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The Michigan
Daily loves 
its readers
a LATTE

By Craig Stowe
©2018 Tribune Content Agency, LLC
11/20/18

Los Angeles Times Daily Crossword Puzzle

Edited by Rich Norris and Joyce Nichols Lewis

11/20/18

ANSWER TO PREVIOUS PUZZLE:

Release Date: Tuesday, November 20, 2018

ACROSS
1 Worked off 
nervous energy, 
say
6 Grounded fast jet
9 Like imitators
14 Maine town on 
the Penobscot
15 Letter after sigma
16 Food from 
heaven
17 Traditional Easter 
dinner
19 “... better __ 
worse”: wedding 
vow words
20 Wedding rental
21 “Not bad, not 
great”
22 Cuts anew
23 “In your dreams!”
25 Steinway seat, 
perhaps
27 Biological 
mapping 
subjects
29 By the seashore
30 Garden tool
31 Scientist Wernher 
__ Braun
32 Undercover 
agent
33 Ohio’s has wheat 
and arrows
38 Transmission 
type: Abbr.
41 Line on many a 
receipt
42 Hold (onto)
46 Take advance 
orders for
49 Colder than cold
51 Boating safety 
feature
53 Former couples
54 Curly-horned 
goats
55 Mama’s mama
57 Vietnam New 
Year
58 Renaissance fair 
garment
59 Glancing blow 
on the road, 
and a hint to the 
puzzle’s circles
61 Still soft, as 
concrete
62 Sci-fi vehicle
63 Golf targets
64 Jury members
65 Wooden pin
66 Wide-mouthed 
pitchers

DOWN
1 Canoe carrying
2 Turned on
3 Cajolery
4 Running trio?
5 Colon 
components
6 Equilibrium
7 Polynesian island 
nation
8 “Rub-a-dub-dub” 
vessel
9 Microscopic 
organism
10 Analyzes 
grammatically
11 Babies
12 Mt. Hood hood?
13 How scolding 
words may be 
spoken
18 Leisurely gait
22 ABC exec 
Arledge
24 Enemies
26 Cpls. and sgts.
28 Muscular 2017 
“Dancing With 
the Stars” 
competitor
31 Distress
34 Book of maps
35 Gymnast’s 
powder

36 Vatican vestment
37 Lounge (around)
38 Call it quits
39 Chicago 
newspaper
40 The “D” of 
“NORAD”
43 Silk or cashmere
44 Climbing vine
45 Snack cake 
maker with the 
Nasdaq symbol 
TWNK

47 More appealing
48 Spits out, as a 
DVD
49 Old salt
50 __ Reader: 
eclectic digest
52 Chef’s cutter
56 Tennis great 
Arthur
59 “How’s it 
hangin’?”
60 __ factor: 
impressive quality

They were “there” in high 

school, but only in theory. 
While you wanted one — so you 
could, you know, say you had 
one — your 16-year-old body 
operated with the impenetrable 
inner mechanisms of a stallion 
and you went for a run the next 
day and then sat in a classroom 
from 8:30 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. 
the next day, because, again, 
stallion body.

They’re here now. Hangovers 

are death that comes with 
an intangible cloudiness, a 
tidal wave of nothingness and 
everythingness that converges 
into silenced internal chaos, 
plucking at the functioning 
parts of you that remain and 
making sure any shard of 
productivity turns into mush 
(until the mush mushes slowly 
toward the next episode of 
“The Haunting of Hill House”).

Hall of Fame Pittsburgh 

Pirate Willie Stargell once said 
that getting a hit off of Hall 
of Fame Los Angeles Dodger 
Sandy Koufax was “like trying 
to eat soup with a fork.”

Nursing a hangover when 

you’re 
not 
a 
super 
young 

person feels like eating soup 
with a fork, except the soup 
is definitely of a Matzah Ball 
variety, injecting its rocket-
high salt content into the 
frayed and dehydrated shell of 
human that’s somehow still in 
there somewhere.

