Brown Dawn

There is little justice and even less poetry in Washington D.C., yet this week, someone—or, even more frightening, a determined team of someones—delivered a healthy mix of both to the Capitol building.

Originally reported in Roll Call (which, unlike Read Ink, requires you to register and pay and stuff), here’s a snippet from Raw Story:

"On Wednesday, several large piles of actual, nonmetaphorical 'No. 2' found their way into the Capitol, and the source isn’t yet clear."

[snip]

"Capitol Police cordoned off a section of the hallway on the third floor of the Senate side of the Capitol, where at least three piles of the stuff were causing a stench — and a stir. At first, the word circulating among the staff was that a visiting child had fallen ill while in the gallery. But then the prevailing theory was that the foul stuff had come from an adult or group of adults making a yet-to-be-determined political statement."

Yes, I know what you’re thinking, and it’s true. This historic event means that for perhaps the first time, a single common phrase is both the figurative and literal description of the Senate’s contents. God bless America.