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Let the record show: neither version of those lyrics contains the phrase "all lives matter."

But at the 2016 All-Star Game, the song got an unexpected edit.

At Petco Park in San Diego, one member of the Canadian singing group The Tenors — by himself, according to the other members of the group — revised the anthem.

School's out, and a lot of parents are getting through the long summer days with extra helpings of digital devices.

How should we feel about that?

Police in Baton Rouge say they have arrested three people who stole guns with the goal of killing police officers. They are still looking for a fourth suspect in the alleged plot, NPR's Greg Allen reports.

"Police say the thefts were at a Baton Rouge pawn shop early Saturday morning," Greg says. "One person was arrested at the scene. Since then, two others have been arrested and six of the eight stolen handguns have been recovered. Police are still looking for one other man."

A 13-year-old boy is among those arrested, Greg says.

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After an international tribunal invalidated Beijing's claims to the South China Sea, Chinese authorities have declared in no uncertain terms that they will be ignoring the ruling.

The Philippines brought the case to the Permanent Court of Arbitration in The Hague, objecting to China's claims to maritime rights in the disputed waters. The tribunal agreed that China had no legal authority to claim the waters and was infringing on the sovereign rights of the Philippines.

Donald Trump is firing back at Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg after she disparaged him in several media interviews. He tweeted late Tuesday that she "has embarrassed all" with her "very dumb political statements" about the candidate. Trump ended his tweet with "Her mind is shot - resign!":

Donald Trump wrapped up his public tryout of potential vice presidential candidates in Indiana Tuesday night with Gov. Mike Pence giving the final audition.

The Indiana governor's stock as Trump's possible running mate is believed to be on the rise, with New Jersey Gov. Chris Christie and former House Speaker Newt Gingrich also atop the list. Sources tell NPR the presumptive GOP presidential nominee is close to making a decision, which he's widely expected to announce by Friday.

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The unassuming hero of Jonas Karlsson's clever, Kafkaesque parable is the opposite of a malcontent. Despite scant education, a limited social life, and no prospects for success as it is usually defined, he's that rarity, a most happy fella with an amazing ability to content himself with very little. But one day, returning to his barebones flat from his dead-end, part-time job at a video store, he finds an astronomical bill from an entity called W.R.D. He assumes it's a scam. Actually, it is more sinister-- and it forces him to take a good hard look at his life and values.

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'Beasts': Taking Southern Folklore To The Next Level

Jun 28, 2012
Originally published on June 29, 2012 3:58 pm

The parents of director Benh Zeitlin are folklorists, which is as good a way as any to account for the ambitions of his first feature, Beasts of the Southern Wild. The film is a mythic odyssey laced with modern ecological anxieties, captured in a free-form, image-driven narrative that recalls Terrence Malick's The Tree of Life. It's clear from the outset that Zeitlin aims to take the family folklore business to the next level.

His narrator is a 6-year-old, motherless African-American girl called Hushpuppy, who lives in a Louisiana tidal basin — known as the Bathtub — and wonders about how people in future civilizations will tell her story. Over heaps of crawfish and crabs, Hushpuppy envisions the world that might arrive with an imminent storm.

Most cultures have ancient flood stories, but this one is explicitly attributed to global warming and the melting of polar ice caps; Hushpuppy even has visions of Arctic avalanches. The time frame is purposely vague, the vibe post-apocalyptic.

Her watery community of multiracial outcasts lies downstream from a levee, its scattered dwellings pieced together out of rusted bric-a-brac, whatever has been scavenged or washed up. On the dry side of that levee sits a huge and ominous factory, its stacks visible through a gray haze, as if Oz had been seized by polluters.

Zeitlin's characters, most played by nonprofessional actors, are survivors but not salt-of-the-Earth types. Many appear to be serious alcoholics — including Hushpuppy's father, Wink, who lives in a separate house connected to his daughter's by a long rope.

Played by a New Orleans baker named Dwight Henry, Wink is a raging mess. Criminally neglectful at first, he's shamed into acting more fatherly — even if that manifests itself in weird ways, as in a scene in which he soothes his frightened daughter by grabbing his gun, racing outside and firing into the storm to drive it off.

I can't tell how planned-out the shots are, but they look catch-as-catch-can, the hand-held camera swerving over the landscape, often in tune with the characters' emotions. Zeitlin has a heartwarming camera subject in Quvenzhane Wallis, who was 5 when she was picked from a reported 4,000 candidates to play Hushpuppy.

Under a mop of hair is a moppet's face, clear and soft and watchful. She says, "When it all goes quiet behind my eyes, I see everything that made me flying around in invisible pieces." She thinks a lighthouse signal from a distant shore is meant for her — her absent mama reaching out — and tries to think of how to answer back.

Beasts of the Southern Wild came out of nowhere to win the Camera d'Or at Cannes and the Grand Jury Prize at Sundance, and I hope I'm not raining on its, well, rain, to say it doesn't completely justify its formlessness. There's a lot of unshaped babble, draggy landscape footage and over-insistent music — lovely in small doses, numbing when it underscores everything.

