NYT 4:00*
LAT 3:51*
Sun 3:23*
BEQ ???
*N.O.T.: Not Orange's Time!
[Updated 11:00 a.m. Monday]
Hey, everybody. PuzzleGirl here filling in for the ailing Orange, who has apparently been bitten by a little flu bug. I didn't ask for any more details than that. I'd just really rather not know. Like all of you, I hope she feels better soon, and in the meantime ... you're stuck with me.
Tracey Snyder's New York Times crossword was an easy, breezy Monday solve with fun fill and a basic, well-executed theme that I didn't actually catch onto right away because I filled in the southwest corner with just the acrosses and never saw the reveal. So. It's about CHIPs. We're talking:
So, the puzzle says that [One of 100 in D.C.] is a SENator. I guess that would be the ideal. Are there a hundred there yet this term? I'm embarrassed to say I haven't kept up on the Minnesota situation. Hold on ... Nope, still battling it out in court. Stay classy, Norm!
Have I mentioned that I'm a huge Aerosmith fan? Love those guys! I've seen them in concert, like, ten times. Not entirely thrilled to see one of their lousiest songs in the puzzle though. "CRYIN'." Yep, it really does have the lyric "Love is sweet misery." Actually I'm pretty sure it's "Your love is sweet misery," which makes it even worse. Although not nearly as bad as "Pink when I turn out the light / Pink it's like red but not quite." So it's got that going for it.
The more I look at this puzzle, the more I like it. It's got some great S-words in SIEGE, SCOTSMEN, SNORE, and SPEED TRAP. And what's not to like about FLEECE, PRETTY BOY, and LEWD LECHES? Good stuff. Very smooth. Nice job, Tracey!
And how much happier could I be whenever I see my girl Andrea Carla Michaels's name on a puzzle? None. None happier. Today she graces us with "The Last Hurrah" in the Sun puzzle. The ends of the theme answers give us the classic cheer: SIS BOOM BAH. Awesome theme answers too:
Best word in the puzzle isn't an answer, though, it's a clue: [Buzzkill]. I don't see that word enough. Also love seeing the two wraps — SARI and SARAN — sitting one atop the other. And I'm not saying there's a political thing going on here, but we do have the DEMS winning big in 2008, XED clued in relation to voting, and a reference to Tina Fey's portrayal of SARAH Palin. Also, I'm sure DODO, BLOWHARD, ARROGANCE, SNOOZE, and SMOKED don't mean anything. In a puzzle titled "The Last Hurrah." The day before Inauguration.
Updated:
I'm going to call Jack McIntuff's L.A. Times puzzle "T 'n' T." Theme answers are phrases with two T-words. I was lulled into complacency with TRICK OR TREAT, TWIST-OFF TOPS, and TAKE ONE'S TIME. Then, wham! TRAIL OF TEARS. Pretty heavy entry for this particular set of answers. And I'm embarrassed to admit it, but the phrase always makes me think of this picture, which is symbolic of a serious issue in its own way, but isn't exactly [Native Americans' forced relocation].
I only had two missteps in this puzzle, entering soy, not MSG, for [Stir-fry flavor enhancer] and whiffs, not MISSES, for [Swings without hitting]. But that section worked itself out pretty easily with the crosses.
So, what is THE GAP known as now? Just Gap, it seems. But the company has helpfully set up a redirect for us old people who type in thegap.com when looking for their website. What are us old people doing shopping at the Gap anyway?
Today's Brendan Emmett Quigley puzzle is, well, I'm not sure exactly what to say. I'm waffling between hilarious and just plain mean. See for yourselves.
January 18, 2009
Monday, 1/19
January 15, 2009
Friday, 1/16
Sun 5:50
LAT 4:50
NYT 4:27
CHE 3:50
BEQ one day (diagramless, with Acrosses and Down clues up to 26-D)
WSJ 7:38
Mike Nothnagel is one of those themeless constructors whose bylines I'm invariably pleased to see. Why? Because of stuff like this in the Friday New York Times crossword:
Lively fill that tells a story (in my head, anyway): YOU KNOW WHO is an [Unnamed individual], but forget this anonymity, let's call him MR. UNIVERSE ([Arnold Schwarzenegger, four times]). I bet he met a lot of women at a SINGLES BAR (a [Match point?]) in his heyday. You have a question for the bartender there? "OK, SHOOT" is her [Response to "I have a question for you"]. "Do you sell Pimm's?" "YES, WE DO" is the [Reply to "Have you got that in stock"]. "Forget about the Pimm's. I'll have a Scotch. It's an IMPULSE BUY. Make it a double," you say. (PEAT is a [Scotch flavorer, you know.) "LESS IS MORE" (["Keep it simple"]), the bartender cautions, "IN THAT you've had enough. Let me pour you a HOT MILK instead." (That's a [Bechamel sauce ingredient].)
