian on national television and introduces him or her any other way? But one of these days......
Gary Whitehead's Los Angeles Times crossword
Spelling! Today's theme centers on a trio of homophones with different spellings that so often get mixed up by people. The homophones appear with introductory words that help clarify which is which, and this puzzle should be required reading for anyone who's had trouble with these words:
• 20A. REFINED PALATE is [Sophisticated taste, foodwise]. The palate that's the roof of your mouth is spelled this way. The word is from the Latin palatum.
• 36A. [Studio item with a thumb hole] is a PAINTER'S PALETTE in an artist's studio, not a film or TV studio as I'd first thought when I read the clue. The word's origin is French: a diminutive of the word pale, meaning "shovel."
• 47A. That rough wooden [Portable shipping platform] is a FREIGHT PALLET, also called a skid. The etymology partners up with that of PALETTE: "Middle English palet, tongue depressor, from Old French palete, small potter's shovel."
Just before doing this crossword, I'd just tweeted about another common spelling mix-up:
My favorite clue is the one for HARE: 49D: [Cocksure Aesopian racer]. Don't see "Aesopian" too often.
Highlights in the fill: 37D: EARL GREY, the [Tea named for William IV's prime minister], and 9D: TEXAS TEA, or [Oil, informally]. The "tea" in the EARLY GREY clue should've been changed to "brew" to avoid the duplication. Also terrific: DEAN'S LIST, or 35D: [Academic honor].
November 23, 2009
Tuesday, 11/24/09
November 19, 2009
Friday, 11/20/09
BEQ 4:54
LAT 4:36
NYT 4:35
CHE 4:05
CS untimed
WSJ 7:02
You're probably here because you like the harder crosswords that are published later in the week. If so, Peter Gordon's Fireball Crosswords will be right up your alley. For just $10, you can get one puzzle a week, mostly hard themeless crosswords by Peter himself, for pretty much all of 2010. For more money, Peter will work the answer of your choice into a puzzle. See the Fireball subscription page for details. Tell your friends! (The smart ones.)
Alan Olschwang's New York Times crossword
This is a weird puzzle for me. Part of it feels super-fresh and part of it feels like a retread or homage with old answers. What do I mean by the latter? It goes beyond ZOLAESQUE, which was the dramatic linchpin answer in the 2005 ACPT and the documentary Wordplay. There, in Byron Walden's tournament finals puzzle, it was clued as [Stark and richly detailed, as writing]. Here, it's [A la the founder of literary naturalism]. Then there was Bob Klahn's Saturday NYT monster, 12/27/07, in which [Mob rule] clued OCHLOCRACY. Here, [Ochlocracy] clues MOB RULE. Yesterday's Hinmorwitz puzzle had three answers including UP, and so does this one: To REUP is to [Extend one's service life] in the military, [Indicates that one is in] clues ANTES UP, and to [Squirrel] away your nuts is to STORE UP. Last, there's JAZZERCISE at 1A, clued as a [Tae Bo alternative], and the clue weirdly echoes 61D, TAE, or [Inits. of a noted "Wizard"] of Menlo Park, Thomas A. Edison.
What I liked:
• The high-octane Scrabbliness of the fill. Three Zs, three Qs, a pair of Ks, and an X? Me like. Speaking of Scrabble, in a Lexulous game (that's the loose facsimile of Scrabble on Facebook) tonight, I bingoed by playing DOODIES, and twigged the S off CRAP so that CRAPS and DOODIES cross. Isn't that lovely? I thought so, too. Speaking of potty words, PEE is clued as 44D: [Top finisher?] because P is the last letter of "top." Heh.
• 15A. ONE OVER PAR is clued with [It's not bad for a duffer].
• 22A. Trivia! Lech WALESA is the [Only private non-American to address a joint session of Congress (1989)].
• 26A. [Season opener, say] is an EPISODE of a TV show. Were you thinking of sports? Bzzz!
• 28A. [Lions might score one]—are you thinking of sports, the Detroit Lions? Bzzz! The Lions are terrible at scoring. But out on the savanna, a lion might bring down a GNU. Nice to see a fresh (if gruesome) GNU clue.
• 29A. [Foul territory?] is a STY. Were you thinking of baseball? Bzzz! Gotta love having three consecutive clues that aren't about sports but might fool sports nuts.
• 45A. An OTO may be a [Chiwere speaker]. As with the GNU clue, I like the new twist on an old 3-letter answer.
• 58A. [Ones who might get service calls?] are military RESERVISTS. It would be lovely if the RESERVISTS had no war to attend.
• 64A. EAT ONE'S HAT is a great phrase, balancing out ONE OVER PAR in the grid. [Be forced to backpedal] is the clue.
• 66A. Three Ss in a row! DRESS SHOES are a [Pair for a suit]. Not playing cards, but haberdashery.
• 3D. I needed crossings for ZEB, ["The Waltons" grandpa]. ZEB! I never knew Grandpa Walton had a name.
• 6D. [Proofs] clues REREADS. Hey, that's my line of work there.
• 10D. [1990s White House chief of staff Bowles] has an even cooler first name than Grandpa Walton: ERSKINE. There's also author Erskine Caldwell.
• 11D. Ornithology! The [Umbrella bird's "umbrella"] is a CREST atop its head.
• 24D. Never heard of [Irish statesman Cosgrove], but LIAM is a guessable Irish name (and the lovely name of my cousin's baby boy).
• 32D. Like 58A, this sounds like it's about appliance repair, but it's not: ORS, or operating rooms, are [Where some parts are repaired, briefly].
• 33D. PETRI DISH is clue by way of [Germs grow in it]. See also 29A.
• 42D. In some places, NO TURNS is a [Rush hour restriction]. In my neighborhood, that restriction is reserved for the arteries within a half mile of Wrigley Field around game time.
• 45D. Didn't we have a clue like this not so long ago? The OZARKS are your [Buffalo National River locale], but Buffalo smacks of the Great Plains and the state of New York.
Overall, there's much to appreciate in the puzzle, even with that handful of blast-from-the-past answers. Lots of good clues today.
Updated Friday morning
Randall J. Hartman's CrosSynergy/Washington Post puzzle, "Opposite Beginnings"—Janie's review
Well, here's a nice thematic change of pace. The first two words of each of today's theme phrases (their "beginnings") are also pairs of opposites. The first example uses words that are adjectives; the other two, prepositions. These two not only make for lively fill, but they stretch the conceit as they aren't opposites contextually. They certainly add a measure of fun, however. We've got:
20A. LITTLE BIG MAN [1970 Dustin Hoffman film]. You don't need me to point out the opposites...
36A. OFF ON A TANGENT [Straying from the subject].
56A. OUT IN THE OPEN [Transparent].
