You’ll just have to trust me on this one.

I’ll even show you the lyrics—in a minute.

Let’s start with the woman who doesn’t rest, like ever.

That’s how, during the highest-grossing concert tour of all time, she worked on two albums (technically three, as the first had 31 songs).

Then, when the tour ended, rather than sleep, she married the man with the goofy smile—you’ll see that in a minute, too.

Like she said:

You only need to find one person in this entire world

Who doesn’t find you completely insufferable

And I have an important announcement to make

I found mine

(My wife is still deciding about me.)

Anyway, that man, who catches footballs for a living, happens to be from Cleveland Heights, an inner-ring suburb of Cleveland.

And that’s how the most famous person in the world just released a song called “Cleveland!”

You’ll find it on The Life of a Showgirl (one of the aforementioned two albums), The Encore edition to be exact.

When you read the lyrics, as promised, you won’t find any mention of New York, LA, Chicago, and Miami.

What you will see, after a shoutout to the haters, is a love story, with references to a childhood porch, Cleveland, and The Heights.

It’s a veritable Rust Belt romance.

The lyric video is even rife with images of The Land.

This is something that the Great Lakes, minus Chi-Town and Toronto, never see.

Just run the list, west to east, starting with Duluth, then Milwaukee, Toledo, Detroit, Erie, and Buffalo.

No one famous is crooning about those burgs anymore.

Yet thanks to holy matrimony, we now have the mediocre pop tune “Cleveland!”

That gift, however, does leave one glaring question:

Why, Mr. Kelce, could you not have been from Rochester?

The post Why “Cleveland!” Is My New Favorite Song appeared first on ComposeMD.

And that’s where the similarities end.

He doesn’t know me.

And I don’t know him, even after reading the book he just released.

It’s not necessarily a literary masterpiece.

But it does tell his story—and his version of events.

And it left me with all sorts of questions.

Why did anyone care when an individual kneeled during the national anthem?

Isn’t the right to protest what keeps us from being North Korea?

Why is Colin Kaepernick so obsessed with identity anyway?

Must he describe every single person with an adjective referencing skin color?

Isn’t that archaic?

By doubling down on flawed categories, is he actually moving us forward?

Or backward?

Isn’t identity complicated?

On some level, isn’t it fabricated?

How can anyone argue that NFL owners didn’t collude to keep Kaepernick out of the league?

How can anyone who understands business blame them?

Does anyone actually think the NFL cares about things like player safety and social justice?

Would Kaepernick have been signed if he were playing better?

Did his divisiveness plus mediocrity make him expendable?

Was his way of protesting police brutality the best way?

Could he have gone a different route?

Should he have gone a different route?

Has he accomplished anything?

Didn’t he have an obvious point?

Isn’t police work remarkably dangerous?

Was the backlash proof of racism?

Did the backlash turn a simple act into a national crisis?

Do I need to pick sides?

Is it not okay to see all perspectives?

Isn’t a binary view of the world oversimplified and juvenile?

Why do they play the national anthem before these silly games?

Isn’t that disrespectful of the national anthem?

Why do I keep watching the NFL?

Why do fans embrace those with domestic violence and murder charges?

Yet they shun those who peacefully protest?

Do I agree with Kaepernick?

Do I disagree with Kaepernick?

Will I ever be as brave as Colin Kaepernick?

The post The Truth About Colin Kaepernick appeared first on ComposeMD.

But when you’re immersed in Great Lakes segregation, it’s easy to know when you’re not.

This all started on September 21, 2026.

I was somewhere in the Rochester metro area, partly lost, as the space was new—to me.

Thankfully, I had help.

My first guide came from near Islamabad, the capital of Pakistan. We talked briefly of his love for hip hop, agreeing that Kendrick had bested Drake.

The second guide was from Fort Erie, Ontario, just across the Niagara River from Buffalo. The trade war, mercifully, was not affecting the flow of humans.

We devised a game plan, a divide and conquer, if you will.

As I made my way through the maze, I flipped between English and Spanish. Punjabi would have come in handy as well, but that would be a project for a different time.

