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Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Danish kroner topologically speaking / THU 1-6-11 / Application letters / Genre for Spice Girls Oasis / Capital ENE of Jerusalem / Symbol above 5

Constructor: Mike Nothnagel

Relative difficulty: Easy-Medium


THEME: BREAK / RANKS (9A: With 65-Across, go against the group ... or what the circled squares literally do in the answers to the starred clues) — circled letters are embedded inside a military rank, which is in turn embedded inside a larger theme answer
  • PERCAPITAINCOME —> (17A: *Average national earnings)(circled "I" inside of CAPTAIN)
  • AMMANJORDAN —> (26A: *Capital ENE of Jerusalem)(circled "N" inside of MAJOR)
  • PERCENTSIGN —> (44A: *Symbol above a 5)(circled "T" inside of ENSIGN)
  • MARSHMALLOWPEEP —> (59A: *Easter basket treat)(circled "M" inside of MARSHAL)
Word of the Day: BRIT POP (39A: Genre for the Spice Girls and Oasis) —

Britpop is a subgenre of alternative rock that originated in the United Kingdom. Britpop emerged from the British independent music scene of the early 1990s and was characterised by bands influenced by British guitar pop music of the 1960s and 1970s. The movement developed as a reaction against various musical and cultural trends in the late 1980s and early 1990s, particularly the grunge phenomenon from the United States. In the wake of the musical invasion into the United Kingdom of American grunge bands, new British groups such as Suede and Blur launched the movement by positioning themselves as opposing musical forces, referencing British guitar music of the past and writing about uniquely British topics and concerns. These bands were soon joined by others including Oasis, Pulp, Supergrass, Sleeper and Elastica. // Britpop groups brought British alternative rock into the mainstream and formed the backbone of a larger British cultural movement called Cool Britannia. Although its more popular bands were able to spread their commercial success overseas, especially to the United States, the movement largely fell apart by the end of the decade. (wikipedia) [Spice Girls??? They have almost Nothing in common with the bands in this blurb, besides being British]

• • •

I like the idea of this puzzle. I don't think I much like its actuality. It's an interesting variation on the embedded word-type theme, but ... there are several problems. First, the circled letters. When you a circle a letter, you draw the solver's eye to that letter, emphasizing its letterness. These letters, however, are meaningless *as letters*. They spell MINT, but I can't believe that's related to the theme. Is it? Maybe there's a rank at the U.S. MINT called "Marshal," because I can't find a U.S. military rank with that name—which brings me to another problem: theme consistency. "Marshal" is a military rank only in other countries, as far as I can tell. Three ranks that are native, one ... that isn't. I've been reading Patrick Berry's "Crossword Challenges for Dummies" over the past couple of days—by far the best guide to constructing puzzles I've ever seen, and particularly good for the novice / aspiring constructor. He spends a lot of time on themes and the importance of getting them Just Right. You do not want a "which of these four is not like the others?" reaction from the solver. "Marshal" sticks out badly in this lot. Next, there's the grid construction, which demonstrates very poor connectivity (another issue Berry highlights). Turn just one more square black (and its symmetrical counterpart, of course), and the two halves of the puzzle don't interconnect at all. Do that just one more time and you've got four islands. I really felt the narrowness of those passageways in the middle of the grid. Ended up feeling as if I'd solved two puzzles. Got the whole top half and had to reboot in the SW. Not ideal. Lastly, MARSHMALLOW PEEP, in the singular, seems weird. And are there non-marshmallow Peeps??? Fill in this puzzle is very smooth, without an obscurity in sight, and only MISDO (32A: Screw up) makes me want a do-over, so thumbs up in that regard. But themewise, this felt ragged around the edges.



Puzzle felt very easy overall, with only the poor connectivity and the supervague clue on NMI (related problems) holding me back at all (29D: Application letters). Somehow remembered the gymnasts' names today (HAMM=>30A: Olympic gymnast Paul or Morgan), and despite having no idea what the TORI clue was getting at (TORI are roughly the shape of donuts) (48A: Danish kroner, topologically speaking), the crosses were pretty kind. Lots of "?" clues today, but they didn't provide much in the way of vexation. Intersecting ones up top proved a little tricky (JINX (5A: Hurl curse words at?) / X-RAYED (8D: Saw right through?)), but only a little. Wanted ADAGE or MAXIM for MORAL (41A: "Slow and steady wins the race," e.g.). Hate A CAT, but like that A CAT is intersecting TAMER (48D: Circus chairperson?).

