We all know why we’re here. You’re waiting to see it.
Last week, I did a detailed analysis of my subscriber base, using raw data from Substack, and I learned that my half-dozen most popular posts in 5 a.m. Stories have little in common. They deal with children’s poetry, old-fashioned words, exotic-sounding places in the Southwest, the Midwest and China, and the Old Neighborhoods we all carry with us wherever we go.
I get it. I have no demographic. At least none that is definable enough to pander to in my weekly stories.
Based on those results, I fed certain words to the best Artificial Intelligence production agency I could find, AI, AI, Oh! (think about it) and I asked for nothing less than the perfect story for my readers. Something that would tick every box in their checklist of interests.
It took their staff most of a week, and depleted my entire 2023 holiday entertainment budget - sorry, gang - but they really came through for me.
I hope you enjoy this. You should, because it’s AI-Certified Perfect:
There once was a knave from Shanghai
Who loved to tell stories and lie
He said he could fly
And touch the blue sky
But everyone knew it ain’t trueHe said he had been to Kankakee
And met a princess by the sea
He said she was fair
With golden hair
But everyone knew it ain’t trueHe said he had travelled to Tucumcari
And rode on a camel so hairy
He said it was fun
To race in the sun
But everyone knew it ain’t trueOne day he decided to prove them all wrong
And show them his stories were true all along
He climbed on a plane
And flew in the rain
But he never came back from his flightSome say he got lost in the clouds
Some say he landed in a crowd
Some say he found his princess
Some say he met his nemesis
But no one really knows what happened to himThe moral of this story is clear
Don’t lie or you’ll disappear
Be honest and kind
And you will find
That everyone will love you for who you are
So, that’s it.
As you can see in these photos, I had to buy a small airline to help illustrate the perfect story. I went looking for one with a name like mine, possibly with a headquarters someplace that sounded funny.
I settled on Basler Airlines, with headquarters in - wait for it - Oshkosh.
Basler Airlines. You can look it up.
Better yet, just come visit our home office, in Oshkosh. We fly there four times a day, from Tucumcari.
Flying on the BT - 67
“Oshkosh, Wisconsin, give us a gin an’ we’ll fly in hail”
15 horsepower and 15 restless riders
Three “mechanics”, 25 sacks of mail
All along the southbound odyssey
The plane pulls out of Kankakee
Floats along past houses, farms, and fields
Passing planes that have no name
Their fuselage with inspected frames
And the dang things with functioning landing gear
Good morning, America, how are ya?
Said don't you know me? I'm your native son
I'm the plane they call the BT - 67
I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is done
Dealing card games with the old men in the cockpit
Penny a point, ain't no one keeping score
Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle
Feel the wings crumbling 'neath the floor...
No cause for concern, Mr B.
My Lamar is right here with me.
He'd got it in his noggin
Kankakee was Okanagan.
I flew there, paid bail, now he's free.