I stumbled upon a duo with hijabs speaking Arabic. We smiled, introduced ourselves, and discussed a management strategy—in English, of course.

Here, the housing segregation that had decimated the region seemed, if only for a moment, like a mirage. Suburbia bled into the urban, the blend sprinkled with hints of rurality.

Melanin dosing spanned the spectrum, from the no-dose to the low-dose to the intermediate to the frankly dark.

A quick listen could tell you if an exchange was with an African American or an African. The same, I suppose, was true for those differentiating actual Asia from somewhere like Milwaukee.

When hunger called, which it always does, I ordered the Italian option, served by a Ukrainian.

The process took an extra minute, as income levels were no barrier to intellectual conversation.

Because in the most diverse place in Rochester, we all shared a common goal.

Some focused on prolonging life.

Others discussed dying in peace.

But mostly, what I felt was hope.

The post The Most Diverse Place in Rochester (NY) appeared first on ComposeMD.

No one, making it perfect for this site.

Let’s dive in.

It’s 2026, meaning there are still eight US states that border the Great Lakes. Those eight account for a whopping 12 NFL teams, aka 37.5 percent of the league, a statistic that should end any discussion about the demise of said states.

But alas, you know I’m cheating.

New York: New York Jets, New York Giants, Buffalo Bills

No one in their right mind would consider the Jets or Giants to be a Great Lakes team. A map and home games in New Jersey cement that conclusion, leaving only Buffalo.

Pennsylvania: Philadelphia Eagles, Pittsburgh Steelers

Philly—no. Pittsburgh is more complicated—Rust Belt, yes, but Great Lakes not so much. Only pesky Erie can claim that status in the Keystone State.

Ohio: Cincinnati Bengals, Cleveland Browns

Cincy is way too Kentucky to be Great Lakes. Cleveland, on the other hand, basically plays in Lake Erie.

Indiana: Indianapolis Colts

Sorry, but Indy is too far from Gary to legitimately enter the discussion.

Michigan: Detroit Lions

Technically, Detroit is on a river, but c’mon now.

Illinois: Chicago Bears

The (current) stadium in Chicago is, for all intents and purposes, on Lake Michigan.

Wisconsin: Green Bay Packers

Green Bay, as in the water, is an appendage of Lake Michigan. Enough said.

Minnesota: Minnesota Vikings

Lake Superior and Duluth are a hike, leaving Minneapolis out in the cold.

All told, there are five teams that can undeniably be considered Great Lakes teams: the Buffalo Bills, Cleveland Browns, Detroit Lions, Chicago Bears, and Green Bay Packers.

Have a look.

In terms of the whole NFL preview thing, I’m equipped to make only one set of predictions:

• The Bills will make the playoffs.
• They will win a game or two.
• Then, prior to the Super Bowl, they will lose in absolutely devastating fashion.
• My son and/or daughter will cry.
• The kids will also be somewhat happy that they don’t have to see me in that slightly-too-tight Bills T-shirt until the next season.

The post The 2026 Great Lakes NFL Preview appeared first on ComposeMD.

According to reports, the man did not appear to have Indigenous features, looking almost white except for the distinctly brown skin.

When confronted regarding his actions, the man insisted he had been born in Milwaukee along Lake Michigan and simply enjoyed the Great Lakes.

He went on to claim that his American accent was not a fake—apparently, he just talked like that.

After being taken in for formal questioning, his account of events raised further suspicion.

The brown man repeatedly pointed to his large gut, asking, Is this not American?

He insisted on hating all Canadians except for a former neighbor from Nova Scotia who had once invited his family over for snacks.

Get me a Garbage Plate, he requested. Actually, get me two—one with Zweigle’s white hots and the other with cheeseburgers. I eat beef dammit.

He went on to start naming various Buffalo Bills.

I even know the offensive linemen!

Increasingly desperate, his biography began to lose credibility.

I like Morgan Wallen.

I have family who are members of Mar-a-Lago.

My son is at a Christ-centered school in Tennessee.

I shot guns with a former Marine.

Unimpressed, the authorities asked him to really prove he was American.

