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I don’t understand poetry. Some words here, some words there, a couple of A-B rhyming schemes and BOOM — you’re the next Shel Silverstein. It’s meh. It’s boring. I hated English class and I hated reading poetry.
This slam poetry thing is changing my perspective.
Over the weekend, slam poet and Whataburger lover Amir Safi recited his “Ode to Whataburger” at the Grand Slam Poetry Festival in College Station. It was beyond moving. It will most likely bring you to tears.
What passion.
From Texas Monthly:
The “church of meat, grease, and longer waits,” as Safi puts it, gets a poetic tribute as he explains the joy of Whataburger for an eager live audience. He spreads the gospel of Honey Butter Chicken Biscuits, touts its greatness compared to other chains (“Wendy’s wants to be you when she grows up”), and laments the down side of going through the drive-thru (“You know that feeling you get/when you could have ordered your burger with extra onions/grilled jalapenos/three slices of cheese/but you didn’t and your buddy did?/That’s what we call getting out-Whataburgered”).
We all know Whataburger is the greatest regional fast food chain out there, followed closely by P. Terry’s, Cookout and Bojangles. Actually, I had Culver’s this weekend in a small town in northern Wisconsin so I’m throwing that on the list, too. But still, my love for a HBCB in the morning at Whataburger is why the restaurant will live at the top of the regional restaurant food chain for eternity.
I’m no poetry critic, but if that slam poet didn’t walk away with at least a $500 prize then what is the point of slam poetry anymore?.
[via Texas Monthly]
Image via YouTube
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Fuck you, SteveHolt.