The Silent Epidemic Affecting Generation Z |
Marcus McKinley was a junior at Ohio University when his mother, Kim, then fifty-five, collapsed at work. He figured it was dehydration, but when he got to the hospital, he found out it was more serious than that; she'd had a stroke and needed brain surgery. Her right side was paralyzed, so she couldn't walk, and when she first got out of the ICU, Marcus couldn't understand a word she said. The weeks and months just after a stroke are the most important for rehabilitation, but Kim's initial progress was minimal, and she languished. His mother had been gregarious and liked to go line dancing, or watch Browns and Buckeyes games. Before, she had a wide, warm smile, but now her face drooped. For about a year, Kim's fiancé did the physical work of caring for her while Marcus provided financial support from his part-time job at a tire factory and from a summer internship as a software engineer at a bank. But a couple of months after Marcus's graduation, his mother's fiancé called to tell Marcus he had to go out and then, when Marcus got to their house to lend a hand, told him he was leaving for good. After that, his mom's fiancé only answered their phone calls once, to inform Marcus that he planned to stop paying his mother's utility bills. Marcus realized he would have to step in. |
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The Mattress I Didn't Expect to Love |
I've slept on more mattresses than any one person should. For nearly a decade, it's been my job to trial new models and write about them. Throughout my career I learned what I like and what I don't. My preferences are soft and fluffy, which was the dream for me. Then I moved in with my partner who likes firm mattresses. Instead of ending our relationship, I suggested we throw out his old rock and start testing some more mattresses "for work." Sure, it was for work, but I had fluffy alternative motives in mind. I took us on a three-year journey of mattress testing; it was hard to find our sweet spot. We sampled a couple choices that made us happy for a short period of time, but nothing satisfied us equally. Seven months ago I switched us to the Puffy Monarch mattress. Immediately, it was the first time we both said yes. |
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25 Best Saturday Night Live! Cast Members of All Time, Ranked |
Saturday Night Live! is nothing short of a television miracle. Now in its fiftieth season, the show is the most popular it's been in years, if not decades. It's aging gracefully and arguably looks better today than it did at twenty-five. Suffice it to say that SNL's legendary producer, Lorne Michaels, probably feels pretty proud of himself these days. His show has defied the odds to become the longest-running late-night series in U.S. television history. Somewhere along the way, the comedy series transitioned from oddball, counter-culture programming to mainstream culture, with each new episode contributing to SNL's self-preserving mythology. However, in many ways, SNL's success isn't really about Michaels. Today, the show is its own creature; its fate is determined by the whims of the zeitgeist and the talent of its cast. In fact, of all the factors contributing to SNL's unbelievable success, its always-shifting ensemble might be what matters most. Bad casts can tank a season, while great casts—hell, even one great player—can bring the show back from the brink of collapse. (Just ask Eddie Murphy.) SNL's resident comedians turned 30 Rock into a top-notch destination for lore, drama, and nonstop entertainment news. Each new addition (or early, unexpected departure) brings with it a round of hot takes and quick blogs. We want to know why so-and-so was fired, even though we know we'll never really know. And if you still need convincing that—to borrow a phrase from James Carville—it's the cast, stupid, consider how we talk about SNL. We don't remember great seasons. We remember how good SNL was when Chris Farley was on it. We define great sketches by the people who were in them. |
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I spent the first decade of my life in Uvalde. I was born there; rode my bicycle to school there; saw my first movie there, at El Lasso Theatre; and spent the first allowance I ever earned there, to buy a grilled cheese sandwich at the Rexall Drugs. It's where I had my first lemonade stand, on the corner of North Getty Street. It's where I dug my bare toes deep into the St. Augustine roots on our front lawn to cool off on hot summer days; where, in the dirt alley behind our house, I got bitten by enough red ants to pass out; where I learned to join hands before meals and share my gratitude. I'm sickened by the spate of mass shootings in America—especially those at schools, which are supposed to be some of the safest of spaces for our children and the closest extensions of our own homes. But this time felt different, more personal. Now, for the first time, my innocent childhood memories of Uvalde felt naive—more like dreams than memories, slightly hazy and suddenly overly sacred. Times like these make us all feel a bit more foolish. We hug our kids a little longer, knowing their innocence won't last as long as ours did, hoping their children won't know the same. |
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Snoop Dogg on Missionary, Martha, and More |
Few folks had as big—and as good—of a 2024 as Snoop Dogg. From releasing a movie at the top of the year to stealing the show at the Paris Olympics, the 53-year-old rapper has been busy as hell. And he's not slowing down. This month, he released his latest album, Missionary, which saw him back in the studio with mentor and producer Dr. Dre. The first album the duo has worked on together since 1995's Doggystyle, it's living proof that even three decades after his breakout, Snoop hasn't lost a step. His flow is as effortlessly energetic as ever as he raps alongside a slew of collaborators like Method Man, Eminem, 50 Cent, Jhené Aiko, and more. Next up in 2025? A list of projects as long as his achievements this year. So I hopped on a video call with him to talk about his ongoing partnership with Skechers, his "unbreakable" friendship with Martha Stewart, and what we can look out for—including a biopic and a Death Row documentary—in the not-too-distant future. |
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How The Fire Inside Subverted the Sports Movie as We Know It |
In 2012, at just seventeen years old, Claressa "T-Rex" Shields became the first American woman to win a gold medal in boxing at the Olympics. Shields's rise to glory is pretty much a screenwriter's dream. She grew up in Flint, Michigan, and had a turbulent childhood. Her father was in prison and her mother struggled with alcoholism and drug addiction. Her trainer, Jason Crutchfield, coached her from a modest gym, and became a father figure. By winning gold, Shields defied expectations, conquered adversity, and made history. What more could you ask for? The Fire Inside, a new biopic written by Barry Jenkins and directed by Black Panther cinematographer Rachel Morrison, delivers on the inherent thrill and triumph of Shields's story. The film, which released nationwide on Christmas Day, is the sort of expertly executed mid-budget original drama that has become increasingly rare in Hollywood. It is perfectly cast, with Ryan Destiny and Bryan Tyree Henry giving knockout performances as Shields and Crutchfield, respectively. Though The Fire Inside is broadly entertaining, it never panders to its audience. Rather, Jenkins's script and Morrison's filmmaking are full of depth, detail, and nuance. |
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