Proper nouns: Some folks hate finding names in their puzzles because they fall in the category of "either you know it or you don't," and when it comes to, say, contemporary pop culture or non-major geography, they can be hopelessly mired in a seemingly insoluble square. Me, I like the names. I didn't know that YING was the name of [Soprano ___ Huang], but pieced it together from the crossings. ETHAN HAWKE is our [Oscar nominee for "Training Day," 2001]; he did a good job looking skeered and conflicted. Gay TALESE is ["A Writer's Life" writer, 2006]. Fictional KATO [fought Robin on an episode of "Batman"]; isn't there another Kato in superhero land? David HUME is ["An Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals" philosopher], and he sits atop Verne TROYER, a.k.a. [Verne of Austin Powers films]; he's an actor of short stature who later appeared on reality TV too drunk not to pee on the floor. There's ANKE [Huber of women's tennis]; no other famous Ankes come to mind, so her position in crosswords is a lock. [Israel's Weizman] is named EZER. And there's poet Alexander POPE, [who wrote "Hope springs eternal in the human breast"].
Places in the grid include Michigan's ALMA College, WASHOE County in Nevada, HENLEY-on-Thames ([Regatta setting]), the [Aleutian island] ATKA (I know a lot of you had ATTU there, as I did). There was a a SWEDE ([Uppland inhabitant]) keeping company with a KURD ([Many a Kirkuk native]). Speaking of people in other countries, there are some foreign-language answers here, too. [Cul-___] DE SAC came from the French but is solidly English now. NOTRE is [Our counterpart in France?], or more exactly, "our" counterpart. [Is in Spain?] is "is" in Spain: ESTA. SANS [___ fil (wireless, in Paris)] explains itself.
Other answers/clues I was fond of (or feel slightly ranty about): There's an HOURLY RATE, clued with the hint [A raise may raise it]. [Tinseltown is a part of] SHOW BIZ. I love the word (but not the feeling) ANGST, [Not just jitters].
A couple clues are not PETA-friendly: OPEN SEASON for hunters is [When many shots are taken], and LASSO is clued as [Ringer of some necks]. The ERNS, [Birds with "meat cleaver" bills], do what they can to defend themselves. Those flying geese are on their own, though. PETA probably wouldn't object to ALL OK ([Perfectly good]), but it doesn't feel like it makes the grade as crossword fill.
Barry Silk's Sun "Weekend Warrior" felt easier to me. I tackled this one right before the NYT, and much preferred Barry/Peter's clue for OPEN SEASON: [Animated film of 2006]. I see a lot of the cartoon movies because I have a kid, but this one...I can't remember if it was the one with a bear and a snack machine or the one with the suburban incursions. Wait, it was the bear. The other one was Over the Hedge. Two 2006 cartoons about forest animals starting with O*E* words? Crikey. Getting back to the crossword: My favorite clue was one of the last ones I figured out. [Leaving while the iron is hot?] sure sounds like it has to do with the idiom "strike while the iron is hot," but it's a FIRE HAZARD, leaving the house with an iron still plugged in. Two people merit the full-name treatment here: TALIA SHIRE and LEANN RIMES. I first opted for HOOVED for [Like pigs' feet]; I imagine our porcine friends are less than pleased about BRINED feet. I'm not a POTSTICKER fan, but it sure looks cool in a crossword. I noted to myself that all the GPS clues, like [GPS display], seem to have displaced AAA clues for RTE. Whoops, the GPS display is a MAP this time...and RTES are [AAA suggestions] up above.
The title of Robert Doll's Chronicle of Higher Education crossword, "Two-Letter Entries," makes it sound as if the puzzle will violate the standard interdiction against crossword answers with just 2 letters. The first three theme entries each have two words occupying 11 or 12 letters, though—but in the NATO ALPHABET (that international phonetic alphabet), those two words stand in for single letters. The elegance comes in the choice of letter-words: FOXTROT TANGO stands for FT, and both words are names of dances. [Two male nicknames], MIKE CHARLIE, fill in for MC. And Shakespeare's ROMEO JULIET make up RJ. O gets transmitted as "Oscar," who doesn't partner up with another letter in this puzzle—but there's an OH-OH and the movie OH, GOD, combining in my head into Oh, Oh, Oh, God, which would be a considerably more alarming movie. Oh, and look who's here—the NYT had Verne TROYER and here's VERNE, only he's not clued with reference to Mr. Troyer but rather, [Captain Nemo's creator] Jules.
ESSO update:
Joon's comment reminded me that I wanted to mention the ESSO clues. In the NYT, it's a [Brand named after the pronunciation of its parent company's initials], S.O. or Standard Oil. (If you didn't know that, it makes for a nice little "aha!" moment when it clicks.) The Sun clue is [Sinclair alternative], but it's the NYT clue that has that "long clue providing a piece of trivia" vibe we associate with Peter Gordon and the Sun.
