Iowa Calling

Thanks to apparently being a paradise of meat, salads drowned in mayo and the hot beef sundae, I've been dreaming about Iowa for the last ten minutes.  Which is odd since, as you know, I generally have no idea where the hell it is.

But it's just occurred to me that while I always think of Buddy Holly's plane crashing in Clear Lake, I never really think of it as Iowa.  Which is strange.  Hmm.  But then, I am one enigmatic, sexy motherfucker. A riddle in (hopefully) dungarees.