Debate advice

I will quote a piece of advice that I offered in 2008:

The best choice for watching a presidential or vice-presidential debate is C-SPAN. Why? C-SPAN’s continuous split-screen lets you see both participants at all times, allowing for all sorts of observations about body language and facial expression.

I trust the split-screen view will be available once again in 2020.

*

8:55 p.m.: And I trust that you have the beverages of your choice on hand.

*

9:29 p.m.: “If we get the votes, it’s gonna be all over”: the best thing I’ve heard all night, from Joe Biden.

*

9:39 p.m: Elaine: “This has been an or-fucking-deal.”

Is shitshow one word or two? One. Trump* tonight reminded me of the asshole who sits in the back of a classroom and makes snarky, vicious remarks, one after another after another. Throw him out.

See 8:55 p.m.: And perhaps a sandwich.

Mystery actor

[Click for a larger view.]

Recgonize her? (I didn’t.) Leave your best guess in a comment. I’ll drop a hint if necessary.

More mystery actors (Collect them all!)
? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ? : ?

[Garner’s Modern English Usage notes that “support for actress seems to be eroding.” I use actor.]

Meta, they wrote

From the Murder, She Wrote episode “Widow, Weep for Me” (September 29, 1985):

“Will you please come with me at once, ma’am? The Inspector wants to see you at the hotel.”

“Why? What’s happened?”

“There’s been another murder, ma’am.”

Where Jessica Fletcher goes, murder follows. It’s difficult to think that Mrs. Fletcher’s question and her look of surprise are not a writerly joke.

Here’s a YouTube clip with this dialogue.

Margie King in 1959

It’s smart to recheck names in the IMDb, as new info gets added now and then. Checking yesterday, I found that our late friend Margie King Barab (then Margie King) appeared in an episode of Naked City. How did that happen?

[“One to Get Lost” (February 10, 1959). Click any image for a larger view.]

The hatted man (Kent Smith) appears to have his eye on Margie, but his real purpose is to wait for the elevator to clear out so that he can confront the operator (Lawrence Tierney). Margie has one line in this scene: “Five, please.” Her name doesn’t appear in the closing credits. But someone, somewhere, has added to the IMDb the names of the uncredited actors from this episode.

Related reading
All OCA Naked City posts (Pinboard)

[In 1959, Margie was Margie King, married to Alexander King (d. 1965). In 1972 she married Seymour Barab.]

“Just one rock”

[“Rock of Ages.” Zippy, September 28, 2020.]

In today’s Zippy, a rock has been teetering to get Zippy’s attention: “When it comes to rocks, all you think about is three!” Yes.

I just looked up “upon this rock I will build my church” and found that I had typed “upon some rocks.” Honest. “Some rocks” are an abiding preoccupation of these pages. “This rock,” by the way, is Matthew 16:18.

Venn reading
All OCA Nancy posts : Nancy and Zippy posts : Zippy posts (Pinboard)

Revelations

“It’ll all be revealed, it’s going to come out”: for once, I can agree with Donald Trump*. Thank you, New York Times: “Long-Concealed Records Show Trump’s Chronic Losses and Years of Tax Avoidance.”

Just one sentence:

The picture that perhaps emerges most starkly from the mountain of figures and tax schedules prepared by Mr. Trump’s accountants is of a businessman-president in a tightening financial vise.

Domestic comedy

[Elaine, after hearing next week’s challenge.]

“Think of a word. Double it. Think of another word. Subtract the first word from the second word. What color socks am I wearing?”

Hi and Lois watch

[Hi and Lois, September 27, 2020. Click for a more dangerous view.]

It’s the end of summer, and all the toys must be put away. Even the lethal ones.

Yes, you can buy lawn darts with blunt plastic tips. But metal-tipped darts have been banned in the United States since 1988.

Related reading
All OCA Hi and Lois posts (Pinboard)

Today’s Saturday Stumper

I started Brad Wilber’s Newsday Saturday Stumper with a clue that seemed to me a giveaway: 1-D, seven letters, “Group with a washboard.” A giveaway, at least, to someone with my ears. The puzzle grew much more difficult as it moved to the bottom right corner, where 41-D, seven letters, “Chapter 13 of his 1984 memoir is Courted by Chrysler” gave me fits. I knew the name, but how to spell it? The final square, for me, was in the upper right: the first letter of 10-A, four letters, “Humor category” and 10-D, three letters, “#2 at Subaru.” There’s only one possible answer for 10-A. But I still have no idea what 10-D is about.

Some clue-and-answer pairs I especially liked:

17-A, ten letters, “Don’t move, unfortunately.” Nothing to do with Samuel Beckett plays.

27-A, nine letters, “Laser, circa 1960.” That makes sense.

35-D, four letters, “Turner of old movies.” Nice one.

38-A, nine letters, “Ovoid collectible knockoff.” That’s a thing? It’s a thing.

46-D, six letters, “Marginalize?” Clever.

57-A, ten letters, “Child's blanket.” I took inordinate glee in knowing where this clue was headed.

One clue that misses out on the OCA seal of approval: 23-A, three letters, “Numbers essential to Nebraskans.” So forced. I saw what the clue was asking for, but the answer doesn’t pair plausibly with “numbers.” This answer appeared in last week’s Stumper, by Matthew Sewell, and Wilber and Sewell construct together as “Andrew Bell Lewis,” so perhaps there’s some friendly competition to come up with the zaniest clue for this answer.

No spoilers: the answers are in the comments. And I’m still on hold, waiting for the meaning of “#2 at Subaru” to dawn on me.

Idiom of the day: seat-of-the-pants

From A.Word.A.Day, it’s seat-of-the-pants: “1. Using experience, instinct, or guesswork as opposed to methodical planning. 2. Done without instruments.”

The origin is surprising to me:

The term has its origin in aviation. Before modern instruments, a pilot flew a plane based on how it felt. For example, in fog or clouds, in the absence of instrumentation one could tell whether the plane was climbing or diving by how heavy one feels in the seat. Seat of the pants is the area where one sits, i.e. the buttocks. Earliest documented use: 1929.

The Oxford English Dictionary has a first citation from Popular Science Monthly (October 1935) that points to a different meaning:

Ten years ago, blind flying was known as “seat-of-the-pants” flying, for fog-bound pilots without instruments soon learned to tell whether they were flying right-side-up by the pressure against their parachute packs.

Right now I’d say that were both upside-down and diving. It’s all seat-of-the-pants. And get this: the plane has instruments, but the pilot doesn’t trust them. He thinks his instincts are better.