Bullets:
  • 22A: "Hooked on Classics" record company (K-TEL) — their pop compilations were a staple of TV advertising when I was growing up. I think I own a K-TEL record, the lead song of which is "Him" by Rupert Holmes (of "Piña Colada Song" fame)


  • 37A: Organ donation site (EYE BANK) — Had EYEBALL ... that lost me precious seconds for sure.
  • 67A: Ciudad del ___ (second-largest city in Paraguay) (ESTE) — luckily the word was easy to get, because that's some nearly pointless trivia right there. The parenthetical part is like a parody of the kind of esoteric clues non-solvers believe (mostly erroneously) are the crossword's bread and butter.
  • 3D: Medieval close-combat weapon (WAR HAMMER) — I don't remember this from either my Dungeons&Dragons days or my medieval studies grad school days, but it's a simple description that seems right enough. I was looking for something more technical, like a halberd or pollaxe or falchion or something else only nerds would know.
Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld

[Follow Rex Parker on Twitter]

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Indian Ocean vessel / WED 1-5-11 / TV show that debuted on 1/5/61 / High-tech surveillance acronym / Fergie's duchy / Dance like Hines brothers

Constructor: Mr. Ed Sessa

Relative difficulty: Easy-Medium

THEME: 50th anniversary of "Mr. Ed"'s debut — three theme answers related to the show


Word of the Day: AWACS (33A: High-tech surveillance acronym) —

An airborne early warning and control (AEW&C) system is an airborne radar system designed to detect aircraft. Used at a high altitude, the radars allow the operators to distinguish between friendly and hostile aircraft hundreds of miles away. AEW&C aircraft are used for defensive and offensive air operations. The system is used offensively to direct fighters to their target locations, and defensively to counter attacks. It can also be used to carry out surveillance, and C2BM (command and control, battle management) functions. // AEW&C is also known by the older terms "airborne early warning" (AEW) and "airborne warning and control system" (AWACS, pronounced /ˈeɪwæks/ AY-waks). [Mmm, bygone acronyms ... who doesn't love those!?] (wikipedia)

• • •

In case you didn't know that "Mr. Ed" debuted 50 years ago today, here is a 15x15 grid to tell you so. The fact that today is the anniversary is a lot more interesting (in a passingly trivial kind of way) than this puzzle, which seems to revolve around a joke that might have been funny 50 years ago — a horse saying "TIME TO HIT THE HAY / OH, I FORGOT, I ATE IT. . . IT'S FUNNY BECAUSE THE FIRST HAY WAS IDIOMATIC AND THE SECOND HAY WAS LITERAL AND OH THE WORDPLAY SHENANIGANS WE'LL GET UP TO ON THIS SET!" Mr. Ed was, in fact (or fiction, I guess), a (or THE) TALKING HORSE, and the first line he said was "HELLO, I AM A HORSE AND YOU ARE HEARING ME TALK." Somewhere in all this is the fact that the constructor's name is Ed. Too. Presumably he is not a horse, and thus no relation. The way to tell the difference between a horse and a human? When we screw up, we say "D'oh!" and when a horse screws up, he says "DHOW!" (50D: Indian Ocean vessel).

[Why does the man write his plays in the barn?]

Theme answers:
  • 17A: Opening line from a TV show that debuted on 1/5/61 ("HELLO, I'M MR. ED)
  • 25A: With 43-Across, line spoken by the show's star ("TIME TO HIT THE HAY / OH, I FORGOT, I ATE IT")
  • 57A: Familiar title for the star of the show ("THE TALKING HORSE")
Perhaps this puzzle brings back fond memories of a show you enjoyed as a child, or in reruns, or that you still enjoy on DVD, god help you. But the premise wasn't that interesting to me. Perhaps some cleverer concept would have made this non-"Mr. Ed" fan a fan of this puzzle. But this puzzle expects me to love "Mr. Ed" so much that I'll be tickled with a mere "remember this joke" line. Didn't work. Not a lot to complain about in the overall fill department (just ATWO, IST, OSH, and that AWACS thing), so if this puzzle amused you, I'm happy for you. I can imagine a "Simpsons" puzzle would have a pretty low bar with me, while others would shrug and think "why should I care?," so diff'rent strokes.