Updated Friday morning:
Tracey Snyder's LA Times crossword adds an -EL to a familiar (or semi-familiar) phrase to create each theme answer:
A number of clues threw me for a loop in this puzzle. I immediately thought of hens for [Sound heard after a lot of brooding?], and CLUCK. Uh, no. Oh! Chicks. They CHEEP. No, guess again. CHIRP, from any bird whose mama did that sitting-on-eggs thing. ["The Conspiracy Against Childhood" author] clue upends convention—usually LESHAN is included with the book title in a clue for the writer's crossword-friendly first name, EDA, and "Eda" was omitted from this clue. For [Corona alternative], I thought of other Mexican beers, but Corona is also a cigar, as is the answer, PANATELA. For [Spew out], I started with ERUPT instead of EGEST. [Flour sometimes used in naan], an Indian bread, is ATTA, and though I've had naan I didn't know the flour's name. Two bits of older crosswordese came to me much faster (a true sign of having done an excessive amount of crosswords): ARETE is a [Rugged ridge] and OGIVE is a [Pointed arch]—the latter answer not to be confused with an OGEE, or S-shaped molding (though centuries ago, the two words were synonymous).
Randy Ross's Wall Street Journal crossword, "Cabinet Meeting," calls a meeting of various phrases that include the names of eight of the U.S. cabinet departments. My favorites are GO INTO LABOR, clued as [Visit a cabinet department building?] but evoking childbirth, and BRINGS TO JUSTICE, clued as [Delivers to a cabinet department?]. I liked the Asian geography sprinkled throughout the puzzle—THAI crosses MALAYA (this [Former Asian nation] makes up part of modern-day Malaysia, but Singapore was spun off to be its own country), and BURMA was a [Japanese conquest of 1942] that has since been renamed Myanmar. And there's crowd favorite Jerry ORBACH, [Briscoe portrayer on "Law & Order"]. [Give a hand?] clues SLAP, which is too question-marky for me, too much of a stretch. I went with CLAP, which wouldn't merit a question mark in that clue, which made it hard to see what [Encase] was—SHEATHE, not CH- anything.
Brendan Emmett Quigley's crossword for Friday is called "Corner Stones" and it's a themeless. On Wednesday and Thursday, Brendan parceled out the clues one at a time in his Twitter feed so solvers could go the diagramless route if they wanted to. Knowing that it'd be available as a regular crossword come Friday, I figured it would have standard crossword symmetry and not look like those kooky diagramless puzzles, and it turns out that this makes it easier to solve without a diagram. Hell, I finished the puzzle before BEQ had posted the Down clues from 28-Down to the end. I didn't know this could be done, but there you have it. (Am patting self on back now; definitely have earned a cookie.) In Brendan's accompanying blog post, he says another constructor nudged him to load a puzzle with the sort of entries he wanted to see in a crossword. So this puzzle includes these answers:
more animals
- LOLCATS is clued misleadingly as [Pictures of pussies on the Internet]. A lot of folks think those LOLcats pictures are moronic. I love 'em.
- [Mini covering] clues an IPOD SKIN.
- [Tweet source] is TWITTER.
- If you go [All out], you're going WHOLE HOG.
- I'LL TELL is a [Playroom threat]. This one took me forever to figure out. Mentally inserting that apostrophe was the key. If your playmate tells on you, you might throw a HISSY [___ fit].
- I needed the Down clues to figure out 1/8-Across, VAMPIRE WEEKEND, ["A Punk" rock band]—I'm guessing that combo was another of those things Brendan wanted to work into a puzzle.
November 02, 2008
Monday, 11/3
Sun 3:18
CS 3:04
LAT 2:53
NYT 2:46
(updated at 7:40 Monday morning)
'Tis the season for snarky political crosswords, and over at the Sadly, No! blog, Dave Macleod has posted a crossword called "Pull No Political Punches." (You can download a PDF there.) As Dave explains in a comment there, "The intent was to get as many Republican-bashing words and clues as possible without pushing it and getting stupid." Fun puzzle, Dave!
The New York Times crossword by Susan Gelfand has a fresh and fun theme. Four famous people whose last names double as verbs (and triple as nouns) take an S on the end to make grammatically correct two-word sentences:
I think this is Ms. Gelfand's newspaper crossword debut, and I hope she's been cooking up more themes for us. I like the theme here, plus the fill is a bit Scrabbly (three X's, some K's) and includes some interesting longer words. To SKYDIVE is to [Jump from a plane]. A [Bobbysoxer's hangout] was the MALT SHOP (with the terminal HOP, I wanted this to be a SOCK HOP, but that wasn't fitting. TASMANIA is [One of the six states of Australia]; I think I can name three others. (Left out South Australia and Western Australia.)
Alan Arbesfeld's Sun crossword, "Breezy Tunes," is elegantly built around an album I've never heard of. [1990 Roscoe Mitchell album (and this puzzle's theme)] is SONGS IN THE WIND. Roscoe Mitchell is an avant garde jazz saxophonist. There are also some songs whose titles end with the words "in the Wind," and these figure into the other three theme entries:
This puzzle seemed to have a little more pedestrian fill than most Sun crosswords. ATILT and ASTIR, ESAU and EDAMS? It's also got MR. CHIPS, though, and some BAGELS; and MILO is clued as [___ Bloom (character in "Bloom County")]. If it's possible to have a crush on a comic strip character, I just might've had a teenage crush on young MILO Bloom.
