For better or worse, The Mandalorian Season Three became a home base for all conceivable Star Wars stories. But the winds are changing on Mandalore. After last week's Star Wars Celebration, we now know that a new trilogy has been set starring Daisy Ridley, a slate of new shows are currently in production, and we'll see the long-awaited Mandalorian movie. Before all that? We need to get through this Wednesday—AKA The Mandalorian's Season Three finale date. So tighten your thinking caps, dear readers, because we're entering hyperdrive to zip right to Reddit—the online planet where fan theories, good and bad, can live together in peace. |
|
|
The oversized cable-knit is technically for women—but he proves dudes can rock it, too. |
| After years of grinding away, the suddenly-everywhere actor is enjoying fame and near-universal adulation thanks to his dual streaming blockbusters 'The Last of Us' and 'The Mandalorian.' Over a weekend in New York, he talks about all of it—and everything that's coming next. |
|
|
Not quite a savior nor a saint entirely, José Andrés nevertheless occupies the foreground of a heroic portrait, oil on linen, hanging in the National Portrait Gallery in Washington D.C.. Commissioned by the Smithsonian, executed by Kadir Nelson, and unveiled in November 2022, the painting is entitled "José Andrés and the Olla de Barro that Feeds the World." In it Andrés holds a heavy traditional Mexican crock pot, the olla de barro, between his thumbs and index fingers. His sleeves are rolled up. A walkie-talkie hangs off his vest; a backpack from his shoulders. His feet are hidden in flood waters; his head is in the clouds as helicopters and birds swirl. Scores of aid workers, holding boxes of food, stare at the viewer—or perhaps at José—with anticipation. His gaze is direct, stern, proud, accusatory, weary. |
|
|
Today's installment involves reporting revenue from a company that hasn't existed for 17 years. |
| Drink the good stuff from a great glass. |
|
|
I remember sitting on the 21st mile mark. I remember sitting on the curb eating a hot dog. I remember hearing "Celebration" and "The Boys are Back in Town." I remember the cowbells and seeing a man run by in a ballerina suit. I remember watching the ground as the runners flew by. I remember how it looked as though the ground was moving beneath them. I was probably six. It was probably my sixth Boston Marathon. Monday [April 15, 2013] was only the second marathon I've ever missed. I remember ignoring my mom's phone call. I remember getting ice cream on one of the first spring days at my college in Upstate New York. I remember sitting in the quad. I remember seeing that I had a voicemail. I remember checking it. I remember hearing my mother's voice: "Hi Molly. This is tough news. You're probably going to hear about two explosions that happened at the finish line of the marathon. I just wanted to let you know that Dad's okay. He wasn't at the finish line...We're okay." And then I remember crying. |
|
|
|
No comments:
Post a Comment