If this idea isn't a serious ENIGMA [Something hard to grasp], it is fresh—and fresh is greatly to be desired. The last thing anyone wants from their solving experience is a SNOOZER [Real bore], one that would cause the puzzler to SNORE [Saw logs]. Oh—and nice cluing there, too, with [Saw logs], where saw is the present tense verb related to the activity (of sawing...) and not the past tense of "see."
Other clues that made me pay attention: the punny [Slop talk] for OINK, the folksy [Give what for] for SCOLD, the 19th century-sounding [Dastard] for FIEND (which we love, of course!), and [Labor party] for MOM. All I have to say about that last one is "ZOUNDS!" [Gadzooks!"]. I also liked the nod given to the humble writing irons: [Pencil end] for ERASER and [Pen end] for NIB.
And in a mini-thematic way, Randy goes in for a bit of globe-trotting today. From Turkey there's the [Ottoman muck-a-muck] or SULTAN (and another colorful clue, no?); [Turkmenistan neighbor] IRAN; a SIBERIAN [Novosibirsk native] (Russia's third-largest city after Moscow and St. Petersburg. I'd no idea.); the NORTH SEA, that [Body of water between England and Norway]; ASTI, an [Italian wine region]; and BALI [Island near Java]. There's even (bear with me...) AMERIKA [Kafka novel], IOWAN [Waterloo resident] and a tip o' the Stetson to the American West, with ALL IN [Texas Hold 'Em bet], SSW [Dallas-to-Austin dir.] and RODEO [Cheyenne Frontier Days, notably], an annual event since 1897.
Michael Blake's Los Angeles Times crossword
Wow, is it just me, or is this the first Friday LAT in ages that's been ever bit as hard as the Friday NYT? The first theme entry I figured out was the fourth one, which led me astray because LEGO CRAZY, or [Nuts about Danish toys?], looked like the Prince song, "Let's Go Crazy," minus the TS. Then I moved back to the top of the grid and got LENO LIMIT, or [Maximum tolerance for a stand-up comic's jokes?]. Wait, where's the missing TS? Oh, I see: It's +LE, not –TS. (Edited to add: Oh, yes. There's also the explanatory entry ADDLE, to be parsed as ADD "LE.")
The other theme entries are LEON TELEVISION, or ["All Trotsky, all the time" channel?]—that's so goofy, I love it—and LEASH WEDNESDAY, or [When dogs can't run loose?].
Favorite clues/answers:
• SNARF is a slangy word meaning [Wolf (down)].
• LOLA is a [1970 hit by the Kinks]. I like this LOLA much better than a Damn Yankees or Falana reference. I don't suppose we'll ever get [Filipino grandma]?
• [You can count on a lot of bucks from] one...hmm, 6 letters? THE ATM? No, a buckin' BRONCO.
• BERN, Switzerland, is the [Capital northwest of Rome]. Why couldn't I remember this city? I had Berlin on the mind.
• ["___ behold!"] clues the partial LO AND. I don't usually enjoy a partial, but my mom's always been a big "lo and behold" sayer.
Jayne and Alex Boisvert's Chronicle of Higher Education crossword, "Mark My Words"
Cute theme. The central entry, ACCENTS, explains what's going on: [They're missing from the clues for 17, 23, 50, and 58 Across]. Those four answers have one-word clues, which need acute accents in order to correspond to their answers. Without the ACCENTS, the clue words are entirely different words:
• Pliés are BALLET MOVEMENTS, but [Plies] is a verb or the plural of ply.
• The clue is the verb [Resume], but it's a résumé that is a JOB-HUNTER'S NEED.
• Gold lamé is a METALLIC FABRIC, while [Lame] is an adjective and verb.
• [Attaches] is a verb, but attachés are people who are DIPLOMATIC AIDES.
Favorite clues:
• [Cylindrical opening?] is the word's first letter, a SOFT C.
• J. CREW is often clued as an L.L. Bean competitor, just because of the initials thing. But it's more accurate to call it a [Gap competitor].
• I learned a new word in the clue [Like many dactylology experts]. Dactyl- means "finger," so it's DEAF people who use sign language.
Randolph Ross's Wall Street Journal crossword, "Faculty Meeting"
Randy Ross's puzzle is a nice counterpart to the Chronicle of Higher Education crossword, thanks to the light faux-faculty theme. Most of the theme entries are non-academic jobs clued as if they're very specific types of faculty. For example, a military DRILL INSTRUCTOR might also be what you call a [Faculty member at a dental school?]. A couple are academic positions, but clued with a different sort of angle—ENGLISH TEACHER is a generic [Faculty member at Eton?] in England rather than a teacher of the English language, and RHODES SCHOLAR becomes a [Faculty member with expertise on a Greek island?]. I like that last one best. Second favorite is STAGECOACH clued as [Member of the drama faculty?]. Least familiar: PAST MASTER is clued as [Faculty member in the history department?].
I like the way the 11 theme answers are distributed throughout the grid, with Across trios and Down pairs running in alternate rows. Favorite fill: [Giant star] sounds like it's astronomy, but it's crosswordese baseball legend MEL OTT making a rare full-name appearance. Also "THAT'S WHY," or ["Here's the reason"]. I think I probably say those words to my son a lot.
Brendan Quigley's blog crossword, "To Your Corners"
Remember playing FOUR SQUARE on the playground with a classic red rubber ball? In each corner of the grid, Brendan adds a FOUR-square layout spelling out FOUR clockwise from the corner. That gives a third level of checked letters to the answers in the corner, which came in handy with KRONUR, the [Icelandic coins] plural. The gimmick is implemented well here.
Favorite clue: [Meadow in New Jersey] is Meadow SOPRANO, Tony's daughter, and has nothing to do with the Meadowlands. Great mislead.
Last square filled in: The X in SIX/[Volleyball side] and XED/[Ticked off]. I was running through the alphabet and made it to P before the X possibility occurred to me.
Most potty-mouthed answer: PEE is [Whiz]. I was thinking of ACE or PRO and wasn't sure what the last letter of RATLIN* ([Ship's ladder step]) was until PEE finally trickled out.
Worst and best neighbors: Strained APISHLY beside juicy, tart KUMQUAT.
November 07, 2009
Sunday, 11/8/09
Reagle 8:50
BG 8:32
NYT 10:50 (joon—paper)/7:19 (A—applet)
LAT 6:44
CS 3:45
Robert W. Harris's Sunday New York Times crossword, "Colonization"
hi folks. joon here, subbing in for amy, who's at her *cough*25th*cough* high school reunion. she'll be in later tonight and will be blogging the rest of the puzzles tomorrow, but here i am with the sunday NYT puzzle. it's a good one. it's a letter insertion theme involving ANT:
what else did i like about this puzzle? well, the fill was reasonably smooth. not much really jumped out at me as being particularly eye-catching, though i did enjoy the ZEBU [Indian bovine] sighting at 10d. we like to visit the ZEBU at the local zoo; it's got a crazy-looking hump/shield/shoulder thingy going for it. the notable exception to the smoothness of the fill was in the "midatlantic" region, which featured the following less-than-ideal fill:
a sunday NYT is usually good for at least two or three really great clues, but this one was fairly dry. the only tricky clue was [Cause of star wars?] for EGOS. oh, i guess [Part of a book ... or something to book] for PASSAGE had a nice "aha" moment. some others that i enjoyed, even if they weren't exactly uproarious:
two clues i could have done without: [Brand with a pyramid on the package] for CAMEL and [Back-room cigar smokers, say] for CRONIES. smoking = yuck. more humped beasts of burden, please.
that's all for me, at least until the MGWCC blog post on tuesday. i'll see you in the comment box.
