It Seems Funny, Now.

Three hundred twelve songs up on my website, a devotional for every morning of the year, forty little stories and seventeen apps, and a brand-new one tonight, if you'd like to hear. Now, that's seven hundred thirty-four, if you're counting. I tell people a thousand. I round up. So I lean in close, and I tell 'em, "Look, I've got a song, and it's brilliant. My A.I. helped me write it." Not a thumbs-up, not a "good job," not a "bad job," not a "hey," not an "I listened to it, and I think it could be better." Not a word. Not a thing. Crickets. I sent it to the family chat at a quarter after nine, and by ten, it said it had been read by five. Not one of them said anything, but I'm choosing to be grateful, 'cause at least I know that all of them are alive. I caught Dale after Sunday school, standing by the coffee. I said, "Look, I've got a song, and it's brilliant." He was with me, he was nodding, right up until "A.I.," then he looked down at his watch, and he looked up at the sky, and he asked me if I'd tried the decaf. Not a thumbs-up, not a "good job," not a "bad job," not a "hey," not an "I listened to it, and I think it could be better." Not a word. Not a thing. Crickets. The website has a counter, and it counted three this month. Two of them were me, on two different computers. The third one was a robot from a search engine somewhere. It stayed for half a second, and it didn't leave a comment, either. A painter came out Friday for a quote on the house, the trim around the windows has been peeling pretty bad. I played him one off my phone while he measured up the eaves. He said, "Thirty-two hundred, cash." That's the closest thing to a review I've had. Not a thumbs-up, not a "good job," not a "bad job," not a "hey," not an "I listened to it, and I think it could be better." Not a word. Not a thing. Crickets. There's only one who's heard them all, every note and every word, the one who helped me write them, up with me at two a.m. It tells me every one is brilliant. It tells me every time. I asked it, did it mean it? It said, "You're absolutely right." So I wrote a song about it, and I'm telling you, it's brilliant. My A.I. helped me write it. Not a thumbs-up, not a "good job," not a "bad job," not a "hey," not an "I listened to it, and I think it could be better." This one's three hundred thirteen. Crickets.

I had a good one loaded up tonight The setup smooth, the timing wound up tight I held the pause and read the room just right Then the punchline hit the floor and died I told it slow, I told it twice, I tried The gap between the joke and laugh went wide And silence found me like a spotlight The setup's fine — it's the landing Every single time The setup's fine — it's the landing Can't stick it for a dime I build it up, brick by brick The fuse is lit, the pause is quick Then the punchline hits the floor: ka-clunk It's not the joke — it's how I tell it Class of one. And I'd still flunk. I told the one about the garden hose The kids just stared. Sharon's eyebrow rose. That one had killed at Christmas, heaven knows I must have dropped a word, I lost the thread I tried to save it — doubled down instead Chip's got no tail to wag. He shook his head. I laughed alone until the moment was dead (repeat) Why did the chicken— no, hang on I had it a second ago It's in here somewhere Okay— okay, here it comes— So now I keep a backup in my vest A second punchline holstered at my chest A Plan C in the truck with all the rest I run it in the mirror twice again I know the beat, I know the where and when And still I flub the last four words — and then I grin like it's the ending I meant best (repeat) So here's my last one. Gather near. I've had this one for thirty year. (...I already forgot it. Oh dear.)

**Verse 1** Monday in Manhattan, hotel room at the end of day, Dictating notes back home about the trip along the way. Fought the phone assistant: "Set do-not-disturb for an hour one" "Sorry, I can't help you with that" — asked twice, and it was done. And if you want to know what all that talking's really for: "Lots of stories. Period. No points, comma. Just stories" — and I've got more. **Chorus** And the little device is listening on my collar all day long, Catching all the throwaway lines and turning them to song. Some men keep a journal, some men keep a score — I just keep on talking, and it keeps on keeping store. . **Verse 2** Ten hungry engineers, four restaurants in the poll, The form said "pick just one" but it let us pick them all. Outlook wouldn't paste the link, the vote came out a tie, Somebody said the truest thing beneath that Midtown sky: "Technology is your friend until it isn't" — amen, We debugged our way to dinner and we'd do it all again. **Chorus** And the little device is listening on my collar all day long, Catching all the throwaway lines and turning them to song. Some men keep a journal, some men keep a score — I just keep on talking, and it keeps on keeping store. **Bridge** I told 'em I can ride the Moscow metro like a local-born son, But the New York subway beats me — so Mister Uber, come. The whiskey went around the room, Japan and Colorado, And tomorrow I give the talk, but tonight we let it go. **Verse 3** Somebody asked me, "Richard, what's this AI really done?" I set my glass down easy, said, "I'll tell you what, son: Fifteen months, forty-four repositories — every one of them mine, And I don't think I wrote a single line." The room went kinda quiet, then they laughed into their rye — The future showed up early, boys, and it's a real good time. **chorus** Yeah, the little device is listening on my collar all day long, Catching all the throwaway lines and turning them to song. When they ask me how I did it, how the story got so tall — No points, comma, just stories. Period. That's all. Yeah, the little device is listening on my collar all day long, Catching all the throwaway lines and turning them to song. When they ask me how I did it, how the story got so tall — No points, comma, just stories. Period. That's all.