What’s the name of the lake we’re on? they asked.

Lake America, the man replied.

Who won the 2020 Presidential election?

White man, said the brown man.

What’s your favorite song?

“God Bless the U.S.A.”

What’s your favorite book?

The Turner Diaries.

After conferring with their superiors, the authorities released the man on the condition that he refrain from eating samosas for one month.

The post Indian Man Found Wandering Along Lake America appeared first on ComposeMD.

That includes me, the wannabe coastal elite with the superiority complex.

It comes with the territory, I suppose, when your formative years are in a place like Connecticut.

That’s where I “met” Dolly Parton the caricature, the one with the blonde wig, feminine silhouette, and love for attention.

In my world of conformity and college degrees, I had her all figured out.

My world, however, was not particularly worldly.

I learned this in Missouri, courtesy a girlfriend who never could get rid of me, resulting in an invitation to her Appalachian hometown of Williamson, West Virginia.

There, Dolly Parton, born just a few hours away in Sevier County, Tennessee, figuratively took my hand.

She knew what I saw—coal mines, outhouses, tobacco, and poverty.

And she showed me, slowly, what else there was to see—intellect, sunshine, music, and creativity.

Eventually, at the local bowling alley, along with gutters and pins, I saw entrepreneurship and ingenuity.

That, of course, was just the beginning.

Armed with a few degrees, I entered the real world, fully understanding concepts like feminism thanks to a women’s studies class.

I had read Gloria Steinem and Betty Friedan and intellectualized a New-York-City version of progress.

Then, Dolly, via Sarah Smarsh, showed me a different version of feminism.

In this version, the word was never uttered—it was lived.

It came with all sorts of humor, self-deprecation, and independence.

Prose, in this case, was replaced by lyrics and business ventures.

That education, as time moved on, began to blend with my son’s education.

And Dolly, as she tended to do, gave me yet another hand.

As I grappled with a question—what is a kid of Indian origin raised without religion by doctor parents in the Northeast doing at a Christian school known for music in the middle of Tennessee—she was there with an answer.

It was August 2025, and Dolly: A True Original Musical—destined for Broadway—was having its world premier at Belmont University, my son’s school of choice.

As I soaked in the familiar life and the familiar tunes, I took solace in one of Dolly’s simple quotes:

You’ll never do a whole lot unless you’re brave enough to try.

Twelve months later, in August 2026, as I dropped my son off in Nashville for year two, Dolly herself was just down the street—at Vanderbilt-Ingram Cancer Center.

Her time had come, but her hand, and her words, will always remain.

The post When Dolly Parton Held My Hand appeared first on ComposeMD.

Two years earlier, I had moved with the family to Rochester, New York, tattooed metaphorically with the word success.

The cookie-cutter house in the suburbs simply sealed the deal.

That’s when, according to the script, I was scheduled to shift my focus.

First, of course, would be the car.

And next, as I was told, would come the country club.

Instead, on a misty day about a decade and a half ago, I found myself hiding in a musty corner.

The place was called the Record Archive, and I had just landed on a bin of $1 vinyl. It was next to the T-shirts, which at that point in my trajectory fit rather well.

A few years later, the place would add beer and wine, all for no membership fee.

Needless to say, the hourglass of life had been flipped, and there was no stopping the hipster sand.

The hair started to change color. Some landed on the floor.

By necessity, T-shirts were replaced with sweatshirts.

The Post Malone song “Circles” began to remind me of my eyes.

And most importantly, the shorts gained pockets.

The toddler, well, he ended up taller than me—in Middle Tennessee.

That’s where, sometime in 2026, this story really picked up speed.

The new chapter began with a one-stop flight followed by a Waymo ride.

I said bye to the imaginary driver and took a look around the capital of Tennessee. Eyes closed, I visualized the wave of economic uplift, and suddenly, I embraced adulthood.

I began to snatch up property and talk insurance, equity, and rental income.

Then, to display relaxation, I dabbled in label-approved country music and the Gulch, adjusting my blazer to make sure Nashvillians knew what was up.

Just kidding.

Here’s what really happened.

