Listen to Medieval Covers of “Creep,” “Pumped Up Kicks,” “Bad Romance” & More by Hildegard von Blingin’

All ye bul­ly-rooks with your buskin boots 

Best ye go, best ye go

Out­run my bow

All ye bul­ly-rooks with your buskin boots

Best ye go, best ye go, faster than mine arrow

If bard­core is a thing—and trust us, it is right now—Hilde­gard von Blin­gin’ is the bright­est star in its fir­ma­ment.

The unknown vocal­ist, pure of throat, pays heed to the fas­ci­nat­ing 12th-cen­tu­ry abbess and com­pos­er Saint Hilde­gard of Bin­gen by choice of pseu­do­nym, while demon­strat­ing a sim­i­lar flair for poet­ic lan­guage.

Von Blingin’s nim­ble lyri­cal rework­ing of Fos­ter the People’s 2010 mon­ster hit, “Pumped Up Kicks,” makes deft use of fel­low bard­core prac­tion­er Cor­nelius Link’s copy­right-free instru­men­tal score and the clos­est medieval syn­onyms avail­able.

For the record, Webster’s 1913 dic­tio­nary defines a “bul­ly-rook” as a bul­ly, but the term could also be used in a josh­ing, chops-bust­ing sort of way, such as when The Mer­ry Wives of Windsor’s innkeep­er trots it out to greet lov­able repro­bate, Sir John Fal­staff.

And as any fan of Game of Thrones or The Hunger Games can attest, an arrow can prove as lethal as a gun.

Song­writer Mark Fos­ter told Billboard’s Xan­der Zell­ner last Decem­ber that he had been think­ing of retir­ing “Pumped Up Kicks,” as lis­ten­ers are now con­vinced it’s a boun­cy-sound­ing take on school shoot­ings, rather than a more gen­er­al­ized attempt to get inside the head of a troubled—and fictional—youngster.

With school out of ses­sion since March, it’s an excel­lent time for von Blin­gin’ to pick up the torch and bear this song back to the past.

Dit­to the tim­ing of von Blingin’s ode to Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance”:

I want thine ugly, I want thy dis­ease

Take aught from thee shall I if it can be free

No Celtic harp, wood­en recorders, or adjust­ment of pos­ses­sive pro­nouns can dis­guise the jolt those open­ing lyrics assume in the mid­dle of a glob­al pan­dem­ic.

(St. Hilde­gard escaped the medieval period’s best known plague, the Black Death, by virtue of hav­ing been born some 250 years before it struck.)

Von Blingin’s lat­est release is an extreme­ly faith­ful take on Radiohead’s “Creep”, with just a few minor tweaks to pull it into medieval lyri­cal align­ment:

Thou float’st like a feath­er

In a beau­ti­ful world

The com­ments sec­tion sug­gest that the peas­ants are eager to get in on the act.

Some are express­ing their enthu­si­asm in approx­i­mate olde Eng­lish…

Oth­ers ques­tion why smygel, eldrich, wyr­den or wastrel were not pressed into ser­vice as replace­ments for creep and weirdo..

To bor­row a phrase from one such jester, best get your requests in “before the tik­toks come for it.”

Lis­ten to Hilde­gard Von Blin­gin’ on Sound Cloud and check out the bard­core sub-red­dit for more exam­ples of the form.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Expe­ri­ence the Mys­ti­cal Music of Hilde­gard Von Bin­gen: The First Known Com­pos­er in His­to­ry (1098 – 1179)

Man­u­script Reveals How Medieval Nun, Joan of Leeds, Faked Her Own Death to Escape the Con­vent

1200 Years of Women Com­posers: A Free 78-Hour Music Playlist That Takes You From Medieval Times to Now

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. Help con­tain the plague spread with her series of free down­load­able posters, encour­ag­ing cit­i­zens to wear masks in pub­lic set­tings. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

After MLK’s Assassination, a Schoolteacher Conducted a Famous Experiment–“Blue Eyes/Brown Eyes”–to Teach Kids About Discrimination