Really, I think I’ve come to 

accept hangovers for what they 
are: warning signs that arrive 
and linger with a familiar 
banality of doom. They hit 
everyone 
differently; 
rather 

than a more enjoyable straw-
drawing 
or 
Tap 
Roulette. 

Leaving this up to chance 
doesn’t translate to nervous 

excitement as much as the 
harsh 
reality 
that 
strikes 

between sips: Someone will 
be holed up for many hours 
tomorrow, someone else will 
see weird dots out of the corner 
of their eye for some reason and 
omelettes that might not, um, 
settle.

Is that just me? Maybe that’s 

me. All three things definitely 
happened, all at the same time, 
to me, this morning.

We then search for the cure, 

or things to proactively do 
before drinking. I don’t know 
if these solutions exist. I’m 
beginning to doubt they do.

Pedialyte 
first 
comes 
to 

mind. The friend who initially 
recommended this allegedly 
magic mix became a drinking 
buddy demigod with its early 
success. The company behind 
the stuff — which was intended 
to be hydration fluid for sick 
children — soon recognized its 
exploding market and adjusted 
accordingly, 
leading 
to 

Costco-sized Pedialyte boxes 
appearing in college residences 
across the country. But the 
body ultimately adapted to 
kiddie 
potion. 
Your 
friend 

became less cool, and your 
hangovers became way less 
manageable.

A Google search for hangover 

cures reveals the following tips: 
Limit your alcohol intake (OK), 
avoid drinks with congeners 
(don’t know what “congeners” 
means), eat a good breakfast 
(doesn’t 
work), 
get 
plenty 

of 
sleep 
(unrealistic), 
stay 

hydrated (I do!), have a drink 
the next morning (seems like 
bad advice but it gives me an 
excuse to reference my favorite 
scene in “The Shining”) or take 
supplements like red ginseng or 
prickly pear (Oh! Well I guess 
I need to try that one.). These 
“fixes” are all disqualified, 
however, because I declare that 
none of them work, and maybe 
I want to keep wallowing here 
anyway.

Yes, 
that’s 
it. 
We 
can 

keep wallowing. Our worst 
nightmare 
is 
confirmed 
— 

hangovers 
know 
no 
defeat 

— but just as Willie Stargell 
remained 
steadfast 
in 
his 

attempt to eat soup with a fork, 
we should also stay the course, 
because there’s a day after this 
one that won’t feel like booty, 
and I consider that a silver 
lining.

I’m 
not 
thankful 
for 

hangovers this year, but I am 
thankful for how they make 
me feel, because I’ve learned to 
embrace the wallow. It seems to 
be the (most) correct antidote 
for a permeating poison that 
can only be described with 
“ugh,” “yeesh” or an otherwise 
unintelligible mumble. When 
the bother does in fact arrive, 
I won’t have dispensed any 
applicable health or wellness 
advice to apply, but that might 
be OK, because the hangover 
probably 
incapacitates 
you 

from reading words in the first 
place. Godspeed, mush people.

For your consideration: 

Hangovers

DAILY HEALTH & WELLNESS COLUMN

JOEY 

SCHUMAN

Chuck Lorre is not the type 

of guy you would expect to go 
off method. Deemed the “King 
of Sitcoms,” Lorre has risen 
to 
popularity 
under 
widely 

popular, 
three-camera 
laugh 

track 
productions 
including 

“Two and a Half Men,” “The Big 
Bang Theory” and “Mom.” His 
technique has worked so well, it’s 
a wonder why he would ever stray 
from the course. Yet in Lorre’s 
new 30-minute Netflix sitcom, 
“The Kominsky Method,” he does 
just that.

“The 
Kominsky 
Method” 

follows the hypermasculine yet 
endearing friendship of washed-
up acting coach Sandy Kominsky 
(Michael Douglas, “Ant Man and 
the Wasp”) and his blasé agent 
Norman (Alan Arkin, “Going in 
Style”). Shot in single-camera 
fashion with a lack of blinding 
lighting and laugh tracks, the 
show immediately distinguishes 
itself from Lorre’s usual MO. 
In one of the first interactions 
between Sandy and Norman, 
Sandy asks his friend and agent 
about landing an acting job on a 
sitcom.