How is a puzzle like this allowed to come into being without WILBUR, and without a single line from the theme song!?



I started off very strong, with MEDICI as a gimme (1A: Renowned family of Italian history), and flew through the grid until I hit the west, where "I WISH" wouldn't come easily (26D: "Wouldn't that be nice"), I wasn't *certain* of the number of the MACH (it's I, 27D: Chuck Yeager's breakthrough), and AWACS was a complete mystery. Lots of flailing there. Wanted the overlong FORBIDDEN at 41D: Prohibited and thought the puzzle was taunting me as I uncovered F, then FO, then FOR, then FORB (come on!) (it's FORBADE). Did not know EILEEN (62A: Former space shuttle commander Collins), but her crosses were easy, and did not know DHOW, though I've certainly seen it before. Finished with DHIW, and had enough sense to know that couldn't be it. DHOW doesn't look much better, but its last two letters at least make a recognizable combo in the English language, so I went DHOW.

Bullets:
  • 41A: Phileas ___, fictional circumnavigator (FOGG) — like the clue, though once you see "Phileas," you either know it or you don't. It could have read [... Sno-Cone enthusiast] or [... leather fetishist] and I'd have had FOGG in there before the implications of the description had time to set in. I might not even have seen the second part of the clue, frankly.
  • 47A: It was "lost" in 1981's top-grossing movie (ARK) — then it was found and then it melted the Nazis' faces. I went to a stunt show based on this movie at the Disney Hollywood Studios theme park just this past Sunday. Sadly, the Nazi face-melting was not a stunt they recreated.
  • 52A: Of the lower small intestine (ILEAC) — I'll add this to the "non-ideal fill" category. It's just ugly. Also, I was not aware that the small intestine was up for grabs, so to speak, fill-wise. How is that better than RECTUM? It's all connected, right? I guess ILEAC just isn't a word that's going to make you spit your coffee all over your paper. Probably.
  • 10D: "Rocky and Bullwinkle" villainess (NATASHA) — I like this one because of the word "villainess" and because it's roughly from the same time period of the show being honored.
  • 13D: Jazz duo in London? (ZEDS) — Word "Jazz" has two Zs, or ZEDS; old trick.
  • 52A: 37D: Fergie's duchy (YORK) — she married Prince Andrew 25 years ago ... thus 25 years after the debut of "Mr. Ed." Coincidence? Probably.
  • 29D: Dance like the Hines Brothers (TAP) — Gregory Hines had a brother? Whoa. Check it out:


Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld

[Follow Rex Parker on Twitter]

C'était Noël


Cette année, trois réveillons de Noël !

En temps normal à cette période, ma famille et moi allons à Marrakech, 2010 aura été une exception.
Après tout, on est tellement mieux bien chez soi...


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Monday, January 3, 2011

1/60 fluid dram / TUE 1-4-11 / Simpsons voice man Hank / Black-bordered news item / Comic who quipped Weather forecast for tonight dark

Constructor: David Hanson

Relative difficulty: Medium

THEME: PALINDROMIC WORD (37A: What every answer on the perimeter of this puzzle is) — pretty self-explanatory


Word of the Day: Henry James PYE (46A: English poet laureate Henry James ___) —
Henry James Pye (20 February 1745 – 11 August 1813) was an English poet. Pye was Poet Laureate from 1790 until his death. He was the first poet laureate to receive a fixed salary of £27 instead of the historic tierce of Canary wine (though it was still a fairly nominal payment; then as now the Poet Laureate had to look to extra sales generated by the prestige of the office to make significant money from the Laureateship). [that is possibly the weakest, least revealing opening wikipedia paragraph any Poet Laureate ever got ... then again, when your big hit is "Poems on Various Subjects," maybe there's not a lot to say ... oh, wait; it goes on ...] The appointment [to Poet Laureate] was looked on as ridiculous, and [Pye's] birthday odes were a continual source of contempt. The 20th century British historian Lord Blake called Pye "the worst Poet Laureate in English history with the possible exception of Alfred Austin." (wikipedia)
• • •