Get­ting his­to­ry across to young stu­dents is chal­leng­ing enough, but what should a teacher do when actu­al his­to­ry-mak­ing events hap­pen on their watch? They have to be acknowl­edged, but to what extent do they have to be explained, even “taught”? Of the teach­ers who have turned his­to­ry-in-the-mak­ing into a les­son, per­haps the most famous is Jane Elliott of Riceville, Iowa. On April 5, 1968, the day after Mar­tin Luther King Jr.‘s assas­si­na­tion, she divid­ed her class­room of third-graders along col­or lines: blue-eyed and brown-eyed. On the first day she grant­ed the brown-eyed stu­dents such spe­cial priv­i­leges as desks in the front rows, sec­ond help­ings at lunch, and five extra min­utes of recess. The next day she reversed the sit­u­a­tion, and the blue-eyed kids had the perks.

What brought seri­ous atten­tion to Elliot­t’s small-town class­room exper­i­ment was the result­ing arti­cle in the Riceville Recorder, which report­ed some of what her stu­dents wrote in their assign­ments respond­ing to the expe­ri­ence. The Asso­ci­at­ed Press picked up the arti­cle and soon Elliott received a call from The Tonight Show invit­ing her to come chat with John­ny Car­son about her “Blue Eyes/Brown Eyes” exer­cise on nation­al tele­vi­sion.

“I did­n’t know how this exer­cise would work,” Elliott tells Jim­my Fal­lon on the clip from the cur­rent Tonight Show at the top of the post. “If I had known how it would work, I prob­a­bly would­n’t have done it. If I had known that, after I did that exer­cise, I lost all my friends, no teacher would speak to me where they could be seen speak­ing to me, because it was­n’t good pol­i­tics to be seen talk­ing to the town’s only ‘N‑word lover.’ ”

Elliot­t’s fam­i­ly also expe­ri­enced severe blow­back from her sud­den fame, but it did­n’t stop her from fur­ther­ing the clear­ly res­o­nant idea she had devised. She con­tin­ued to per­form Blue Eyes/Brown Eyes in class: the third time, it was filmed and became the 1970 tele­vi­sion doc­u­men­tary The Eye of the Storm. (Some of the lan­guage used by her stu­dents sure­ly would­n’t make it to the air today.) Fif­teen years lat­er, PBS’ Front­line reunit­ed Elliot­t’s third-grade class of 1970 for its Emmy Award-win­ning episode A Class Divid­ed, and a decade there­after Ger­man film­mak­er Bertram Ver­haag would again film Elliott per­form­ing her sig­na­ture exer­cise for the doc­u­men­tary Blue Eyed. In a vari­ety of set­tings across Amer­i­ca and the world, Elliott con­tin­ues, in her late eight­ies, to make her point. It isn’t always well received, as she reveals in this Front­line fol­low-up inter­view, and at times has even drawn threats of vio­lence. “I can be scared, but I won’t be scared to death,” she says. “Or, at my age, of death.”

via Boing Boing

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Mar­tin Luther King, Jr.’s Hand­writ­ten Syl­labus & Final Exam for the Phi­los­o­phy Course He Taught at More­house Col­lege (1962)

How Mar­tin Luther King, Jr. Used Niet­zsche, Hegel & Kant to Over­turn Seg­re­ga­tion in Amer­i­ca

Read Mar­tin Luther King and The Mont­gomery Sto­ry: The Influ­en­tial 1957 Civ­il Rights Com­ic Book

How a Virus Spreads, and How to Avoid It: A For­mer NASA Engi­neer Demon­strates with a Black­light in a Class­room

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

Why James Baldwin’s Writing Stays Powerful: An Artfully Animated Introduction to the Author of Notes of a Native Son

Every writer hopes to be sur­vived by his work. In the case of James Bald­win, the 32 years since his death seem only to have increased the rel­e­vance of the writ­ing he left behind. Con­sist­ing of nov­els, essays, and even a chil­dren’s book, Bald­win’s body of work offers dif­fer­ent points of entry to dif­fer­ent read­ers. Many begin with with Go Tell it on the Moun­tain, the semi-auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal debut nov­el in which he mounts a cri­tique of the Pen­te­costal Church. Oth­ers may find their gate­way in Bald­win’s fic­tion­al treat­ment of desire and love under adverse cir­cum­stances: among men in Paris in Gio­van­ni’s Room, for exam­ple, or teenagers in Mem­phis in If Beale Street Could Talk. But unlike most nov­el­ists, Bald­win’s name con­tin­ues to draw just as many acco­lades — if not more of them — for his non­fic­tion.

