April 9, 2026

ALL IN YOUR HEAD:

Dr. Sanjay Gupta explains what we do — and still don’t — know about pain (Marielle Segarra & Margaret Cirino, 4/04/26, Life kit)

In your book, you say that one of the most significant developments emerging in pain treatment is the fact that the brain is at the center of any pain experience. Can you tell us more about why that matters?

What I think has become clear — and I’m not the first person to say this — is the idea that if the brain doesn’t decide you have pain, then you don’t have pain.

The brain can also create pain where it seems like it wouldn’t exist.

“NOBODY CAN THROW THE BALL LIKE CATFISH”:

Bob Dylan, American Culture, and the Songs of Baseball: The iconic singer-songwriter is, naturally, a baseball fan too. (Christopher Barnett, 3/30/26, Pitcher List)

Still, even if May 24, 2006, was unremarkable on the baseball diamond, something Hall of Fame-worthy did happen on that day. At 10 a.m. ET, XM Satellite Radio broadcast the fourth episode of “Theme Time Radio Hour.” The show first aired a few weeks earlier, and, from the outset, it featured a peculiar format: After a noir-ish introduction, beginning with the smoky, sultry lines of a female narrator (“It’s nighttime in the big city”), a series of roughly 15 songs followed. These songs were not gathered according to genre, nor were they sequenced in chronological order. Rather, they were put together thematically. For example, “Theme Time Radio Hour’s” inaugural episode was titled simply “Weather.” Its first song was “Blow Wind Blow” (1953) by Muddy Waters, and its final track was “Keep on the Sunny Side” (1928) by The Carter Family. In between, songs by guitar legend Jimi Hendrix and R&B pioneer Stevie Wonder also appeared, though, despite their respective greatness, Hendrix and Wonder weren’t the biggest stars of the show. That honor would belong to none other than the DJ himself — American singer, songwriter, poet, actor, author, and all-around cultural icon Bob Dylan.

“Theme Time Radio Hour’s” second episode centered on the theme of “Mother,” its third on “Drinking.” But Episode 4, which aired just a few hours before Sabathia’s dominant start in Minneapolis, was dubbed “Baseball.” For those who know Dylan’s work, it’s hardly surprising that he would dedicate an episode of “Theme Time Radio Hour” to the national pastime. Perhaps most famously, he and stage director Jacques Levy (1935-2004) wrote the song “Catfish” in honor of Hall of Fame pitcher Jim “Catfish” Hunter (1946-99), who retired in 1979 as an eight-time All-Star and five-time World Series champion. Dylan recorded the song in July 1975, right in the middle of Hunter’s first year with the Yankees — a forgettable season for the Bronx Bombers but another stellar one for Hunter, who led MLB in wins for the second time in his career. Dylan’s song, however, is less about Hunter’s on-field accomplishments than his path from small-town North Carolina to the bright lights of Yankee Stadium. Over a bluesy acoustic guitar and harmonica, Dylan juxtaposes Hunter’s rustic love of the outdoors with his newfound status as the highest-paid pitcher in MLB history. Yet, the gravelly insouciance of Dylan’s voice suggests that Hunter is worth every penny. As he sings in the chorus, “Catfish, million-dollar man / Nobody can throw the ball like Catfish can.”

MORE:
Theme Time Radio Hour: The Annotated “Baseball” Episode (Fred Bals, Nov 18, 2025, Medium)

THE CULTURE WARS ARE A ROUT:

Passion Plays?: Why The Chosen and Stranger Things Captivate Us (Leonie Caldecott, March 30, 2026, Curuch Life Journal)

Then go back to Stranger Things. El is not a Christ-figure. She is not even an angelic figure. She is a superhero, which is an entirely different trope. Superheroes are simply power-endowed human beings. What they do with that power is the hinge on which everything turns. El extracts herself from her compromising situation in a very different way from Judas. She surrenders the power to harm. My gut feeling is that this motive does not actually endorse suicide. It simply endorses sacrifice: of known security, known life. Beyond that, we do not get to follow her.

Back to The Chosen. The point about Jesus is that while both human and divine, he is precisely not a superhero. He will not, as Judas believes, slay his enemies at the last moment: that has never been his MO. Judas’s main flaw is a failure of the imagination, which you could characterize as, simply, bad theology. This is the scandal of Christianity. The author of life, in some way, must die. The Christ will descend, voluntarily, into the valley of bones, through the agony of the Passion. The agony of defeat: of real, absolute, undeniable death. Already in the Garden of Gethsemane, we see him being mentally tortured by what is coming, and by the sleepiness and fearfulness of his followers. Nicodemus caught in his ivory tower trying to belatedly join the dots. Peter and James and John bewildered and afraid. The apostles clutching a few primitive weapons as a ten-ton-truck hurtles down the infested freeway of hell.

No one is on point. No one is going to win. Jesus knows all this. His human body is racked with fear and troubled to the point of collapse. But he goes to meet his betrayer anyway. What follows is the cry of the innocent the world over and through to our time, this time, this terrible moment in history. My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

God had to experience the Fall in order to fully comprehend us, and, thereby, forgive us.

