Showing posts with label Thomas Takaro. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thomas Takaro. Show all posts

March 09, 2009

Tuesday, 3/10

LAT 2:45
CS 2:38
NYT 2:34
Tausig tba — see Wednesday post
Onion tba — see Wednesday post

The NYT online solving applet runs on a server based in Europe, which doesn't always get the memo about when the U.S. decides to begin or end daylight saving time. DST kicked in this past weekend, ridiculously early in the year. (Big plus: it's dark at my son's bedtime, even though the sunlight lasts an hour later, so he's none the wiser.) I sent a note to the applet's keeper, who said he'd reset the clock, so I don't know why the puzzle wasn't up in the applet at the appointed time and is still not up an hour later. I gave up and switched to Across Lite, though it selfishly refuses to tell me if my solution is correct. (It's Tuesday. Odds are I'm in the clear.)

Thomas Takaro's New York Times crossword is an example of a [Word that can follow each half of 20- and 60-Across and 11- and 36-Down] type of theme. An EYE (37-Down) can pair up with both components of each theme entry:

  • A U.S. military [Attack helicopter] is called the BLACKHAWK. Bruised black eye, Hawkeye. (I hear the Iowa Hawkeyes wrestling team just conquered the rest of the Big Ten.)
  • [In the altogether] is an awfully weird phrase to mean BUCK NAKED, isn't it? Apparently it was introduced by George du Maurier in his novel, Trilby. Ohio is the Buckeye State, and the naked eye uses no telescope or microscope lenses.
  • SEEING RED means [Really steamed]. "Seeing Eye" sounds incomplete without the word "dog" appended to it. There are red-eye flights, red eye in photos, and other red eyes.
  • A [See-through partition] is a GLASS WALL. Wait, is that really "in the language"? A glass eye is what Sammy Davis Jr. had (why? car accident in 1954), and walleye is a kind of fish.
The most [Super-duper] answer in the fill is WHIZ-BANG. (No, there's no whiz eye or bang eye.) My favorite clue is [Unloaded?] for SOBER. Miscellaneous other clues and answers:
  • [Iranian money] is the RIAL.
  • [Snack machine inserts] are ONES, as in $1 bills.
  • [Do a cashier's job] pulls double duty, cluing both SCAN and BAG.
  • LAWYERS are [Often-joked-about professionals].
  • Two successive fill-in-the-blank clues have answers with definite or indefinite articles: TOA and OTHE look rather unsightly mashed together there. One is [Ellington's "Prelude ___ Kiss"]; the other, [Will-___-wisp].
  • Three 4-letter G words mesh well together. GLIB means [Smooth-talking], GOSH is clued with ["Holy cow!"], and GRIT is [Determination].
  • GUTEN is the German [Word before "Morgen" or "Tag"]. Those phrases mean "good morning" and "good day/hello" Guten Abend means "good evening" and Gute Nacht is "good night."
Updated:

Neville Fogarty's LA Times crossword has three jars of stuff you really don't want on your toast:
  • PETROLEUM JELLY is a [Multipurpose ointment].
  • "LADY MARMALADE" is the song that was a [1975 #3 hit for Labelle]. Bonus points for dropping ORANGE ([Syracuse University team]) into the grid above MARMALADE.
  • PLANT PRESERVES is a less familiar phrase. It's clued as [Sanctuaries for flora].
Neville's included eight 8- or 9-letter answers in the fill, lowering the overall word count to 72. Among the long and less-long answers and clues I liked best, we have these:
  • [Like Pollyanna's optimism] is the clue for INCURABLE. Definitely a better cluing approach than evoking incurable diseases.
  • [Like a "fauxlex" watch] means ERSATZ. I haven't seen "fauxlex" before but surely it means faux Rolex.
  • I love the word ORNERY, meaning [Not at all good-humored].
  • PAC-TEN (really Pac-10, no?) is the [Wash. Huskies' conf.].
  • HULU has been popping up in more puzzles. It's a [Website offering streaming TV video] in a screen space that's much bigger than what you get with YouTube.
  • LILY PADS are lovely [Pond floaters].
  • It's a nice change to have [Get used (to)] not clue is-it-ENURE-or-INURE-this-time. Here, it's ACCUSTOM.
I dispute the [Pretty woman] clue for LOOKER. George Clooney is a LOOKER too, y'know. Yes, the dictionary says the word applies especially to a woman, but I am sick and tired of this sexist gendering of language, I tell ya. And I have never once referred to a woman as "a looker."