Updated Sunday late morning, because whoo, did I ever sleep late today:
Merl Reagle's syndicated crossword, "Like, Totally Jazzed"
Merl riffs on various familiar phrases by punningly changing a word to one with jazz connotations:
• 23A. [Jazz guitarist's admission?] is IT'S ALL IN THE RIFFS ("it's all in the wrist").
• 40A. [What lifelong jazz musicians are?] is BORN TO BLUES ("born to lose").
• 56A. [Name for a jazz club?] is THE BASSMENT ("the basement").
• 69A. [Play clarinet?] is BLOW YOUR NOTES ("blow your nose").
• 84A. [Jazz crooner?] is NAT KING COOL ("Nat King Cole").
• 98A. [Where to buy jazz instruments?] is SAX FIFTH AVE. ("Saks Fifth Avenue").
• 118A. [Our jazziest president?] is not saxophone-playing Bill Clinton, it's GROOVER CLEVELAND ("Grover Cleveland").
• 16D. [Name for a jazz revue?] is SNAP, CRACKLE, BOP ("Snap, crackle, pop").
• 51D. [Like jazz movies?] is MELLOW-DRAMATIC ("melodramatic").
Favorite clue:
• 48D. [Fish made of vitamins?] is the not-so-well-known DACE. I used the crossings to pin down DACE after asking myself if there was a vitamin H for HAKE. Vitamins A, B, C, D, E, and K were the letter bank for the fish name.
Toughest clues:
• 65A. [Big name in skis and snowboards] is ELAN. I originally had EBAN crossing SNAPCRACKBEBOP.
• 80D. [WWI Treasury secretary William] MCADOO.
• 87A. [Large evergreen, ironically] clues RED FIR. Is it "ironic" if an evergreen has red in its name? I don't think that's irony.
James Sajdak's syndicated Los Angeles Times crossword, "What's Yours?"
I liked this one a little more than the first two Sunday puzzles. Fun theme, smooth fill. The theme is cocktails that sound occupationally appropriate:
• 25A. [The barber ordered a __] VODKA TONIC. Barbers slap some tonic on a man's face sometimes, right?
• 27A. [The heating contractor ordered a] BOILERMAKER. That's a whiskey shot with a beer chaser.
• 40A. [The farmer ordered a] PLANTER'S PUNCH. What's in that? Rum, lime juice, carbonated water, and sugar. Sounds good.
• 60A. [The popcorn producer ordered a] HOT BUTTERED RUM. If you buy microwave popcorn, go for brands that don't use diacetyl flavorings—those cause lung disease in the people working at the popcorn factory.
• 84A. [The orthopedist ordered a] SINGAPORE SLING. Gin and cherry brandy? That sounds gross.
• 102A. [The high roller ordered a] SEVEN AND SEVEN. Some sort of whiskey plus 7-Up, I think.
• 119A. [THe handyman ordered a] SCREWDRIVER. Vodka and OJ, for your vitamin C and potassium needs.
• 123A. [The citrus grower ordered a] FUZZY NAVEL. OJ (the "navel") with peach schapps (the "fuzzy").
Favorite clues/answrs:
• 66D. RIFFLES is [Mixes, as cards]. Less mixing than a full-bore shuffle, right?
• 112D. [Where to get down] is from an EIDER.
• 13D. ASK FOR IT means to [Invite trouble].
• 30A. A REF is a [Whistling zebra?].
• 75A. HANG-UPS are [Emotional problems].
Randolph Ross's CrosSynergy/Washington Post "Sunday Challenge"
I'm not sure why the CS team calls it a "Sunday Challenge" when its difficulty is often on a par with the weekday themed offerings. If it's clearly labeled as a challenge, why not toughen the clues up a notch?
Ten clues:
• 1A. [Informing secondarily, for short] is CCING.
• 16A. [Baked goods at an English Christmas] are MINCE PIES.
• 28A. [Top draft selection in the NBA, e.g.] is a LOTTERY PICK.
• 31A. [Small breakfast] clues ONE EGG. No, this answer does not rise to the level of an "in the language" unit of meaning.
• 52A. [Words before Olay or vitriol] are OIL OF. "Oil of vitriol"??
• 54A. [Truman, Clinton, Reagan, or Obama, e.g.] clues a LEFTY, or left-handed person.
• 1D. [Where to hear church music] is the CHOIR LOFT. But don't people hear the music from everywhere else in the church?
• 35D. [Second largest island in the world] is NEW GUINEA.
• 37D. [Put on a pedestal] clues IDEALIZE. I wanted IDOLIZE(D), but COTE D'AZUR's Z said no.
• 47D. [Cosmonaut Gherman or Vladimir] TITOV? Never heard of either one.
Emily Cox and Henry Rathvon's Boston Globe crossword, "Interior Hues"
I liked this kind of theme better when it's a little tighter, as when they had contrived phrases with hidden gemstones. Here, the first hidden-color entry is EPHEMERAL DOME, with a hidden EMERALD, and that one's good. But there's practically no limit on made-up phrases in which you could find a hidden RED, so VAMPIRE DEN did nothing for me. The embedded colors in the theme entries also include apricot, silver, orange, pink, indigo, green, peach, amber (another gem), and teal. It all feels kind of loose—the colors don't form a logical set (as the seven colors on the ROYGBIV spectrum would), and there's no particular logical order in which they're presented.
Favorite clue: [Bacon with links?] for "Six Degrees of KEVIN Bacon."
November 01, 2009
Monday, 11/2/09
NYT 2:59
LAT 2:54
CS untimed
BEQ tba
Blogging will be inattentive and possibly typo-laden—some sort of virus has taken up residence here, and it may not be the flu but it's more than a cold. Now, who will bring me some cocoa and a blanket?
Andrea Carla Michaels and Kent Clayton's New York Times crossword
Monday maven Andrea has partnered up with a newbie, Kent Clayton, for a crossword I can't show my son. As far as I know, he hasn't yet given up belief in the EASTER BUNNY, TOOTH FAIRY, and SANTA CLAUS. He does, however, enjoy those Ripley's BELIEVE IT OR NOT books. Cute theme.