Updated:
Boy, I had no idea what the theme was in Tracey Snyder's LA Times crossword until the last theme answer explained it all. What do TWO-WHEELER ([Bike, e.g.]), THREE-PIECE ([Like suits with vests]), and TWELVE-STEP ([Like some rehab programs]) have in common? What unifies 2, 3, and 12? Turns out they're CRAPS LOSERS ([What the start of 17-, 32- or 38-Across is on your first roll]). I'll bet John McCain knows that, but I've never played craps.
This puzzle's got some answer words that appear more often in crosswords than in American life. There's the [Long poem] called an EPOS. ECLAT is [Brilliant success]. ESSE is [To be, in old Rome] (meaning in Latin). There's Scottish "no," NAE, clued as ["Sorry, laddie"]. Then we have the ever-popular (in crosswords and the Summer Olympics) EPEES, [Fencing swords]. If these ones gave you trouble, study up—you'll be seeing them again in your puzzles.
Tom Schier's CrosSynergy crossword, "Gridiron Scores," presents four phrases with T.D. initials. TD'S (20-Across), of course, are touchdowns in football. There's the TITANIC DISASTER (aww), a TARGET DATE, TAXI DRIVER clued as merely a [Cabby] and not as the movie, and a TONGUE DEPRESSOR. SINGLE MOM ([Parent's status, perhaps]) is excellent fill.
Like today's LA Times crossword, this one's got some crosswordy words that it behooves a beginning solver to learn. ESAU, the [Twin in Genesis], is one of the most common Biblical names appearing in crosswords. Why? Three vowels plus an S. ENOS, clued here as [Nephew of Abel], is also a frequent visitor. OREM is clued as [Utah's fourth-largest city]; there's also a Russian city called OREL to keep straight in your head, and both pop up from time to time in puzzles. IN REM is a [Legal phrase]; there's an entire vocabulary of Latin words and legal terms that appear in crosswords, though this particular one isn't that common. An ALB is a [Vestry vestment], something a priest might wear. If it's a 3-letter ecclesiastical garment, always try ALB first. ASTI, the [Fizzy wine, familiarly], is Asti spumante from Italy; Asti is a place name. EROSE means [Jagged] rather than just eroded; ERODE is also a popular crossword answer. [Elevator pioneer Elisha] OTIS is a regular around these parts ("these parts" being in the white squares).
July 31, 2008
Friday, 8/1
NYS 5:43
NYT 4:24
CHE 4:07
LAT 4:04
CS 3:21
WSJ 7:58
(post updated at 12:30 Friday afternoon)
It's always a treat to have a crossword by Patrick B., isn't it? Yeah, you know who I'm talking about: Patrick Berry. Or Patrick Blindauer. Heck, why not both? That's what we've got on hand tonight, a Sun puzzle by Mr. Blindauer and an NYT from Mr. Berry.
Patrick Berry's New York Times puzzle is a 66-word themeless creation. He has set the bar high for himself with his past work, and as usual he rises to the occasion with a silky smooth crossword. It's almost three crosswords in one, with the northwest and southeast corners almost walled off from the diagonal center zone. In no particular order, my favorite clues and answers:
Other clues of note:
Patrick Blindauer's New York Sun crossword is entitled "Twenty Question Marks." There are three question marks in the grid itself, where pairs of questions cross, and I counted 16 question-marked clues. That makes 19. I don't know if it's correct or not, but mentally I've added a question mark to one of my favorite clues, [Place to get sheets for a song], to get a 20th question mark. (The answer has nothing to do with sheet music—rather, it's a WHITE SALE where you can buy bedsheets for a good price.) Oh! Wait! There it is! It's the big question mark made out of black squares in the center of this asymmetrical 15x16 grid. Wow, there's a lot to talk about with this puzzle. Let's take it paragraphically:
The asymmetry— This crossword is asymmetrical for a good reason: The black question mark isn't a symmetrical beast, and it's a key element of the theme. It doesn't, I find, affect the solving experience one whit to have the grid deviate from symmetry rules.
The theme— The theme includes six questions in the grid, 16 question-marked tricky clues, and that big graphical element. The theme entries are "WHO'S ON FIRST?" crossing "SO?" (Hey, a 2-letter word! Those aren't permitted in standard crossword rules), "WHERE AM I?" crossing "WHEN?", and "WHAT?" crossing "IT IS?". Why and how don't get their moment in the sun.