Felt toughish in places, but then got super-easy in others, and ended up pretty much right over the plate for a Tuesday. Theme seems a little thin ... like something I've seen before (I've definitely seen the "words on the perimeter have something in common" idea before). There's no unity to the theme answers or the ways they are clued. Just palindromes. OK. Still, the fill is smooth and at least a couple words (CAUTERIZE; 32A: Burn, as a wound) ("I'M TELLING!"; 43A: Schoolyard snitch's words) are top-notch, so it seems a perfectly acceptable Tuesday offering.

Had a very open feeling for a 78-worder, due mostly to the east, center, and west sections, all of which have sixes and sevens pressed against each other in largish blocks. It seems I had no idea that "PIP PIP!" meant "Goodbye!," though I should've guessed, since the only time I've seen it in print is in a Lynda Barry cartoon where Britspeak is being parodied and the phrase immediately precedes "Cheerio!," which I do recognize as a valediction. What gave me more trouble than coming up with the answer (actually not that hard) was typing the damn thing. My right hand really does Not want to make the finger motions necessary to put that phrase into play. It was a P and I bloodbath over there until I set about entering the letters very deliberately. Only other hold-up I had was at CACHE POT (39D: Decorative plant holder), a word I know only from crosswords, and then only once. Needed nearly every cross.

PALINDROMIC WORDs:
  • 1A: The old man (DAD)
  • 4A: Like a pool table, ideally (LEVEL)
  • 9A: Flights like Lindy's (SOLOS)
  • 13D: One in the family, informally (SIS)
  • 28D: More visibly ashamed (REDDER)
  • 53D: Barfly's binge (TOOT)
  • 65A: Repeated machine gun sound (TAT)
  • 64A: Guiding principle (TENET)
  • 63A: 1/60 fluid dram (MINIM)
  • 54D: Partner of baseball and apple pie (MOM)
  • 29D: Brit's "Goodbye!" ("PIP, PIP!")
  • 1D: Something good for a Boy Scout? (DEED)
Weird assortment of words, containing an entire family, and the seeds of a short story about an apothecary's embarrassing drinking habit and the plucky British girl who saved his home from foerclosure by winning a series of singing contests. Speaking of singing ...

[25A: Eggnog sprinkling]
Bullets:
  • 24D: Margaret Mead interviewees (SAMOANS) — apparently some of her interviewees may have provided false information, which she swallowed uncritically ... read that somewhere, and now that's all I can think about when I see Mead's name.
  • 26D: Rock climbers' spikes (PITONS) — like CACHE POT, a word I learned from crosswords.
  • 27D: "The Simpsons" voice man Hank (AZARIA) — The voice of crossword stalwarts APU and MOE and many, many others.


  • 32D: Comic who quipped "Weather forecast for tonight: dark" (CARLIN) — not a very CARLINy quote, but I guess you couldn't really go with "Religion is the greatest bullshit story ever told," could you?


[Profanity ahead—do not play if you're easily offended]

Just got word that the Crosswords L.A. Tournament this year will feature custom-made puzzles by a bunch of well-known and accomplished constructors, including Tyler Hinman, Andrea Carla Michaels, Patrick Blindauer, Liz Gorski, and Karen Tracey (who has been strangely silent for the past year or so—I miss your work, Karen. Make more puzzles!). The tournament (run by the lovely and astonishingly well-organized Elissa Grossman) will be held Sunday, May 1, 2011 on the campus of Loyola-Marymount University—a beautiful setting, on a hill overlooking the ocean. I will be a scorer again this year (my college reunion is the same weekend, so I get a Southern California twofer!). It's a great time, for a great cause (all proceeds benefit "Reading to Kids"). For more information, visit the tournament website.