Paula Gamache's CrosSynergy crossword, "On Call," has five theme entries whose first words may precede "call":
  • [Scarce consolation] is COLD COMFORT. Salespeople may make cold calls. Hey, have you seen (or read) Cold Comfort Farm? The two most memorable lines are ones that get repeated. "I saw something nasty in the woodshed" is a personal favorite, and my kid regrets that his parents both find it hilarious to wield this line. The poet-manqué Flora musing over "the golden orb" has made that phrase a winner around this household, too.
  • [Safety device on some convertibles] is the ROLLBAR that keeps skulls from meeting the road in the event of a rollover. Take roll call to see who's present.
  • [Cowboy's milieu] is a CATTLE RANCH, and a cattle call is an open audition.
  • CRANKCASE is clued as [Engine housing]. Crank calls are a delight to pesky adolescents. The clue for NECK, [Hug and kiss], evokes the Bart Simpson crank call asking Moe to find "Amanda Huggenkiss."
  • HOUSE SEAT is [won by a representative]. Doctors used to make house calls.
I know the word DYSTOPIA, but the clue, [Undesirable society type depicted in Orwell's "Nineteen EIghty-Four"], had me thinking I needed to name a "type" of person who was part of undesirable society, rather than an undesirable type of society. (D'oh.) [Doesn't quite run] doesn't refer to something that doesn't work—it refers to loping at a sub-running pace, or TROTS. [One who'll croak in the future] is a TADPOLE, not yet a grown frog. RED ROCK is a [Prominent feature of the Arizona high desert].

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December 13, 2008

Second Sunday puzzle, 12/14—Diagramless

I found this weekend's New York Times diagramless crossword by Thomas Takaro to be pretty pliable as such things go. I didn't time myself, but it felt fast for a diagramless puzzle.

More discussion and my solution grid after the cut.

I used Across Lite's "convert" option to get a grid image of my solution, but I solved this puzzle on paper without the black squares and without the starting square/symmetry hint. I'm really surprised to find that it's not all that much harder to go without the hint, and I'm glad Tyler Hinman was so sorely disappointed in me for using the hint that I finally tried abstaining. Shame is helpful if it pushes you to learn a new skill, eh?

In case you haven't the foggiest idea how to approach a diagramless without the hint, let me tell you how I tackled this one. I started with 1-Across, [Astronaut's place], 7 letters because the next Across clue is numbered as 8-Across. Hmm, don't know it. But 1- through 7-Down happens to be easier. CHET the [Guitarist Atkins], LECH the [Nobelist Walesa], PER that's [The "p" in r.p.m.], and SSE, the [Opposite of NNW] are all gimmes. Those give me C*PS*L* for 1-Across, which must be CAPSULE. I jot that down below the clues in the margin at the bottom of my Across Lite printout.

Filling in the other Downs beginning in CAPSULE gives me HRESPEC in the middle of a long 8-Across. The next Across number is 14, so 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, and 13 all begin Down answers. The HRESPEC letters appear below CAPSULE, so those other six letters bracket HRESPEC. That means 8-Across is 13 letters long; 1-Across is 7 letters, and 7 + 13 + 1 black square = 21. The grid's only 17 squares wide, so CAPSULE appears alone in the top row. Centered or to one side? I can't say yet. But [Concerning] fits the meaning of WITH RESPECT TO, the answer to 8-Across. So I jot that down below CAPSULE.

Working from the Downs numbered 8 to 13 (WHEEZE, IRISES, TESTS at 8-, 9-, and 10-Down) and with the middle letters EFRENCH filled in already, 14-Across, or a [Much-sung-about gift in "The Twelve Days of Christmas"] looks to be THREE FRENCH HENS. That's 15 letters centered below 8-Across, which is centered below CAPSULE. So these top three Acrosses look like they want to be centered in the grid. Are they? The next two Acrosses are 16-Across [Believers] and 17-Across [Stingers]. With some crossings filled in from the Downs, I see THEISTS and HORNETS, two 7-letter words with a space of 3 black squares between them. Bingo! The fourth row in the grid begins with THEISTS, and the first three Acrosses are centered in the grid. Now I can copy those four rows of answers from the margin of the page and into the grid.