The fill— Lots of long answers, good 'n' zippy. My favorites are X-RAY VISION, MCGRUFF the Crime Dog, WRITING, KEN STARR beside DULCINEA, ASKS OUT, crossword habitué ANI DIFRANCO's full name, ADAM ANT (the [Musician with the real name Stuart Goddard], not the adjective adamant), a FRAME HOUSE, GENII with that oddball ending double-I, and a SEVEN-IRON (which I didn't know could be called a [Pitcher]). Seeing SODOR, the [Island home of Thomas the Tank Engine], amused me. I wonder if Patrick included that or if Peter Gordon, dad to young kids, rejiggered the fill and added that.
The clues— With all those twisty question-marked clues, you know I enjoyed this puzzle. (I also enjoyed Bonnie Gentry's puzzle, in one of the Simon & Schuster books a year or two ago, in which every clue had a question mark. Anyone know which volume that's in?) My favorites include [Novel activity?] for WRITING; [Short vehicle of the 1980s, for short] for SNL (a vehicle for Martin Short, not a short car); [Small character in Oz?] for the letter ZEE in the word "Oz"; [Bottled spirits?] for GENII in a puzzle that also has bathtub GIN; and [Grind] for WONK, both being roughly synonymous with "studious nerd."
Updated:
All right, I've got about an hour to solve four puzzles and blog 'em, so I'm going bare-bones here.
The CrosSynergy puzzle, "Final Score," is by Stella Daily and Bruce Venzke. The theme entries end with thingamajigs that may be found on a printed musical score (forgive me if my musical terminology is amiss):
Plenty of terrific fill: BEAM ME UP, ARIZONAN, MOS DEF, AL FRESCO, QUALMS.
Dan Naddor's Los Angeles Times puzzle has an insert-OB theme:
Clues of note:
Todd McClary's Chronicle of Higher Education crossword, "Campus Quads," works really well even without its gimmick, as just a good crossword with that trademark Chronicle erudition in the fill and clues. Plus: a TWIX bar. Nummy! I haven't had lunch yet, and now I want candy. The two long theme entries say that hidden within the finished grid are SIX UNIVERSITIES in TWO-BY-TWO SQUARES. I know of YALE and DUKE and RICE, of course, and PACE. ELON is a crosswordese school. I have never heard of LYNN University, though. It's got four letters, so it makes the grade here. That sly bastard McClary managed to place these clockwise-reading school names in exactly symmetrical spots in the grid, which definitely elevates the elegance of the gimmick. I'm wondering if he's got a Yale connection, because ELIS crosses the YALE box.
Favorite fill and clues:
Tracey Snyder's Wall Street Journal puzzle, "Long Time No See," docks an initial letter C from one word in each theme entry. [Commands to a dog?], for example, are POINT AND LICK (click), and [Classes for would-be dermatologists?] are RASH COURSES (crash courses). I like a lot of the other theme entries, too—COME IN OUT OF THE OLD is the [Fountain of Youth slogan?], the ODE OF SILENCE (code), FIRST ON TACT (contact), PREGNANCY RAVINGS (cravings).
I'm out of time for blogging now. Enjoy your afternoon!
May 29, 2008
Friday, 5/30
NYS 5:22
LAT 5:12
NYT 5:04
CHE 4:49
Jonesin' 3:25
CS 3:12
WSJ 8:22
Brendan Emmett Quigley's New York Sun "Weekend Warrior" includes the full names of five people (one fictional) in the grid—the Scrabblerific NIKKI SIXX ([Bassist on the two "Girls, Girls, Girls"] by Mötley Crüe; birth name Frank Ferrana), the crosswordese-first-named ANA ALICIA (["Falcon Crest" actress]; birth name Ana Alicia Ortiz), JANGO FETT ([Bounty hunter in "Attack of the Clones," one of the Star Wars flicks), the crossword-friendly ANNE MEARA (["Archie Bunker's Place costar], wife of Jerry Stiller and mother of Ben Stiller), and two-part crosswordese ETTA KETT ([Old comics girl whose boyfriend was Wingey]). 
Speaking of Mister X, Natan Last's New York Times crossword has two full names that end with an X: JIMI HENDRIX, [Follower of Sha Na Na at Woodstock], and CHICO MARX, [Old comedian known for his unique piano-playing style]. The least dictionarified entries in the grid are "CAN I TRY SOME?", [Question while eying someone else's plate], and D-TEN, [Call in the game Battleship]. My favorite entries:
LOKI, the [Shape-shifting giant of myth], is sometimes called a trickster—but the [Playful trickster] in this crossword is a PIXIE
Clues that may vex:
Updated:
James Sajdak's LA Times crossword shifts a vowel sound in each theme entry, from a long E to a short I, along the lines of really getting pronounced as rilly. [Sass from a preacher?] is LIP OF FAITH. [Classroom clamor] is DIN OF EDUCATION. [Pickle to die for?] is DILL OF A LIFETIME. [Klutzy pageant entrant?] is SLIPPING BEAUTY. And [Treatment using spirits?] is GIN THERAPY; this is especially popular among fans of the traditional, non-fruit-flavored martini. Did you know [Minnie Mouse's dog] was named FIFI? Or that OPEL is an [Automaker with a lightning bolt logo]? WAX POETIC, clued as [Speak in a rhythmic and flowery way], is an especially nice entry.