I like the fill too. FLOTSAM and KARACHI and an ACQUITTAL are fancy for Monday, but I don't think they're too hard for Monday. (If you complain that KARACHI is obscure, then I will complain that you ought to spend some more time spinning a globe.) FROTH is a [Possible sign of rabies]—whew! I haven't got that in my constellation of signs and symptoms. [Gobsmack] is a great clue for STUN, isn't it?
All righty, it's back to the couch for me now.
Updated Monday morning:
Randolph Ross's CrosSynergy/Washington Post puzzle, "String Quintet"—Janie's review
This puzzle is music to my eyes. Not only is the theme fill most satisfying for lovers of wordplay (almost picking up where Tony's Saturday puzzle left off), but once again, Randy has given us a lot of it: 67 squares in two 15s, which overlap two 12s, and a 13 at the center of it all. Concertmaster, an "A," please, as we tune up and tune in:
•17A. [String instruments made in the U.S.A.?]. There's a pun in the fill here, and it conjures up Emily Litella speaking out in impassioned tones to defend "violins on television." The base phrase here is domestic violence; the theme fill, DOMESTIC VIOLINS—all of which sits atop
•20A. [What a cool rapper might listen to in heaven?]. Not hip-hop music, but its vividly punny relative HIP HARP MUSIC. I bet this would pique the interest of a lot of heaven's denizens—from all segments of the population.
•35A. [Beyoncé song about a lovely string instrument?]. Homophone time here as "Beautiful Liar" becomes (harp relative) "Beautiful Lyre."
•53A. [Movie about how an Indian string instrument is made]. Thank you, Randy, for the flat out groaner as A Star is Born gains an "I" and a syllable to become A SITAR IS BORN. Starring Ravi Shankar, no doubt. The sitar, btw, is not traditionally found in Western orchestration, but pieces for sitar and orchestra do exist—and the Beatles' George Harrison was, um, instrumental in bringing its sound to pop music in such songs as "Within You and Without You." And this fill sits atop
•57A. [How to keep some string instruments from being damaged by rain]. Here we have another homophone, as the good idea when trying to hedge one's bets, to cover one's bases, becomes COVER ONE'S BASSES.
If this fill isn't colorful enough for you, Randy has also provided [Cool and colorful summer treat] SNO-CONES—not to mention RED [Stop signal], YELLOW [Coward's color] and PINKY... just kidding. That's been clued as [Place for a ring]. While my dad wore an understated one almost all of his married life (an anniversary gift from my mom), I confess I now tend to associate pinky rings with people who might be involved in some kind of RACKET [Shady business], or someone involved in CASING ("the joint") [Reconnaissance activity for a criminal]. Call it the "Don Corleone/Tony Soprano Effect"...
Other fill that kept things lively include: the adverbial phrase TO DEATH [Words following bored or scared], SINS for [Deadly septad], RAISIN (and not BANANA) for [Cereal fruit], LUSHLY for [In an opulent manner], ASTUTE for [Sharp], UNIVAC for (one very astute [if large...]) [Early computer], CONSUL for [State Department employee], and—a character I'd not thought about in years—PETUNIA [Porky's girlfriend].
While I question WIT—which I associate with the likes of Oscar Wilde and George Bernard Shaw—as the [Talent of Leno or Letterman], the presence of Ms. Petunia in combination with all of this puzzle's highlights, gave me a good TEE-HEE [Chuckle].
And if you aren't familiar with Mozart's string quintets, here's a sample of some music to my ears!
Ten hours of sleep helped. Looks to be a garden-variety bug rather than the flu. I am relieved to be merely coughing and achy.
Pancho Harrison's Los Angeles Times crossword
I filled 71-Across via the Downs (hey, look, the RABBI and ISLAM are coexisting peacefully at the CARD TABLE) so I had to look for TIME's unifying clue after I was all done. The long theme entries are phrases in which both words can follow TIME:
• SLOT MACHINE gets you a time slot and a time machine.
• CARD TABLE gives you a timecard and timetable.
• OFF LIMITS gives you some restorative time off within some time limits.
• PERIOD PIECE (which I would have clued with reference to movies rather than novels) provides a certain time period and a timepiece.
Liveliest answer: MRS. PEEL, ["The Avengers" heroine, to Steed]. Least current clue: SNL is the [NBC show with Baba Wawa skits]. I'm sure a lot of people under the age of 40 have never seen those classic skits, since Gilda Radner left SNL in 1980.
Brendan Quigley's blog crossword, "Horsing Around"
The theme's famous horses of fiction and non-. I only remembered about three and a half of the eight horses in the grid:
• [Buddha's horse] was KANTAKA. Buddha had a horse? In his leaner days, maybe?
• MARENGO was [Napoleon's horse]. Byron Walden and I once considered a theme with horrifying recipes like MARE MARENGO, using chicken Marengo's sauce on horsemeat. (Also in the theme: YAK YAKITORI and BEAR BEARNAISE. Yum!)
• [Alexander the Great's horse] was BUCEPHALUS. Briefly wanted this to be BOCEPHALUS.
• In fiction, [Don Quixote's horse] is ROSINANTE or Rocinante.
• [Gandalf's horse] is SHADOWFAX, which is also the name of some '80s New Age music I listened to in my Windham Hill phase in college. No, I'm not proud of it.
• COPENHAGEN was [Wellington's horse]. He had a horse? Oh, yeah, it's in the statue.
• [Xerxes' horse] was STRYMON. Never heard of this one.
• [Chief Sitting Bull's horse] was BLACKIE. Never heard of this one, either.
Rapper to remember for future puzzles: EDAN is the ["Echo Party" rapper]. He must not be too famous or he'd be in more puzzles thanks to those common letters in his name.
October 21, 2009
Thursday, 10/22/09
NYT 4:11
Gordon* 3:31
LAT 3:05
Tausig untimed
CS untimed
*Remember what Tuesday Sun crosswords were like? Sort of like Wednesday NYTs but with zingier clues? This summer, Peter Gordon ran into stand-up comic Lee Camp in a bookstore's puzzle section. Peter steered Lee towards one of his books, and in turn Lee gave Peter a disc featuring some of his stand-up. So Peter based a crossword, "Campy Humor," on one of Lee's jokes (that link is a JPEG of the puzzle). Enjoy!
Exciting afternoon in Chicago! I went to my local indie bookstore, Unabridged Bookstore, and saw my book, How to Conquer the New York Times Crossword Puzzle, there for the first time. Their crossword selection is so teeny, I despaired of their ever stocking my book. So I signed the one copy they had and the guy smacked an "Autographed Copy" sticker on it. I took a picture of it with my phone but I'm too lazy to download the photo right now.