Those look­ing to read Bald­win’s essays would do well to start with his first col­lec­tion of them, 1955’s Notes of a Native Son. In assem­bling pieces he orig­i­nal­ly pub­lished in mag­a­zines like Harper’s and the Par­ti­san Review, the book reflects the impor­tance to the young Bald­win of what would become the major themes of his career, like race and expa­tri­ate life.

Though res­i­dent at dif­fer­ent times in Turkey, Switzer­land, and (right up until his dying day) France, he nev­er took his eyes off his home­land of the Unit­ed States of Amer­i­ca for long. Nor, in fact, did the Unit­ed States of Amer­i­ca take its eyes off him. “Over the course of the 1960s,” says Ford­ham Uni­ver­si­ty polit­i­cal sci­ence pro­fes­sor Christi­na Greer in the ani­mat­ed TED-Ed intro­duc­tion to Bald­win above, “the FBI amassed almost 2,000 doc­u­ments” as they inves­ti­gat­ed his back­ground and activ­i­ties.

That the U.S. gov­ern­ment saw Bald­win as so polit­i­cal­ly dan­ger­ous is rea­son enough to read his books. But as one of Amer­i­ca’s most promi­nent men of let­ters, he could hard­ly be writ­ten off as a sim­ple fire­brand. Though known for his inci­sive views of white and black Amer­i­ca, he believed that every­one, what­ev­er their race, “was inex­tri­ca­bly enmeshed in the same social fab­ric,” that “peo­ple are trapped in his­to­ry, and his­to­ry is trapped in them.” As he found recep­tive audi­ences for his argu­ments in print and on tele­vi­sion, “his fac­ul­ty with words led the FBI to view him as a threat.” But that very fac­ul­ty with words — insep­a­ra­ble, as in all the great­est essay­ists, from the astute­ness of the per­cep­tions they express — has assured him a still-grow­ing read­er­ship in the 21st cen­tu­ry. Con­tend­ing with the most volatile social and polit­i­cal issues of his time cer­tain­ly did­n’t low­er Bald­win’s pro­file, but any giv­en page of his prose sug­gests that what­ev­er he’d cho­sen to write about, we’d still be read­ing him today.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Great Cul­tur­al Icons Talk Civ­il Rights: James Bald­win, Mar­lon Bran­do, Har­ry Bela­fonte & Sid­ney Poiti­er (1963)

James Bald­win Bests William F. Buck­ley in 1965 Debate at Cam­bridge Uni­ver­si­ty

James Baldwin’s One & Only, Delight­ful­ly Illus­trat­ed Children’s Book, Lit­tle Man Lit­tle Man: A Sto­ry of Child­hood (1976)

James Bald­win: Wit­ty, Fiery in Berke­ley, 1979

Chris Rock Reads James Baldwin’s Still Time­ly Let­ter on Race in Amer­i­ca: “We Can Make What Amer­i­ca Must Become”

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

How the “First Photojournalist,” Mathew Brady, Shocked the Nation with Photos from the Civil War

In her 1938 essay “Three Guineas,” Vir­ginia Woolf won­dered “whether when we look at the same pho­tographs we feel the same things.” Woolf half-hoped that gris­ly images of the dead from the Span­ish Civ­il War might help put an end to the spread­ing glob­al con­flict. She rec­og­nized, writes Susan Son­tag in Regard­ing the Pain of Oth­ers, photography’s abil­i­ty “to viv­i­fy the con­dem­na­tion of war” and to “bring home, for a spell, a por­tion of its real­i­ty to those who have no expe­ri­ence of war at all.”

