We Had to Beg a Stranger to Be a Victim and Crouch Behind a Girder, and Let the Dogs Discover Him and Tug Him Proudly, with Suppressed Yaps, Back to Command

Unless this is your first or at most second time visiting this shitty blog, you know I'm constitutionally incapable of not noting this:

Ethan:

FUCKING WEIRD.

Two days ago I decided I really, really needed to transfer all of my various different lists (in my head, bookmarked sites, printed out lists, handwritten, wishlists at various stores, etc.) of books I want to read into one central location. And last night I had to track down the Barthelme syllabus again, because the place I had seen it three years ago no longer had it. And now today you post it.

Synchronicity.

Me:

Serendipity! And thanks for bump at your place. I know you were being Kind, but I got an email back at the old place (before you joined in, I think) ripping me for "competitive blogwhoring" with all the links. Well, duh and all, of course I'm an attention slut - I'm a fucking blogger - but he completely refused to accept any chance I might be Kind too.

Ethan:

I've never understood why "blogwhoring" should be considered a bad thing...and like I said, people who provide lots of links for me to look at are damned useful. Hah--you're useful.

So noted. Consider this:

With four minutes remaining, Steve Kean's side fretting and Steven Gerrard sizing up his second goal of the night from the penalty spot, Liverpool sensed another remarkable comeback and escape route for Hodgson. But those days are over. At least under this manager and with this squad. The captain who has forged a career on rescue missions blazed over and, quite possibly, the 63-year-old's fate was sealed.

Defeat was accompanied by the now familiar refrains of "Dalglish" and "Hodgson for England" from the Liverpool supporters. A new ditty was added last night. The Blackburn fans chanted "You're getting sacked in the morning" after Benjani Mwaruwari stroked home his second of the game and Rovers' third shortly after the interval. The Liverpool fans then joined in.

Discuss the difference between serendipity and synchronicity (beyond the primary and obvious benefit that the word serendipity doesn't remind you of Gordon (The Bad) Sumner, though synchronicity just sparked this moment of serendipity).

As for blogwhoring, thanks for the business, John, Jane.

• New spirit of social movements?
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• The war on drugs, on Christmas.
• Second verse, same as the first.
• Same as the last year.
• Mobamafucker. 
• UPDATE! George Will had his quote boy dig up some lines from Larkin, cause Will never read Larkin in his life.
• UPDATE! Serendipitously, I see this has just been posted.
• Please please please please please.
• Joined up Volk.
• I actually know exactly where Fucker Carlson lives. 
• Rebranding doesn't make the coffee suck less.

• Landru could have told you this.
• Metro!
• Blake!
• Execute the motherfucker.
• Virginia! is for crackers.
• Thought experiment: what if Peter Angelos invested in United?
• UPDATE! Dear Troy, shut the fuck up.
• Remarkably slow in Blegsylvania, especially in Lit and Music Counties. 
• UPDATE! Shit, shower, shave. I didn't know the story about Tom Petty stealing a Westerberg line - that would have required listening to Tom Petty, yo, and I love you but not that much. 
• UPDATE! PJ HARVEY! I can't wait for the new album.

SEARCHERS

D. Nurkse

We gave our dogs a button to sniff,
or a tissue, and they bounded off
confident in their training,
in the power of their senses
to re-create the body,

but after eighteen hours in rubble
where even steel was pulverized
they curled on themselves
and stared up at us
and in their soft huge eyes
we saw mirrored the longing for death:

then we had to beg a stranger
to be a victim and crouch
behind a girder, and let the dogs
discover him and tug him
proudly, with suppressed yaps,
back to Command and the rows
of empty triage tables.

But who will hide from us?
Who will keep digging for us
here in the cloud of ashes?