Joel Fagliano's New York Times crossword
Kudos to Mr. Fagliano. Not only is this his NYT debut (and maybe his everywhere debut), but when I took the time to fully understand the theme, it knocked my socks off. (Figuratively.) Rarely does a theme elevate the black squares to a starring role, so it's fresh and interesting. Here's how it plays out:
• 27A, 52A. [Wild guess...or what the answer to each starred clue has?] is A SHOT IN / THE DARK. The DARK is the black square before or after the starred entries where the SHOT is hidden.
• 5A. [Jigger] is a shot GLASS.
• 17A. ["That's way off"] clues "NOT BY A LONG shot."
• 38A. This is the first of three "shot in the dark" entries in a single row. A [Photo] is a SNAPshot.
• 39A. A JELL-O shot is a [Colorful party drink]. Is this the first time the seamy little Jell-o shot has been featured in the NYT crossword?
• 40A. The same black square is called into action a second time. Shot DOWN means [Rejected].
• 62A. [Quick hitch-up] is a shotGUN WEDDING.
• 71A. A SLINGshot is a [Y-shaped item].
• 10D. [What "fore" may precede], in golf, is your TEE shot.
• 61D. The shot PUT is a [Track-and-field event].
Most of the theme answers would, with the inclusion of their "shot" part, make for lively crossword fill, and not a one of 'em is the slightest bit iffy.
Despite the wildly out-there 37D (NORVO, or [Red of early jazz]), the puzzle wasn't too tough at all. I would've had a Wednesday solving time if I'd bothered to read the clue for 23A when I filled in EMMITT instead of EMMETT for 11D: [Daniel Decatur ___, composer of "Dixie"]. I blame Emmitt Smith, of course.
Favorite clues:
• GUAM was a [Stop on Magellan's circumnavigation of the world].
• [Cuisine with sen yai noodles] is THAI. I had the Rama chicken tonight myself. What are sen yai noodles?
• [El numero de agosto] is OCHO, or eight. The other day, I caught part of a phone number on a Spanish-language radio commercial. "Uno ocho ocho ocho..."
• To SPOT is to [Give a handicap of]. Don't you think I should be SPOTted at least 50 points when I play Lexulous (the Scrabble variant on Facebook) against a lexicographer? I do.
• OK, this one's a favorite answer and not a clue. RUTABAGA! It's a [Vegetable that's peeled]. The word's from the Swedish dialect rotabagge. I also like KNURL, a [Small ridge on the edge of a button or dial].
• [Nick name?] is SANTA, or St. Nick.
• [Rat Island resident] sounds fictional, doesn't it? It's an ALEUT.
Ben Tausig's Ink Well/Chicago Reader crossword, "Action!"
This one's got an elegant theme: Familiar phrases ingest an -ING that turns a word that's not a verb at all into a gerund, but in each case the -ING word has a context entirely different from the original context. This explanation seems not remotely clear to me. "Show, not tell":
• 18A. [Sport for people apt to wear their gloves upside down?] is IDIOT BOXING, building on the idiom "idiot box," meaning television.
• 24A. The computer spell-check morphs into Tori Spelling. SPELLING CHECK is a [Search for Tori on IMDB?].
• 39A. [Lingerie shopping assistants, at times?] might be STOCKING HOLDERS (stockholders).
• 51A. [November cooking school program?] is GRAVY TRAINING, getting set for Thanksgiving gravy. The gravy train is "used to refer to a situation in which someone can make a lot of money for very little effort," per the New Oxford American Dictionary folks. You know what? I don't like gravy.
• 61A. [Sign that Cuba is near?]...well, on my cruise last winter, it was big waves rocking the ship. But Ben's answer is GOODING OMEN, combining a good omen with Cuba Gooding.
I liked the inherent surprise in each theme entry, with the before and after versions having such different connotations.
1A is clued [Alternative to smoking]. You wanted NON, right? But instead, it's nicotine GUM, or any old GUM that satisfies the oral urge. At 20A, WEBMD is clued as a [Site that kept telling me I either had sunburn or cancer, when I had food poisoning]. I learned a little German when ACH was clued as 57A: ["Die Wurst ist ruiniert!"] ("the sausage is ruined"). How about 34D: [Power trio member?]—were you thinking of Rush, the Police, or Cream? The answer is the HOLY GHOST. YUGOS are 52D: [Reviled cars that ceased production last year]. If you haven't seen Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist, you should rent it—Michael Cera's enormously appealing character drives a yellow Yugo that is practically a character in the movie.
Updated Thursday morning:
Randolph Ross's CrosSynergy/Washington Post puzzle, "Keep Your Shirt On"—Janie's review
When someone [Puts the pedal to the metal], s/he STEPS ON IT. This driver is in a hurry—and while the expression is often used to calm someone down before an argument ensues—we also say "Keep your shirt on!" when we mean "Slow down!" Not only on the road—but even sometimes as we solve, in order to appreciate the multitude of pleasures a well-made puzzle can provide. Like today's—where we have 70 letters of quality theme-fill in six phrases: two 15s with two nines (overlapping in their entirety), and two 11s. All of it top-notch. The last word of each of the phrases is a component part of a shirt and can also follow the word shirt. Here's how it all comes together:
•13A. HOT POCKET [Microwaveable turnover]. At your own risk...
•16A. ACE UP ONE'S SLEEVE [Secret advantage]. And one lively phrase, with its card-playin', Wild West conjurin' roots.
•28A. WHITE COLLAR [Kind of crime]. Think "Bernie Madoff"... A blue collar worker is a skilled laborer, and here are some "other collars of the rainbow" (not my locution—dang).
•37A. PANIC BUTTON [It's pushed under stress]. And its opposite number...
•53A. SPOKE OFF THE CUFF [Gave an extemporaneous speech]. Another very lively phrase.
•57A. DOVETAILS [Meshes]. More like this, which is related to this. As the OED defines the term dovetail joint (and shifting to the noun form), it's "a fastening or joint composed of tenons cut in the shape of an expanded dove's tail, fitting into mortises of corresponding shape."
Impressive, no? And the non-theme fill holds up its end of the bargain quite convincingly as well. Allow me to ADD TO [Expand upon] this by pointing out:
•COSMIC [Way out there], which is also a good way to describe the way Michael Richards portrayed COSMO [Kramer on "Seinfeld"];
•A cushy INNERSOLE [Podiatrist's recommendation] may make it more comfortable for "Leadfoot" to put that pedal-to-the-medal. Let's just hope that's not the way the [Prom night rental] LIMO is handled. Or the BMW [Audi alternative] or even any remaining OMNIS [Bygone Dodges];
•A PEEKER is [One who looks in advance]—though my first thought for this was (the too-long) SEERESS. Nice seeing peeker next to PEERESS [Lady in the House of Lords, e.g.];
•[Came through slowly] is SEEPED IN; HIE, on the other hand, carries with it the connotation of speed [Get going]. It's also a homophone for high, which is something you might get on LSD [Psychedelic drug]—and which overlaps hie;
•In the animated series based on the book, LILAC [Purple shade] is also the name of Harold's dog. He of the purple crayon. He was a COLORER [Child with a box of crayons] (or one that we know about anyway...) with a penchant for purple;
•BLITHE is a beautiful word, isn't it? And it's clued beautifully, too, [Like a carefree spirit]; finally, a question to ponder:
•What kind of shirt is worn under a G-SUIT [NASA gear]? (I'm thinking a t-shirt. With a v-neck...)
