ACROSS
1 Gearshift letters
6 Where a baby
develops
10 Largemouth fish
14 Pianist Chick with
22 Grammys
15 Sheltered, at sea
16 Johnson of
“Laugh-In”
17 Banjo sound
18 Org. with many
long missions
19 Whopper maker?
20 “Fine, don’t listen
to me”
23 Old TV-top
receiver
26 Calms
27 Lobster-steak
combo
31 Prefix with -logue
32 “Airplane!” actor
Robert
33 “We don’t know
yet,” in a TV
schedule
36 Corner-to-corner
line: Abbr.
37 Accustom (to)
39 Timely blessing
40 Some MIT grads
41 Tabloid twosome
42 Lull in a cradle
43 Two-rope
jumping
47 Texas landmark
51 Two-man Army
helicopters
52 Nonverbal
communication
... and what the
starts of 20-, 27-
and 43-Across
can be
56 Spirited horse
57 Like some dorms
58 PlugIns Scented
Oil maker
62 Multigenerational
tale
63 Sharpen
64 Haunted, say
65 Marked, as a
ballot
66 Squeezed (out)
67 Ward off
DOWN
1 Tipper’s 15: Abbr.
2 Use oars
3 Org. promoting
hunter safety
4 Navigational
hazard
5 Southern
California’s __
Beach
6 Classified listing
7 Skin care brand
with an Active
Botanicals line
8 Middle: Pref.
9 Sweetheart
10 Lightweight
wood
11 Ram in the sky
12 Like bread made
into stuffing,
perhaps
13 Feudal servants
21 What a keeper
may keep
22 Two-legged
zebras?
23 Remark to the
audience
24 Film with
nakedness
25 Financial dept.
28 Green digit?
29 Onetime Egypt-
Syria fed.
30 Sandwich bread
33 Place for a crown
or cap
34 Lawn bowling
game
35 Pharaohs’
crosses
37 Norah Jones’
“What Am __
You?”
38 Modern, in Munich
39 “Enter the
Dragon” martial
artist
41 Hollywood
favorite
44 Praised
45 Waste watchers:
Abbr.
46 Cloak’s partner
47 Put down
48 Seuss’
environmental
advocate
49 Words of wisdom
50 “Oops, sorry”
53 Yearn (for)
54 Corner for
breakfast
55 Trait carrier
59 Dadaist Jean
60 Yahtzee cube
61 Slender fish
By Janice Luttrell
©2016 Tribune Content Agency, LLC
04/12/16
04/12/16
ANSWER TO PREVIOUS PUZZLE:
RELEASE DATE– Tuesday, April 12, 2016
Los Angeles Times Daily Crossword Puzzle
Edited by Rich Norris and Joyce Nichols Lewis
xwordeditor@aol.com
Classifieds
Call: #734-418-4115
Email: dailydisplay@gmail.com
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SUMMER EMPLOYMENT
There are a lot of things
that make me sad. When my
avocados turn brown before
I have time to eat them. The
2000 film “Rugrats in Paris:
The
Movie.”
The fact
that Huma
Abedin is
married to
Anthony
“Carlos
Danger”
Weiner.
What
makes me
saddest
though, is the answer my mom
gave to a question I asked her a
few weeks ago. In anticipation
of this, my final column as the
Gender and Media Columnist
for The Michigan Daily, I asked
people in my life what in pop
culture gives them hope for
the future of feminism. Her
answer?
“Nothing.”
In some ways, she’s not
wrong. We have a woman
running for president being
attacked left and right because
of her “ambition.” Of the top
250 highest-grossing films
that have been released in the
past two years, only 9 percent
were directed by women. Last
week, Donald Trump said that
women who had undergone
abortion procedures should
be punished. Olivia Wilde was
considered “too old” (she’s 32!)
to play Leonardo Dicaprio’s
wife in “Wolf of Wall Street.”
My mom may be cynical, but
she has a point: it’s still hard
out there for us ladies. But even
though there’s a lot to bemoan
about the status of women in
American society, I am more
interested in the small, bright
sparks guiding us to the light at
the end of the tunnel. Because
despite the obvious uphill
battle towards equality and
equity ahead of us, I do find
hope for women.
I find hope in the complex,
fully-charged, dynamic
female characters peppering
television; from Alicia Florrick
on “The Good Wife” to “Mad
Men” ’s Peggy Olsen to Sarah
Paulson’s intensely humanizing
take on Marcia Clark in “The
People vs. OJ Simpson.”
Despite the murky muck
that is the current political
landscape, I find hope that
we do have a woman running
for president, even if her
run is breathtakingly more
difficult than those of the
men around her. At least she
has the chutzpah to fight on. I
find hope in the fact that our
maple-syrup sweet neighbor
to the North is led by a man
who insists he won’t stop
calling himself a feminist, and
who urges other men to say
the same. (I also find hope in
the fact that men like Justin
Trudeau even exist, let alone
run a country — have you seen
the gentle, Paul Rudd eyes on
that man?)