CONSERVING THE CENTER:

Can Danielle Allen Save Academe From Itself?: The Harvard political theorist is the sector’s most interesting reformer. (Charlie Tyson, March 20, 2026, Chronicle Review)

Was it a pep talk or a provocation? Allen’s response, in October, to the Trump administration’s “Compact for Academic Excellence in Higher Education” had elements of both.

The proffered “compact” marked a grim phase in the Trump administration’s dealings with elite universities. The letter from the U.S. Department of Education, sent to nine leading universities, offered a leg up in federal funding to universities willing to accept a broad range of conditions — including “abolishing institutional units” that “belittle” conservative ideas, defining “male” and “female” “according to reproductive function and biological processes,” and ensuring that foreign students “are introduced to, and supportive of, American and Western values.” Such demands left many on campus feeling a bleaker-than-usual sense of persecution. In one characteristic opinion essay, Lisa Fazio and Brendan Nyhan, professors at Vanderbilt University and Dartmouth College, respectively, called the deal a “devil’s bargain,” warning that “any institution that yields to these broad and intrusive demands would give up its legal rights and forever be subservient to the whims of the government.”

Allen’s reply went against the prevailing mood. In an essay titled “Why I’m Excited About the White House’s Proposal for a Higher Ed Compact,” published on her Substack before appearing in these pages, she framed the compact as an opportunity for universities to work in concert to develop a package of higher-ed reforms. While urging university leaders to reject the compact as written, she insisted that universities needed “to talk to each other” to arrive at some deal that would address the sector’s problems. (Rules intended to prevent collusion on tuition, she told me, have hampered cross-institutional collaboration.)

“By allowing civic education to erode, by abandoning a commitment to pluralism that includes viewpoint diversity, and by failing to achieve approaches to admissions and credentialing that are broadly experienced as fair,” she wrote, “universities have failed to contribute as they might” to the health of American democracy.

In staking out this position, Allen was elaborating upon an essay she’d published some months before in The Atlantic. That essay proposed several concrete reforms through which universities might begin to establish “a new social contract” with the American people. Elite institutions, Allen argued, should move toward lottery admissions so that students who clear a certain merit threshold are selected by geographic or socioeconomic criteria. (In addition to fostering “cultural cohesion,” she told me, a lottery would curb the “meritocratic arrogance that is a feature of our current system.”) Selective universities, she suggested, should increase the size of their undergraduate-student bodies. They should experiment with three-year degrees as a way of controlling tuition costs. And they should support “viewpoint diversity” through faculty recruitment and perhaps by establishing two-year visiting professorships for scholars in right-leaning think tanks.

For decades, higher-ed policy has, via investments in STEM education, focused on national security and economic productivity. We have, Allen warned, neglected the university’s deeper purpose, which is the maintenance and fortification of civic strength.

To many observers of higher education, such ideas seem reasonable and overdue. Aspects of Allen’s agenda, however, might seem to align suspiciously well with emerging trends that many scholars view as noxious. In recent years, a spate of civics institutes and Great Books programs has arisen across the nation. Many of these programs are conspicuously conservative. Gov. Bill Lee, a Republican of Tennessee, announced a $6-million civics institute at the University of Tennessee at Knoxville as a way of fighting “anti-American thought”; the University of Florida’s Hamilton School for Classical and Civic Education was conceived, by a shadowy nonprofit called the Council on Public University Reform, as a countermove against “cancel culture and uniformity of opinion on campus.” Tens of millions of dollars in grants awarded by the National Endowment for the Humanities, in January, went to support professorships in programs in civic leadership and Western civilization — programs some faculty regard as affirmative action for right-leaning scholars at a time when jobs in the humanities are punishingly scarce.

Allen believes, Ober told me, that the new civics institutes, even those mandated by legislators with an “ideological agenda,” could play a role in strengthening democracy. “Danielle is saying, let’s work and try to make them part of the solution rather than marginalizing them and saying they’re impure.” (Ober is a co-director of the Stanford Civics Initiative.)

While Allen singled out UT-Knoxville’s civics program for praise, she was cautiously measured in describing the curricular battles that have engulfed the humanities. “Some of the critiques that conservatives have made about college curricula are sound,” she told me. “We haven’t taught enough bread-and-butter basics of U.S. history, constitutionalism, and the like. Some of the critiques from Black studies, which require us to expand our horizon of what voices matter, are also sound.”

Is this fairmindedness simply — centrism? For some of Allen’s collaborators and admirers, the appeal of her higher-ed reformism lies in its promise to reorient academic discourse around the center. Paul Carrese, director of Arizona State University’s Center for American Civics, sees Allen’s project as “rebuilding a broad middle” in higher education. He hopes that Allen-style civic education might help alleviate the angry polarization that characterizes contemporary American political life. “More critical, radical views farther to the left, farther to the right — in a way, these views might be too prominent right now,” Carrese told me. “The focus should be on expanding the center and a healthy culture of Socratic dialogue across center-left and center-right.”