Math­ew Brady, the man cred­it­ed as the “father of pho­to­jour­nal­ism,” had no such lofty ambi­tions at the begin­ning of the Civ­il War. At first, he offered to pho­to­graph sol­diers before they left for the bat­tle­field, to pre­serve their pre-war image for pos­ter­i­ty should they not return. (He cyn­i­cal­ly adver­tised his ser­vices with the line, “You can­not tell how soon it may be too late.”) Brady was already a suc­cess­ful pho­tog­ra­ph­er and had tak­en por­traits of Abra­ham Lin­coln, Andrew Jack­son, Daniel Web­ster, and Edgar Allan Poe.

Hav­ing stud­ied under Samuel Morse, who brought the daguerreo­type tech­nique to the U.S., Brady opened his first stu­dio in New York in 1844 and became high­ly sought after. He might have safe­ly wait­ed out the war in the city, oper­at­ing a thriv­ing busi­ness, but, as he remem­bered lat­er, “I had to go. A spir­it in my feet said ‘Go,’ and I went.” Brady took his peti­tion all the way to Lin­coln, who approved it on the con­di­tion that Brady finance the doc­u­men­ta­tion him­self. “At his own expense,” notes the Amer­i­can Bat­tle­field Trust, “he orga­nized a group of pho­tog­ra­phers and staff to fol­low the troops as the first field-pho­tog­ra­phers.”

Soon after, “in 1862, Brady shocked the nation when he dis­played the first pho­tographs of the car­nage of the war in his New York Stu­dio in an exhib­it enti­tled ‘The Dead of Anti­etam.’ These images, pho­tographed by Alexan­der Gard­ner and James F. Gib­son, were the first to pic­ture a bat­tle­field before the dead had been removed and the first to be dis­trib­uted to a mass pub­lic.” The New York Times respond­ed as Woolf would sev­en­ty-six years lat­er, writ­ing of the pho­tos:

Mr. Brady has done some­thing to bring home to us the ter­ri­ble real­i­ty and earnest­ness of war. If he has not brought bod­ies and laid them in our door-yards and along the streets, he has done some­thing very like it.

Shocked the nation may have been, but the war dragged on three more years. Brady and his team not only pho­tographed the dead—they cap­tured every­thing from hot-air bal­loons to pon­toon bridges to breast­works to win­ter huts and wag­on trains. Brady went bank­rupt fund­ing the mak­ing of over 10,000 plates, many of them har­row­ing depic­tions of the war’s bru­tal­i­ty, before the U.S. gov­ern­ment final­ly bought them for $25,000.

The Pub­lic Domain Review has anoth­er har­row­ing col­lec­tion of Brady’s daguerreo­types—por­traits he took before the war that have decayed and dis­tort­ed, as have a great many of Brady’s pho­tos of the war dead. These images “were extreme­ly sen­si­tive to scratch­es, dust, hair, etc, and par­tic­u­lar­ly the rub­bing of the glass cov­er if they glue hold­ing it in place dete­ri­o­rat­ed.” Despite pho­tog­ra­phers’ promis­es to the con­trary, “this fix­ing” of the image for pos­ter­i­ty “was far from per­ma­nent.” See more of Brady’s Civ­il War pho­tographs at the Nation­al Archives.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

The His­to­ry of the U.S. Civ­il War Visu­al­ized Month by Month and State by State, in an Info­graph­ic from 1897

Eerie 19th Cen­tu­ry Pho­tographs of Ghosts: See Images from the Long, Strange Tra­di­tion of “Spir­it Pho­tog­ra­phy”

The Civ­il War & Recon­struc­tion: A Free Course from Yale Uni­ver­si­ty

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Imagining the Martin Luther King and Malcolm X Debate That Never Happened

Amer­i­can his­to­ry as it’s usu­al­ly taught likes to focus on rival­ries, and there are many involv­ing big per­son­al­i­ties and major his­tor­i­cal stakes. Abra­ham Lin­coln and Stephen Dou­glas, Thomas Jef­fer­son and Alexan­der Hamil­ton, W.E.B. DuBois and Book­er T. Wash­ing­ton. These fig­ures are set up to rep­re­sent the “both sides” we expect of every polit­i­cal ques­tion. While the issues are over­sim­pli­fied (there are always more than two sides and pol­i­tics isn’t a sport) the fig­ures in ques­tion gen­uine­ly rep­re­sent­ed very dif­fer­ent per­spec­tives on pow­er and progress.