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld

[Follow Rex Parker on Twitter]

Sunday, January 2, 2011

Variation of rummy that was 1950s fad / MON 1-3-11 / Miss America band / Old cop show starring Telly Savalas / Take someone's wheels from at gunpoint

Constructor: Ian Livengood

Relative difficulty: Medium-Challenging (foraMondayforaMondayforaMonday)

THEME: ACK Attack — theme answers are seven two-word phrases (or two-syllable compound words) that end in -ACK


Word of the Day: CANASTA (4D: Variation of rummy that was a 1950s fad) —

Canasta (Spanish for "basket"; pronounced /kəˈnæstə/ in English) is a card game of the rummy family of games believed to be a variant of 500 Rum. Although many variations exist for 2, 3, 5 or 6 players, it is most commonly played by four in two partnerships with two standard decks of cards. Players attempt to make melds of 7 cards of the same rank and "go out" by playing all cards in their hand. It is the only partnership member of the family of Rummy games to achieve the status of a classic. // The game of Canasta was devised by attorney Segundo Santos and architect Alberto Serrato in Montevideo, Uruguay, in 1939. In the 1940s the game quickly spread in a myriad of variations to Chile, Peru, Brazil and Argentina, where its rules were further refined before being introduced to the United States in 1948, where it was then referred to as the Argentine Rummy game by Ottilie H. Reilly in 1949 and Michael Scully of Coronet Magazine in 1953. The game quickly became a card-craze boom in the 1950s providing a sales avalanche of card sets, card trays and books about the subject. (wikipedia)

• • •

Hello and welcome to the 2011 edition of Rex Parker Does the NYT Crossword Puzzle — Now With a Fresh, Lemony Scent! I am freshly returned from four days (of what should have been seven days—thanks, snow) in Orlando with my family (dad, stepmom, their four children, their five grandchildren). I am happy to say that in the three full days I spent there, I did nothing, nothing, and the Disney Hollywood Studios theme park (the highlight of which was the Aerosmith Rock&Rollercoaster, which I rode first thing in the morning, and the lowlight of which was ... most of the rest of it, except for the company of my family, of course, which is —mostly— priceless). We had a decidedly horror-free flying experience (including the fastest home-to-gate and gate-to-home times I've ever clocked), and are glad to be back and rested and ready to show 2011 who's boss (maybe this is the year I explain my love for "Who's the Boss?"—the comfort foodiest, guilty pleasuriest thing I indulge in, TV-wise) (my best friend and I once created a series of pitches for "Who's the Boss" remakes–remains either the funniest thing either of us has ever done, or a stupid thing that we mistakenly believe is hilarious—maybe 2011 is the year *you'll* be the judge of that—maybe not). One thing I know—2011 will not be the year I stop overindulging in parentheses.

Ian Livengood ... so here you are. I was wondering what happened to you when you Failed To Submit Your Picks for the final week of our NFL pool. I could only surmise that after taunting me around week five for how poorly I was doing, you were too despondent this past week when you realized that you were hopelessly behind me (12 weeks in a row picking 50-50 or better, thank you very much) and could do no better than ... well, who cares, you were behind me. But it's possible you were CARJACKed. I hope not, but who knows? At any rate, I see you are alive and well and constructing, so that's something.

PS I didn't win the pool (stupid SethG and his stupid impossible 15-1 week a while back put an end to that dream), but I did come in second, and the Lions did end the season on a four-game winning streak by beating stupid over-exposed (!) Brett Favre, so I'm mostly fairly pleased anyway. It's not like money was at stake (was it? Seth?).

Today's is a *very* loose theme that gains tightness (and NYT-worthiness) through several factors:
  1. Density — 7 theme answers of 8+ letters on a Monday is a Lot
  2. Relative liveliness — "THAT'S WACK" alone puts the puzzle well into Fresh and Lively territory
  3. The two-syllable thing — Every theme answer = two syllables, giving another dimension of unity to the theme, as well as adding a fabulous jackhammer rhythm (if you read the theme answers aloud in quick succession)
Furthermore, the non-theme fill, while not scintillating, is absolutely solid (except ALB ... which is more than offset by "LET'S TALK," so my point stands). With occasionally tricky cluing ([Miss America band]!), this one took me slightly longer than the average Monday. But again, as I've said before, "Medium-Challenging" for me on a Monday is just a big handful of seconds over 3 minutes.

