Constructor: Jim Hilger
Relative difficulty: Medium (10-ish)
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THEME:"Product Misplacement"— familiar expression where some general category of thing has been replaced with a specific brand of said thing, and then clued wackily. Thus:
Theme answers:
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I can't give much time to this because it's so depressing. This puzzle is depressing, and the general state of the NYTXW Sunday is so depressing. The editors are busy bragging that they're getting more submissions than ever, but as far as I know they don't have a great explanation for why Sundays continue to be so completely terrible the large majority of the time. It's stunning to me how stale Sundays are, week in and week out. Not sure why the best constructors seem to avoid them. Paolo Pasco had one a few weeks back that was fantastic. But most of what comes out just rehashes the corny, stale wordplay of yesteryear, with fill to match. Today's theme didn't even make sense. Or, rather, the title in no way accurately represented what the theme was about. "Product Misplacement?" Nothing ... is misplaced. Placement ... is not an issue. At all. In every case, you are making the general specific (for some reason ... I guess this amuses you ... we'll leave the specific merits of the theme aside for the moment). That's not "misplacement?" The product is in the same "place" as it ever was. But instead of the general (e.g. "towel"), we get the specific (i.e. "BOUNTY"). So it's awful from the jump, on its face, in the title. This is elementary stuff. It's fine to have a title that only faintly captures what the theme is about—not all themes are reducible to a pithy title. But to have one that actively misstates the premise. That is bad.
Relative difficulty: Medium (10-ish)
Theme answers:
- MONSTER RAM RALLY (23A: Huge celebration after L.A.'s football team wins the Super Bowl?) (so ... it's "monster truck rally" ... and the RAM, clued here as a football team, is a brand of truck ...)
- NATURE ABHORS A HOOVER (38A: Reason that the prestigious scientific journal refuses articles from President Herbert's relatives?) ("natures abhors a vacuum," and HOOVER. clued here as a president, is a brand of vacuum) (etc.)
- MY SOLO RUNNETH OVER (57A: Apology from a musician to the other band members?) (Solo cups are a thing)
- WORKED FOR PLANTERS (79A: Volunteered at a nursery?) (so ... the clue wants you to think of the kind of nursery with plants ... where you'd maybe see ... planters?) (also PLANTERS is a brand of peanut, obvs)
- THROWING IN THE BOUNTY (97A: Adding a historic ship as a deal sweetener?)
- TALE OF THE SCOTCH (117A: Story about a drinking binge?)
An ad valorem tax (Latin for "according to value") is a tax whose amount is based on the value of a transaction or of property. It is typically imposed at the time of a transaction, as in the case of a sales tax or value-added tax (VAT). An ad valorem tax may also be imposed annually, as in the case of a real or personal property tax, or in connection with another significant event (e.g. inheritance tax, expatriation tax, or tariff). In some countries a stamp duty is imposed as an ad valorem tax. (wikipedia)
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Then there's the inconsistency. The truck that's turned into a RAM is actually a truck, whereas the vacuum that's turned into a HOOVER is not a household-appliance vacuum. "Peanuts" are metaphorical, but still, the basis of the metaphor is the food, which is what PLANTERS are: peanuts. But you don't throw in a *paper* towel, which is what BOUNTY is. And I get that SCOTCH tape is a thing, and that SCOTCH is a brand (even though it's used generically to mean a kind of tape, like Kleenex ... I think). But wow, that answer. First of all, "tale of the tape" is the kind of phrase that ... I don't even really know what it means. I know I've heard it, but it's not exactly evocative of ... anything for me. Apparently it comes from boxing (which used to be a big deal in the 20th century, kids, ask your folks), where you'd compare boxers' stats, including their reaches, which I guess ... you measured with tape. So the base phrase feels archaic to me. And SCOTCH, well, SCOTCH is not something I readily associate with a *brand*; no, Scotch is something I drink, and something I desperately want to drink right about now, as the conceptual deficiencies of this puzzle are really too much.
[123A: Puccini piece]
Imagine thinking VALOREM is a good thing to put in your puzzle. I don't know how something like that—a *long* *partial* *Latin* answer—gets in here. Maybe Jimmy Dorsey or Paul ANKA or Johnny UNITAS knows the answer. Which is to say, holy smokes this puzzle is living in the past (and *only* in the distant past). Please, don't accuse me of I not enjoying old things—I'm a medievalist, for pete's sake (shout-out to all the ANGLO-Norman fans out there!)—the issue is how aggressively, er, AGO a puzzle is, and this one's about as aggressive as they come. BAILOR? NUNCIO? What am I supposed to do with this? I can handle some antiquated rough stuff here and there, if there's, you know, amelioration somewhere else in the grid. But alas. All I get is IRISH LINEN, which I'd like to like, but honestly, again, I don't even know what that is.
I struggled in the NE because of VALOREM (???) and then because I had GROAN instead of GRUNT (possibly because I was groaning, not grunting, while solving) (22A: Sound of exertion). Ran into the old ALOT v. ATON dilemma (31A: Oodles and oodles). Couldn't see "MERCI" as a "nicety" (26A: Nice nicety) (ugh, why do you let your cutesy alliterating and rhyming take precedence over precision!?) (Oh, and "Nice" is a city in France, in case that didn't register). Clue on SPA DAY was way too vague for me to have much hope there (48A: Restorative indulgence). Oh, and I misspelled FOIE (Fr. for "liver") as FOIS (Fr. for "times"), thus ending up with ASONS at 43D: Units in the life span of a galaxy (AEONS), which I was *almost* willing to believe was some astronomical term I'd just never heard. But thankfully I caught the mistake on FOIE and fixed it. The rest of the puzzle was uneventful (unless groans are events). Alright, that's all. Sorry, Sunday-only solvers. I wish I could be more chipper for you, but truly you have chosen the worst day of the week to solve. Trust me, I solve them all.