When it comes to the his­to­ry of the Civ­il Rights move­ment, we are giv­en anoth­er such rival­ry, between Mar­tin Luther King, Jr. and Mal­colm X. Their ideas and influ­ence are pit­ted against each oth­er as though they had shared a debate stage. In fact, the two lead­ers met only once, dur­ing Sen­ate debates on the Civ­il Rights Act of 1964. “King was step­ping out of a news con­fer­ence,” writes DeNeen L. Brown at The Wash­ing­ton Post, when Mal­colm X, dressed in an ele­gant black over­coat and wear­ing his sig­na­ture horn-rimmed glass­es, greet­ed him.”

“Well, Mal­colm, good to see you,” King said.

“Good to see you,” Mal­colm X replied.

Cam­eras clicked as the two men walked down the Sen­ate hall togeth­er.

“I’m throw­ing myself into the heart of the civ­il rights strug­gle,” Mal­colm X told King.

Lat­er, King would express his dis­agree­ment with Malcolm’s “polit­i­cal and philo­soph­i­cal views—at least inso­far as I under­stand where he now stands.” The com­ment allowed for an evo­lu­tion in X’s thought that would, in fact, occur that year, while lat­er events would push King in a far more rad­i­cal direc­tion. As Brown writes:

Although the two men held what appeared to be dia­met­ri­cal­ly oppos­ing views on the strug­gle for equal rights, schol­ars say by the end of their lives their ide­olo­gies were evolv­ing. King was becom­ing more mil­i­tant in his views of eco­nom­ic jus­tice for black peo­ple and more vocal in his crit­i­cism of the Viet­nam War. Mal­colm X, who had bro­ken with the Nation of Islam, had dra­mat­i­cal­ly changed his views on race dur­ing his 1964 pil­grim­age to Mec­ca.

“Much of Amer­i­ca did not know the rad­i­cal King—and too few know today,” writes Cor­nell West in his intro­duc­tion to The Rad­i­cal King, a col­lec­tion of less­er-known speech­es and writ­ings. But “the FBI and US gov­ern­ment did. They called him ‘the most dan­ger­ous man in Amer­i­ca.’” Mal­colm X’s extreme­ly harsh crit­i­cism of King as “a 20th-cen­tu­ry or mod­ern Uncle Tom” is even more unfair and unwar­rant­ed against this back­ground, espe­cial­ly giv­en the title of King’s final, unde­liv­ered, ser­mon: “Why Amer­i­ca May Go to Hell.”

In the years after X’s death, King fought for labor rights and advo­cat­ed for “a bet­ter dis­tri­b­u­tion of wealth,” writ­ing in 1966, “Amer­i­ca must move toward demo­c­ra­t­ic social­ism.” His anti-impe­ri­al­ist, anti-colo­nial stance alien­at­ed many for­mer sup­port­ers and enraged the gov­ern­ment, but “he refused to silence his voice in his quest for unarmed truth and uncon­di­tion­al love,” West writes. Maybe Malcolm’s unre­lent­ing crit­i­cisms played a part in King’s rad­i­cal­iza­tion.

The video “debate” above—actually a 9‑minute edit of their inter­view dis­cus­sions of each other—begins with one of Mal­colm X’s with­er­ing state­ments about King’s non­vi­o­lent resis­tance, which he char­ac­ter­izes as “defense­less­ness.” One can see, giv­en the ad hominem attacks, why King refused requests for a debate. Had it hap­pened, how­ev­er, it might have gone some­thing like this, with ques­tions focused sole­ly on vio­lence vs. non­vi­o­lence as effec­tive and/or moral­ly jus­ti­fi­able tac­tics for the Civ­il Rights strug­gle.

