Crimson staff writer

Drew C. Pendergrass

Latest Content

The Molecule Man

Macomber’s expertise has helped thousands of scientists over the years — about 500 people at a time are registered on his machines. But of all the projects he has worked on, he is particularly proud of helping a team of scientists pioneer a new way of repairing hearts.

The Kendall Square Codebreakers

The story of the Broad is the story of biology in the 21st century. It’s a story of innovation enabled by dramatic advances in computational and biological tools, of a thrilling new age where scientists gain new insights into diseases like cancer. It’s a story of how those new tools transform the kinds of questions scientists can ask, revealing new horizons never before imagined. It is a story with millions of dollars at stake in funding and licenses, of organizations that so radically change the scale of science that the definition of science itself is fundamentally transformed.

I Went to the Grand Opening of &pizza/Milk Bar and All I Got Was the Cold Reminder That Harvard Square is Doomed to the Gentrification That Has Overtaken All Major Cities Across the United States

When Martin Luther nailed his 95 theses to the door of the All Saints’ Church in Wittenberg, did he know he would be setting in motion an unstoppable cultural engine that could end only in hypertrends like a self-serious storefront that — let’s be clear — exists to sell pizza and ice cream?

Sympathy and Mild Distaste

I’m really just from a slightly more religious slice of generic America, not whatever people imagine Alabama to be. Maybe I should say I’m from Omaha, Nebraska. It feels just as true.

15 Minutes with 21 Colorful Crimson

On a campus where most things are triangulated within four dimensions of irony, 21CC’s earnestness combines with genuine musicality to create what serious music critics call a “bop.”

Guy Fieri Laments Classroom-to-Table Limitations

Yes, it’s a tragedy that all that is bomb-dot-com tasty is moved ever farther from the masses, dangled tantalizingly before the eyes of undergraduates like a spicy salami in the smokehouse. But I will sleep tonight with a small sliver of hope.

The Waste Land But It’s El Jefe’s

​3 a.m. is the cruellest hour, breeding Burritos out of the dead night, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull guacamole with gloved hands, feeding A little life with Spicy Black Beans.