As Townhall.com’s Erika Johnsen put it, “C’mon, people — ‘occupying’ is so 2011.” Nevertheless, in some places, Occupy protesters have, in fact, persisted in street living and vocal bellyaching. Yesterday, for example, the Occupy D.C. howlers staged an overt occupation of Congress. That Occupation apparently mounted a spectacular achievement: The protesters finally figured out  “what it’s all about” — the hokey pokey. I’m not kidding. Heritage Foundation investigative reporter Lachlan Markay was on the scene yesterday and he had this to tweet:

“Protest[e]rs doing the hokey pokey: ‘You do the hokey pokey and you kiss your rights goodbye. That’s why we occupy!'”

The nascent wisdom of the 99 percent has matured! We always knew it was there; now we have proof!

Yesterday’s Occupation was evidently primarily a protest against the police, which is interesting because … the police have been curiously cooperative with the Occupy D.C. movement. So cooperative, in fact, that Rep. Darrell Issa’s Oversight Committee plans to investigate the question of who is actually responsible for the lawlessness that has characterized the D.C. branch of the movement.

Until today, an Occupy camp was also alive and, er, well enough in London. A British high court judge put the kibosh on it today, though, so don’t expect it to hold out much longer. It’s not what it used to be anyway. Laurie Pennie (“pop culture and radical politics with a feminist twist”) provides an eyewitness report of what the camp became:

Three months on, this is what the Occupy movement looks like: a network of mutual support for the lost and destitute, with anti-capitalist overtones. The Bank of Ideas, an abandoned building owned by the Swiss banking giant UBS and transformed into a space for art sessions, lectures and late-night discussion on the future of the free market, is one of four sites squatted by London’s branch of the movement. The occupations began with the encampment on the steps of St Paul’s Cathedral, which has just lost its battle against eviction at the Royal Courts of Justice, and branched out to Finsbury Square, and an empty magistrate’s court on Old Street. As other world cities have seen similar protests violently evicted by local police, the occupiers of London have clung on through a winter that has seen the nature of the camps change profoundly.

“I came here for the community,” says Declan, 29. “Before this I was living in Galway, essentially trying to get together enough weed to get through the day. It’s better here.” He passes a glowing spliff around the other roof-dwellers. The tranquility group, with its strict policy against drugs and drunkenness, would not approve this gesture of friendship. Muriel, a french artist in her forties, is excited and a little stoned, examining the walls daubed with murals, slogans and lovingly pasted pamphlets. “If bird catcher comes, occupy the sky,” she says, reading off the brickwork. “That is truly beautiful. I feel that something beautiful is happening here.”

Poetry.

In Boston, too, some straggling Occupiers have steadfastly remained in the public eye. The mulch apparently made fertile soil for romance … between a Level 3 sex offender and a prototypical heart-shaped-faced 18-year-old girl Occupier.

Ah, but that’s enough. You get the point: The Occupy camps still exist in some places, essentially unchanged if less noticed, crippled before they ever walked. It’s rather sad, actually. But not really.