“Those little pischers on ‘The 

Big Bang Theory,’ they’re making a 
million bucks a week!” Sandy tells 
Norman. “Sandy, it’s pabulum; 
it’s crap. You’re a world-famous 
acting coach. What’s it gonna look 
like, you doing a network sitcom?” 
Norman responds. It’s a moment 

that could appear to just be an old 
man trying to help his struggling 
friend realize his worth. But then: 
“So I didn’t get the part,” Sandy 
says. “No,” Norman answers. In 
a funny little reference to Lorre’s 
other work, this exchange sets 
the dynamic for the remainder 
of the show: two old men who 
will complain endlessly about 
the world around them while 

desperately longing to be a 
functional, meaningful part of it.

This idea of duality is one 

that sews a common thread 
between every scene of “The 
Kominsky Method.” The show’s 
first two episodes center around 
the death of Norman’s fiery 
wife 
Eileen 
(Susan 
Sullivan, 

“Castle”). 
It’s 
heartbreaking 

— a clearly crushing blow to 
Norman who, unlike his three-
time divorcee friend Sandy, has 
been with his wife for decades. 
Despite the tragedy, Eileen’s 
funeral is a celebration of fun and 
comedy MC’ed by Jay Leno and 
boasting performances of “Lady 
Marmalade” from Patti LaBelle 
and “The Way We Were” from 
a drag queen dressed as Barbra 
Streisand.

These incredible moments in 

“The Kominsky Method” make 
the lackluster ones even more 
disappointing. This is Lorre’s first 

venture into the “sadcom” realm, 
and the rookie mistakes are 
evident. Douglas and Arkin deliver 
exceptional performances as men 
dealing with all of the drama 
of aging, and their chemistry is 
contagious. Yet so often the show 
gets lost in the bond between 
these two men that it borders 
on the crime of self-obsession. 
“The Kominsky Method” focuses 
a bizarre amount on Sandy’s 
prostate problems, a truly normal 
issue for men of his age, but uses 
Norman’s daughter Phoebe (Lisa 
Edelstein, “The Good Doctor”) 
and her struggle with addiction 
as a punchline.

“The Kominsky Method” has 

room to improve, but at its core 
the show is funny, touching and 
a welcome and much-needed 
departure from such “pabulum” 
shows as “The Big Bang Theory.” 
Most of the show’s viewers are 
probably not newly widowed 
men or has-been acting coaches, 
but “The Kominsky Method” is 
crafted in such a way that this 
doesn’t matter. The trials and 
tribulations of being human is 
something everyone can relate to. 
As Norman says, “It hurts being 
human. It hurts like hell. And all 
the exploring in the world doesn’t 
make that hurt go away because 
being human and being hurt 
are the same damn thing.” This 
may be so, but “The Kominsky 
Method” shows viewers all they 
need is a friend going through the 
same hurt as them — one to tease 
and yell at and laugh with, and 
just maybe that hurt will go away.

‘The Kominsky Method’ is 
a jumbled portrait of aging

SAMANTHA DELLA FERA

Daily Arts Writer

INTERSCOPE RECORDS

“The Kominsky 

Method”

Netflix

ALBUM REVIEW

In a world dominated by 

social media and the invention 
of new career paths, like being 
a YouTuber, the extent to which 
people share details of their 
lives online has skyrocketed. 
Netflix’s newest release “Cam” 
explores the disastrous effects 
of 
maintaining 
a 
popular 

online presence and the lack 
of authenticity that sites like 
Instagram and Snapchat have 
injected into our daily lives. 

“Cam” follows the life of Alice 

Ackerman (Madeline Brewer, 
“Orange is the New Black”) 
while she works to make it as 
a camgirl only to soon discover 
that someone, or something, has 
taken over her channel. With the 
fictional live-streaming site’s 
eerie similarity to YouTube and 
Alice’s career essentially that of 
a YouTuber, the film is able to 
highlight the more questionable 
practices 
prevalent 
in 
the 

online 
streaming 
platform. 