I find hope in artists like
Lady Gaga and Hozier, who
bravely use their platforms
to speak out against sexual
assault in personal and
powerful terms. Gaga’s Oscars
performance, in which she
surrounded herself with
survivors of sexual assault, was
a urgent reminder to the world
that this epidemic has faces
and names, and stories to go
along with it. It gives me hope
that this charged performance
was introduced by the Vice
President of the United
States, a man whose complex
relationship with women’s
issues may be changing for the
better.
I find hope in “Star Wars,”
which I saw in theaters three
times, mesmerized by the
woman unapologetically at
the forefront of the film. Rey
is unlike any woman in the
sci-fi genre: obviously strong
and scrappy, but also emotive
and joyful. Sensitive but brave,
smart but not faultless. Never
sexualized. Daisy Ridley’s Rey
proves that movies are better,
and can even make more
money, when they don’t resort
to limiting stereotypes and
ways of silencing women.
“Broad City” gives me
hope for the power of female
friendship, and for greater
recognition of the tender
impact women can have on
each other’s lives. Abbi and
Ilana’s relationship is one of
the strongest on television, and
the lack of a man in that dyad
cannot be ignored. Rebecca
Traister’s book “All the Single
Ladies,” which lays out the
positive political and social
implications of a society in
which women delay, or even
opt out of marriage, gives me
similar hope.
Just as I’m hopeful about the
world out there, the world of
real jobs and scary choices and
adult implications, I’m grateful
for the world in here, the small
spaces filled with stunningly
smart, kind and empowering
people in which I’ve been lucky
to spend my life. So many other
people contributed to this list,
others that too, give me hope.
My teachers and mentors,
who showed me how to write
and then let me break the rules
when I wanted to. Professors
who taught me the nuances
of feminism and gave me
the space to babble in their
classroom. Others still that
let me teach them, who gave
me respect when I told them
I thought they were wrong.
Hope comes from the women
who came before me, who had
it so much harder in their battle
against the patriarchy. Even as
I sat here and wrote this, two
Daily alums in their sixties
walked into the newsroom to
hand out fliers about National
Equal Pay Day. They came
up to me and asked if I know
women still get paid 25 percent
less than men. I can’t help but
smile, grateful that women like
them are still fighting after so
many years.
Hope comes from my
Daily co-workers, who sang
JoJo with me and bought me
cupcakes on my birthday and
even now comfort me as I
stand, paralyzed, at the edge
of college. They were the ones
who let me begin this column,
who gave me constant fodder
for ideas and who made me
feel like I could do it. They lit
the small fire in my head, the
thought that I might actually
be good at this.
My friends, smart and savvy
almost-graduates, who poured
in new perspectives and ideas,
showing me how potent women
can be when they support
each other. They were there
for me in these last moments
as they have been from the
beginning, letting me rant
about something long enough
that it finally coalesced into
an idea for a column, bringing
me coffee and snacks when
needed (and when not), and
giving me the strength to write
about things that are personal,
to write about things that
frightened me. Knowing that
women and men like them are
entering the world, with the
power to make change both
micro and macro, gives me
hope. Knowing that they will
always be with me gives me
more.
I wrote about my dad in my
very first column, using him as
a scapegoat for unenlightened
men everywhere. I’m lucky
that he let me make him that
scapegoat, that his support
included letting me throw
him under the bus. He is never
stingy with his pride in me,
even when I’m railing against
the entirety of his gender. That
kind of support is more than
rare, and I think it has buoyed
me more than I’ve given him
credit for.
When I asked my mom that
original question about her
hopes for feminism, and she
gave her original answer, I
laughed. That kind of sharp,
intellectual cynicism would
make sense for a woman who
has been defying the status quo
her entire life. The obstacles
she has had to overcome in
order to be the woman she
is have allowed me to be
optimistic in a way she can’t be.
But she always surprises me,
and she soon sent a barrage of
texts about her hopes, giving
me new ideas and avenues to
pursue. All that I am — a pop
culture obsessive, a planner, a
businessperson, a good friend,
a dreamer, a feminist — I am
because of her. Mom, thanks
for letting me pretend for even
a second that I achieved any of
those identities on my own. It’s
all because of you.
Last Saturday, before going
to Rick’s with my roommates
to revel in our final weeks in
Ann Arbor, I hid in my room
and watched “Sisterhood of
the Traveling Pants.” I had
always identified as a Carmen,
resonating with her pluck
and her anger, her insistence
that people care about her as
deeply as she cares about them.