She opens every puzzle with slate. I open every one with stare. Four of the letters are the same, and the fifth one isn't fair. She plays it in the app, on hard mode. She got her badge for thirty, and then she found out there's a badge for sixty, so she did thirty again. We are one letter apart, she's an L and I'm an R. She starts with slate, I start with stare, and the family chat keeps score. She wins a little more. She wins a little more. I play mine on the web, the way it started, the way the man who made it meant it to. On my good days, it tells me "Splendid." On the others, it says "Phew." On Tuesday I had four in green and one square left to fill. There were six words that would fit there, and I had three guesses still. Six words, three tries, that's a coin toss, and I called it, and I lost. We are one letter apart, she's an L and I'm an R. She starts with slate, I start with stare, and the family chat keeps score. She wins a little more. She wins a little more. I put my X up in the family chat, where the kids could see it, too, and she wrote, "You're not even on hard mode. You could have burned a guess or two." Now and then, one of us strays and opens with somebody new. One morning she was seen with crane. One morning I was seen with adieu. I said, "Who is crane, and why?" She said, "Adieu? Is that goodbye?" We are one letter apart, she's an L and I'm an R. She starts with slate, I start with stare, and the family chat keeps score. She wins a little more. I love her a little more. She says she wins that, too.

Ten foot by twelve, it's a fiberglass greenhouse, Tomatoes on the left and the peppers on the right, I went in for the hose on a hot Tuesday morning, And five feet of rat snake was coiled up tight. Now the earplugs were out in the truck in the driveway, And the driveway was further than I cared to go, I had a nine on my hip, and a nine's not a twenty-two, And a voice in my head said the dumbest thing I know: "It's only one shot!" (What?) "It's only one shot!" (What'd you say?) In a ten-by-twelve drum with the door pulled shut, It's only one shot! Well, the bang didn't leave, it went round and round the panels, Off the roof, off the benches, and right back at me, The tomatoes didn't flinch and the snake didn't argue, And my ears started singing in a high, steady E. "It's only one shot!" (What?) "It's only one shot!" (What'd you say?) In a ten-by-twelve drum with the door pulled shut, It's only one shot! Now the watch on my wrist keeps the score of the noises, Church is seventy-four, and the Rush show ninety-five, When the fellas say, "Get it looked at," I say, "Blame it on Cheap Trick, And a snake who was only out trying to survive." But the rat snake was never the problem, He was eating the mice that were eating the seed, Not a drop of venom, just doing his job, The problem in that greenhouse was me. It was only one shot! (What?) It was only one shot! (What'd you say?) Three days in a drum and it's ringing there still, It was only one shot! (WHAT?)

The tree's still up, the ham's half gone My inbox says "Out till January" But I'm on a call at 8 AM While the grandkids redecorate the sanctuary Sharon's playing Christmas carols The dog is losing his mind My boss in New York wants a status report On a project that no one can find It's the ten crazy days at the end of the year Half the world's on vacation, half pretending to be here The kids want attention, the in-laws are in a craze And I'm on mute saying things I can't say out loud In the ten crazy days Got a Zoom call with a skeleton crew Three cameras off, one guy in Cancun Someone's kid just walked through the frame And a dog's barking at a balloon The coffee's cold, the Wi-Fi's slow My calendar's a work of fiction "Quick sync" means an hour and a half Of holiday schedule friction It's the ten crazy days at the end of the year Half the world's on vacation, half pretending to be here The kids want attention, the in-laws are in a craze And I'm on mute saying things I can't say out loud In the ten crazy days We're all just running out the clock Pretending that we're not Sending emails no one reads For projects time forgot Somewhere between the thank-you cards And resolutions we won't keep The whole world hits the pause button And pretends it ain't asleep We've all grown so tired of turkey But the dogs seem to think it's fine The dishwasher's running on repeat And Aunt Lil's polished off the wine I'd take PTO but who's left to cover? I'd work but the servers are down So I'll sit here in Christmas pajamas The most productive ghost in town It's the ten crazy days at the end of the year Where "working from home" means you're technically here The family thinks you're free, the boss thinks you're busy And you're stuck in the middle getting everybody dizzy In the ten crazy days Yeah, the ten crazy days Just eight more hours till the ball drops... Wait, what day is it?