Tom Heilman's Chronicle of Higher Education crossword, "Philosophertherance," provides furtherance of philosophers' names. Two of the theme entries are 16 letters long, forcing a 15x16 grid. [Belief that I think, therefore I can do whatever I want?] is a mashup of René Descartes and carte blanche: DESCARTES BLANCHE. [Place to relax while reading "The Social Contract"?] is a ROUSSEAUFABED (Jean-Jacques Rousseau, sofabed). If you don't watch Lost, you may not know that there are characters named Rousseau and Locke. Voltaire and a tearsheet combine into VOLTAIRE SHEET, [Pamphlet that claims this is the best of all possible worlds?]. It was just last week that I learned that Voltaire snagged that optimistic idea from Leibniz and gave it to his character, Dr. Pangloss. Søren Kierkegaard and gardening become KIERKEGAARDENING, [Growing plants by means of a leap of faith?].
Matt Jones's Jonesin' puzzle, "Out With the Old," has a theme. Yes, it does. And I began this paragraph without knowing what it was, but now I see it. Each theme entry includes the letter string NEW, split across word breaks: there's GENE WILDER, for example, and NINE WEST shoes, along with four other phrases. Ambitious grid, with a dozen 7-letter entries in the fill.
Randall Hartman's CrosSynergy crossword, "Let On," puts a LET on the end of each theme entry's base phrase. "Put it on my tab" becomes a [Comment from Moses to God?], PUT IT ON MY TABLET. Favorite fill: HANG TEN, LAB RAT, HOT TUBS.
In the Wall Street Journal, Tracey Snyder's crossword has the memo-ese title "In Re." Each theme entry has an RE put into it. My favorites are [Wave to Billy?] for GREET ONE'S GOAT (get one's goat), [Special Forces order when greeting a lady?] for ALL BERETS ARE OFF (bets), and [Enjoy "The Devil Wears Prada"?] for WATCH ONE'S STREEP (step). I don't remember seeing this Brian ENO clue before: ["My Squelchy Life" musician]; you can scroll down here to read the lyrics. The [Mexican confection] PANOCHA is, Wikipedia says, a New Mexico and southern Colorado pudding as well as a slang term for vulva.
August 26, 2007
Monday, 8/27
CS 5:02
NYS 3:22
NYT 3:16
LAT 2:45
Boy, it's been one of those days. Beautiful day, but the sunny side of that taxi was a tad roasty, and the open window was whooshing my hair around too much, so I asked the driver to turn on the AC (per the passenger's bill of rights, I can ask that). And the cabbie tried to argue that it was plenty cool! I know it's nice out, but I feel too warm in your cab anyway, sir. Then we got to the movie theater, and while my husband and son bought snacks, I went in to find three seats together. Alas, there were no threesomes outside of the front rows of non-stadium seating, and we do like the stadium seating. There was a couple sitting in the first stadium row with two seats open on either side, so I scooched in and quietly asked if they'd mind moving in one seat. "We're watching the movie!" the man hissed in reply—during one of the first trailers, which, technically speaking, are not "the movie." And then at dinner, the waiter was fantastic but didn't ask if we wanted dessert, and does it sound like I could've used the chocolate soufflé cake by then? I tell you, the world was out to get me today.
At least I liked the movie, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, all right. Not my favorite of the Potters, but pretty good. And who doesn't like a loathsome character whose surname is a homophone for "umbrage"?
Quick! Call the exterminator! Steven Ginzburg's New York Times puzzle has a couple ANTs in each of the three theme entries, along with some NITS near the middle of the grid and the theme-defining word ANTS at the bottom. The middle theme entry, ANTIOXIDANT, is hitched to the top and bottom theme entries by 11-letter fill, ISAAC ASIMOV and CLASS ACTION. (My husband and I were just chatting about the Niketown class action lawsuit recently decided in favor of the employees, including the inspirational pair described in this Trib article.) What do you think of the TWO X TWO entry, clued as [Four]?
The New York Sun puzzle, "Head of the Animals," is by Pancho Harrison. It's got EYES, TEETH, NOSE, EARS, BRAIN, and JAW, so somewhat reminiscent of the Sunday NYT, only they're head parts from certain animals. We've got the piscine lenses called FISHEYES, cervine BUCKTEETH in need of orthodontia, porcine HOG NOSE tools, canine DOG-EARS marking a page, the avian BIRDBRAIN, and the...what's the adjective? Also a cervine thing, the Canadian town of MOOSE JAW (locals are called Moose Javians, Wikipedia tells me).
So both of those puzzles double up on something thematic—two ANTs and not one in the NYT, and animal/head part combos in the Sun. Twice the themed goodness at no extra cost!
