The Curmudgeonly Professor

Some Whines About the Friday May 6 NYT Crossword Puzzle

Ordinarily, I can work through the New York Times daily crossword puzzles.  Monday is a sleeper, Tuesday a tad less so, Wednesday begins cranking up, Thursdays become obnoxious, but then comes Friday.  Saturday is supposed to be the tough one of the week, and often I can spend a couple of days off and on wrestling with arcane clues about 12th century dignitaries, obscure hip-hop stars, literary quotes no one ever heard of, and the like.  But yesterday's (Friday's) puzzle "takes the cake," so to speak.  After finishing about 80% of it with only a half dozen peeks at dictionaries and a couple of Googles, I hit a stone wall.

For instance: the clue is "Lincoln, maybe."  The answer in Saturday's paper is "RACNWOT."  Say what?  I could have worked a hundred years and never figured that one out.  Or take  the clue "Half of any odd-numbered interstate highway system."  You're smart, right?  So what's the answer: "SENALDNUOBHTRON."  Isn't that just so clever to spell it backwards?  I figured out immediately that Lincoln was "Town Car" but who in his or her own rational mind would think to spell it backward? That technique is just plain nasty.  Now you know how to get the other word.  Evil methodology.  I mean, I like a challenge in a crossword puzzle, but these two are just plain evil and sadistic.  I can see the puzzle maker after sticking those clunkers in thinking "boy, these two will take care of those morons."  And that is just the start.  I am sure the geniuses who can whip out the NYT puzzle in 15 minutes flat were congratulating themselves on their brilliance and feeling nothing but pity for the rest of us slow-witted puzzlers.  I am almost afraid to look at the Saturday puzzle which upon cursory glance has a whole lot more stuff in it I can answer right off.  Like there is Sue Grafton, Kinsey Millhone, and writer Eggers.  A few anchors so I can keep going.  So why do I keep punishing myself with the NYT puzzles?  Well, what else is there to do besides post photos and write sarcastic remarks on my blog?  Have a nice day, and see how long it takes you to finish the NYT Saturday puzzle.  Good luck.

A Course Curriculum and Guidelines for Builders of Crossword Puzzles

If you aspire to become a renowned cross-word puzzle maker genius, here are a few clues about vocabulary and other stuff you should study to be successful:

• Think carefully about the word ambiguous.  Try to write clues that have multiple, and I mean multiple and not just two or three, meanings.
• Try to make sure that you have clues that have many alternative possible answers in crossword dictionaries so you will not be able to look up the clue and find an answer until you fill in a bunch of other blanks.
• And for that matter, try to make sure a high percentage of your clues have no answers whatsoever in dictionaries, thesauri, almanacs, and reference books and that Google has never heard of it, let alone listed 250,163 pages you could check.
• Make your clues totally obscure.  Like who was the first woman to scale Mt. Rushmore, or who was the Albanian ambassador to Lower Slobbovia (thank you Al Capp) in 1922, or who was Charles Lindbergh's first grade teacher.  Stuff like that.
• Invent nasty little tricks that obtuse crossword puzzlers like me won't catch on to until they have spent three days wrestling with your wicked little creation.  Such as: leaving two or three letters off the end of answers to selected clues, which after you catch on to this little gem, you can answer a whole bunch of stuff.
• Really confuse your puzzle doers with stuff like: How 39 down reacts to 42 up when 72 across completes a record 15 down.  No further clues.  All solved by inference.
• When it's late at night and you need to get your puzzle off to the editor, stick in a bunch of funny spellings by inserting the term (Var.), which stands for variation in use or spelling, in parentheses, so even if you are smart and know the answer, you won't have a clue about how to spell it.
• Put in a lot of old stuff like who was the leading Decca Records songstress in 1932 which geezers can answer but which anyone under the age or 30 or 40 will miss.
• Stick in a whole lot of new stuff like names of hip-hoppers, rock genres, names of leading acid rock crud, and such which anyone over 65 would just gag at, thus alienating your elderly crossword puzzle afficionados who will swear they will never try one of your stupid crosswords again.  Until tomorrow, maybe.
• Have an entire crossword puzzle with blanks.  No black spaces whatsoever.  That would be as diabolical as you could get, and it would serve those arrogant braggarts right who claim they can do the NYT Saturday puzzle in less than 20 minutes.
• Put in as many clues as you can about people no one has ever heard (of).
• Get an advanced physics text and stick in a couple of whoppers that Einstein would have to take a couple of minutes to answer.
• Try to stump Rex Parker and that English dude who is always bragging about how fast he knocks off the NYT puzzle.