The nuances and sick­en­ing his­tor­i­cal ironies of the ques­tion get lost when dis­agree­ment is staged as a zero-sum prize­fight, as the Rocky theme in the intro not-so-sub­tly sug­gests it is. King, X, and vir­tu­al­ly every oth­er civ­il rights leader through­out his­to­ry, under­stood the prac­ti­cal impor­tance of self-defense in a vio­lent­ly racist state. “Even the paci­fist King was a firm advo­cate of black gun own­er­ship,” writes John Mer­field at Wis­con­sin Pub­lic Radio,” although he, like oth­ers, drew a sharp dis­tinc­tion between self-defense, which he saw as legit­i­mate, and polit­i­cal vio­lence, which he called fol­ly.”

King also staunch­ly refused to address the ques­tion of vio­lence out­side the larg­er ques­tion of jus­tice, with­out which, he said, there could be no peace. Move­ment lead­ers like Angela Davis who car­ried for­ward the rad­i­cal, anti-impe­ri­al­ist analy­sis of both the lat­er King and X would con­tin­ue to push against the sim­plis­tic ques­tion of whether vio­lence is jus­ti­fied as a response to bru­tal oppres­sion. In a famous inter­view clip above, she demon­strates the absur­di­ty of the idea that peo­ple sub­ject­ed to racial ter­ror­ism by the author­i­ties and groups pro­tect­ed by them should have to answer charges of com­mit­ting polit­i­cal vio­lence.

The his­to­ry of racist killings is a long “unbro­ken line,” said Davis more recent­ly dur­ing the Fer­gu­son upris­ing. While Civ­il Rights lead­ers of the 20th cen­tu­ry may have dis­agreed about the right response, all of them agreed it had to end imme­di­ate­ly if the coun­try is to sur­vive and the promise of true free­dom to be real­ized.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Mal­colm X Debate at Oxford, Quot­ing Lines from Shakespeare’s Ham­let (1964)

Mar­tin Luther King Jr. Explains the Impor­tance of Jazz: Hear the Speech He Gave at the First Berlin Jazz Fes­ti­val (1964)

Ava DuVernay’s Sel­ma Is Now Free to Stream Online: Watch the Award-Win­ning Director’s Film About Mar­tin Luther King’s 1965 Vot­ing-Rights March

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

David Lynch Recounts His Surreal Dream of Being a German Solider Dying on D‑Day

Some of last week’s major head­lines:

Police forcibly remove a large num­ber of peace­able pro­tes­tors from the area in front of a Wash­ing­ton DC church, so a 73-year-old white man can be pho­tographed stand­ing there alone, hold­ing a prop bible.

An unarmed 75-year-old white man approach­es a Buf­fa­lo police offi­cer at a protest and is shoved so force­ful­ly that he cracks his skull open, lying uncon­scious and bleed­ing as mem­bers of the force step past him with­out offer­ing assis­tance. But first the weath­er, as per­ceived by a 74-year-old white man peer­ing out the win­dow of his stu­dio of his Hol­ly­wood Hills home (one of three), pri­or to shar­ing a dream in which he is a Ger­man sol­dier dying on D‑Day….

What makes this news­wor­thy?

The date and the iden­ti­ty of the self-appoint­ed weath­er­man, film­mak­er David Lynch.

For the record, June 6, 2020 start­ed out cloudy and a bit chilly. The hope just off Mul­hol­land Dri­ve was for increased “gold­en sun­shine” in the after­noon.

(One does won­der how much time this ama­teur spends out­doors.)

76 years ear­li­er, an absolute­ly accu­rate weath­er fore­cast was essen­tial for the Allied Inva­sion of France. Mul­ti­ple mete­o­ro­log­i­cal teams con­tributed obser­va­tions and exper­tise to ensure that con­di­tions would be right, or right enough, for the inva­sion Gen­er­al Dwight D. Eisen­how­er envi­sioned.

