Bird's Bones Make No Awful Noise

Tried a screenshot capture but didn't work out so well, but as I type this sentence this headline is on the front of Your Fucking Washington Post

SANTORUM APPEARS ON OBAMA'S RADAR

Oh no! Obama's radar! One needs ask how it got there.

Speaking of shitty, the FBI could set-up some fuckwit named Billy Bob and arrest him near the White House for propaganda if they wanted, you know?

• Is it my imagination, or has blooger and/or firefox turned skeevy since that massive midweek windows update? All three machines - home PC, laptop, work PC, are for shit.
• Good day to be a Marylander.
• Why America keeps getting more conservative.
• Sex, Frothy, conservative imagination.
• Frothy!
• Jebmentum!
• Because if a Republican wins the White House then Limbaugh loses power, that's why. It's not more complicated than that.
• Greenwald picks a fight. There's no update yet, so the billionaire's lawyers must not yet have responded. They'd be smart to eat their anger and shut up.
• Is it a fishcicle?
• It's A.R. Ammons birthday! More later today, I betcha.
• Hilary Mantel (and others) on historical fiction. I'm debating rereading Wolf Hall a third time before the sequel comes out this May.
• Or I could read Beckett.
• Speaking of reading, I'm halfway through Marcus' Flame Alphabet and.... meh. It's not that it's bad though it is unpleasant, it's not that I don't buy the conceit though it is absurd, it's.... 
• Woke up with this in my head:

THE CITY LIMITS

A.R. Ammons

When you consider the radiance, that it does not withhold
itself but pours its abundance without selection into every
nook and cranny not overhung or hidden; when you consider

that birds' bones make no awful noise against the light but
lie low in the light as in a high testimony; when you consider
the radiance, that it will look into the guiltiest

swervings of the weaving heart and bear itself upon them,
not flinching into disguise or darkening; when you consider
the abundance of such resource as illuminates the glow-blue

bodies and gold-skeined wings of flies swarming the dumped
guts of a natural slaughter or the coil of shit and in no
way winces from its storms of generosity; when you consider

that air or vacuum, snow or shale, squid or wolf, rose or lichen,
each is accepted into as much light as it will take, then
the heart moves roomier, the man stands and looks about, the

leaf does not increase itself above the grass, and the dark
work of the deepest cells is of a tune with May bushes
and fear lit by the breadth of such calmly turns to praise.