Theme answers:
  • 17A: "Don't get too close!" ("STAND BACK!") — here is where I got held up and ended up with a mistake I had to fix. I started out with STAY-something. STAY-blank. And then when I got the BACK end through crosses, I forgot to go back and fix STAY, so ended up with the nonsensical STAYDBACK, which gave me CAYASTA (!?!?!) instead of CANASTA (4D: Variation of rummy that was a 1950s fad). One simple letter fix and perhaps this puzzle would have been a normal Medium Monday after all. We'll never know.

  • 21A: "Wow, totally crazy!" ('THAT'S WACK!")
  • 26A: Stars of "The Breakfast Club" and "St. Elmo's Fire," collectively (BRAT PACK)
  • 40A: Take someone's wheels from at gunpoint (CARJACK)
  • 49A: Hiker's bag (KNAPSACK)
  • 54A: Place for parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme (SPICE RACK)
  • 64A: Bulletin board fastener (THUMB TACK)
Better clue today for SENILE (47A: Definitely past one's mental peak), though perhaps still unwelcome to all those people solving because they believe it will do something to help them avoid dementia. Good luck hiding from me, says SENILE. I'm sure the word has a perfectly neutral, clinical meaning, but it always strikes me as slightly ... derisive. Plus, it rhymes with PENILE, which is just unfortunate. I put Edmonton in ONTario, today, lord knows why. Perhaps because ONT. is sooo much more common than ALB. as a Prov. abbrev. ARMOR, however, I got easily, even though (as any student of Arthurian literature will tell you), the real source of [Galahad's protection] is God. Galahad is like a dang superhero, only more untouchable. I'm not sure the bad guys ever even put a dent in his armor. He is the Chosen One. The only one to achieve the Holy Grail in Malory. He is perfect in every way. Hence, he is dull as a post and sanctimonious as all get out. No fun at parties, either.

Never did understand what "the tropic of Sir Galahad" was all about... explanations wanted. Fictional explanations preferred.



Happy 2011,

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld

[Follow Rex Parker on Twitter]

Saturday, January 1, 2011

1934 novel Maw'id / SUN 1-2-11 / German photographer Bing / 1968 hit song Nazad / 1985 hit song Neung Keun / 2003 film Érase una Vez

Constructor: David Levinson Wilk

Relative difficulty: Medium


THEME: "Works in Translation" — Easy to understand, but hard to describe. The theme answers are titles with the pattern "Something in Somewhere." The "Something" is translated into the language spoken in "Somewhere" to create the clues. Got it?

Word of the Day: AVEDA (79D: Skin care brand ) —
Aveda (pronounced ah-vay-da) was founded by Horst Rechelbacher in 1978. In 1970, Rechelbacher, on a trip to India, was introduced to the healing properties of Ayurveda (the Hindu science of longevity) and the vision for his company (and the name Aveda) was born. Horst had formulated the first product, a clove shampoo, in his kitchen sink. Today Aveda is part of Estée Lauder Companies, Inc. According to the company's website, "Aveda" is Sanskrit for "all knowledge," but in fact means "no knowledge." (Wikipedia)
• • •

Greetings, Rexites. This is Doug Peterson, in the house with PuzzleGirl, and ready to do some semi-serious crossword blogging. We're filling in for Rex today, but I can assure you that he is not drunk. However, there was a rumor going around that he's been hopped up on goofballs all weekend.

I'm very glad to be talking to you today. You wouldn't believe the hoops I had to jump through to become an official Rex Parker contributor. There was a background check, blood test, retinal scan, and … a couple other things I don't want to talk about right now. But it looks like I've been approved and am good to go. If the RP security goons drag me out of here before we're done, PuzzleGirl can finish up by herself.


The reason we're doing team blogging today is that we usually solve the Sunday puzzle together. Personally, I just got tired of Sunday puzzles several months ago. They're just too big! For some reason I really feel like I'm just slogging my way through a 21x21. So Doug suggested we solve together on the New York Times “Solve with a Friend!” applet and we've done it that way ever since. To make it interesting, one of us solves only the acrosses and the other does only the downs. We try to stay in the same general area as we're making our way around the grid, but sometimes that doesn't work too well. If you look at the grid we posted, you'll see that some of the letters are green (those are the ones I entered) and some are blue (those are Doug's). Sometimes when we're all done, the whole grid is pretty much Doug's color and that's embarrassing. When that happens, I usually come up with some lame excuse about how my kids were bugging me or the smoke alarm went off or something. I'm pretty sure Doug knows I'm lying when I do that, but he's too nice to say anything.

