Luckily Escobar was able to regain his balance, because the floor of the subway station was something he wasn’t entirely comfortable walking on, let alone meeting face-first.  As he turned around he dove into a standard cop apology, the kind designed to make you think the whole incident was mostly your fault.

The woman slowly lifted her head to look up at him.  She looked as dazed as if someone had just flung her off the subway without so much as a “No ticket,” so he had trouble telling whether what she said was a statement or a question: “Buckets of dead hair.”

Her words unsettled Escobar.  In his line of work—at least as it was conducted by officers with less powerfully selective senses—hearing a homeless woman muttering gibberish to herself was, sadly, not that unusual.  This woman, however, was not talking to herself.  Her wandering eyes had latched onto his face like he was the only man at a high school reunion with whom she had not had a messy breakup; she expected an answer.  And she was not muttering.  The woman spoke with perfect clarity.  Escobar wished she hadn’t, so that he could convince himself she had said something different.

Rather than attempt a response, he decided to take advantage of his new perspective on the woman’s face to get a better look at her.  His first impression was that she looked like an old witch, but not one who could afford ruby slippers, castles, or armies of simian aviators.  She had a face ravaged by age, though she lacked the warts and other skin diseases children come to expect from practitioners of the black arts.  Her hair, most of which was stuffed into a shapeless hood, could have been any color, especially under the unnatural lights of the subway station.

The rest of her was covered in filthy, faded, frayed garments that would make a fashion designer cry and a germaphobe gag.  Escobar could not tell if she was wearing one layer or many, and her figure was a total mystery (a mystery he felt was probably best left unsolved).

After sizing up his opponent, Officer Escobar took another, friendlier stab at conversation—making sure he hadn’t hurt her, asking who she was, why she was there, etc.

The woman’s eyes narrowed, as if it was finally dawning on her that what they had here was a failure to communicate.  “Satan’s zoo of bees?” she asked, this time in a decidedly questioning tone.

Escobar decided that this was as good a point as any to give up.  The woman was clearly nuts, but she seemed like one of the harmless ones.  After her second errant serve, instead of yelling or attacking him, she put her head back down and began speaking rapidly under her breath, like an orator who had gotten lost in the middle of a speech and was trying to find her place again.  Mere insanity was another thing Escobar believed did not merit police intervention; he himself had been known to lose it from time to time when he arrived at the Dough-Re-Mi only to discover that they had run out of their Minuet in Glee cookies (three quarters dark chocolate chips, one quarter white chocolate chips, one hundred percent sinfully delicious).

Still, something about the woman bothered him, and it wasn’t just her fondness for grim imagery.  He wanted to find out more, and if she wasn’t going to tell him anything useful, then there was only one place to go.

Officer Escobar gave Simon Park Station one last sweeping glance.  Satisfied that it was safe for another day, he set out to find Larry.

Near four months the Convention had spent
But would the states with it be content?
Little Delaware rose
And with all “Yeas” (no “Noes”)
They declared their unquestioned assent

Event: Delaware becomes the first state to ratify the U.S. Constitution
Year: 1787
Learn more: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_Constitution

A. 刀自　B. 冬至　C. 杜氏　D. 湯治　E. 統治　F. 蕩児　G. 陶磁

This week’s guessing placed a lot of focus on the end, with both Shirley and Theoman drawn to the complexity of G.  Theoman was correct in his assumption that it was the most complicated (the choices are listed in order based on the number of strokes it takes to write them, going from least to greatest).  As for whether or not governance is complicated, I suppose it depends on who you ask.  If you asked me, I would probably say yes (or, if it’s not, then maybe it should be), but I would also add in an aside that G, at least, isn’t it.  Those interested in ruling should look two to the left at E, amongst the moderately complicated kanji compounds.

Shirley’s impression of G was not so much one of complexity as of disorder.  It looks pretty regular to me, but I have experience with these things, and also if I was looking at a handwritten rather than typed version  even I might have to think that it was time to put the taste-test cup down.  Because of this potential problem, perhaps, the character gurus chose to keep this word relatively simple so there would be less to screw up, and C is therefore our tipsy brewmaster.  According to my dictionary, the word comes from the name of the person who supposedly invented sake.