Updated:
If you like to do battle with Bob Klahn's cluing style, don't miss today's CrosSynergy puzzle. The theme, alas, is a quip, but the clues will give you a Monday workout.
Tracey Snyder skews maternal in the LA Times crossword, with a MA/MOMMIE/MAMMA/MOTHER theme.
Speaking of cluing style, Patrick Merrell has written up a list of crossword clue rules. If you're newish to crossword solving, you'll want to read Pat's post and make about 20 mental notes to remember when solving.
August 23, 2007
Friday, 8/24
NYS 6:45
LAT 5:32
NYT 5:16
Jonesin' 4:15
CHE 4:32
CS 3:59
WSJ 8:16
Whoo! Nothing like a four-hour-plus power outage to make one appreciate electricity and all the nifty machines that run on it. Chicago and environs got smacked with some ferocious winds this afternoon—70 mph, I heard, and I believe it. Never have I seen so many trees broken or wholly uprooted. Alas, the mulberry tree on my block, a summertime snacking favorite, was yanked out of the earth. At least that one didn't end up in the street like plenty of other trees. A nearby highrise lost the roof over its (roughly) twentieth-floor swimming pool. The roof paid a visit to Lake Shore Drive, which mucked up traffic before and during rush hour. That highrise is next door to Ben's school, which saw two locust trees uprooted in one of its playgrounds. And a small picture window from the ninth floor of the building across the street from me somehow was yoinked out of its frame and dashed to the ground (fortunately missing people and property below). I am astonished that ComEd was able to restore electricity to my neighborhood so soon, given the widespread nature of downed trees and electrical lines.
Patrick Berry's New York Times puzzle is a themeless one with 68 answers. Lots of long phrases and a few long single-word answers (fairly low on the "roll your own" word quotient—UNCONSOLED and INARTISTIC are crafted with prefix action), a meaty chunk of white space in the middle of the grid with long answers radiating out from it, ambitious interlocking of long answers—and good clues for both long and short answers. Two IS_C guys in the grid: ISAAC HAYES, the [Soul singer who is also a coronated king of Ghana], and ISOCRATES, [One of the "10 Attic orators"]. (Quick! Name the other nine!).
Favorite clues: [Drop a few positions, maybe] for AUTOMATE, as in automating grocery store checkout and dropping employees; [Red line?] for ARTERY; [Overprotect] for COSSET, a word I should use more often (along with BEASTLY, clued here as [Very disagreeable]); [It was good for Sartre] is the French BON; [Bad time for a tropical vacation] is RAINY SEASON, though Hawaii, the Caribbean islands, and Mexico all remind us that hurricane season isn't so great for tourism either; the basketballish [Pass under the basket, maybe] for ASSIST; [It may be bid] for ADIEU; [Stocking stuffer] for SANTA
[Mystery author Dexter] is COLIN Dexter, author of the Inspector Morse mysteries, which I've heard of even though I didn't recall the author's name. Did you know [What stare decisis upholds the validity of]? It's CASE LAW. What [Dog in Disney's "Cinderella"] is BRUNO? I don't remember a dog. So, TOP GUN was the [Highest-grossing film of 1986]? That's a shame (never did see the movie); here are the movies it beat out. Two bits of educational trivia: TWEED is a [Fabric with the same name as a Scottish river], and BRIE is a [French district that lent its name to a foodstuff]. I'm not crazy about [Near the bottom of the drawers?] for INARTISTIC, though—it seems to overreach.
Other entries I liked: EAST GERMANY; the phrases HAS NO IDEA and RECONCILED TO; COMPANY MEN who don't necessarily work for SNAPPLE; CHERIE Blair. Not much Scrabbly vocabulary in this grid—as you'll see below, the other Patrick B. hogged up all the uncommon letters.
Matt Jones's Jonesin' crossword, "The Dr. Is In," plays with that guy whose name is quite crossword-friendly: Dr. Dre. (Anyone else see that '93 movie, Who's the Man? Denis Leary's character, a cop, rags on Dre for calling himself a doctor without having gone to medical school, which...he's got a point. What are Dr. Pepper's credentials, anyway?) The theme entries incorporate an extra DRE, so the S.S. Minnow from Gilligan's Island becomes a DRESS MINNOW, a [Fish to wear to formal events?]. (Cute extra: Another small fish, a GUPPY, is right beneath that entry.) CLASSIFIED DREAD is clued as [Systematically categorized one's anxieties?], and [What people had to repeat to Freud?] is I DREAM, I SAID (playing on a Neil Diamond song.
Two corners contain bricks of 8-letter entries, such as CHIPOTLE, the LOG CABIN Republicans, AL CAPONE, and a SOREHEAD. Favorite clues: [Guy who cuts you off in traffic, e.g.] for A-HOLE; [Big wheels] for SEDAN (though a sedan isn't always big—Ford Focus, anyone?); [Crab in a can?] for OSCAR the Grouch from Sesame Street (the muppet I always identified with the most); [In need of relief, in a way] for GASSY; ["Your fly is open" noise] for AHEM; and [Word repeated after "here"] for KITTY. [Wireless carrier formed in 2005] is HELIO, which I've seen a magazine ad for but know nothing about. I didn't know that Kalpen MODI was Kal Penn's real name; he was one of the stars of Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle. (Sequel due out next year!) ALAS is clued as ["___, Babylon" (1959 post-apocalyptic novel)]; hey, I read the 1979 edition of that book during my adolescent sci-fi dalliance.