Hushpuppy's neighbors become a surrogate family, and they're more than a little romanticized, their drunken dysfunction ennobled — as if being below sea level has raised them to a higher spiritual plain.

But that little girl's face holds you. In the hours before the storm will hit, the air is charged, the children running through the dark wood waving sparklers, a last burst of lyricism before the ground beneath them is swept away.

Near the end, Zeitlin pulls an amazing sequence out of his hat. It's set in a brothel, on a rig in the middle of the water that's like an island out of The Odyssey, and the women who inhabit it are, at least for a moment, everything this motherless child needs. It's as if the universe has opened its arms and said, "I know you exist. You are loved." (Recommended)

Copyright 2012 National Public Radio. To see more, visit http://www.npr.org/.

Transcript

DAVE DAVIES, HOST:

The low budget American independent film "Beasts of the Southern Wild" won major prizes at this year's Cannes and Sundance film festivals. Shot in the Louisiana bayou with a cast of mostly non-actors, it's the first feature by Benh Zeitlen, who moved to New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina and formed a filmmaking collective with friends from college. Film critic David Edelstein has this review.

DAVID EDELSTEIN, BYLINE: The parents of director Benh Zeitlin are folklorists, which is as good a way as any to account for the ambitions of his first feature, "Beasts of the Southern Wild." The film is a mythic odyssey laced with modern ecological anxieties, and captured in a free-form, image-driven narrative that recalls Terrence Malick's "The Tree of Life." It's clear from the outset that Zeitlin aims to take the family folklore business to the next level.

His narrator is a six-year-old, motherless African-American called Hushpuppy, who lives in a Louisiana basin known as the Bathtub, and wonders about how people in future civilizations will tell her story. Over heaps of crawfish and crabs, Hushpuppy envisions the world that might arrive with the imminent storm.

(SOUNDBITE OF MOVIE, "BEASTS OF THE SOUTHERN WILD")

QUVENZHANE WALLIS: (as Hushpuppy) One day, the storm's going to blow, the ground's going to sink and the water's going to rise up so high they ain't going to be no Bathtub, just a whole bunch of water.

EDELSTEIN: Most cultures have ancient flood stories, but this one is explicitly linked to global warming and the melting of polar ice caps. Hushpuppy even has visions of Arctic avalanches. The timeframe is purposely vague, the vibe post-apocalyptic.

Her watery community of multiracial outcasts lies downstream from a levee, its scattered dwellings pieced together out of rusted bric-a-brac, whatever has been scavenged or washed up. On the dry side of that levee sits a huge and ominous factory, its stacks visible through a gray haze, as if Oz had been seized by polluters.

Zeitlin's characters, most played by non-actors, are survivors, but not salt-of-the-Earth types. Many appear to be serious alcoholics - including Hushpuppy's father, Wink, who lives in a separate house connected to his daughter's by a long rope.

As played by a New Orleans baker named Dwight Henry, Wink is a raging mess. Criminally neglectful at first, he's shamed into acting more fatherly, even if that manifests itself in weird ways, as in a scene in which he soothes his frightened daughter by grabbing his gun, racing outside and firing into the storm to drive it off.

I can't tell how planned-out the shots are, but they look catch-as-catch-can, the hand-held camera swerving over the landscape, often in tune with the characters' emotions. Zeitlin has a heartwarming camera subject in Quvenzhane Wallis, who was five when she was picked from a reported 4,000 candidates to play Hushpuppy.

Under a mop of hair is a moppet's face, clear and soft and watchful. She says: When it all goes quiet behind my eyes, I see everything that made me flying around in invisible pieces. She thinks a lighthouse signal from a distant shore is meant for her - her absent mama reaching out - and tries to think of how to answer back.

"Beasts of the Southern Wild" came out of nowhere to win the Camera d'Or at Cannes and the Grand Jury Prize at Sundance, and I hope I'm not raining on its, well, rain, to say it doesn't completely justify its formlessness. There's a lot of unshaped babble, draggy landscape footage and over-insistent music - lovely in small doses, numbing when it underscores everything.

Hushpuppy's neighbors become a surrogate family, and they're more than a little romanticized, their drunken dysfunction ennobled, as if being below sea level has raised them to a higher spiritual plane.

But that little girl's face holds you. In the hours before the storm will hit, the air is charged, the children running through the darkness waving sparklers, a last burst of lyricism before the ground beneath them is swept away.

Near the end, Zeitlin pulls an amazing sequence out of his hat. It's set in a brothel, on a rig in the middle of the water that's like an island out of "The Odyssey," and the women who inhabit it are, at least for a moment, everything this motherless child needs. It's as if the universe has opened its arms and said: I know you exist. You are loved.

DAVIES: David Edelstein is film critic for New York Magazine.

(SOUNDBITE OF MUSIC)

DAVIES: You can join us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter @nprfreshair, and you can download podcasts of our show at freshair.npr.org. Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright National Public Radio.