Dan Naddor's Los Angeles Times crossword
Alas, there's not a familiar phrase that ends with lewd, so the five rhyming spellings we get are UED, OOHED, EWED, UDE, and OOD:
• 17A. [Lost it] clues CAME UNGLUED.
• 25A. POOH-POOHED means [Dismissed out of hand].
• 37A. [Like Starbucks coffee, every 30 minutes] is FRESHLY BREWED. Rumor has it the coffee will still taste burned no matter how fresh it is.
• 48A. "BUMMER, DUDE" is clued with ["That's too bad, man"].
• 60A. TAKEOUT FOOD is an ["I don't feel like cooking" option].
With a half dozen 8-letter answers (plus a bunch of 6s and a couple 7s) in the fill, we don't have the same tired 4x4 chunks of grid. Highlights: the [Austin Powers catchphrase] "Oh, BEHAVE!"; SPANDEX, that [Stretchy fabric]; and FRÄULEIN, a [German miss]. Sound-wise, I also like IGLOO crossing UNGLUED.
October 10, 2009
Sunday, 10/11/09
Reagle 8:56
NYT 8:17
LAT 8:01
BG 6:09
CS 4:55
Hello! Have you seen the post below this one, above the Saturday post? Jeffrey Krasnick, a.k.a. Crosscan, is the newest addition to the Crossword Fiend team. He'll be writing about Matt Gaffney's 21x21 crosswords at the Daily Beast website. The puzzles come out on Fridays, so sometime after that each week, Jeffrey will blog 'em. These Sunday-sized puzzles are a bit easier than the Sunday NYT.
Randolph Ross's New York Times crossword, "Author! Author!"
I feel like I've seen that puzzle title before. The theme doesn't feel familiar, but the title does. Hmm.
The theme includes 24 authors paired up in 12 theme entries. Each author's last name doubles as a word of some kind, and the two names together, when read aloud, sound like a phrase of variable familiarity. Sometimes the word and name are spelled the same and sometimes they're not, so the theme feels like a bit more of a hodgepodge than usual. Here are your writers:
The lack of consistency in this theme drove me bonkers. You know there are a dozen constructors sitting there grumbling, "My puzzle got rejected for a minor inconsistency and this one passed muster?"
On the plus side, I didn't run into any troublesome crossings. Again on the down side, some of the fill wasn't working for me either. For example, UNTACKS (12D: [Removes from a bulletin board]), "I STINK" (53A: [Admission of ineptitude]) OLD SOUL clued as 86D: [King Cole, e.g.] (I'd like it if clued with relation to the first definition here, but it feels like a 7-letter partial applied to Old King Cole), TAP-TAP (51D: [Typist's sound]), and AKU (56D: [When repeated, a Thor Heyerdahl title]). AKU? Ah, no.
But 65A tried to make amends with me: [Drop ___ (start to strip)] clues TROU. I think we could have dispensed with the parenthetical, don't you?
Updated Sunday morning, after whiling away a couple hours watching the Chicago Marathon from the warm environs of the living room because of below-freezing temps:
Merl Reagle's syndicated crossword, "The Full Name Game"
This theme is just weird. It's not at all intuitive for me. A hodgepodge of famous names (All men? Meh) that sort of sound like all or part of one to three words in various phrases get swapped in in lieu of the usual words, and the clue has no allusion to the specific celebrity in the answer. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to including these particular phrases or names, though. The theme plays out like this:
Among the tougher clues and/or iffier fill, we have these:
So I've done two Sunday puzzles and enjoyed zero themes so far. Maybe I'll like the next one better. Stay tuned!
Dan Naddor's syndicated Los Angeles Times crossword, "Why, Yes!"
The theme relies on sound changes: take a word with an "oo" or "oor" sound (to a Midwesterner, they're not quite the same) and incorporate a "Y" sound to change the word into one with a "yoo/yoor" sound. Like so:
Okay, this theme is all right. It wasn't all intuitive for me and it wasn't really funny, but I give the theme points for consistency. The variety of ways the "yoo" sound is spelled is cool, too: IO, U x2, UGH, UE x2, EU, IEU, EAU, and JO. Minus 10 points for including both the ORANT clue (39A: [Praying figure]) and PRAYERS (98D: [Mass communications?]), but plus 5 points for the 98D clue. Highlights in the fill include "I'M BEAT," DEAR ABBY, LIL KIM, LA BAMBA, and MUD PIES.
Emily Cox and Henry Rathvon's Boston Globe crossword (in Across Lite), "Great Rivals"
A year ago, this theme would have been most vexing for me. But last month, I spell-checked the name of every player in Brendan Quigley's upcoming Red Sox and Yankees word search books, so filling in a theme of MVPs from the archrival Yankees and Red Sox MVPs was child's play. DUSTIN PEDROIA, JIMMIE FOXX, and FRED LYNN were not names I'd have gotten before, though crosswords and popular culture (Ken Burns!) taught me TED WILLIAMS, BABE RUTH, MICKEY MANTLE, JOE DIMAGGIO, ROGER MARIS, ROGER CLEMENS, and ALEX RODRIGUEZ. Don't ask me which ones played for which team. Until I looked up Pedroia this morning, I thought the entire theme was Yankee MVPs and that seemed gutsy for a Boston crossword. Consulting with my husband, I see that the left side of the grid has the Red Sox players and the right has the Yankees. Isn't that a nice touch? There's a hearty smattering of other baseball fill throughout the grid—I count about 25 outside the theme.
If you're a baseball fan, particularly on the East Coast but not rooting for the Mets, this puzzle ought to delight you. If anyone wants to load up a puzzle with Orioles and Cardinals players, I'm ready for those too, thanks to Brendan recruiting me to proof those sports puzzle books. Hurry—do it now, before I forget. I think I've already forgotten the football players from this summer's batch of proofreading.
Bob Klahn's CrosSynergy/Washington Post "Sunday Challenge"
As you'd expect from a themeless Klahn puzzle, a great many of the clues play with language and prod you to open your mind to multiple (and unexpected) meanings of words. Top 20 clues for trickiness and wordplay:
1. 17A. AUTOMOBILE TIRES are clued with [They might be biased]. The first impulse is to think of people who might be biased.
2. 21A. [You can take his word for it] clues ROGET of thesaurus fame, not an honest person whoses word is trustworthy.