Patrick Blindauer's New York Sun crossword offers anagrams of playing cards in a royal flush, ergo the title, "Shuffled Cards." You don't need to have a clue that anagrams are involved to finish the puzzle, though. ONE-STEP FADS comes from ten of spades; SAFE JOCK PADS, jack of spades; FED OPAQUENESS, queen of spades; FAKES DOPINGS, king of spades; and ESCAPED SOFA, ace of spades. If any of you figured out the anagram angle, do you feel that it sped your journey through the grid? Because while the theme entries are gettable based on the clues and the crossings, they're not remotely "in the language" phrases.
Lots of Scrabbly words in this puzzle (bonus points for that), but I'll have to dock Patrick 10 points for using one of those Xs in a Roman numeral. The construction, in which pairs of theme entries are mostly stacked together (staggered by a few letters), earns back a few bonus points. But then a few points are taken away for the abundance of 3-letter answers.
The only AMOS OZ (1-Down) novel I remember is the dismal epistolary novel, Black Box. I completely missed the existence of grunge band TAD (11-Down).
Favorite clues: [One out of 10?] for ZERO; [You might jump for it] for JOY (with the Y filled in, I first thought SKY...though really, who jumps for the sky? Reach for the sky, jump for the stars?); [Drop back?] for LET (as in droplet); [Noted trio member] for EGO (with id and superego); and [Also, archaically] for EKE (this may be etymologically related to the German auch, meaning "also").
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It took me a while to figure out what Gary Steinmehl had done with the theme entries in his LA Times crossword. The hint at 1-Down was HAIR LOSS, but the theme entries didn't appear to be formed by zapping a HAIR from them. The first theme entry, though, loses an H (Broadway show becomes BROADWAY SOW, a [Performer in the stage version of "Babe"
?]), the second loses an A (weight gain becomes WEIGHT GIN), the third loses an I (street riot, STREET ROT), and the fourth, R (business trip, BUSINESS TIP). Good clues in this one. What's an [Osiris feature]? He's been depicted with a crazy BEARD. I've heard of bluesman Keb' Mo' and rapper Lil' Kim, but didn't know [Hip hop's ___ Mo], LIL' Mo (née Cynthia Loving). I also hadn't heard of the Maui tourist attraction, IAO Valley. Other clues I liked: A [Calculating endeavor] is ADDING; [Ideal enumeration] is WISH LIST (I can't believe nobody cleaned out my Amazon wish list for my birthday!); [Zig instead of zag?] is ERR; the [Kind of binding that allows a book to open flat] is WIRE EDGE, and it appears to be a handcrafting thing rather than an option commercial bookbinders use; [Unlike a picnic?] means HARD; and a [Hospital closing?] is a SUTURE.
In the August 10 Chronicle of Higher Education crossword, "Conference Program," Leonard Williams plays around with alternate meanings of words in meeting phrases, so an [Arthroplasty conference?], about joint surgery, could be a JOINT DISCUSSION. Classical Greece gets a lot of play in the fill, with ILIAD, the island CHIOS, and ARGUS. ANDROS looks Greek too, but that's an the [Largest island in the Bahamas].
Lynn Lempel's CrosSynergy puzzle ("What a Hoot!") embeds an OWL (70-Across) in each of the five theme entries. Plenty of 7-letter answers in the fill, too.
Tracey Snyder's Wall Street Journal crossword, "Pluses and Minuses," pairs red (debt) and black (in the plus column) entities. Two movies, RED DRAGON and MEN IN BLACK; two bands, the BLACK CROWES and SIMPLY RED; two equine books, Steinbeck's THE RED PONY
and BLACK BEAUTY; and two ways to be treated, RED CARPET and BLACKBALL. TRIP UP, or [Expose in a blunder], is a nice entry, isn't it? The last square I filled in here was the A where MACLE, or [Twinned crystal], and DALASI, or [Gambia's unit of currency], crossed. Favorite clues: [Ride in the space shuttle] for SALLY; [Once-popular diet] for ATKINS (It's no longer popular? Good: I don't like people talking smack about my beloved carbs.); [Dish setting, maybe] for HOUSETOP (yesterday I saw one of those DirecTV satellite dishes on the ground—probably used to be atop a house or affixed to a side wall somewhere); [General delivery?] for ORDER; [Cat hangouts] for LAPS (though I do not want a cat on my lap, ever); [Maker of night flights] for BAT (if you'd like to have bats flying safely around you, visit the Twilight Zone at England's Chester Zoo).