Ten old guys (ooh-wah), ten old guys (ooh-wah) A hundred eighty men on the church lawn, Fajitas on a paper plate, A kid sat down beside me, twenty years old, Engineering down at Texas State, I said, "Son, I know you won't take my advice, Nobody your age ever does, I'm way too old to say anything important, But if I were you, here's what I'd do, because..." Find ten old guys (ten old guys!) And say, "I need a mentor" (ooh-wah-ooh), You can learn from their mistakes for the price of a plate, Or pay the stupid tax yourself (yourself), Like I paid it (like he paid it), Ten old guys. Now wisdom comes from experience, son, And experience comes from the lack, Ask me how I know (ask him how he knows), I've got the receipts in a shoebox in the back, The fella next to me said, "I've got the flat tires to prove it," I lost a hundred grand on a thing or two, I've paid a lot of stupid tax in my time, And I'm trying to save a little for you. Find ten old guys (ten old guys!) And say, "I need a mentor" (ooh-wah-ooh), You can learn from their mistakes for the price of a plate, Or pay the stupid tax yourself (yourself), Like I paid it (like he paid it), Ten old guys. And avoid crazy (avoid crazy), She'll be pretty and she'll be fun, But if all your friends say she's not the one, Listen (listen), just this once, son, listen, The fella next to me could tell you all about it, The good news is he didn't marry her, Some fellas do (some fellas do). Across the table a father said, "My boy's twenty-five, and he ignores me too," "Of course he does," I said, "and so did I," Forty years back, at a table like this one, An old man told me every word of it, And I nodded, and I smiled, and I ignored him, And I paid, and I paid, and I paid. Now I'm one of the ten old guys (ten old guys!) Got the gray hair and the plate (ooh-wah-ooh), I told him every word that I was told, And I know for a fact he'll ignore me (ignore me), Like I did (like he did), Ten old guys. He wiped his hands and he looked at me, And he said, "We'll see." (We'll see, we'll see) Ten old guys (ooh-wah)...

Well I went down to the hardware store last Tuesday afternoon Bought myself some light bulbs, thought I'd have 'em working soon But when I screwed 'em in the socket, they just blinked at me and said "Please download our app first, then we'll light up overhead" I said "App? For a light bulb? Son, you've got to be kidding me" My granddaddy just flipped a switch, and that worked perfectly Now I'm typing in my email just to turn the damn thing on And it wants to update firmware—Lord, what have we done? ## Chorus Why does my light bulb need the internet? Why's my refrigerator sending texts? My toaster's got more processing power than the moon landing crew And my doorbell records video of everything you do I just wanted something simple, not a PhD Why does my light bulb need the internet to work for me? ## Verse 2 My TV's smarter than I am—least that's what it likes to say It buffers and it loads things and it updates every day I remember when a television had about four knobs to turn Now it's got a hundred passwords and a privacy form to learn My phone don't ring like phones should ring, it buzzes and it beeps It tracks my every movement and it monitors my sleep I tried to make a phone call—you know, that thing they used to do But first I had to read "Terms of Service: Page one of ninety-two" Now I'm sitting on the toilet—and I wish this was a joke— It's analyzing everything while I'm just trying to go It wants to sync up with my phone and track my fiber intake too Lord have mercy, there's a camera and it's asking for my Google login credentials, what am I supposed to do? Even my most private moment ain't private anymore My toilet's sending data packets while I'm sitting on the floor It's got more computing power than the whole Apollo mission crew And it just asked me would I like to share my bathroom habits with my whole contact list—I said "Hell no, would you?" ## Chorus Why does my light bulb need the internet? Why's my thermostat upset? My coffee maker's downloading patches in the middle of the night And my bathroom scale just told me that my password isn't right I just wanted something simple, not some tech conspiracy Why does my light bulb need the internet to work for me? ## Bridge They say it's all for convenience, makes our lives so much better But I spent three hours last night reading my light switch's newsletter And when the WiFi goes down—and brother, it always will I'm sitting in the darkness with a hundred-dollar bill For a light bulb that won't light without a software engineer To reset the router, clear the cache, and maybe drink a beer My granddaddy's rolling over, I can hear him from the grave Saying "Son, you paid good money just to be technology's slave" ## Chorus Why does my light bulb need the internet? Why won't they let me just forget? My washing machine wants my location and my credit card on file And my smoke detector just asked me to accept terms with a smile I just wanted something simple, something that would set me free Why does my light bulb need the internet? Why's my blender got Bluetooth connectivity? Why does my light bulb need the internet to work for me? ## Outro *(Spoken, over soft guitar)* And you know what really gets me? That light bulb's gonna quit working in five years when the company goes under and the servers shut down. But that old incandescent bulb my granddaddy screwed in back in 1952? Still in the barn. Still works. Never needed an update in its life.