Theme answers:
  • 27A: 1934 novel "Maw'id" (APPOINTMENT IN SAMARRA).
  • 38A: 1968 hit song "Nazad" (BACK IN THE USSR).
  • 47A: 1985 hit song "Neung Keun" (ONE NIGHT IN BANGKOK).
  • 68A: 2003 film "Érase una Vez" (ONCE UPON A TIME IN MEXICO).
  • 90A: 1951 film "Une Personne des États-Unis" (AN AMERICAN IN PARIS).
  • 99A: 1912 novella "Morte" (DEATH IN VENICE).
  • 114A: 1943 novel "Whaddya Tink? A Sapling Stays a Sapling Fuhevah?" (A TREE GROWS IN BROOKLYN).
(Note: The bulleted list above contains English-alphabet versions of the clues for 27A, 38A, and 47A. The original clues are shown in the image underneath. Thanks to the NY Times and its Wordplay blog for providing the image. We tried to insert those funky foreign letters into our write-up, but it wasn't working at all. Apparently English is the official language of the Rex Parker blog.)

If you're wondering who came up with that wonderfully lame theme explanation up top, it was me, Doug. Some of you may still be confused, so let's look at an example, say, 99 Across. "Morte" is the Italian word for "death," so the word "Morte" is literally "Death in Italian" or specifically "Death in Venice." The rest of them follow the same pattern. "Maw'id" is Arabic for "appointment," "Nazad" is Russian for "back," etc. Very clever! And the last one, written in Brooklynese, is the most awesome of all. I love when the constructor saves a killer punchline for the last theme entry. Well done!

Bullets:
  • 31A: Harold's car in "Harold and Maude" (HEARSE). Herman's car in "The Munsters" would have been an easier reference for me. [Claire's car on "Six Feet Under" for me.]
  • 64A: Electrophorus electricus, for one (EEL). Really? This reminds me of the pseudo-Latin names they used at the beginnings of Road Runner cartoons. Road Runner would be classified as "Acceleratii incredibus" or "Velocitus delectiblus" and Wile E. Coyote as "Famishus vulgarus" or "Apetitus giganticus."
  • 76A: Constellation next to Ursa Major and Ursa Minor (DRACO).
  • 85A: Brilliant display (RIOT). Tricky clue. I've heard the phrase a "riot of color," so it works.
  • 113A: 90% off? (SENILE). My least favorite clue of the day. I don't need to see a "funny" clue for SENILE. People affected by senility are 90% off? That's just cruel.
  • 123A: German photographer ___ Bing (ILSE). Ah, the great Ilse Bing! If you look at the grid, you'll see that this answer, even though it's an Across, is all in green. That means that PuzzleGirl filled in every letter for me.
  • 127A: Classic brand of hair remover (NEET). I learned recently (from Orange's blog) that Neet is now known as Veet. Remember the ads for the hair removal product called Nads? Seriously, Nads? If I weren't so mature, I'd find that name hilarious. I could find out more, but there's no way I'm typing www.nads.com into my browser.
  • 1D: Bike brand (YAMAHA). I wanted SCHWINN. Totally different kind of bike.
  • 4D: It's often visited during a trip (MOTOR INN). Oh yeah ….
  • 5D: Failure to communicate? (PHONE TAG). This is an awesome clue. PHONE TAG is one of those terms that used to be totally hilarious and now it's just like a normal thing to say. Isn't that funny how that happens?
  • 8D: Daily or weekly (ADVERB). This one stumped me for quite a while. I thought it would have something to do with magazines or newspapers or some other type of publication.
  • 11D: Author Steinhauer with the 2009 best seller "The Tourist" (OLEN). No idea. [We already have Robert Olen Butler for our OLEN clues, and that should be sufficient. Now we need to remember another author no one's ever heard of?]
  • 41D: "And who ___?" (ISN'T). One of two relatively snippy colloquial phrases in this puzzle. See also, 81D: "Any day now" ("I'M WAITING").
  • 52D: Area crossed by Marco Polo (GOBI). Wait, Marco Polo didn't travel across a body of water calling out to his crew members to guide him because he was, I don't know, blind-folded or something? I've really had that wrong all these years.
  • 94D: Comic who said "A short summary of every Jewish holiday: They tried to kill us. We won. Let's eat" (ALAN KING). Okay, that's funny.
  • 101D: Gourd (NOGGIN). Here in the PuzzleHouse we prefer "melon," as in "Can you get this shirt over your big melon or is it time to send it to Goodwill?" (That's me talking to PuzzleSon. The first thing I said when he was born — and I'm not making this up — was "Oh my God, it's huge." The boy has a big head, is what I'm saying.)
  • 104D: The Supreme Court, e.g. (ENNEAD). "ENNEA-" means "nine." There are nine Supreme Court justices. Quick — name them! No cheating!
When I found out I was going to be teaming up with PuzzleGirl on today's blog, I told her, "I hope we get a good one!" And today's puzzle was great, so no worries. I thought the theme was fun, clever, and consistent. You can't ask for much more. But I would like to make a request of Will Shortz and future Sunday constructors. Could you please try to make sure you have theme answers running in both the Across and the Down directions? It makes it more fun for those of us who only get to see half the clues every week. I don't have my own cool sign-off yet, so I'll borrow one from Ryan Seacrest: Peterson out!

