Ace

Before pivoting my career to manufacturing life-sized cardboard cutouts of Ted Danson, I worked in a LEATHER BAR briefly after college. It was an edifying experience for two reasons: 1) the owner kept a 26 volume set of the Encyclopedia Britannica behind the bar which I read avidly in my spare time, and 2) I was listening to an audio CD of lectures on the Civil War that summer. The one thing I never understood was why General Grant failed to entrench his troops prior to the surprise attack at the Battle of Shiloh. It seems to me that a wartime leader and strategist of his intellect and experience would have had the foresight to avoid such a costly blunder. It’s salient questions like this about our nation’s darkest era, which will always remind me of the smell of leather and the sound of The Village People blaring through a PA system.

Took me 47 minutes to complete but to be fair, I was conducting the LA Phil in a performance of Sibelius No. 2 while solving tonight.

My PAPA tells a great story about having lunch with Orson Welles in Barcelona in the late ‘60s. Dad was living a bohemian existence in his twenties, lillypadding around Europe and developing his painting craft while studying the works of the great masters. He fell in with a sort of artist collective there—writers, musicians, painters, et al—and they would pal around the museums and cafes during the day and the galleries and clubs by night, often getting invited to swank society parties that were looking to add a little color and flair to their guest lists. One night they ended up crashing a late night afterparty in some private residence on beach and there was Mr. Welles, amidst a flock of other celebrities and local well-to-dos. According to my father he was “feeling no pain” and was rushing out the door with a young woman on his arm, but he stopped when he saw them and asked through a slur, “are you beautiful people artists by chance?” They chatted for moment and Welles invited them to lunch the next day at his favorite restaurant, 7 Portes. “The paella is historic. Meet me under the colonnade, not before 2. Never before 2!” They arrived the next afternoon to find Mr. Welles seated at his personal table, holding court and regaling an enrapt audience with ripping yarns from Hollywood and parts abroad. Welles had apparently been there for hours, as the empty plates of at least three separate meals could attest, impossibly drunk, and wearing nothing but a fruit hat.

I don’t understand the consternation here. The theme is insultingly simple. You take the maiden name of Louis Gossett Jr.’s great aunt Thelma and multiply the number of its letters by the number of letters in the italicized clue. You then divide by pi and apply the corresponding Sanskrit character for each of the digits in the result—BUT—you must remember to apply it from right to left, not left to right. Finally, you translate the Sanskrit into Aramaic, THEN back into English, but using the Middle English spellings for answers referencing a Gossett Jr. film title released in 1982. Hence 47A solving to ANOFFICERANDAGENTYLMAN.

“Please like and subscribe” on YouTube videos is called BEGGING, and it’s insufferable.

Brutal for a Thursday. Also, the phrase is I’VE BEEN HAD.

[Bossa, _____, swing, rock] MISS A BEAT [Sharp, _____, three-point, U] LOSE A TURN [Ace, _____, 3, 4] DROP A DEUCE

Thirty years ago when I was of college age, I convinced my parents that I wanted to pursue a career in cheek quivering. Essentially it’s what Nixon did when he spoke, but to a more refined and controlled degree. The problem was there was only one cheek quivering conservatory in the whole world at the time, a far cry from today, when they seem to be on every corner now, even more plentiful than Starbucks. The conservatory was located in the Himalayas, just at the base of the south col of Mt. Everest, so getting there was a bit of a trek, and, being the only school of its kind, the tuition was exorbitant. $3Million per semester, and it was a seven year program. It would have been even more expensive but I agreed to commute each day from STATEN ISLAND to save my parents some money. All in all I’d say the program was pretty good, but not great. I feel like if I went back today it would be a more comprehensive syllabus, but the program was in its infancy then. All-in-all I don’t regret going because I made some lifelong friends and partied really hard, but if I had to do it all over again I’d probably have chosen a normal college and a career in something lucrative like Eleanor Roosevelt impersonation, or pogo stick salesman impersonation.

I made the mistake of HECKLING Henry Kissinger in the 70’s at the UN. He was giving a speech concerning his approach to Soviet détente, but I thought he was doing a stand-up routine about borscht. This had less to do with his oration and more to do with the fact that, at the time, I was subsisting almost entirely on a diet of lithium and LSD. My memory is hazy as to what I was doing at the General Assembly Building, or how I even managed to get in, but at one point I called out from the gallery, “Yo Hank, why don’t you put a sock in it and get those legs shaved for once!” Well, you can imagine this didn’t sit well with the dignitaries, and I’m sure the translators struggled to make sense of it as well, but nothing could have prepared me for what happened next. Kissinger stopped speaking and slowly raised his head, looking straight at me from across the auditorium. He began quivering with an intense scowl, to the point that his face began to turn blue in color and foam began to ooze from his grimace. This grotesque display went on for a good 45 minutes before he levitated above the assembly and flew directly over my head, still looking down into my eyes, and shaking violently as ever. It was at this point that the interior of the room turned into a kind of hellscape inferno and smoke began to billow from Kissinger’s ears. I have no idea what happened after that, but the next thing I knew I was lying half naked under the 59th St. bridge, covered in talcum powder.