Watching it again ten years
after it first captivated me, I
began to weep. How much my
life has changed since I was
a fifth grader, dreaming of
meeting a Kostos on a Greek
island and road tripping with
my best friends who knew me
better than I knew myself. How
powerful it is, that a movie
about four young girls, a movie
that emphasizes friendship,
came out when I was ten and
just beginning to understand
the prices and joys of being a
girl. How powerful too that
last year, when my best friend
and I flew across the Atlantic
Ocean to traverse Europe, on
a whim I carried a copy of the
“Sisterhood” book with me.
That’s what gives me hope
as I move across the country,
away from my family and
friends. Yes, we’ll talk every
day and visit one another
and develop new memories,
but it will be their years of
support and empowerment that
strengthen me — as a friend, a
student, a sister, a daughter and
as a feminist. I’ll carry them
with me, like a well-worn book.
Gadbois is going to be missed
very much. If you miss her already,
email gadbnat@umich.edu.
A new hope
NATALIE
GADBOIS
GENDER & MEDIA COLUMN
Lame ‘Twenty88’
By MATT GALLATIN
Daily Arts Writer
Big Sean and Jhene Aiko live
in the shadows. I don’t mean that
in a positive, atmospheric sort
of way. Aiko
is
undoubt-
edly
best
known
for
her features
—
either
for
quality,
like Drake’s
“From
Time,” or for
topical gim-
micks,
like
Omarion’s “Post To Be” (“he gotta
eat the booty like groceries”).
Sean, on the other hand, seems to
thrive on the fringes of his own
projects, his biggest moments
arriving as tag-alongs to more
prominent artists, like “Bless-
ings,” which buzzed thanks to
Drake and Kanye, and “Control,”
which is memorable only for Ken-
drick. Sean and Aiko have a habit
of appearing like decorative bows
on the successes of others, color-
ful, if non-essential.
With both artists inhabiting
similar spaces, it makes sense
that Aiko and Sean have shown
chemistry
before.
“Beware”
from Sean’s Hall of Fame, was a
momentary highlight from the
two, a side by side love-lament as
they do best. But the two have less
in common as artists than meets
the eye, and TWENTY88, their
joint project, finds the two real-
izing this deficit.
This helps explain the sole
focus of this project: the romantic
life of twenty-somethings. There
seems to be little else the two can
find common ground on, and thus
they settle on cultivating a pre-
tend, media-tailored relationship,
reminiscent of the fake marriage
between Drake and Nicki Minaj.
It’s reality television meets the
music industry. Tabloid-pushing
aside, there are moments when
the chemistry works nonethe-
less. Opening track “Déjà Vu”
sees Aiko and Sean playing into
each other’s strengths, Aiko’s
no-games mentality (“Tonight
you gon’ learn / it’s your turn”)
balancing
Sean’s
playful-to-a-
fault worldview (“No but for real,
how’s ya sister / Hit her up, tell
her I miss her”). While “Beware”
kept their voices on separate
planes, they melt into one another
here, sharing the spotlight.
But that interplay begins to feel
tired as the project progresses,
teetering on dull. There’s only so
much they both have to say, no
matter how much surface-level
innovation they attempt to bring.
Take “Talk Show,” for example,
where Aiko and Sean act as a
couple appearing on a televi-
sion talk show, arguing back and
forth. The concept is interesting
on paper, and is unique enough to
break up the monotony the album
falls into. After a single listen,
though, there’s little to come back
to, its new toy shine worn out.
Any hope that these artists
would push each other to new
heights now seems ill-conceived.
Aiko is at her best on airy, impres-
sionist tracks, her voice occa-
sionally bringing a lingering,
ethereal quality, as on “Wth” and
“The Worst.” That atmosphere
is never even attempted here, as
she grounds herself to equate
her voice with Sean’s. For Sean’s
part, this joint project feels like
a reach toward R&B. He leaves
behind his base of almost joke
rap, which produced some of his
best works (“Paradise”), bring-
ing along the lyrical clunkers, but
too often without the confident
flow to accompany. On “Selfish,”
he half-sings “You know I’m
from a tribe called questions / I
need them answers now like it’s
test time.” It’s lazily constructed
and awkward, indicative of the
level of rapping Sean reaches on
TWENTY88.
The sum is a frustratingly
reductive album, a result found
far too often when major artists
collaborate on joint albums. Ide-
ally this should work: “Let’s take
two famous artists, throw them
together and figure something
great will happen!” But the com-
promises in style that must be
made can be too great to tran-
scend. TWENTY88 falls into this
trap.
C+
TWENTY88
TWENTY88 (Big
Sean and Jhene Aiko)
GOOD/ARTium/
Def Jam
GOOD MUSIC
“My name’s Blurryface and I care what you think.”
ALBUM REVIEW
I find hope in
artists like Lady
Gaga.
6 — Tuesday, April 12, 2016
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com