I'm sure other nefarious and mind-boggling tricks are up the sleeves of those who have chosen to drop out of the work force and generate Gross Domestic Product by selling their crossword puzzle skills so that geezers who have nothing else to do will waste their time for however long it takes to solve a ridiculous puzzle.  I have been known to shout and scream after solving the last clue after spending several hours a day for days trying to solve the Saturday NYT puzzle, which some refer to as the Crossword Puzzle from Hell.

Meanwhile, puzzle solvers, don't let them (the puzzle makers) get the upper hand.  Acquire a large reference library of almanacs, directories, dictionaries, reference books, and such, and keep them up to date.  Don't be afraid to ask Google in a pinch, a low-class method which, I have been required to use less and less.  But when those sneaky crossword puzzle makers want to start a war, one has to answer with whatever means, foul or fair, will produce an answer.

The Continued Trials and Tribulations of Solving the Saturday New York Times Crossword Puzzle

I still get nauseated when I read the posts on Google from the English dude who says "I solved this in 41 minutes without any aids."  Really?  What an arrogant genius.  I solved the Saturday crossword puzzle in off-again-on-again efforts for two days, and finally had to enlist my wife's help.  Plus I had to Google two impossible clues: "King who infamously demanded half of Rome's western empire as a dowry" (Attila), and jurist who wrote "A Matter of Interpretation" (Scalia, I tried Souter, should have known).  Plus I had to use the crossword dictionaries on a few twisted clues.  Mostly, my wife and I just battled it out.

Here are a few examples of the tortured and devious mind of the puzzle maker:  "one may act for an actor" (agent); "Before coming out?" (prenatal, we finally got this on our own, but it was a doozy); "party get-together" (caucus); and here's a killer "long, thin strip" (spline).  Do these people have a conscience?  Don't they know we have other things to do besides work on their evil crossword puzzles?  We're not all as smart as the English dude, or the smug New Yorkers in their billion dollar condos overlooking Central Park who whip these gems out in 20 minutes.  Some of are a little slow of brain, despite having a Ph.D. 

My motto, however, as stated previously, is "Solve the New York Times Crossword Puzzle at any cost."  That means if you don't have time to eat and sleep for two or three days, so be it.  My wife and I were up until 11:30 trying to solve the stupid spline answer.  My proven success method is to stare at the puzzle long enough before the answer comes to me by revelation.  Then, I have been known to whoop, holler, and yell.  "That so-and-so is not going to stump me, or us, nosirree!"   It took my wife to realize the type of gland clue was prostate, despite having had mine nuked a few years ago.  Now we can coast a few days with moron level puzzles until the NYT brings in the heavy artillery with a small dose Wednesday, a medium dose Thursday, and two more inducers of exquisite pain on Friday and Saturday.  Meanwhile, I continue to work the USA Today puzzles daily, which generally are prepared by more humane and compassionate puzzle makers.  But what greater satisfaction in life is there besides watching Matlock other than solving the Saturday NYT Crossword puzzle?  Absolutely none.  Except maybe going to WalMart and Kohls' Department Store which I am destined now to do against my better judgment.  I will bring you an update.

A Comment on the Brilliant Genius Who Bragged That He Finished the Upper Right Corner of the Friday New York Times Crossword Puzzle "Quickly"

I am always inspired by arrogant geniuses who take to the internet to blog their brilliant success in quickly solving the New York Times crossword puzzle.  I spent more than two hours on the upper right corner of the Friday puzzle, and still don't have it, but I think I may have an inspiration to solve it before I cheat and check the answers.