Alice spends days at a time 
coming up with new “shows,” 
and collaborations are often 
a way of gaining new fans. 
Views are directly related to 
how much money Alice makes 
and the company that runs 
the site takes a sizable chunk 
of the earnings away from its 
creators. Only the fact that 
Alice showcases and sexualizes 
her body instead of her makeup 
or DIY skills differentiates what 
she does as a sex worker from 
that of YouTubers like James 
Charles or LaurDIY. 

“Cam” 
also 
forces 
the 

audience 
to 
reconsider 

prejudices 
against 
people 

making 
a 
living 
in 

unconventional ways. The old 
joke of becoming a stripper 
becomes less of a joke and 
more of a reality as people 
realize the kind of money that 

a good stripper can make and 
the kinds of skills that are 
required to work in that kind 
of trade. Again, the same thing 
occurs with Instagram models 
and YouTubers — the amount 
of work it takes to curate and 
develop a successful following 
on either of these platforms is a 
marketing marvel. 

Social media comes with its 

downfalls, though, and “Cam” 

doesn’t ignore them. The lack of 
authenticity that we’re all guilty 
of when it comes to posting 
on Instagram and Snapchat is 
casually noted when Alice is 
shown simply scrolling through 
a series of pre-taken photos 
to satisfy one of her “guys.” 
The sticking point of the film 
— when Alice’s strange twin 
who took over her account — is 
a harsh reminder of society’s 
fickle attention span and Abby 
Lee Miller’s famous words: 
“Everyone is replaceable.” 

Each moment spent watching 

Alice at work is awash in neon 
pinks and soft, flattering light 
that makes whatever she does 
as a camgirl seem like a dream. 
Even as her livestream ends, 
the same kind of hazy quality 
permeates 
throughout 
the 

house that she bought using 
money from being a camgirl. 
Only when she’s forced to leave 
her place of work and confront 
the 
real 
world 
does 
this 

dreamlike state end. The scenes 
become dull and are no longer 
pastel; where her camgirl life 
is awash in blues and pinks, the 
real world is a rough mixture of 
greens and greys. It’s where her 
mother calls her out for biting 
her nails instead of her fans 
showering her with love and 
online tokens, akin to likes on a 
YouTube video or an Instagram 

photo. This juxtaposition of 
color schemes between scenes 
showing Alice’s reality and her 
career as a camgirl is reflective 
of the allure of becoming an 
internet personality and, in 
truth, the curated nature of the 
Instagram profile or Snapchat 
story. 

The 
movie’s 
social 

commentary, 
though, 
is 

overshadowed by its confusing 
plot that never actually answers 
some of the questions it poses. 
It suggests murder, stalkers and 
a strange entity that copies the 
profiles and styles of a popular 
girl’s site. The first two are 
standard thriller concepts but 
it’s the idea of some kind of 
virus or computer program 
that is preying on and taking 
advantage of girls online that 
leaves something to be desired. 
Given the amount of effort sites 
like Twitter and Instagram put 
into detecting fake accounts, 
this seems to be a bit far-fetched. 
The only realistic thing about 
the situation is that Alice never 
actually defeats it, but instead 
is just determined to avoid the 
same thing from happening 
again. More confusing still, 
though, is Netflix’s inability 
to tactfully handle triggering 
topics like suicide. The film 
shows Alice using it as a 
gimmick to gain views and 
money. The movie glorifies and 
sexualizes something that has 
had detrimental effects on the 
lives of many. 

The 
balance 
between 

individuality and popularity is 
a science that many influencers 
strive to perfect and “Cam” 
details this desire in a jarring 
manner by using a camgirl as 
the influencer in question. It’s 
a unique and thrilling movie, 
but the lack of understanding 
behind the plot and mental 
health 
make 
it 
about 
as 

authentic as a Kylie Jenner 
Snapchat story. 

EMMA CHANG
Daily Arts Writer

“Cam”

Netflix

‘Cam’ is muddled, alluring 
social media commentary

FILM REVIEW

6 — Tuesday, November 20, 2018
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