Huh. I’ve gone my whole life apparently incorrectly using deplore as a synonym for despise.

MISSED A BEAU Sigh…When I was a young woman in Lisbon in the 1960s I went with an older man (40s) who opened up my world. His breadth of experience and wisdom made me feel like the chosen one, learning and loving from a true master of life. About 6 months into the relationship I spotted him at a cafe kissing another young woman. I ran up to them and started yelling, and they both laughed and brushed me away. I was completely devastated. When I saw him again I broke it off and he asked why. He didn’t understand the concept of monogamy. In my youthful naïveté I suppose I walked right into that one. It wasn’t that he had cheated, it was that I had foolishly believed our relationship was monogamous, when in reality we had never stipulated that. In his world that just didn’t exist. The moral of the story is never go to Lisbon in your 20s looking for love.

Felt like a Friday puzzle till I stopped attempting the northwest section and saw the rest was a solid Tuesday. Then was able to come back to NW. But man was that a rough quadrant.

Some esoteric references for a Wednesday.

This is the kind of puzzle that makes me nostalgic for my salad days as a naive, carefree twenty three year old Prince of Monaco. Puttering about on the French Riviera without a clue as to what I would do with my life. Living day to day, a rather bohemian existence, hobnobbing with royalty and dignitaries, gala events, global summits, exploring the arts and world culture through my political influence and bottomless bank account. Now, as a middle aged man with a stable, if not lucrative vinyl siding business in Kenosha I can exhale a sigh of relief knowing everything eventually worked out, but back then the future was little more than a daunting abyss of uncertainty and crippling self doubt.

I only met Ayn Rand three times, but they were all memorable occasions. The first time was in the lobby of the Hotel de Crillon in Paris in the late 1960s. I was working as a bell hop and she approached me and asked if I knew anywhere nearby where she might purchase a live harbor seal. I told her I did not, and she then proceeded to scowl at me before getting down on the floor and gently rubbing her cheeks on the carpet. The second time was years later in New York. I was working as a waiter at the Four Seasons, and she was dining with a table of upper-crust literati. She asked if there was any live seal on the menu, and when I told her there was not, she scowled at me then got down in the floor and began rubbing her cheeks gently on the carpet. The third and final time I met Ayn Rand was in 1982. I had pivoted my career to open up a live harbor seal and carpet shop in midtown. Rand came in and didn’t say a word, but I’m sure you can imagine what happened next.

As a CHAIR UMPIRE I officiated at Wimbledon from 1961-1986. I officiated the now-infamous McEnroe/Gullikson match in which McEnroe removed his pants and did “the worm” for thirty-six minutes on the grass court. Tennis has changed considerably since those days, some would argue for the better.

EARTHA Kitt and I dated briefly in the ‘60s. She even finagled a brief non-speaking role for me in an episode of the Batman TV series. It was the one where Commissioner Gordon decides to quit the force and try his hand at male modeling. Kind of an odd episode because Batman and Robin don’t appear in it at all. It’s just thirty minutes of the actor Neil Hamilton posing for photoshoots and walking the runway at various fashion shows. In one scene Catwoman is also “walking the catwalk” alongside commissioner Gordon, and they’re both wearing the same catsuit costume (it’s all part of her plot to steal a priceless diamond necklace and pin it on the commish). In that scene, I’m supposed to come out from backstage and hand Catwoman the necklace, but I kept tripping over my own facial hair (I wore a six foot long beard in those days). We did 37 takes and never got the shot, so I ended up getting fired and replaced with Don Knotts. Apparently Eartha had the same idea because she stopped returning my calls after that and moved in with Knotts a week later.

Took me three hours and twenty nine minutes but I finally solved it by entering a rebus for every square with all 26 letters of the alphabet in each one.

Odd choice to make every single answer DOODYHEAD, but with 365 of these to publish a year I guess they can’t all be winners.

I got BLOVIATES and GEST because those are common words found in everyday use by every human on earth, but ROTH?? How does that even make sense?? The clue is [Veronica ______, author of the “Divergent” novels]. Like, WHAT? So I get that “author” means “composer” in this context, and “novels” means “new” or “news” in the plural, but how does news about a composer equate to ROTH? And what on earth does Veronica from the Archie comics have to do with anything? Is the implication that she has “diverged” from her lucrative career as a professional Lyndon Johnson impersonator (as outlined in detail in the comics) and become a newsworthy composer of secular art song and tone poem? Like…WHAT??! Look, this was a fine puzzle up to a point but I’m sorry, that clue is just ridiculous.

