tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3547067420689722925.post6987689760230414826..comments2023-08-13T11:58:31.588-04:00Comments on Ghulf Genes: Only in PuzzlesADhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06408980212433714362noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3547067420689722925.post-49268649248805688262013-12-03T12:00:13.172-05:002013-12-03T12:00:13.172-05:00My son-in-law, John Magee, has the right view on C...My son-in-law, John Magee, has the right view on Crosswords: a peculiar subculture of language. You will be interested in another clue in that puzzle, 70-across. It says "Leftover morsels," a 4-letter word. Brigitte and I recognized it rapidly. The answer is ORTS. Orts? Well, we learned this word years ago playing puzzles. In those days it was in every other puzzle we saw. But lately it has fallen out of fashion...ADhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06408980212433714362noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3547067420689722925.post-11645625650530956742013-12-03T11:16:16.234-05:002013-12-03T11:16:16.234-05:00Those are some baffling clues. I don't think I...Those are some baffling clues. I don't think I would ever have reached -aire; I think <i>debonaire</i> would have thrown me off that completely. (Wealth of courtesy, perhaps?)<br /><br />I don't know that I've ever come across 'oar' as a verb. Looking around for actual examples, though, I like the Urban Dictionary's completely made-up definition; that is, to stumble around randomly, smacking people in the face with oars. Somehow it does seem that 'oar' should have a meaning as strange as its sound.Brandonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06698839146562734910noreply@blogger.com