MR WRONG: Zero down
Indignity Vol. 6, No. 79
COLUMN DEP’T.
MR WRONG: The Only Way to Win the Word Games Is Not to Play
IT’S ELECTION SEASON right now, and I hope you will “exercise the franchise” or whatever they call it on the teevee news when they’re trying to be important and stuff.
Also, I looked on the internet and learned that “exercise the franchise” is a popular crossword puzzle clue for VOTE, but I did not know that because I don’t exercise my brain by doing crossword puzzles, like you are supposed to, in order to keep your brain from getting flabby, but I don’t like crossword puzzles, so I guess my brain is doomed.
Look, I know it’s supposed to be good for me, but don’t like having to do a fucking crossword puzzle to stave off brain rot or whatever, I don’t like to do puzzles, and I double-do-not like being told I have to do stuff, it’s too much pressure! I have to win at the crossword! It’s stress! Why am I supposed to do something that is stressful, isn’t that bad for my health, to be stressed out by a goddamn bunch of boxes? Why does my brain get a special exemption to do something that makes me feel angry and bad because I don’t do it every day for my own good? Get off my back, I don’t like puzzles! I heard that the New York Times one gets harder every day, like Monday is easier than Friday, is that something to fucking look forward to, the puzzle that I don’t like is gonna be worse tomorrow? How am I supposed to get into doing something I don’t fucking like? It makes me unhappy to do puzzles, and that’s bad, right, to be unhappy every fucking day because you have to do a puzzle?
Can’t we get one of these goddamn stupid A.I. things to come up with a pill that has the effect of doing a crossword puzzle? Where is the Manhattan Project of making a pill for me so I don’t have to do a crossword puzzle every day? I don’t even like the Wordle! It makes me really mad and it’s only five letters! Do you know how many letters are in a fucking crossword puzzle? I mean I am asking you because I don’t know! I don’t wanna do one! It’s a lotta letters, way more than the Wordle, and that’s bad enough! I can’t even think about the fucking Wordle without getting mad, and whenever I do one, it’s all this pressure to get the word, or else you feel bad for being dumb! It’s only five letters, how could you not get it? How can that be good for your brain, to get mad at a puzzle every day, and then you can’t even get the word? I’m mad at enough shit in the world and you’re telling me to stay sharp I need to do something that I actively do not like and upsets my sunny disposition?
You probably think I’m mad at the Wordle because I failed at it, but no, I have a perfect 100 percent record of getting the Wordle-word.
It’s not like I get it in three guesses, but I have never not gotten the stupid fucking Wordle, and that’s the whole point! Every time I get the Wordle is one more time closer to the time when I won’t get the Wordle! More and more stress! Closer and closer to failure! I don’t like it! And I don’t wanna hear about how if I did the fucking crossword puzzle every day I’d be better at the Wordle!
OK, so getting back to my topic, it’s Elections time, and it used to be just one day, but now it’s lots of times and ways to vote, and I mean, it’s important, to vote for things, and if it doesn't get enough exercise the franchise will get flabby, like my brain, very soon, I guess, because I am not doing the goddamn stupid fucking crossword puzzle. Please vote in the election, it’s enough already with this Economy. Thank you.
The MR. WRONG COLUMN is a general-interest column appearing weekly. No refunds. Write Wrong: wrongcolumn@gmail.com.
WEATHER REVIEWS
New York City, October 18, 2026
★★★★ The water tower up the avenue was as bright as birch bark. Sun glinted off lights on a rooftop and glinted more off the wristwatch of someone turning the steering wheel of a passing car. The next block down the avenue was a tunnel of gold, the honeylocusts turned and backlit. The calm air and the strong sun kept the chill from sinking in. Couples in the Park were clutching arms as they strolled or pressing close on the benches. One pair leaned into each other till their heads met in a sunbeam and held a kiss there. A photo shoot of girls in gowns, complete with lighting rigs and tripods, stretched down the slope of the falls to the Loch and out along the shore of the Pool. Islands of glowing green floated on the sloping lawn where the sun cut through the broad and graceful crossing shadows of elm and tulip tree limbs. The top of a tall red maple had gone as pink as blossoms in spring. "It's been way too long since I walked through Central Park," a woman said to her companion. Overshirts and jackets hung tied around waists as people who'd layered up for fall unlayered themselves down to their t-shirts.
New York City, October 19, 2026
★★★★★ Clear sky and strong sun made the day seem as if it could endure indefinitely. The sharp and tiny airplanes somehow cast a full sound, even with no clouds to reflect it downward. Leaves fell slowly from the sheltered trees behind the building. Shadows angled across stoop steps; a passing taxi stirred leaf litter. A hooded skateboarder went swerving down the slope of the cross street, fumbled away all momentum, and started on again. A grackle squawked in the low bushes by the Pool, then flew away clucking. The sun bounced off the water and sent a wash of bright, trembling fill light up into the undersides of the treetops. The surface of the Pool rippled without breaking, so that the images of the leaves and branches mirrored in it smoothly stretched apart and contracted together in rhythm. High, high circling birds flashed like aircraft aluminum, leaving only bright dots on the camera image. A man walked along the outside of the Park strewing broken pieces of puffball as he went.
New York City, October 20, 2026
★★★★★ The sky had forgotten what a cloud was. Against the vivid blue, leaves shook and so did—bare branches! A green ash on a cross street had gone deciduous ahead of all its neighbors, and the breeze pushed through its half-stripped crown to grab at the leaves remaining on the leeward side. Sun lit up an orange patch in the foliage of the park, while the green around it lay in shadow. The soft ticking of more falling leaves mingled with the rustling of robins in the ones already down and with the louder impact of nuts. A reddish leaf was afloat out in the middle of the water, its stem sticking up like a mast. A hawk shifted its bulk on the bare, swaying top of a tree as blue jays screamed abuse. A moon just past a quarter slowly brightened in the east.
New York City, October 21, 2026
★★★★ A contrail, stretched out sideways and forming billows, broke the sky's long streak of cloudlessness. More and more white wisps accumulated against the blue until it was elegantly marbled with them. Leaves rattled in a wide circle in the street. Now the duckweed at the foot of the Pool was an accent in the mats of floating leaves, rather than the other way around. This was the day the juncos had arrived, uncountable both in number and in their tiny drabness, plunging and pelting out of the trees to vanish against the dull lawn. Each passing person would briefly raise and scatter them—still new-come to the city and still shy. Starlings and a mockingbird looped around and through the berry-laden branches of a streetside tree. The clouds remained around to catch a pink glow from the departing sun.
SANDWICH RECIPES DEP'T.
WE PRESENT SUGGESTIONS for the assembly of sandwiches selected from Great Grandmother's Recipe Book: Containing over Two Hundred Practical and Useful Recipes, published by Jarrold & Sons, Warwick Lane, E.C., London, in 1900 and now available at archive.org for the delectation of all.
SARDINE SANDWICHES. (No. 50.)
Miss Harris.
Dip about six or eight sardines into boiling water and remove the skin and bones. Pound them into a mortar with a hard boiled egg. Season with a squeeze of lemon juice and a few grains of cayenne. Cut some slices of brown bread and butter (or white bread if preferred) and spread with this paste. Press together, cut into fancy shapes, and serve on folded napkin, garnished with parsley.
If you are inspired to prepare a sandwich inspired by our various offerings, be sure to send along a description of your experience and maybe a few photos to us here: indignity@indignity.net.
EASY LISTENING DEP'T.
Here is the Indignity Morning Podcast archive!
TOM SCOCCA
Email us at indignity@indignity.net if you experience technical difficulty.
START YOUR OWN PUBLICATION DEP'T.