Before our careers in heating and air conditioning repair took off, King Arthur and I were both carnival barkers. They called us the “Kings of the Midway,” even though Art was technically the only royalty among us. We had all the games: dunk tank, water gun race, balloon darts, guess your weight, strength tester, and of course, the crown jewel of the midway, the RINGTOSS. I’ll never forget the time Percival rolled through and hit three for three right on the cup. A perfect round. And if that wasn’t enough, it turned out “the cup” was actually the Holy GRAIL. As I live and breathe, my brothers. This thing was just sitting there the whole time, right under our noses! Well, you can bet your cadusia we never let Arty live that one down.

Brutal. Especially the northwest quadrant. Can someone explain to me how AMAT is a Latin “I” word? Amat translates as he/she/it loves, not I love. If constructor meant “L word” they should have used a capital L instead of a lower case which read to me as a capital i. Also, in 44 years of walking this earth I’ve never seen scheds spelled SKEDS.

As an added personal challenge I decided to attempt today’s puzzle whilst bound in a straitjacket and suspended upside down over the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge. I’ll spare details, but needless to say after 6 hours and an NYPD airlift across the Upper Bay, this wasn’t a personal best for me brahs.

Awesome puzzle! Haven’t had this much fun since me, Rasputin, and Mordecai “Three Finger” Brown got stranded in Guadalajara and started a mariachi trio working for tips to rent pack mules to ride back up across the border. I’ll spare you the details, but Rasputin ended up getting stuck on a señorita in San Juan del Rio and me and Brown wound up on a garbage barge out of Baja for the next forty seven years. Good times..

I owned and operated a small patisserie in Le Marais during the ‘60s and ‘70s called “MOI.” During that time I had a reputation for making some of the best macarons in Paris. On Sunday morning the lines would stretch down Rue des Rosiers for two hours before opening, and the macarons would be sold out in thirty minutes. One afternoon Alfred Hitchcock came in with a small group and asked for a bag of pistachio macarons. I regretfully told him we had run out for the day, and he shrugged his shoulders and very pleasantly said, “Not a problem, I’ll wait.” I then proceeded to make a fresh batch of pistachio macarons from scratch for Alfred Hitchcock, who spent the time chatting with his entourage and our staff. He was very kind and gave us a large gratuity for our service. But as he left, and I’ll never forget this as long as I live, he turned back and looked at me with the most horrifying scowl. The lights seemed to dim, and his eyes turned a bright shade of glowing red. He then opened his mouth and his voice had deepened into a resonant demonic growl as he said, “SHAVE THEM DOWN AND MAKE THEM SMOOTH!” At which point a swarm of wasps flew out of his mouth into the bakery. As we desperately swatted at them the last thing I saw was Hitchcock walking out the door, and suddenly a pair of leathery wings sprouted from his back, tearing through the fabric of his suit, as he clumsily loped into the air and flew away above the Parisian skyline, cackling.

Haven’t had such little fun on a Monday since my colonoscopy.

I only met Donny Pleasance twice, but they were both memorable occasions. The first time I was walking into Musso & Frank in the mid ‘70s and he was walking out. We sort of bumped into each other and I (rather wittily, I thought) remarked, “pardon me, Mr. Blofeld,” in my very best Elaine Stritch impression. He sort of looked back and reeled, before bending over and violently losing his lunch into the ashtray by the valet stand. The second time was years later in Gstaad, I was coming off the ski lift with my publicist’s wife when I spotted Don, just preparing to launch down the slope. I snuck up behind him and, in my very best Ludwig-van-Beethoven-doing-a-velociraptor impression, shrieked, “SPECTRE!” He sort of looked back at me, then wobbled a bit, before clumsily careening down the mountainside, leaving a trail of technicolor disgorgement in his wake. Strictly speaking, there was a third occasion as well, involving my spot-on Mary Todd Lincoln impression and a subsequent loudspeaker announcement canceling the rest of the evening’s festivities on account of a Mr. Pleasance having been taken rather suddenly and violently ill, but I don’t count that time because I had just had my eyeballs tattooed and actually thought I was talking to Empress Wu Zetian at the time.