As author William Bryant Logan details in Air: The Rest­less Shaper of the World:

In the end the Allies won the day because in order to pre­dict the weath­er, they act­ed like the weath­er. Com­pet­ing groups jos­tled and maneu­vered, each try­ing to pres­sure the oth­ers into accept­ing their point of view. In just the same way, the high- and low-pres­sure cells fought and spun into one anoth­er over the Atlantic. The fore­cast­ers rein­forced their own ideas, and none of their ideas was the win­ner,  just as each gyre and each cen­ter of low and high pres­sure pressed against the oth­ers, squeez­ing out the future among them. The Ger­mans, on the oth­er hand, believ­ing that they could con­quer uncer­tain­ty by fiat, declared that weath­er and peo­ple would con­form to their assump­tions. They were proved wrong. The Allies appeared on the beach­es of Nor­mandy, just like a sur­prise storm.

Lynch’s D‑Day anniver­sary report for Los Ange­les was his 27th, part of a dai­ly project launched with­out expla­na­tion on May 11.

His emo­tion­al weath­er seems to run cool. He relays his his­toric life or death uncon­scious encounter (it involves a machine gun) in much the same tone that he uses for report­ing on South­ern California’s pleas­ant late spring tem­per­a­tures. For the record, Lynch was born 593 days after D‑Day, and has no plans for a WWII feature—or any oth­er big screen project—in the fore­see­able future.

In a vis­it with The Guardian’s Rory Car­roll, he expressed how tele­vi­sion has become the medi­um best suit­ed to the sort of long and twist‑y nar­ra­tives he finds compelling—like art, life, and rein­car­na­tion:

Life is a short trip but always con­tin­u­ing. We’ll all meet again. In enlight­en­ment you real­ize what you tru­ly are and go into immor­tal­i­ty. You don’t ever have to die after that.

So maybe he real­ly was a luck­less 16-year-old Ger­man sol­dier…

One whose cur­rent incarnation’s foun­da­tion cre­at­ed a fund to pro­vide no-cost Tran­scen­den­tal Med­i­ta­tion instruc­tion to vet­er­ans as a way of cop­ing with Post-Trau­mat­ic Stress. Lynch named the fund in hon­or of Jer­ry Yellin, a fel­low TM prac­ti­tion­er and peace activist who, as an Amer­i­can fight­er pilot, flew the final com­bat mis­sion of World War II on August 14, 1945.

Sub­scribe to Lynch’s YouTube chan­nel to stay abreast of his dai­ly weath­er reports, like the install­ment from June 3, below, which finds him voic­ing his sup­port for Black Lives Mat­ter.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

David Lynch Cre­ates Dai­ly Weath­er Reports for Los Ange­les: How the Film­mak­er Pass­es Time in Quar­an­tine

David Lynch Releas­es an Ani­mat­ed Film Online: Watch Fire (Pozar)

David Lynch Teach­es an Online Course on Film & Cre­ativ­i­ty

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Her dai­ly art-in-iso­la­tion project is close­ly tied to the weath­er in New York City.  Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Sir Isaac Newton’s Cure for the Plague: Powdered Toad Vomit Lozenges (1669)

Near­ly 300 years after his death, Isaac New­ton lives on as a byword for genius. As a poly­math whose domain encom­passed astron­o­my, physics, and math­e­mat­ics, he mas­tered and expand­ed the domain of sci­en­tif­ic knowl­edge avail­able to 17th-cen­tu­ry Europe. But if we remem­ber him as a one-man engine of the sci­en­tif­ic rev­o­lu­tion, we should also bear in mind his con­trast­ing intel­lec­tu­al frail­ties: New­ton was no finan­cial genius, as evi­denced by his loss of $3 mil­lion in the South Sea Bub­ble of 1720, and though his inquiries into alche­my may be fun to re-enact today, we won­der now why he did­n’t see them as a dead end even then. And then we have his for­ays into med­i­cine, one of which involves toad vom­it.

