or, a Fragment of a Vision in a Dream Smoking a Pipe with a St. Bernard Coming Out of It
(For tomorrow is National Iowahawk Day)
At the bending of the river
Where it bows the brackish water
In the fertile land of Hawkeyes
Where the Hy-Vee vends its groceries
And employees own the business
There was taught the Iowahawk.
He did not come from Wisconsin
Nor from Illinois corrupted
Nor from Minnesota land of
Many lakes and taxi drivers
Who will not transport you far if
You have with you juice of grapevine
Bought at duty free at airport.
Not Nebraska where the flatland
Stretches on past Ogalala
Ever stretching are we there yet
Till it comes to Colorado
Where the students go for spring break
There to drink the beer refreshing
But diluted, cannot seem to get a
Buzz on, what is this swill?
Nor Missouri, better beer there
Taken from the proud Milwaukee
Like the ball team to Atlanta.
But in Iowa was he nurtured
At the workshop of the writers
At the Foxhead bar he haunted
Playing billiards with professors.
Later he went to Chicago
Place where many things were happening
Though the football team was hapless
That requires a quaterback still
Still and ever, never changing.
And he found the internet there
Tubes in series, linked together
Where he made the blog that many
Found remarkable and laughing
Asked of themselves, “Who is Dave Burge,
Man we call the Iowahawk,
Who has genius to resemble
Any writer past or present
Whether it be Hunter Thompson,
Homer eld of Grecian glory,
Chaucer ribald and yet stately?
Wherefore comes he, raiment splendid,
Clothed in tropes so tightly woven
Out of matter hempen homespun,
Writing of tattoos and hot rods
Making light of that which presses
Round our throats like garrots tightening
Or when natives stake you out in
Wastelands with your nipples impaled?
He is Iowahawk of Typepad
Master of the sparkling send-up
When he posts, then douchebags tremble
Realizing they’ve been skewered
And with no recourse to match him:
Mighty Burge, the Iowahawk!â€
I’ll wait for the Bugs Bunny cartoon.
On xanax, dude, did Kublai-Dan, a stately homework poem decree.
I ran and ran and ran and ran……
I love me some Iowahawk, but I think plagiarism is my only hope.
At least joke stealing.
Treacher is a font of one-liners.
That’s a nice paen to Mr I., though.
Proud to say I’ve met the mighty Iowahawk (at an AoS gettogether in the Wicker Park neighhborhood). Cool dude in a loose mood, certainly!
I thought it was Longfellow not Coleridge. But then I have affinity to the shores of Gitche Gumee.
Geoffb- Wer’e supposed to come up with something original worthy of the life of Burge for Iowahawk Day. So I was just feeling inadequate there.
If you want it to be a proper homage to Burge, you need to work nitromethane and camshafts in there somewhere.
Ah, I’m not an originalist in any writing way so I missed that. My inadequacy dwarfs all else, and others, in writing.
In being a dork, I can excel however.
Gitchee-goomie-riffic! Thanks Dan.
*sniff*
*golfclap*
Hey, Gitche OWN Gumee.
I R Legion of Dumb.
food….good..
fire bad
Yeah well… I think I’ll stick with posting my favorite burge-bits. And beer.
In a truly just universe Mr Hawk would be richer than six foot up a bull’s ass. Just from the royalties. But then again, in a truly just world I’d have a fair amount of change myself. My 401k wouldn’t look like a pair of pants with all the pockets cut out.
pockets out?
kiss the rabbit between the ears
Wherefore there is no firewater? We were promised the firewater.
There once was a man named Burge
Who had an infliction and urge
When it came to a car hop
He recommended a 4-inch chop
“If you got a Fatwa, you might as well splurge”
So endeth the meme
http://iowahawk.typepad.com/iowahawk/2005/01/ask_the_other_i.html
Opps – corrected
There once was a man named Burge
Who had an infliction and urge
When it came to a car hop
He recommended a 3-inch chop
“If you got a Fatwa, you might as well splurgeâ€
once a comment did urge
ur fatwa asses to merge
a thought and a fart
did the bunny bugs part…
“but I’m super-smart”
to the turtle
tudor turtle
It’s good, but you forgot the “Burma Shave.”
[…] is National Iowahawk Day. I’d be proud to say I knew him way back when – except that I don’t know him. These […]
Reads like a love letter to me, man.
(Though I share your sentiments.)
stooges be three
fine
an anchor
whoop whoop whoop…
faggy joe
gots to…
whoiop whoop whoop..
bjork swan dress knuckle-head kisses
The Iowahawk has landed…
“Not on my back ledge,” we titled a blogpost four years back about a New York Times do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do story of how the other half lives that made our blood boil. (Chang W. Lee/The New York Times photo). It’s National Iowahawk……
Brilliant, Dan.
Hear the Song of Iowatha
The Long Fellow, Henry Wadsworth
Perfect stage name for a porn star
Dan Brill;iant
he’s my man
if he can’t duet
some
sum
call it macaroni
[
summabitch]
duh…duh once was a pad so
absorbent
duh…..duh trickle down was
so ex-wife exorba/baa/ sheep/rent[spell/i/m dying here]
but when zorba the greek
took a maria callas peek
the snark from irish teeth did speak
Thanks, SBP & pdb
ethel[give me an E]
rose[ [pedal to the metal]
caroline[ uh–mmm—heh]
bobbobbobby[i’m from….ny?/mass?
confuscious say/ let sirhan sirhan decide…}
damn f’cking bus boys]
i gots kennedy syories/ i.m tires
collins
ha ha ha
a has been was the call…
the murmur did fall
on a vote…
I
Gunga Din/ talk of has been..
the collins be straight/
he tinkles 88
this site is
the best
now i rest
stop blowjob
http://www.butasforme.com/2009/03/15/listen-to-this-an-orgasm-for-your-ears/
[…] Dan Collins tells me that today is National Iowahawk Day. In the spirit of the day, here’s one of the spectacular events relating to the legendary life of Iowahawk (stress on legendary). […]
[…] is National Iowahawk Day. I’d be proud to say I knew him way back when – except that I don’t know him. These days, he […]
Closing comments on old posts would be a good idea, I’m thinking…