ACROSS
1 Carpet thickness
5 Crowbar,
basically
10 Vanishing ski lift
14 Preemptive
rescue op
15 Wear down
16 MasterCard rival
17 *Boot camp
newbie
19 Not fer
20 Slap in the face
21 Play the hand
you were dealt
23 Smooth engine
sound
25 __-Locka, Florida
26 Aetna’s bus.
27 Michelin product
31 Ancient vase in a
museum, say
33 Fuel-efficient
Chevy
34 Physics work unit
36 Starts the kitty
39 Truth stretcher
40 Nebula Award
genre
43 Undiluted
44 Untrue
46 Acquired
47 __ Minor: Little
Bear
48 Chinese menu
promise
51 Company 
co-founded by
J.P. Morgan
53 “The Simpsons”
disco guy
55 Sport-__: 4 x 4
56 90 deg. at the
North Pole, e.g.
57 Overly long and
generally
unproductive
activity
60 One of Santa’s
reindeer
65 “SOS” pop group
66 *Defensible alibi
68 Baked desserts
69 Latest craze
70 Ointment additive
71 Tortoise racer
72 Spiritual guardian
73 Identity hider

DOWN
1 Prefix with scope
2 Hall of Fame
catcher Rodriguez
3 Newton’s motion
trio

4 Color of raw silk
5 Professors’ talks
6 Boot the ball
7 “Parlez-__
français?”
8 Manuscript fixer
9 Make another
recording of
10 Promo on the
tube
11 *Grand scheme
of things
12 From China, say
13 Tirades
18 Pre-college,
briefly
22 Simba’s
playmate
24 Defunct Ford
division, for short
27 Baby whale
28 Sports shoe
brand
29 *It may be
rational, in math
30 Sculptor’s subject
32 Data to be
processed
35 Band tour
booking
37 Highland tongue
38 Close tightly
41 Basketball
transgression

42 “Agreed!” ... and
what can be said
about the start of
the answers to
starred clues
45 Grounded Aussie
birds
49 Mark of 
disgrace
50 Columbus, by
birth
52 Lay’s chips-in-a-
can brand

53 Dangerous
bacterium
54 Knee-to-ankle
bone
58 Lessen, as pain
59 Skull Island ape
61 Rip-off
62 Island dance
63 Those, in Mexico
64 Cause serious
nose-wrinkling
67 Stop working, as
an engine

By Roland Huget
©2017 Tribune Content Agency, LLC
10/03/17

10/03/17

ANSWER TO PREVIOUS PUZZLE:

RELEASE DATE– Tuesday, October 3, 2017

Los Angeles Times Daily Crossword Puzzle

Edited by Rich Norris and Joyce Nichols Lewis

xwordeditor@aol.com

6 — Tuesday, October 3, 2017
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

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Children, listen: The best 

thing to read on the internet 
is New York magazine’s Grub 
Street Diet. Once a week, the 
site publishes someone’s food 
journal of the past few days — a 
culinary diary from people who 
range from minimally famous 
to Kristen Bell.

Of course, the great secret 

of the Grub Street Diet is that, 
often, it’s the random author 
you’ve never heard of or the 
CEO of a company you didn’t 
know 
existed 
that 
writes 

the best piece (spoiler alert, 
Kristen 
Bell’s 
diet 
sounds 

atrocious). The best of these 
diary entries read like the 
world’s best food writing from 
people who aren’t even food 
writers; they’re ridiculously 
entertaining vignettes of a 
few days eating around New 
York, San Francisco or LA. 
The worst Grub Street Diets 
are unfortunately bland, rote 
descriptions 
of 
food. 
And 

sometimes you find one that 
is, truly, impossible to explain 
— a great sentence to take out 
of context here is this: “I have 
a lot of calls to do this morning, 
so I pour a cold sugar-free Red 
Bull into a hot large coffee and 
gulp it.”

Obviously now, in honor of 

my favorite weekly content 
machine, I’ll try my best to 
recreate a Grub Street Diet for 
a couple of uneventful days. 
Let’s all be mindful that I’m 
in college, I was on the tail 
end of my grocery supply and I 
simply did not have the time to 
cook that much. I apologize in 
advance. (And now that I think 
about it, I take back what I said 
about New York Giants running 
back Rashad Jennings writing 
a shitty blog post. I’m sorry, 
Rashad. Much like playing 
with Eli Manning as your 
quarterback, this was harder 
than it looks.)

Monday, September 25
Keeping with the theme of 

“harder than it looks,” I wake 
up at 7:20, 10 minutes before 
my alarm is supposed to go off 
at 7:30. I hate that.

