Where Is Will Shortz When You Need Him?
Posted by kimlno on July 23, 2009
Merl Reagle: ASSHAT
Merl Reagle is an ass.
Who is Merl Reagle you ask? He is the asshat who has taken over the Sunday Times crossword puzzle.
Ever since I started doing the Sunday Times crossword puzzle, when I had to use a chisel and hammer to write the answers in the boxes (it REALLY sucked when you accidentally put the wrong letter in the box, let me tell you), it was written by a clever little couple called Barry Tunick and Sylvia Bursztyn. Sadly, Barry died in October of 2007. However, because he was a genius, he had enough crosswords stockpiled to last until the middle of 2008. At that point, Sylvia took the reins and did all the puzzles solo. It was obvious that Barry was the real brains behind the outfit, because Sylvia’s solo puzzles were never quite on par with previous editions. They weren’t awful, but they weren’t fabulous, either.
For the record, I only do one crossword puzzle a week. I would do more, as I enjoy working them quite a bit, but that would mean I’d have to venture into hostile uncharted territory that is currently guarded by my mother, the crossword-aholic. My mom completes no less than three crosswords PER DAY: the New York Times, the Los Angeles Times, and the L.A. Times online puzzle. Why the L.A. Times has two different puzzles available daily, I don’t know. I can only assume that there’s a high demand for it. Well, at least in my family there is.
Currently, my mom is the “dealer” for all three branches of our clan. She supplies crosswords to my grandma, who gets a might testy if they don’t arrive on time, my Aunt Judy, and my Uncle Vince. This entails making copies for everyone, including the answers, and then popping them into the mail each week so nobody goes into crossword withdrawal. As you can imagine, crosswords have become a valued commodity and the only puzzle I am deemed worthy of solving is the Sunday Times. Not the one in the magazine, either. Just the one on the back of the Lifestyles section, next to the horoscopes. Perhaps, when I am older, I might earn a spot amongst the crossword puzzle master’s chosen few, but I honestly believe someone will have to die before that happens.
Why can’t everyone do all the puzzles and live in perfect harmony? Well, because life is not like a Coca Cola commercial. And we’re all a bit competitive when it comes to being knowledgeable (see THIS post for reference) and there’s only so much room at the top. As it is now, all four puzzlers live in four separate households and there’s no chance of any cross-contamination. There’s very little chance that a crossword clue will be accidentally revealed prior to seeking assistance from others. Much like watching Jeopardy! in a room full of people, it’s never as enjoyable when someone else is blurting out the correct answers. The same goes for crossword puzzles.
So, if I were to start working puzzles on a daily basis, being that I live with the Queen Bee of Crossword Puzzle Land, a plethora of complications could arise. The worst being kicked out on my know-it-all ass.
What does all of this have to do with Merl Reagle? Well, about a couple of months ago, his name started to appear on the by line at the top of the puzzle. New puzzle authors always take a while to get used to because just like any other legitimate writer, each person has his own style of writing. If you read enough of that author’s material, or solve enough of his puzzles, you have a better understanding of what he is trying to communicate. The problem is, if you have no frame of reference for what the puzzle author is attempting to cleverly convey, it can be very frustrating trying to solve them.
Merl is a BIG fan of the “Question Clue,” which is not so much a clue as it is NOT a clue. For example, a clue from a recent puzzle read: Skunklike? (5 letters). Note the question mark. This means that the answer will be something witty, a play on words, if you will, or so the author intends it to be. Usually, it is just a lame attempt at humor. Let’s go for the literal answer and see if we can’t delineate the clever answer from there. What is like a skunk? What are some skunk attributes? The clue could be referring to a skunk’s appearance, in which case the answer could be striped, or black and white. Or the clue could suggest the skunk’s smell: stinky, smelly, and putrid are all acceptable answers. But the question mark leads me to believe that none of the above are correct. Skunk can also mean to cheat, marijuana or refer to an obnoxious person. That’s a lot of different meanings, and even though I had tried a whole bunch of synonyms for those things nothing was working. Do you know what the answer was? DRUNK. Obscure minutia, if you ask me.
As if that weren’t bad enough, his puzzles are riddled (no pun intended) with them. Then, just to make things more difficult, the word going down (or across, as it may be) is of absolutely no assistance whatsoever. That’s just cruel. How am I supposed to figure out the correct answer if I don’t even have any letters to narrow down my choices? At least give me a fighting chance, will you?
Sometimes you simply have to accept defeat and look up the answers. This isn’t as easy as it sounds. Crossword puzzle writers know that you may need to consult the all-knowing internet for a little push in the right direction. Therefore, they do everything in their power to make cheating as difficult as possible. Crafty little buggers.
This past Sunday, Merl pushed me past my breaking point. His inane, far from clever puzzle forced my hand and made me commit a sin so heinous, I almost dare not mention it. For perhaps only the second or third time in the history of the Sunday Times Crossword puzzle…I quit. Yes, you read that correctly. I placed the cap back on my special green pen, reserved solely for the purpose of crossword puzzle solving, unclipped the paper from my laptop desk, and handed the puzzle off to my mom. Merle had defeated me after two passes at the grid revealed only a handful of answers and none of them definite. So, I made the executive decision to let a more seasoned solver have at it. I just couldn’t justify looking up practically a hundred clues simply to decode the secret theme. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t care anymore. This man had sucked the joy out of a decade’s long tradition in the course of only two months. That BASTARD. How DARE he?
I am now officially on crossword puzzle strike. Until the Times sees fit to employ another crossword puzzle author, I will no longer participate in their shenanigans. If that means excluding all crossword puzzles from the rest of my life (except the one in United’s Hemispheres inflight magazine…at 35,000 feet it’s a must), then so be it. I will not play Merl Reagle’s reindeer games. You and your puzzle are dead to me.
Merl Reagle, I abjure you.
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