Of course, Rex Parker, the famous crossword puzzle whiz, has the puzzles solved the instant they are printed, but that is legitimate, since he never brags about it--he just publishes the answers so the ignorant and slow of wit can cheat and dig out the answers and then brag about finishing the puzzles.

The point is, one must never give up in solving the New York Times crossword puzzle.

And Here's a Second Clueless Clue from the Saturday New York Times Crossword Puzzle

Now, who among you remember this one?  "Undercover Playboy bunny of 1963?" Certainly, a high priority in my life in 1963, forty-five years ago, was memorizing the names of Playboy bunnies, including any undercover such bunnies.  The answer, according to Google, is Gloria Steinem.  There may be no excuse for not knowing that Samuel Beckett wrote "Krapp's Last Tape" (see following post), but surely some suspicion may emerge for anyone who can remember a half century later who the undercover Playboy bunny was in 1963.  I was, thank you, busy enjoying my new job at Penn State and buying chicken livers to feed my kids, which, of course, they gagged on and wouldn't eat.  But one never knows, does one?

Suffering Over the Friday New York Times Crossword Puzzle, And Getting Educated, At the Same time

The Curmudgeonly Professor has heretofore opined on the critical necessity of finishing the New York Times Crossword Puzzle, at all costs.  This lucid and entertaining post remains one of the most frequently consulted posts on this blog.  The Professor still advocates the necessity of leaving no stone unturned to complete the Daily Crossword Puzzle.  Remember, the Monday puzzle is the puzzle for fifth graders, Tuesday for seventh graders, Wednesday for freshmen, Thursday for college freshmen, Friday and Saturday for geniuses who can conquer the Crossword Puzzles from hell. 

To illustrate, here is the clue from Friday's Times Crossword Puzzle:  " 'The Great Broxopp' playwright, 1921."  Right, certainly, I have  here on the tip of my tongue.  So I consult Google and discover that "The Great Broxopp" was originally produced on Broadway in 1921 and again on October 11 1950 on Kraft Theater, with this explanation:

In this comic satire on British society, Mr. Broxopp has become fabulously weathly making Broxopp Beans for Babies, the most popular brand in England. Despite his riches, he is shunned by the "better people" of society. When his son becomes engaged to a wealthy, young society woman, the boy wants to change his name to something more dignified. Mr. Broxopp is pushed too far when he's asked to change his name to Sir Chillingham.

In consulting the New York Times of November 16, 1921, I learned additionally, that this satire on advertising featured the slogan "I am a Broxopp baby, are you?"  And, further, "Broxopp says it doesn't matter particularly if babies do not eat beans--the food will be put up in the shape of beans, or else it won't, as the case may be.  People may wonder, what the beans have to do with it, but they'll never think of asking."

Turns out, Broxopp gets wealthy, raises his own son on Broxopp Beans, but then changes his name to Chillingham when his son becomes of marriageable age and doesn't want to go through life with the Broxopp handle.  So Broxopp launches his new ad campaign "Chillingham's Cheese for Chickens."

Now the Curmudgeonly Professor has no objection to expanding the boundaries of his intellectual attainments, which mostly have to do with stuff hardly anyone understands, including the Curmudgeonly Professor.  In fact, I would love to see the play if it can ever be unearthed.  And I had no idea A.A. Milne wrote such brilliant satiric nonsense.  But what irritates me to the max is when some smart aleck posts in a half hour after the puzzle comes out the arrogant announcement "I solved it in twenty minutes and didn't cheat."  Oh my heck, I've worked on Broxopp's Beans for a half hour, I've been thoroughly entertained and educated, and I am now off to the next ridiculously arcane or imposible puzzle clue.  Such as "Sender of the Calydonian boar."  Anyone got that one in their frontal brain lobe and want to pass it on?  Meanwhile, never, never get up.  Always cast everything else aside until you have finished the Daily Crossword Puzzle or you'll never forgive yourself.  Just don't swear at Will Shortz.  I saw a photo of Will Shortz the other day.  I expected him to be a geezerly old graybeard but he turns out to be a young man in jeans.  At what age did he decide he wanted to persecute the entire world with his edited puzzles?  Have a nice day.