3. 33A. [Stopper that should work with almost any plug] isn't about plumbing. If you look down the list of definitions for plug, eventually you reach "informal: a tired or old horse." "WHOA" is the command that even an old horse should be able to follow.
4. 36A. [Electrician's mantra?] clues OHM, a unit of electrical resistance that sounds like the classic mantra, "om."
5. 44A. [Inks, or clinks] clues PENS in two ways: (a) If you ink your signature, you pen it (write it). (b) The clink and the pen are slang for "prison."
6, 7. 18A, 49A. [It's a steal] clues the crime of THEFT, while if you're [Caught stealing] in baseball, you're OUT.
8. 64A. [Union requirement?] isn't about labor unions—it's a MARRIAGE LICENSE.
9, 10. 1D, 5D. The [Ailurophobe's cry] is "SCAT, cat!" but this has nothing to do with [Beat it!]—the latter clues a TOM-TOM that you might beat.
11, 12. 8D, 9D. To [Rain hard] is to PELT and [Hard rain] falls as ICE. These are actually easier than the usual paired clues that rely on different senses of the same words.
13. 26D. This was the last thing I figured out. [Fashion plates?] are fine CHINA plates.
14. 27D. [Roast, perhaps] clues HONOR. If you roast a celebrity, you're honoring their career (but often humiliating them through humor at the same time]. With the HON** in place, I had honey-roasted turkey on my mind.
15. 31D. The rhyming pair [Sandal, or scandal?] clues THONG. Thongs are flip-flops as well as the buttcheek-baring bikini bottoms we are sure to see on TV during coverage of the 2016 Summer Olympics in Rio. Thongs aren't scandalous there, are they?
16, 17. 51D, 52D. One [Belt item] is a TOOL, while multiple [Belt items] constitute AMMO.
18. 59D. [Shrink rap?] plays on shrink-wrap but clues "I SEE," the conversational "rap" your therapist might say.
Okay, that's 18 out of the 20. Let's find two more.
19. 37A. [Noisy rooters?] are OINKERS because...pigs root around with their snouts and they oink when they're noisy? I'm not sure why there's a question mark in this clue. I'd understand the question mark's purpose if another clue in this puzzle used "rooter" to mean "one who cheers for a team."
20. 15A. [It may have several chips in it] sounds electronic, doesn't it? It clues CHOCOLATE COOKIE. If you ask me, a chocolate chip cookie is not a "chocolate cookie," and a "chocolate cookie" contains chocolate chips only if it's a "chocolate chocolate chip cookie." Your cookie-related argot may vary.
October 07, 2009
Thursday, 10/8/09
NYT 4:26
LAT 2:42
CS untimed
Tausig untimed
Scott Atkinson's New York Times crossword
Do you know how many words can precede time to make a compound word or a phrase? A whole lotta. Why, this TIME AFTER TIME theme has four pairs of "___ time" concepts, and those pairs are themselves established phrases:
You know what "time" didn't make it into this theme? "Hammer time!" I can't think of a word that partners with hammer that can also precede time.
I had a hard time getting into this puzzle, as the clues in the upper left corner just weren't so yielding. Assorted clues I didn't get right away:
Favorite clues: 32A: To [Not just turn down] the volume is to MUTE it. 41A: [Palm product] is palm OIL, not a Palm Pre smartphone. The 13A: [Leading lady] in a field is a DOYENNE. 47D: [-like] clues ESQUE, as in Zolaesque.
The rhyming words NATTER and RATTER stick out. One's a [Vermin hunter] and the other's a verb meaning [Flap one's gums] like a nabob of negativism.
And before I go, let me refer you to the video of the Cyndi Lauper song "Time After Time". I've always liked that one.
Donna Levin's Los Angeles Times crossword
Donna's theme is COVERT OPS, or [Hush-hush activities]. Never noticed before that it looks like "cover tops" if you slide the word space over. The other four theme entries contain a covert OPS spanning two words in a multi-word phrase. To STOP SHORT is to [Jam on the brakes]; in tennis, a DROP SHOT is a [Soft court stroke]; [Small family businesses] are MOM-AND-POP STORES; and CHOP SUEY is a [Stir-fried dish]. There's a singular covert OP that's not part of the theme in COP A PLEA; surely it's our undercover double agent who's been nailed and is now copping a plea.
Not sure why AMOCO/[Big name in gas] isn't clued with a "one-time." Are there still Amoco stations? They've all been converted to BPs around here.
The top half of the grid's got some great fill—JAY-Z meets JIHADS beside SQUIRT crossing PAISLEY. Lower down, though, I'm less happy. PPPS is a post-post-postscript, or [Third afterthought, in a ltr.]. There's a blast from the distant past with the Southeastern pile-up or SEATO, the [1954-1977 defense gp.]; ERGOT, the [Grain disease]; EPODES, or [Lyric poems]; and Britishly spelled OCHRE, or [Yellowish earth tone]. Add in the partial ERR ON and plural DOUGS, and you've got yourself a "meh" corner.
Updated Thursday morning:
Randolph Ross's CrosSynergy/Washington Post puzzle, "Seven EZ Pieces"—Janie's review
I'm not a [Huge fan] of the word ADORER, but if that's the definition, then I'm definitely an adorer of this puzzle. Could I compose a PAEAN [Joyous song] to it, I would. My words will have to suffice. Let's ASSAY [Examine] this creation to see what gives it its decided EDGE [Advantage].
The title tells the tale. There are seven lively theme-answers, and the E-Z pairing makes an appearance in each one. In fact, in six of the seven we get EE-Z; in the seventh (at center), we're treated to EE-ZZ. So there are a lotta Zs today.
Then, and most impressively, these seven theme-answers fill 67 squares. More than that, they all interlock and/or overlap at least one other theme-answer. Holy moly. That's a serious feat of construction and does tend to AMAZE me. And the non-theme fill does not suffer as a result, but holds its own very nicely.
So here we go. There's:
In addition to that legitimate stage mini-theme, Randy also gives a nod to the film industry with both ACAD. [Pt. of AMPAS] and [MPAA issuances] PGS. The former is the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, who hand out the Oscars; the latter, the Motion Picture Association of America, who hand out the ratings...
Just because they also enliven the puzzle, let me also note some other good pairings, like:
Ben Tausig's Ink Well/Chicago Reader crossword, "Out on a Limb
Right at 1-Across, there's a SPIDER, an [Animal that has something in common with this week's puzzle]. Boy, my husband was watching a show on the Discovery channel last night about arthropod combat. Lots of large, venomous spiders, plus insects and scorpions. (Luckily, nothing in the centipede department, because those critters freak me out.) Word to the wise: If you are a bug, steer clear of the praying mantis because it will mess you up. So, anyway, there were ample opportunities to note that spiders indeed have eight LEGs, like the fill in this puzzle. The four longest answers and the four 7s in the corners each have a LEG hidden within.
