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Edited on Sat Jan-17-09 04:09 AM by Hardrada
How fallen from the heights you are, heights once of such majesty. How thinned you are by time and negative cash flow, o proud Register, Who once spanned all the state and brought us the old high journalism And how we waited for your latest words and how you vindicated us, Scolded us, amused us, brought out our talents and our Iowan pride, In those days of Cowles and Darling, of Kruidenier and Kaul, Frank Miller, Josef Mossman, Jim Flansburg and the picture section, Photos, paintings, etchings all of our dreams and people, our small town And all gone in your Great Gannett Betrayal when the painted dreams Stopped dead and the local essayists gave way to syndicated dross. When bright and deadly Entertainment took a central place and how Your scope shrank down to the capital and the growing central sprawl And skidded haplessly along the ever-widening freeways. But worst of all your sins the shutting down of peaceful words When the Bushes had brought forth new wars. O how you rejoiced To show the gallant warriors in a farewell hug and kiss then off To glory and the duties of the brave and no hint of the ruin And shattering war bring. For this alone you well deserve to lie Scorned and small and crumpled at our feet, enabler of Tyranny. Now time and the Internet have brought you low and in vain Call back Geneva Overholzer or Dennis Ryerson or Patrick Duffy, In vain invoke Dave Yepsen to spin you a reactionary miracle. But I will spare a small tear for your comic section, remembering That you did see Opus off to eternity to join my once-loved Pogo Possum there!
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