Shirley can take comfort, however, in the fact that her sentimental choice was, to use an industry term, “dead-on-balls accurate.”  B is the winter solstice, shortest and bleakest day of the year, which apparently isn’t even here yet.  Man, where’s old Toji the Sake Brewer when you need him?  Or, better still, a hot springs cure?  That one can be found at D, which, as you may have noted, shares its second character with E.  As with many kanji, this one has multiple potential meanings; it can refer to ruling or governing (as in E) or curing/healing (as in D).  What’s the connection?  Don’t ask me.

So what was G?  Well, appropriately enough, it’s the least complicated thing on the list: clay.  Go figure.

Oops, almost forgot to give A Fan his grades: A. Right B. Wrong C. Wrong D. Wrong E. Wrong F. Right G. Wrong.  Not bad for the shotgun method.

But let’s try for something a little closer to home this time around.  Our next puzzle will be about translated titles of famous works of English Literature.  And when I say famous, I mean famous.  We’re pretty much sticking to big names on this list, your Dickenses and your Orwells and your Austens, etc.  We are not, however, going to go too close to home; this first round is the Twelfth Grade Edition: Brit Lit.  I would encourage those who find one they are pretty sure of to branch out and also attempt one about which they are less certain.

A. 嵐が丘　B. 高慢と偏見　C. 動物農場　D. 二都物語　E. 蝿の王

F. 指輪物語：王の帰還

NOTE: Because of travel plans, next week’s edition of KYPC might not appear as promptly as usual.  Don’t worry, though.  It’ll get there.

My apologies to anyone who was expecting the next installment of the Jenoviad.  I was all ready to post it, but then I discovered that no one had remembered to write it.  Rather than scramble to write up a few new lines, however, I have decided to post this instead.  It is the beginning of a story whose future remains uncertain.  I make no guarantees that it will not end abruptly.  Read at your own peril.  Comments are, as always, welcome.

Day 0:

Officer Escobar hated the subway beat.

He preferred policing places that had no obvious need of policing.  His normal route took him past the Dough-Re-Mi Café, whose only use for the men and women in blue was to have them drink its coffee.  Some officers might have believed that such a quiet place was not worth stopping at and moved on to more typical trouble spots.  Officer Escobar saw to it that the Dough-Re-Mi received the full benefit of local law enforcement, stopping in two to three times a day.

Subway stations, on the other hand, were problematic.  Things happened.  In Escobar’s ideal world, the only things that ever happened were visits from Rita, his favorite waitress, coming to ask whether his mug needed to be topped off, or if he wanted to try a free sample of their new Ebony and Ivory Chocolate and Vanilla Swirl Croissant.  Subway stations had fights, muggings, drug deals, and—God forbid—someone could even fall onto the tracks.  And they never had free samples of anything.

He braced himself for the smell as he walked down the steps into Simon Park Station.  The people of Crescenton took the “public” in public transportation to heart; they took full advantage of the space, safe in the belief that cleaning up was someone else’s (often, no one’s) job.  You could eat there if you were in a hurry, sleep there if it was too cold outside, go to the bathroom if you were really drunk, and engage in intimate relations if you were willing to risk someone recording it on a cell phone and putting it online.  When you combined the full range of human activity with the ventilation problems inherent to any underground location, you got a stink that could rival some industrial farms.

Simon Park was by no means the worst.  That honor belonged to Rittner Street, famous for the “Rittner Street Dash” people made to avoid having to take a breath before they were back in the open air.  But to someone accustomed to the mixed scents of baking, glazing, and frosting, it was agony.  Officer Escobar reminded himself once again never to agree to a shift swap until he knew all the details.

The station was quiet.  It was late, so the thunderous rumble accompanying a train’s arrival and departure only occurred a couple times an hour, and if there were any citizens currently treating the place like home, they were doing a good job of keeping it secret.  Escobar enjoyed the quiet.  It allowed him to focus on his thoughts, which were of his favorite café, rather than on his surroundings.  On that particular night, he might have expected more civil unrest, but then again he never had been good at keeping up with sports.  Luckily for him, most of the disturbances were above ground, because it is much more difficult to overturn a subway car than it is to upend a compact.