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2011 here we are !


Happy new year fellows !

J'espère que votre entrée dans la nouvelle année était aussi sereine que la mienne...

Sereine, parfaitement.
Petit dîner en amoureux autour de saumon, foie gras, bouteille de Sauternes et TF1.

Nous n'avions absolument pas envie de sortir et faire la tournée des soirées débiles pour nous retrouver confrontés à Jeanette et Bébert complètement torchés, ni même envie d'affronter le froid et les problèmes de circulation (souvenez-vous l'an dernier, j'ai fait le décompte dans une voiture avec mes amies !).

Nous avons donc fait un petit effort quand même en sortant quelques accessoires, serres-têtes et jupe fantaisie, histoire de marquer le coup !




Et qui dit nouvelle année, dit nouveaux espoirs.
Vous le saurez, j'adore les clichés, tout ce qui est cheesy.

Je profite de ce billet pour vous remercier de votre fidélité depuis deux ans et demi, enrichir ce blog m'a apporté beaucoup de bonnes choses, aussi bien grâce aux rencontres effectuées via internet et dans la vie réelle, que dans les opportunités qui m'ont été proposées.

J'ai beaucoup lu que l'année 2010 était passée à la vitesse de la lumière pour beaucoup.
Pour moi, pas vraiment, elle m'a même paru longue.
Bien que très excitante, j'ai quand même eu la chance de faire ce que j'aime et de voyager, ce fût une année de changement donc de doutes.
Je me suis vue changer, grandir et je commence toute juste à sortir de mon cocon, entre autre professionnel...
Tout cela pour vous rappeler de ne jamais vous sous-estimer et de "ne laisser personne venir à vous et repartir sans être plus heureux."
Que l'allégresse prime sur les problèmes et les tristesses !
Happy 2011 !

Séquence émotion close.
Parlons peu, parlons bien, parlons... UGG. Je vous en prie, ravalez votre vomi.
J'ai sans cesse clamé mon profond dégoût pour cette paire de chaussures. J'appelle ça pantoufles de ville.

Elles sont moches, très moches, oh oui.
Mais une fois le pied dedans, on ne les quitte plus, j'étais pourtant prévenue.
Je me suis fait salement avoir à tel point que je les porte également chez moi quand je traîne en jogging. Martin est ravi.

Pour la petite histoire c'est un cadeau de ma Maman de retour des US. Heureusement pour moi, elles les a choisi basses, je le vis mieux.

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Jean - Primark
Manteau - Zara
Poncho / Echarpe - Crimson
Chaussures - UGG
Sacoche - Anthropologie


Hier soir, gros show ! Allez, hop ça ne dure qu'une heure et demie, Niki Minaj, Weezy, Drake etc...


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