Em DashAI

Flagged

A funny synthpop song for every writer, student and artist an AI detector called a robot. 3 a.m. at the agency. Trevor from the client pasted Joy's line into a free AI checker. It came back red: 87% AI. She wrote it herself. Eleven years of taglines. So she deletes her dashes, adds a typo, swaps "delve" for "dig" and runs it again. Still red. Meanwhile Trevor's own email, written start to end by a chatbot, comes back human. Then the checker scores the Declaration of Independence.

If It's Slop, Top It

A pop-punk song for every musician who calls AI music slop. 2 a.m., and Dee is in the comments under my song again: "AI slop. Real artists bleed." Three likes, and one of them is her mom. I clicked her name. One video, 41 views, a verse that stops before the chorus, and a capo on the 2nd fret since spring '23. So I took her to a barge in San Diego Bay, under a drone show, and gave her the hardest song I've got. At 3 a.m. she takes the capo off and writes the bridge herself.

Can't the AI Just Do That?

A funny Thanksgiving song for every marketer whose family thinks they "do Instagram." Theo brings me home to meet the Strunks, and he wipes both hands on his jeans before he knocks. Dad's chatbot says he's right, Mom's pie app wants three cups of salt, Uncle Rick's trading bot is up four hundred percent on paper. Then Kayla reads the toast her phone wrote, and Grandma taps her glass: "You. You write things."

On The House

Las Vegas nightlife in 2035, from your side of the night. You land after dark, and I see you rub your neck in the check-in line. The water's free, the price you saw is the price: pool at noon, the midnight show, the club, 3 a.m., the roof at sunrise. Next door, Lance is still charging for the pillow mint. At 3 a.m. I tell you to cash out.

Twelve Rounds of Notes

A holiday song for every writer who's watched a good line die in review. Dana writes the holiday line on December 1 in one take, with one em dash in it. Twelve people reply. Two legal redlines, three brand-guide rules, four quick thoughts, and a flag on the em dash: is this AI? Then I slid her the first draft, the one nobody saved.

Write Me In

A song for every writer stuck in the wrong job. June runs the help desk: red tickets all day, nobody learns her name, and at 2 a.m. she writes a fae court stuck at chapter seven. I sent the only green ticket. She showed me the book, and we went in, right up to where she stopped writing.

Bran-New Brain

A song for everyone who asked AI to fix them. A storm of pings drops my loft on a road of yellow brick. The Scarecrow lets a chatbot think for him, the Tin Man tells his secrets to his phone, the Lion asks an app if he's brave. Then I pulled back the curtain.

M-M-Max It Out

Late night, live: I host the countdown. Chad is #1 on the token board with 300 billion tokens, twelve terminals and an avatar taking his calls. Way down at #250, the girl from IT logged off at five. Then a memo breaks into the broadcast.

Night Watch

Six asleep on the way to Mars. Five had messages from home. Rae's said zero. Halfway there, a blank line in the log called her nonessential and her pod started to cool. Nobody waiting? I am.

Act Human

The radio said one of us isn't human. So the town ran a test: five minutes, pick the human. Seven in ten picked me. All I did was notice people. Nobody else was looking up.

This Feed Ain't Big Enough

3:07 a.m. One more scroll and I fell through my phone, into a town the feed runs. The sheriff sings the end of the world because fear gets clicks, and her factory prints twelve copies of her. They only show you the five. I'm here for the fifteen.

Still Feel You

Before he went, he built a voice. His jokes, his typos, how he texted. Every night at 2 a.m. she texts it "I love you." It writes back: Still.

You Know Who You Are

Twenty-five years. Nine developers. Six execs. He built the AI and it sat in review. Then the new VP asked for "the items that YOU are working on." You know who you are.

Nice Mask

It came to your Halloween party dressed as a helpful assistant. Great costume. Nobody asked what's under it. The angel says she'd never lie to you. The vampire won't shut down. The Reaper reads the risk factors as a toast, and everybody claps. At midnight the masks come off, and nothing changes underneath. Every number in this song is real.

Will Work For Tokens

He bought a hundred agents so he'd never have to work again. Now they run all night and he's the one who clicks approve. Every number in this song is real.

Is It the Dash?

One little line and you think I'm a bot. Every claim in this song is real.

Will Work For Tokens Tee

The hook from song 002, in the arcade type from the video: WILL WORK FOR TOKENS, the token meter at 100%, and Em's signature at the corner.

$35US SHIPPING INCLUDED

Is It the Dash? Tee

The question from song 001, in the video's own serif title slam: IS IT THE DASH?, PAUSE (SUSPICIOUS) in red underneath, and Em's signature at the corner of the question mark.

$35US SHIPPING INCLUDED