Officer Escobar felt that one of the most important parts of being a cop was to be adept at both seeing and not seeing.  Of the two, his more notable talent was the latter.  Escobar believed in the spirit of the law, not the letter, and he understood which crimes were best left unprosecuted.  When operating a speed trap, he was a natural at sneezing at precisely the moment when a car doing 59 in a 55-MPH zone drove past the radar gun.  He was legendary for the faith he put in obvious graffiti artists who said, “It was like that when I got here,” so long as he thought the new paint job was an improvement.  And the homeless were all but invisible to him.

He felt particularly strongly about this last point.  Everyone deserves a place to live, he thought, and those who could not afford a traditional residence had every right to look at rent-free areas.  So, when he walked along alleyways, through parks, and even in subway stations, he took no notice of people residing in areas that certain city ordinances considered off-limits.

Perhaps these feelings can explain why he tripped over a woman sitting on the ground as he walked past a concrete pillar.  Surely that’s the reason.  The idea that the woman simply had not been there an instant before was absurd.

Joltin’ Joe hit in fifty-six straight
Dolphins with their champagne bottles wait
Ken did not have to strain
As his thumb and his brain
Got his name onto lists of streaks great

Event: Ken Jennings loses to Nancy Zerg, ending his record-setting Jeopardy! winning streak at 74 games
Year: 2004
Learn more: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ken_Jennings

A. 愛国者 B. 海賊 C. 巨人 D. 侵略者 E. 聖人 F. 族長 G. 荷造り人

Responses were somewhat sparser than usual this week.  It was almost as if some sort of major event was going on that required a considerable amount of time to be devoted to travel and other activities.  Oh well.  As they say, if life gives you lemons, make lemonade, and if life doesn’t give you very many lemons, make watery lemonade.

Dragon was back this week in her usual role of “First to answer, Last to still be making comments about last week’s puzzle.”  She quickly identified the symbol of the cross in A and assumed it must be the symbol of the saint, but only in that particular instance, because she also noticed the exact same character in D, and they couldn’t both be right . . . or could they?  No, they couldn’t, because neither one of them was right.  The cross-bearing character simply means “person,” so it’s no surprise that it shows up in multiple answers on this quiz, just as the last character in C, E, and G does (this, too, means person.  Why do they need two?  Well, why does English need two different ways to pluralize the word “person”?)  The New Orleans Saint is letter E, with characters meaning “holy person.”  The “holy,” naturally, is a kanji that consists of parts meaning ear, mouth, and king.  New Orleans is a nutty place sometimes.

Theoman may be shocked to discover that his persistence is actually paying off this week.  A is indeed the (New England) Patriot, or “loves-country person.”  Kudos on spotting a kanji you recognize and not being tripped up by the many different ways these things can be interpreted, as has happened so many times in the past.

Now, you could say that, because the Japanese word for Viking (and also for all-you-can-eat buffet-style cuisine) is baikingu and does not appear on this list, Shirley was technically wrong with her guess of C.  But we’re going to go out of our way to convince ourselves that she was actually secretly correct.  While baikingu does not make an appearance, two other words with strongly related meanings do: “pirate” (or, in the football sense, Buccaneer) at B and “Raider” at D.  By picking C, directly in between, Shirley was in fact attempting to indicate a blending of these two meanings.  In addition, as we all know, Scandinavian people tend to be tall, which is why she selected the word that means Giant.

F, by the way, is the Chiefs, hailing from one of America’s most lamentable sports towns, Kansas City, and G, appropriately enough, is the Green Bay Packers.  Perhaps the inclusion of both the Packers and the Vikings on this quiz proved to be too much for A Fan to bear, hence his decision to abstain.

But that’s enough sports for a while.  It’s time to bring back the ever-popular (at least with me) KYPC Homophone Challenge!  This week’s words are all pronounced touji, but their meanings cover the following range: chief brewer at a sake brewery; clay; hot-spring cure; lady, matron, mistress; libertine; rule, reign, governing; and winter solstice.  Theoman, fresh off his recent victory, can see how much he rules at this game, while the rest of you may be reminded of the upcoming shortest day of the year.  Or that you need to make a pot for Christmas.  Whatever works for you.