Clues of note:
October 01, 2009
Friday, 10/2/09
NYT 5:10
CHE 4:46
LAT 3:17
CS untimed
BEQ it's a long story
WSJ 6:44
Check out the previous post for a link to Patrick Blindauer's new crossword project (and a free puzzle of Fridayish difficulty).
Brad Wilber's New York Times crossword
Brad WIlber's back with a six-pack of 11s and a six-pack of 10s in a smooth crossword. The highlights...in a bit. A thunderstorm's worrying my son at the moment. Back soon.
Okay, then. Favorite fill and clues:
Less familiar things in this puzzle:
Pretty much a standard Friday level of difficulty, no? Just enough challenge without being too easy or too hard.
Updated Friday morning:
Stella Daily & Bruce Venzke's CrosSynergy/Washington Post puzzle,"Hello Kitty"—Janie's review
I confess. That image at the left is the "Hello Kitty" I was secretly hoping for. Still, Stella and Bruce do a fine job giving us four phrases and one name whose first word can follow "kitty," thus producing a whole new phrase. And there's lots of fine non-theme as well to keep this puzzle lively. First things first:
In the non-theme department, as promised, there are some real beauts, most notably those symmetrical tens: LOVERS' LANE [Place for makeout sessions] and WISECRACKS [Wit-filled words]. It seems to me that another [Place for makeout sessions] might be that divine DIVAN [Place to recline]. And although RED has been clued as [Visibly embarrassed], I was taken with the "D" it shares with DIVAN, and keep seeing the fill as RED DIVAN.
That DIVAN really is a multifunctional piece, too. For anyone who TIRES [Runs out of gas], what could be better? Hopefully SLEEP [Ambien user's goal] will come easily, but if not, well, "better living through chemistry" is a phrase that comes to mind...
Back to WISECRACKS. I usually think of these as being more flip than "wit-filled"—but sometimes flip remarks can also be witty. Someone who cracks wise or even [Delivers a sassy retort] is someone who ZINGS. Cyrano de Bergerac would be a classic example of someone who could deliver the wittiest of zingers. Some of these quotes may serve to illustrate.
On the topic of language, there's also [Colorful language, sometimes] for SLANG (e.g., that [Total bore]/SNOOZE combo)—preceded by its complementary clue [Colorful card game] for UNO and the reminder of its bright, primary(-ish) color-wheel playing cards. Then there's the tricky language we find in some of the cluing: [Plies the needle]? That's SEWS. [Creates a chair, perhaps]? ENDOWS. Clever. I think my favorite clues, though, are [Bride's handful] for NOSEGAY (anyone else first think IN-LAWS?) and the almost redundant sounding [Tiny time unit, for short] for NSEC. Don't ask why, I just find that one "cute."
Janie, NSEC isn't "cute"! It's insistently "meh," in fact.
Jack McInturff's Los Angeles Times crossword
The theme entries change second words that start with R- into CR- words. The first one I filled in was 27A: PUNK CROCK, or [Small-time hood's pottery?], where "punk rock" and "punk crock" sound quite similar, so I figured the others would also have first words ending with the "k" sound. 'Twas not to be. The others are 20A: MILITARY CRANK ([Grouch in the army?]—I prefer my grouches in trash cans on Sesame Street), 36A: HEAT CRASH ([Accident in a qualifying race?]), 47A: HEAD CREST ([Family insignia for designer Edith?]), and 54A: EXCHANGE CRATE ([Jalopy used as a trade-in?]). I love "jalopy."
An olio of other stuff:
Gary Steinmehl's Chronicle of Higher Education crossword, "Round Table"
Yay! The CHE puzzle bearing today's date is on the Chronicle's website today! (Link at top of post.) Get this: A themed Friday puzzle that made me think. With the New York Sun's disappearance a year ago and the easing up of the L.A. Times crossword, Steinmehl's puzzle was a welcome Friday-morning find.
The theme features people from the Algonquin Round Table—Dorothy PARKER, Robert BENCHLEY, Edna FERBER, and Robert SHERWOOD sit around the edges of the big circle of circled squares, which aptly spell out THE VICIOUS CIRCLE.
Tough fill abounds. HETAERA is a [Courtesan of ancient Greece]. HENAN is the [Chinese province that was the center of the Shang dynasty]. Poet James THOMSON is clued as ["Rule Brittania" lyricist James], but the title is flubbed in the clue—it's punctuated and spelled like this: Rule, Britannia! (That's the work, of course, composed by crosswordese composer ARNE.) Spanish missionary, old-time actress VERNA Bloom, [Sea-lily appendages] with the cloud name CIRRI—there's plenty of challenging fill and clues in this puzzle.
Randolph Ross's Wall Street Journal crossword, "Puzzle 5.O"
Each theme entry has five Os in it (and no other vowels, save Y), but some of them aren't "in the language" phrases that merit their appearance in a crossword grid. HOOK OR CROOK? Without the "by" before each noun, what is this? BOWL OF DOG FOOD? NOT FOOLPROOF? GO ON TOO LONG? I say "no, no, no, no, no" to those four. Much better are SHOOP SHOOP SONG, VOODOO DOLL, DOOR TO DOOR, and the BOOK OF MORMON. I'm torn on "BOY, OH BOY, OH BOY" and "BLOODY GOOD SHOW." The latter Googles up OK, but it makes me think of bloody show and mucus plugs.
The solving experience was further dampened by fill like REWEAR, SHOERS and a FLAYER, NO ONE'S, SNEERY, NON-PROS, and assorted abbreviations. I just didn't find the entertainment I was hoping for. Oh, well.
Updated Friday afternoon:
Brendan Quigley's blog crossword, "Sorry, Wrong Number: Nope, not nouns"
Okay, I've gotta quit trying Brendan's easy puzzles with Down clues only. The combination of fill that isn't the same ol', same ol' and twisty clues means that holy cats, the puzzle is no fun with just the Downs. I ended up using some Acrosses to iron things out. If you don't know JA RULE's oeuvre and MCQ and STIED and WOWIE don't come readily to mind as possibilities, you're probably not going to be happy working off of half the clues.
Yesterday, Brendan gathered theme material via Twitter and Facebook crowdsourcing, asking people to think of verbs that look like violations of irregular plurals. E.g., loaves of bread vs. the verb loafs. But...the theme entries are clued as straightforward verb phrases, so the ties that bind the theme are largely absent from the puzzle itself. The puzzle's subtitle is "Nope, not nouns," but the theme clues have absolutely nothing to do with the nouns. So what we have here is a "huh, these words all share a halfway interesting trait, that they could double as incorrect plurals, except that they're used correctly as verbs so that's beside the point" theme.
Who is this [Feminist Russell] named DORA? Dora Black married Bertrand Russell. She supported birth control back in the 1920s, was polyamorous, and was a peace activist. Good to know.