“Two unpub­lished pages of Newton’s notes on Jan Bap­tist van Helmont’s 1667 book on plague, De Peste, are to be auc­tioned online by Bonham’s this week,” report­ed The Guardian’s Ali­son Flood ear­li­er this month. “New­ton had been a stu­dent at Trin­i­ty Col­lege, Cam­bridge, when the uni­ver­si­ty closed as a pre­cau­tion against the bubon­ic plague, which killed 100,000 peo­ple in Lon­don in 1665 and 1666. When the poly­math returned to Cam­bridge in 1667, he began to study the work of Van Hel­mont,” a famous Bel­gian physi­cian. While some of the con­clu­sions New­ton drew from his study of Van Hel­mont’s work remain prac­ti­cal today — “places infect­ed with the plague are to be avoid­ed,” for instance — his sug­gest­ed cures may not hold up to scruti­ny.

In the “best” plague treat­ment observed by New­ton, “a toad sus­pend­ed by the legs in a chim­ney for three days, which at last vom­it­ed up earth with var­i­ous insects in it, on to a dish of yel­low wax, and short­ly after died. Com­bin­ing pow­dered toad with the excre­tions and serum made into lozenges and worn about the affect­ed area drove away the con­ta­gion and drew out the poi­son.” Learn­ing how, exact­ly, New­ton found his way to such a pro­ce­dure will inspire enthu­si­as­tic col­lec­tors to bid on these papers, which remain on the Bon­ham’s online auc­tion block until June 10th. New­ton may, as we recent­ly not­ed here on Open Cul­ture, have had some of his most ground­break­ing ideas dur­ing the era of the plague, but even a mind as for­mi­da­ble as his by its very nature missed a few times, some­times wild­ly, for every hit. Yet as the world’s sci­en­tif­ic-indus­tri­al com­plex races to devel­op a vac­cine for COVID-19, we might con­sid­er what unortho­dox solu­tions have gone over­looked in our New­ton-less era.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Isaac New­ton Con­ceived of His Most Ground­break­ing Ideas Dur­ing the Great Plague of 1665

Videos Recre­ate Isaac Newton’s Neat Alche­my Exper­i­ments: Watch Sil­ver Get Turned Into Gold

In 1704, Isaac New­ton Pre­dicts the World Will End in 2060

Sir Isaac Newton’s Papers & Anno­tat­ed Prin­cip­ia Go Dig­i­tal

Isaac Newton’s Recipe for the Myth­i­cal ‘Philosopher’s Stone’ Is Being Dig­i­tized & Put Online (Along with His Oth­er Alche­my Man­u­scripts)

How Isaac New­ton Lost $3 Mil­lion Dol­lars in the “South Sea Bub­ble” of 1720: Even Genius­es Can’t Pre­vail Against the Machi­na­tions of the Mar­kets

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall, on Face­book, or on Insta­gram.

Ava DuVernay’s Selma Is Now Free to Stream Online: Watch the Award-Winning Director’s Film About Martin Luther King’s 1965 Voting-Rights March

Ava DuVer­nay made her award-win­ning doc­u­men­tary 13th free to stream online. Now comes her film Sel­maThe 2014 film chron­i­cles Dr. Mar­tin Luther King, Jr.‘s cam­paign to secure equal vot­ing rights with an epic march from Sel­ma to Mont­gomery, Alaba­ma, in 1965. Ava DuVer­nay writes on Twit­ter: “Para­mount Pic­tures is offer­ing SELMA for free rental on all US dig­i­tal plat­forms for June, start­ing today. We’ve got­ta under­stand where we’ve been to strate­gize where we’re going. His­to­ry helps us cre­ate the blue­print. Onward.” You can watch Sel­ma on YouTube/Google Play, Apple, Ama­zon Prime and oth­er stream­ing plat­forms list­ed here. The trail­er appears above.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Ava DuVernay’s 13th Free Online: An Award-Win­ning Doc­u­men­tary Reveal­ing the Inequal­i­ties in the US Crim­i­nal Jus­tice Sys­tem

Watch Free Films by African Amer­i­can Film­mak­ers in the Cri­te­ri­on Col­lec­tion … and the New Civ­il Rights Film, Just Mer­cy

1,150 Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, etc.

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