Taylor Johnson author page

I picked up on the "what ties these disparate things together" theme after connecting BANJO PLAYER to VEGETABLE FARMER. Even knowing the revealer would be some "pick" phrase, it still gave me a pick-me-up. PICKY PICKY PICKY requires solvers to stretch their minds, describing a BANJO PLAYER as "picky" (one who picks). I love that Taylor and Christina didn't go with something more overt, like PICK, clued as [What each of 17-, 32, and 42-Across do, in different ways].

I did take marks off for not including TESS AND JAKE CHEN, who make terrorist ultimatums for only the fluffiest of white bread and artisan spring water from the Swiss Alps.

BANJO PLAYER is a perfect themer, because it's a colorful phrase and unquestionably describes a person who picks (with a banjo pick). TEAM CAPTAIN didn't work as well since most pro TEAM CAPTAINs don't do any selecting. Yes, there are some cases, like in this year's NBA All-star Game, but they're the exception. Thankfully, the humiliating playground actions are left to the Wild West that was elementary school. These days, my kids aren't forced to go through that process, as schools seem to have evolved.

Am I still resentful of continually being picked last, even 40 years later?

NO, YOU ARE!

(Okay, fine, I am.)

TriBond themes work best when the elements feel like there's zero possibility that they could be related, and they all have vastly different ways of connecting to the central bond. I appreciated that the three themers came from such different walks of life, but the meanings of "pick" were awfully similar. Overall though, this theme type can be tough for newer solvers to wrap their heads around, especially with a revealer that employs wordplay, so well done for making this one Monday-accessible.

Interesting take on the letter addition / removal genre. Focusing on a single-letter change is usually a losing battle, since the genre has been run nearly out of town over the decades, so combining things — a letter addition plus a letter removal in the same row — can be productive. I appreciated Chandi and Taylor's extra layer, not using just any combination of U removals + U additions, but riffing on the same word pair, like SIT / SUIT.

CAN I STEAL YOU FOR A SECOND is a colorful, colloquial revealer, too. If all the Us had been stolen out of the second position (as in SUIT but not CAUSE), that would have been yet another layer to help the concept stand out.

U-HAUL is a workable title. Feels like there's something better out there, but I couldn't come up with anything sharper. That's often the problem with trying to integrate both a clever revealer and title — one will be amazing while the other will serve its purpose without any flash.

Hilarious clue for PORNSTAR! [One who's barely acting?], heh. Although I've shied away from these types of entries more and more over the years after receiving solver complaints, the wordplay makes it well worth it.

Along with DUDE BRO and ORGY as a [Bodily function?] … WOOF!

(That's what the kids say these days to express … "that was really bad"? Apparently I've been barking up the wrong tree in my usage.)

Interesting take to combine two well-worn genres in a creative way.

Traveling from Seattle to Bloomington was like taking a WAGON TRAIN when our kids were little. And don't even get me started about the time we were routed through Miami. Talk about FLIPPING A COIN to see who would deal with the FLOOD PLAIN of tears from our toddlers.

Great fun to work with Taylor on this one! Starting with one West Coast state's postal code and ending with that of an East Coast state was a rigid constraint, already making a symmetrical set unlikely. Then, we dared raise the wrath of the great goddess Cruciverba, by desiring the top themer to be WA crossing to a northeastern state, the middle one from OR to a mid-East Coast state, and the bottom one to span from CA to FL or GA.

Thankfully, She is kind and benevolent, the true G.O.A.T., only requiring a minor sacrifice of a GOAT and a LAMA (aptly made up of Louisiana and Massachusetts). I don't play CANDY CRUSH, but I praise the great goddess for making the game franchise popular enough to be SAGA-worthy.

Working with a 14x15 grid is risky since if Will Shortz gives you the thumbs-down, you can't try the WSJ or Universal since they rigidly stick to exactly 15x15. Sometimes you have to give it your best shot and pray, hoping that Cruciverba doesn't yell WANT A PIECE OF ME?

I found the perfect song for today's puzzle: now hear this, EARTH angel on the rise!

Let's clear the air first. "Hidden words" puzzles are overdone these days, so I give a lot of sympathetic "sorry to hear that" to rejected constructor friends. It takes something extra to help one rise (sorry) above the rest. Evoking that stunning image sure helps!

Taylor chose his themers well, all of them colorful and interesting. I HEAR THAT, HEART HEALTHY, SPEAR THROWER all debuting today — FRESHER is right! That's especially important because Mother EARTH has been played upon many times, like with MIDDLE EARTH and EARTH SHATTERING. Those common letters make it so easy to break EARTH across entries like NOW HEAR THIS, CLEAR THE AIR, and SORRY TO HEAR THAT.

Throwing shade onto the EARTHs within the themers gave away the game much too easily. It's better to err on the side of making sure solvers figure out what's going on, but once you write in two EARTHs, you can fill in the others, and EARTHRISE falls into place. Give solvers some credit!

Although the solve felt over before I'd hardly started, Taylor kept me engaged with great bonuses like GRINDR, AT LARGE, and a Q that didn't make this solver SQUIRM at its surrounding fill. DEAR GOD, that's good stuff! Minimal dings, too, only a NETI net price for the beautiful MOON placement in the lower left.

Given that there are so many ways to break EARTH across words, I would have loved a smoother path for the EARTH rise. Move the third EARTH up one space, and the arc is so much prettier. BEAR THE BLAME or FEAR THE WORST could sub right in.

Not an earth-shattering "hidden words" theme, but great job mimicking that awe-inspiring picture.

Who doesn't love a PIZZA PARTY? I'll tell you who: two certain kids who refuse to eat anything that a molecule of SAUCE has touched. They will also snub the CRUST if it's too crusty. Or not crusty enough. And they'll only SAY CHEESE to a singular brand of non-dairy, vegan (read: outlandishly expensive) cheese substitute.

Talk about WEAK SAUCE.

What, no toppings on today's pizza?

Oh, right, my kids won't eat toppings on pizza.

I had a laugh/cry with the grid's vibe of TIME BOMBS EXPLODES ANTIMATTER WHAP.

I usually love loads of bonus fill, but I had to weigh its effects today. On one hand, I couldn't easily figure out the theme — were BOMBS and LEAVE thematic? Muddying up a crispy pizza theme isn't great.

On the other hand, I couldn't easily figure out the theme. For such a simple concept, where CRUST SAUCE CHEESE are tough words to disguise, hiding them in plain sight among distracting entries extended my "Name That Theme" game.

So all the Across bonuses gets to the age-old computer science / mechanical engineering question: is a feature or a bug?

Let's go with feature today.

I used to roll my eyes at "directive" clues, but I've come to enjoy them. You'd better believe it! As in believing a DOGMA. Accessible wordplay fun on a Monday is much appreciated.

I'm sure some boomers will say BLECH to GENZER. On an unrelated topic, I might point out that GEN ZER is one letter away from GEEZER.

All in all, a debut with a touch of spice. To which my kids will say BLECH.