Comment la fistule anale de Louis XIV a permis la création de l’hymne britannique “God Save the Queen” ?

Voit-on un brin de chauvinisme provocateur là-dedans, histoire de vouloir unir le peuple en éveillant le mépris commun à l’endroit de l’ancien ennemi? Pourtant nous vous aimons! 😉LJ

Quel rapport peut-il bien exister entre l’affection dont souffrait le roi soleil et l’hymne de la perfide Albion ? Le professeur Jean-Noël Fabiani raconte cette histoire étonnante à Daniel Fievet dans la “Tête au carré”.
— Read on www.franceinter.fr/histoire/comment-la-fistule-anale-de-louis-xiv-a-permis-la-creation-de-l-hymne-britannique-god-save-the-queen

Conscience before consciousness – TheTLS

The letter referring to “cerebral Macron” and setting his average mind alongside the grandeur of that of De Gaulle is amusing. It stands no comparison, of course. That on Kant is also good, as is the principal letter on the rehabilitation of synderesis. A good start to the day here in St.Martin, as the neighbours turn on their swimming pool cleaner to drive away the serenity of the early morning. LJ

Conscience before consciousness – TheTLS
— Read on www.the-tls.co.uk/articles/private/letters-to-the-editor-202/

LA COUPE DE CETTE «ÉQUIPE BELLE ET UNIE» OU LES VALEURS DE L’ÉDUCATION | Jean-Jules Lema Landu

Dans la masse de la littérature dédiée au parcours victorieux de l’équipe de France, que n’avons-nous pas lu ? Dans le flot des paroles dites, à cet effet, à travers la télévision et la radio, que n’avons-nous pas entendu ?
— Read on blogs.mediapart.fr/maison-des-journalistes/blog/180718/la-coupe-de-cette-equipe-belle-et-unie-ou-les-valeurs-de-leducation

Des cygnes noirs sur les marais salants à Ars en Ré

THE BLACK SWAN

The sun has fallen and it lies in blood.
The moon is weaving bandages of gold.
O black swan, where, oh, where is my lover gone?
Torn and tattered is my bridal gown,
And my lamp is lost, and my lamp is lost.

With silver needles and with silver thread,
The stars stitch a shroud for the dying sun.
O black swan, where, oh, where has my lover gone?
I had given him a kiss of fire,
And a golden ring, and a golden ring.

Don’t you hear your lover moan?
Eyes of glass and feet of stone,
Shells for teeth and weeds for tongue,
Deep, deep, down in the river’s bed,
He’s looking for the ring.
Eyes wide open, never asleep,
He’s looking for the ring, looking for the ring.

The spools unravel and the needles break,
The sun is buried and the stars weep.
O black wave, O black wave, take me away with you.
I will share with you my golden hair,
And my bridal crown, and my bridal crown.

Oh, take me down with you
Take me down to my wand’ring lover
With my child unborn, with my child unborn.