Next, I fill in 14- and 16-Down and see that SEES fits at their end with the 23-Across clue, [Gets it]. SEES sits at the end of four Down answers, so I scribble in some black squares beneath and at the end of SEES. Look! A dead end. It sort of looked like maybe a circular Christmas ornament was going to be depicted by the grid, but with that dead end, the left/right symmetry the grid has so far can't continue. The answers on the right side will have to continue downward so that the grid's not cut in half by black squares and...hey, it looks like the top of a big number 3, doesn't it? The [Brecht/Weill word, with "The"] at 11-Down could be another THREE, the THREEPENNY OPERA.

So with that, I'm off and running. Or walking. Or slogging. Some of the lower half and right side seemed considerably harder to fill in than the top, but knowing that the final grid might depict a big number 3 helped guide my progress through the puzzle. The 3 turns out to have top/bottom symmetry, so SALIERI, [Mozart rival], sits in the bottom row opposite CAPSULE. [Billiards great a k a Rudolf Wanderone] is MINNESOTA FATS, and I guessed that one based solely on having ATS at the end of a long 52-Across space; didn't know the name at all. Above that, opposite the THREE FRENCH HENS, is a THREE-RING CIRCUS, the third of our THREE theme answers.

The rest of the process entailed looking back and forth between the clues and grid to figure out what sort of answers would be how long and would fit where. And that, my friends, is essentially how you work through a diagramless puzzle.

Not every clue was a gimme, that's for sure. [Scott ___, seven-time Gold Glove winner], is named ROLEN at 39-Down. (Who?) 24-Across [Dead, as a twig] is SAPLESS; not so intuitive for me. 21-Across [Creepy things?] are OOZES, using "ooze" as a noun. 13-Down [Like horses' feet] is ONE-TOED. 47-Down [Bygone music player] is a HIFI, not some sort of extinct instrument. 36-Down [Periodic highs and lows] are TIDES.

Diagramless crosswords definitely require more mental effort from the solver, but sometimes the payoff is discovering a picture, like this big numeral, in the grid. Other times the payoff is just finishing a tough puzzle and enjoying the theme—usually a theme that doesn't lend itself to a standard crossword grid. In this case, the three 15-letter theme answers would certainly fit into a 15x15 grid, but the black squares wouldn't draw a picture to extend the theme graphically.

Another approach to beginning a diagramless is to jot down your initial answers on graph paper. Then if it turns out 1-Across is a few squares farther over than you thought it was, you've got plenty of room to just keep filling things in without running out of grid (as you would if you started writing those answers in the wrong place in the 17x17 grid). Go to statistics.com's graph paper page to print out whatever size you want, and ignore the prefab 17x17 grid altogether.

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April 07, 2008

Tuesday, 4/8

Onion 4:52
NYS 3:52
Tausig 3:36
CS 3:12
LAT 2:46
NYT 2:45

Hah! There's another sleepy-time theme in the New York Times crossword, just one day after one ran in the New York Sun. So often when two versions of a theme appear in close proximity, one of the two suffers by comparison. I don't think that's the case this time—Dave Mackey's NYT puzzle was a delight (and the Sun was cool, too). Now, if you don't share my fondness for pop culture, maybe you didn't enjoy this puzzle, but I sure did. The theme entries in this one follow a progression—first it's BEDTIME (FOR BONZO), then you get into your PAJAMA (GAME) (and yes, the singular is kosher), put your head on your PILLOW (TALK), and next thing you know, it's (I) DREAM (OF JEANNIE) time. Three of the four theme entries are movie titles and the last was a TV series. Yesterday's 1-Across in the NYT asked for dictator AMIN; today's 1-Across asks for Mr. Kotter himself, GABE Kaplan. Other pop-culture answers from the worlds of TV, film, and pop music are JABBA the Hutt; actors Greg EVIGAN, Annabella SCIORRA, and LIZA Minnelli; director Sam RAIMI; the French film AMELIE ([2001 title role for Audrey Tautou]); old film studio RKO; the song "Ode to BILLY JOE" and the lyric "TIE A yellow ribbon..."; and EWE clued as [Stand-in for "you" in "Concentration"], the old rebus game show. Of course, pop-culture haters get the more highbrow ZOLA ([Emile who wrote "Truth is on the march"]); ["Rule, Britannia" composer] Thomas ARNE; a SAGA and a NOVEL; New Yorker cartoonist REA Irvin (he did a ton of New Yorker covers, including the iconic Eustace Tilley cover, and designed the classic New Yorker typeface); the ["Venerable" monk] Adam BEDE; and MME. Bovary.