That’s a fitting omen: It’s 

going to be a horrible week! I 
have — and I believe this is the 
metric unit used around the 
world — a shit-ton of work, all 
due before Thursday and with 
no time to do it. But I must 
eat, of course, so after a solid 
shower, I head down to the 
kitchen and make some coffee. 
I look around for something, 
anything, before I find some 
honey. There’s yogurt in the 
fridge, so I slap some into a 
bowl and drizzle a bit of cheap, 
Trader Joe’s honey on top. The 
coffee tastes like ass. It’s fine. 
This is good enough.

Hungry and tired, several 

hours and a lot of hard work 

later I realize I need to head 
home to make myself a grilled 
cheese. I’d like to say here 
that, if nothing else, my grilled 
cheeses are fantastic. Even if 
I don’t have the ideal bread 
(pullman loaf, of course), I 
still always manage to put 
together 
a 
solid 
sandwich. 

It takes a slightly unhealthy 
amount of butter, that plastic 
Kraft American Singles stuff 
and, as I’ve learned, patience. 
I down a quick one made with 

multigrain bread, sliced into 
triangles, and then I’m off to 
the Espresso Royale.

Everyone calm down. Of 

course it’s the one on State 
Street; I don’t hate myself.

Despite a good 20 minutes 

of actual work and two hours 
of, well, not that, I feel in need 
of a treat. I pick up a small 
coffee and a blueberry muffin. 
Espresso’s baked goods aren’t 
the greatest, but they get the 
job done. And they fill you up!

Alas, dinner that night is 

a special one. I’m working 
production at the University’s 
most editorially and financially 
independent newspaper, so we 
all decide TK Wu is the way 
to go. TK Wu, on E. Liberty, is 
a staple of the last few years 
I’ve been at the Daily. There’s 
nowhere 
else 
on 
campus 

you can get such good shitty 
Chinese food, and at such an 
affordable price! And if you’re 
going to go bad Chinese food, 
you might as well go full bad 
Chinese food: I order the 
General Tso’s Chicken with 
white rice. It’s incredible for 
the first few bites, and then 
once you realize all that murky, 
red liquid at the bottom of the 
container may not, in fact, be 
actual food, you throw it out. 
It’s glorious. I’m only slightly 
embarrassed.

Tuesday, September 26
Mondays suck, of course, but 

Tuesdays are a great day of the 
week for me. I don’t have class 
until four, but again, since this 
is a week of endless papers and 
math assignments, I get up 
early in the hopes of getting it 
all done. I make another cup of 
really bad coffee (guys, don’t 
worry, it’s just that my coffee 

machine sucks), and then head 
to the gym. I make it back an 
hour later, shower, throw on a 
dope outfit, eat a banana and 
step outside. It’s still hot as 
nuts.

Nevertheless, I make my 

way over to my temple (the 
Espresso on State Street), and, 
sweaty and flustered, I order 
another coffee. I hammer out 
a couple essays of dubious 
quality. Bruegger’s, which is 
apparently the only place in 
Ann Arbor you can get a bagel, 
is across the street; I blurt out 
the classic line — “Can you 
watch my stuff real quick?” — 
to no one in particular and trot 
over.

My 
take 
on 
Bruegger’s 

fluctuates. It’s obviously not 
the 
greatest 
restaurant 
on 

the planet (you’ll notice I’ve 
lowered my standards for a 
lot of things this week), but 
they do serve smoked salmon. 
I order the sandwich with lox, 
cream cheese, tomatoes, red 
onions and capers. It’s good, 
and just filling enough.

Ethically, it wouldn’t be 

right if I didn’t cook at least 
one meal for this goddamn faux 
Grub Street diet. I’ve realized 
now that, again, I am in no 
place to criticize New York 
Giants running back Rashad 
Jennings for the quality of his 
internet writing. But I will say 
this: This is a pretty boring 
diary so far, to be sure, but I’m 
a college student in Ann Arbor 
with a limited budget. If you’re 
an East Coast media elite-type 
in New York City, you have no 
excuses. Buy that $4 fucking 
coffee and tell us how it tastes, 
man.

As for my own meal: Today’s 

dinner 
will 
be... 
chicken 

breasts! Ah, chicken breasts, 
that famous dish we all know 
and love. I’ve marinated them 
in a quick solution of olive oil, 
garlic powder, onion powder, 
chilli powder, salt, pepper and 
then whatever else I could 
find in the spice cabinet. They 
all taste the same. Except for 
cinnamon. They do not all taste 
like cinnamon.