A. 刀自　B. 冬至　C. 杜氏　D. 湯治　E. 統治　F. 蕩児　G. 陶磁

They sat out on the highway ledge
And watched the fair sun rise
Eventu’lly they had to stop
It really hurt their eyes

They took one last look at Midgar
What did leaving portend?
Then set off on their noble quest
“Uhh . . . how do we descend?”

There once was a man named Warbeck
Who caused King Henry all kinds of heck
Said he was Ed Four’s son
Tried to fool everyone
But he was caught, and hanged by the neck

Event: Execution of Perkin Warbeck, pretender to the English throne
Year: 1499
Learn more: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Perkin_Warbeck

A. 海豚　B. 雄羊　C. 熊　D. 獅子　E. 猩猩紅冠鳥　F. 鷲　G. 渡烏

Before we get started, I feel it’s only fair to point out that these are not the words the Japanese actually use to refer to American football teams; they just call them by versions of their English names pronounced Japanese-ily: the shikago beaazu, the barutimoa reibunzu, etc.  But those aren’t nearly as fun.

Theoman once again attempted to put his knowledge of Japanese to use, and once again he was about two-thirds correct.  The second character in D does in fact mean “child,” and the word for colt does contain that character.  But that’s not what we have here.  D, in fact, has nothing to do with children or youth (that second character appears in many compounds unrelated to the meaning “child”).  Theoman unfortunately decided to cast his lot with the hapless Detroit Lions, and, unsurprisingly, they let him down.

It may appear at first glance that A Fan did not make a guess at all, but closer inspection reveals that this is not in fact the case.  His claim that the Bears “rule” was obviously a subtle reference to the fact that he noticed that the second character in B looks like it may be a modified form of the kanji that means “king.”  It actually means “sheep,” however, which means that B is the St. Louis Rams (it’s interesting that the incorrect guesses seem to mostly fall on teams that aren’t very good).  The real Monsters of the Midway are located at C, and that “bear” of a kanji is about as good a one for a team name as I’ve seen; the top four parts form a character meaning “talent, ability” and the four dashes on the bottom are a representation of “fire,” which you need to keep from freezing to death playing games next to Lake Michigan in December.  Also, I can only assume that his reference to the Vikings “sucking” was intended to indicate that he thought they were character F, which sucks to write because there’s a lot to fit in such a small space, but this was another classic Favresque errant throw: F is the Philadelphia Eagles.

As usual, Dragon and Shirley had the same guess, but this time they claimed it meant different things.  Dragon, sensing complexity in the 5-character compound, saw the Bengal Tiger, while Shirley, empathizing with the toughness involved in writing such a word, saw the gritty, determined Bear.  Neither guess was correct, for the last character, the one that appears as a part of F and in a slightly modified form in G, means “bird.”  E is the Arizona Cardinal (another clunker), with the last three characters indicating a “red-crowned bird,” and the repeated first character meaning, for no reason I can figure out, “orangutan.”

Our two wide outs basically got ignored this week as guessers focused on stopping the run game up the middle.  A is the Miami Dolphins (or, as the characters would indicate, the “sea pigs”).  And the last choice, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting, and shall be guessed–nevermore!

Now it’s time for part two, covering the less animalistic half of the NFL.  Your options this time are the Packers, Vikings, 49ers, Buccaneers, Saints, Cowboys, Giants, Redskins, Steelers, Browns, Raiders, Chargers (arguably), Chiefs, Titans, Texans, Patriots, Jets, and Bills.  And, because that’s a lot of choices, I’ll go ahead and say that the following are not included for the sake of political correctness or because they’re just weird: Redskins, Browns, Chargers (because I don’t know if the name refers to war horses or just people who charge), Texans, and Bills.  Identify whatever you want, but I will say that, unless we get some unexpected participants, anyone looking for their hometown team is probably out of luck.

A. 愛国者 B. 海賊 C. 巨人 D. 侵略者 E. 聖人 F. 族長 G. 荷造り人

Barret’s hands flew round the wheel
He steered just like a fiend
Dodging Cloud’s mad hail of blows
As he ‘cross street careened

The robot blew, the road was rent
With a resounding CRACK
Cloud, who’d learned his lesson well
Took four or five steps back