Other favorite clues and fill: [Bonkers] for both DAFT and LOCO; UTOPIA clued as [A world without 71-Across], have-NOTS; ZOOLOGIC; ["It's on me!"] for "I'LL TREAT" (a happier option that cluing it as ill-treat); [Informal greeting at a breakfast shop] for MORNIN (what exactly is a "breakfast shop"? does IHOP qualify?); and even [Coastal raptors] for ERNS, because Emily Cureton draws a mean ERN. (I see that Dave solved his puzzle in the NYT applet—behind several other fast solvers. Hee! It gives me the giggles when I can beat a constructor on his or her own puzzle.

Peter Collins' New York Sun puzzle, "Split Seconds," takes five phrases that follow the "second ___" format, puts the second word into the midst of a theme entry, and has each theme phrase split the second ___ word across word breaks. For example, the bolded letters in GEORGE A. ROMERO and HIPPOCRATIC OATH can follow "second" in common phrases. Another theme entry is TUBE STEAK, which I just saw earlier in the day while consulting an online list of slang terms for "penis" (a Crasswords puzzle had a slang term I'd never seen before). Here, it's clued as [Frank]. I...had no idea anyone called hot dogs that. The fill juxtaposes USAGE and (a few inches away) PEDANTRY; who doesn't appreciate that connection? (My mom caught Hillary Rodham Clinton with an errant "Bill and I" that should have been "Bill and me." *sigh*) How is it that I've never seen ARBORETA as the plural of arboretum?

Updated:

The LA Times crossword might mark a debut—I don't recall seeing the name Thomas Takaro before. There are six theme entries (filling rows 3, 6, 10, and 13) in which the two parts of each answer are identical save for an I-to-A switch. FIDDLE-FADDLE, KIT-KAT, FLIM-FLAM—these and the others are all lively-sounding terms with mostly happy connotations. PELL-MELL almost joins the party, but with a consonant change instead (and no thematic partner across the grid). There are 17 longish (6 to 8 letters) answers in the fill, too, with PELL-MELL sandwiched between Dr. FAUSTUS and AFFABLE. I like the juxtaposition for whatever reason.

Nancy Salomon's CrosSynergy puzzle, "Inner Tube," places an IV (as in "IV tube") in each theme entry's base phrase. Pry open yields a "PRIVY OPEN" sign, dingbat hides a DIVING BAT swooping out of the dark (eek!), a trial date (when the trial is scheduled) turns into a TRIVIAL DATE (clued as [Unremarkable get-together?] rather than [Good social option for nerds]), and led the way goes actively Zen with LIVED THE WAY. Nice fill, though it's been a while since TOTIE Fields showed up in the crossword—she's one of those people I learned about strictly from crosswords, like Toots Shor.

Updated Tuesday evening:

Well, I've had dinner and am only now getting around to the puzzles e-mailed out earlier today by Ben Tausig. Tyler Hinman's Onion A.V. Club crossword has a "Confucius say" theme. For example, [Confucius say "Man who fart in church ___"] is completed by the double-meaning SIT IN OWN PEW. [Confucius say "Passionate kiss like spider's web; leads to ___"] UNDOING OF FLY (the entomological fly and the trouser fly can both be "undone" in different ways). I'm not wild about the inherent cartoony stereotyping vibe of the theme, and two of the five theme answers don't have the same stilted-English vibe that the other three share (though the clues are stilted in that way). Good fill—where else could you combine a MARMOSET and ABS OF STEEL?

Ben Tausig's Chicago Reader/Ink Well puzzle, "Missing the Signs," has five signs that are missing one letter and thus convey a different message. A tow-away zone sign gets hospital use without its T: OW-AWAY ZONE. A loose gravel sign goes morbid with LOOSE GRAVE. Nice pop-culture combo with the long vertical fill: Altman's GOSFORD PARK (which I haven't seen) and Carly Simon's classic, "YOU'RE SO VAIN" (who was that song about, anyway?).

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