The first thing I do is get a 

good sear on these bad boys, 
because that’s crucial. Don’t 
let anyone tell you otherwise. I 
pop them in the oven to finish 
off, because you’ve got to cook 
the meat, of course. Don’t let 
anyone tell you otherwise. I 
microwave a bag of that Trader 
Joe’s frozen brown rice stuff, 
because that’s what I had time 
for. Don’t let anyone tell you 
otherwise. After a quick sautee 
of broccoli and mushrooms, I 
carefully compose a plate of 
one piece of chicken, a handful 
of rice and some vegetables. 
Nice! This is a good enough 
image to end on.

What I ate last Monday 

and Tuesday

FOOD COLUMN

NABEEL 

CHOLLAMPAT

2017 Manhattan Short 
Film Festival successful

COURTESY OF MANHATTAN SHORT FILM FESTIVAL

FESTIVAL REVIEW

For one week every year, 

film lovers gather in over 
250 cities across the globe 
to simultaneously watch and 
vote on the ten 
short 
films 
of 

the 
Manhattan 

Short 
Film 

Festival. 
Highly 

competitive, 
prestigious 
and 

interactive, 
Manhattan Short 
Films seeks to showcase talent 
from around the world and 
enable viewers to determine 
the merit of each screened 
piece. This year, the 10 selected 
films exhibited diversity in 
both genre and nationality, 
with compelling stories and 
performances condensed in 15 
minutes or less.

Selected from over 1,600 

submissions, it is clear why 
this year’s ten short films 
made the cut. Though more 
or less predictable, every film 
was clean cut, entertaining 
and well-paced. The strongest 

films highlighted unique and 
influential figures in history, 
such as the Auschwitz prisoner 
who cut the hair of a Nazi 
general for four years in tense 
silence (“Hope Dies Last”), and 
the Italian woman who defied 
the law that forced women to 
marry their rapists (“Viola 

Franca”). 
The 

most complex and 
disturbing 
film, 

“Mare Nostrum,” 
worked to dignify 
Syrian 
refugees 

and 
complicate 

the act of risking 
one’s 
life 
in 

the name of hope. The only 
animated piece, “In A Nutshell,” 
was a visually stunning stream 
of consciousness that linked 
unlikely 
objects 
together. 

The festival ended with “8 
Minutes,” a moving piece set in 
an apocalypse that strengthens 
the bond between a magician 
and his son. 

Overall, the festival was a 

fun and entertaining showcase 
of diverse international talent. 
The 
viewing 
and 
voting 

process is unique in its way 
of connecting the viewer to a 
global community of people 

watching and voting on the 
same pieces at the same time. 
I really enjoyed the experience 

and recommend it to anyone 
who 
enjoys 
succinct 
and 

compelling film.

SYDNEY COHEN

Daily Arts Writer

Manhattan 
Short Film 

Festival

Michigan Theater

For one week 
every year, film 
lovers gather in 
over 250 cities ... 
to simultaneously 
watch and vote on 
the ten short films 
of the Manhattan 

Short Film 

Festival

FILM REVIEW
‘I Am Blues’ gives lost 
legends moment to shine

Before there was rock ‘n’ roll 

or country or hip hop, there 
were the blues. 
Blues, the father 
of 
soul, 
were 

born in the deep 
south, nursed in 
the 
swamplands 

of Louisiana with 
a 
broken 
piano 

and cradled along 
the Mississippi River with a 
horsehair guitar. From the 
smokehouses to the BBQ joints 
to the churches to the cotton 
fields, there was once a time 
when blues were everywhere. 
Documentarian Daniel Cross 
(“Chairman 
George”) 
goes 

back to the birthplace of blues 
to take the audience on a tour 
of the once-glittering world 
of B.B. King and Jimmy Reed, 
now a wasteland of neglect 
fueled only by the few, devoted 

players dedicated 
to 
keeping 
the 

blues alive.

Through 

interviews 
and 

impromptu 
jam 

sessions 
with 

blues 
masters 

and key players, 

now in their late 80s, “I Am The 
Blues” illustrates the passion, 
artistry and history behind 
the art that lives on. The film 
is grounded in the present, by 
following blues legends like 
Bobby Rush, Barbara Lynn, 
Lazy Lester, Little Freddie 

King, Henry Gray and more, 
while expertly painting a vivid 
picture of the lively past of the 
genre solely through stories and 

first-hand accounts (the only 
archival footage is shown in 
the credits). Despite their age, 
these legends still have their 
rhythm, but most importantly, 
they still have their blues.

BECKY PORTMAN

Daily Arts Writer

“I Am The 

Blues”

Film Movement

Michigan Theater

Before there was 

rock ‘n’ roll or 
country, there 
were the blues