One of my first gigs out of florist’s college was operating the Zamboni at the local ICE ARENA in Tallahassee. Then home to the Tiger Sharks, I would drive the ‘Boni out onto the ice between the periods and make it smooth and supple. I’d wet it down and make it real slick. Now, anyone familiar with hockey knows that the fans tend to get a little rowdy, especially later in the game after a few pitchers from the ol’ ALE TAP, and it wasn’t uncommon for them to hurl various items onto the ice in my general direction, such as empty beer cups, garments of clothing, small odd-toed ungulates, things of that nature, my brothers. Well, one game the crowd was particularly ornery and restless and somebody threw an actual Zamboni out onto the ice. A second Zamboni right onto the rink. I had my headphones on and was rocking out to my favorite cassette tape, “Phil Collins Plays Stravinsky’s Greatest Hits,” not having noticed the massive obstruction directly ahead, and crashed right into it. I was thrown clear onto the ice, and my rogue Zamboni (now ghost-riding full speed ahead with no driver), ran right over my left leg, shellacking it to a shiny, icy finish. Well, that was decades ago, but it’s why they still call me “Smooth Foot Rogers” down in the Panhandle, brahs.

I only met Daniel Craig on two occasions but they were both memorable. The first time was at the Met Gala in ‘86. I was working as a bus boy and accidentally spilled heavy cream on the crotch of his trousers. He was very kind and didn’t make a fuss, despite the fact that he was no doubt wearing something one-of-a-kind and irreplaceable, and I always looked upon him charitably after that. The second time was years later in Rio. There is a restaurant and bar nested within one of the swimming pools at the Copacabana Palace and I was working there as a bus boy in the mid aughts. Mr. Craig was having lunch with several guests and I accidentally spilled bananas foster on the crotch of his swimsuit. He was surprisingly relaxed about it and we all had a good laugh. Technically we had a third encounter on the moon last year (I was working part time there as a busboy), involving a custard stain on the inner leg of his spacesuit, but he refused to speak with me afterward, so I can’t rightly call it a meeting.

Not gonna lie, this puzzle reminded me of the time I met up with Elaine Stritch for coffee at Cafe Reggio in the 80s. We talked about Sondheim, the shifting tastes on Broadway at the time, and the way Bruce Vilanch always seemed to sneak up on you when you lest expected it. We shared some laughs, and a tiramisu, and began to wax a bit nostalgic for the days of the Gershwin and Rogers musicals of the old days. At some point we realized afternoon had turned to dusk, and it was time to pay the bill. That’s when my cappuccino started shaking and bubbling out of nowhere. And then sure enough, as if on cue, out popped Vilanch. Right out of the coffee cup.

I worked with Ahab one summer in New Bedford in the 1830s. He wasn’t a captain yet, still had both legs, and operated a small crab shack down on the marina called “Ahab’s House Of Snuggles.” He needed a dishwasher and I, being of little money and even less direction in life, was happy to oblige. The first day I asked him if I should use a certain dish rag and he roared, “ARRRRR matey, have ye seen the WHITE WHALE?!” I had no idea what he was talking about so just continued about my business in the kitchen. Later that day a customer came in and ordered boiled crab, our house specialty. I couldn’t see the front counter from the kitchen, but I heard Ahab roar back, “Have ye seen the WHITE WHALE, mate? I’m talkin about a WHITE whale, ya hear? It’s a WHITE whale I be seekin’!” And so was his habit day in, day out. Just incessantly asking people about a white whale, which is really strange in hindsight, since Ahab had never seen, met, or even heard of Moby Dick at that point.

I love a Saturday puzzle that makes me feel smart. Unrelated to today, but what is the general feeling about using the help functions among solvers? I think using the “reveal” function is a definite no-no if you want to consider having solved the puzzle (as is looking up a clue online, or googling something within the clue), but I think using the “check” function occasionally is..sort of okay? It doesn’t give answers but it helps move things along and avoids getting stuck forever because of a wrong square. I’m at a point in my solving where I generally solve through weds (sometimes Thurs) with no help. But Thurs on I tend to use the “check” assist as needed. Curious what others think about these aids.

Is there a name for the phenomenon where the same answer appears in puzzles during the same week, or relative period of time? ADRATE appears today and Monday this week, but I haven’t seen it in other puzzles. Is this a pure coincidence, since the constructors are different people and likely not working together, or intentional? Does the editor have something to do with it? I notice it from time to time (I actually noticed it a lot more frequently when I began doing puzzles regularly a few years ago) and it always jumps out at me. Sometimes it’s just a common enough crossword answer that it seems unremarkable, but when it happens with answers like ADRATE it seems more intentional.

I grew up in Punxsutawney and I can tell you first hand that the groundhog is actually a dude named Gooch Johnson wearing a gopher suit. He’s been doing it for years and it never ceases to amuse me that the whole world believes he’s actually a groundhog. Also of note, I was living in Punx when they shot the film and I have a brief cameo in one scene. I play the groundhog and my name is a Gooch Johnson brah

This one had me over a barrel. Literally, this is first time I attempted to solve a crossword while hurtling over Niagara Falls in a barrel. I say first time, but it won’t be the last my brothers!

I take umbrage with AGS. The plural of Attorney General is Attorneys General, not Attorney Generals. We make nouns plural in English, not adjectives. Anyone who served under Jed Bartlet knows this all too well.