I took a look around the capital of Tennessee, realized my left pocket had a hole in it, and marveled at the brilliance of having backup pockets just below that one.

I proudly moved the pen I had just bought from Third Man Records to secure territory, praising Jesus—make that Jack White.

After stepping into a honky-tonk and absorbing a few tunes, I had a nagging sense that I could do better.

I remembered the alternative newsweekly I had seen earlier:

Because Nashville is so much more than honky-tonks and bachelorettes…

And, like a good hipster, I crossed the Cumberland River to East Nashville.

I nabbed a slice at Five Points Pizza for $4.25 and washed it down with an IPA.

I eagerly made my way to the next stop, one that, it could be said, was written. It had to be a record store, and it had to be called Grimey’s.

I hit the checkout hard—the proud progressive that I am—with a retro music mag from 1987 for $1.99.

My wife, on the lookout for a different type of progress, looked at me with disgust and said, I prefer the first version.

The post I’m a Hipster in Dad Shorts appeared first on ComposeMD.

I learned this the hard way, as I involuntarily lost my summer to Marvel.

I suppose the story should begin in May, when the son returned from college after negotiating his first year.

Things only intensified the next month, when the daughter joined the ranks of the summer vacationers.

The lunches—that I could handle.

The rides—I could even deal with that.

What did me in, however, was the loss of cultural control.

There was an era, I’m assuming, when senior generations could force feed the junior ones, ensuring the persistence of misogyny, racism, and other societal ills that old people (and scary young ones) enjoy promoting.

But the tables have turned, and now I’m apparently the one being force fed.

It began with mentions of an arachnid, somehow crossed with homo sapiens.

Then came references to a patriotic military hero, another dude dressed in metal, and some green guy.

Even I had to Marvel—at the comics, that is.

Because one simple film adaptation—Spider-Man: Brand New Day—had opened the flood gates, and over the next two weeks, I found myself submerged in additional films, all courtesy the progeny.

With no choice but to manufacture inspiration, I harnessed my own superpower, the one that has birthed this blog, skimmed occasionally by influential people like the wife and mother.

That superpower, of course, is finding the Rochester connection, which in the age of AI involves a couple clicks and a couple milliseconds.

Let’s rewind to 1939, when Marvel Comics began under the name Timely Publications.

Two years later, Joe Simon and Jack Kirby created Captain America. Simon, of course, was a Rochester (NY) native.

Fast forward to 1962, the year of Spider-Man’s first comic book appearance. A certain Iron Man showed up in the same year.

In 1983, Robert Downey Jr. made his professional stage acting debut at Geva Theatre Center—in Rochester. A quarter century later, he became Iron Man.

Five years after that, in 2013, scenes from The Amazing Spider-Man 2 were filmed in Rochester. If you watch carefully, you’ll recognize Main Street masquerading as New York City.

Finally, we get to the Avengers, whose Compound is somewhere in Upstate New York (not Rochester, but who’s counting at this point?).

Satisfied, I realized that thanks to my fellow Rochesterians, the youngsters were still learning a thing or two from their predecessors.

But deep down, I still hoped the next Rochester connection would happen at school.

The post There’s Always a Rochester Connection! appeared first on ComposeMD.

But listen closely enough, and it’s there, simmering, always.

You’ve heard the terms.

Has-been.

Passé.

Decline.

But could it be that this truth is actually a Trump truth, aka a lie?

Let’s scroll through some numbers, starting with eight, as in the number of US states that border the Great Lakes.

For the sake of argument, we’ll agree that the long downward slide, otherwise known as the biggest lie about the Great Lakes, began in 1950.

Since that time, in alphabetical order, the eight Great Lakes states have added the following:

Illinois: 4.1 million

Indiana: 2.8 million

Michigan: 3.7 million

Minnesota: 2.8 million

New York: 5.4 million

Ohio: 3.8 million

Pennsylvania: 2.5 million

Wisconsin: 2.4 million

Those millions refer to human beings, totaling 27.5 million and leaving five of the states in the top 10 by population and all eight in the top 22.

But you’re a private equity bro—all you care about is money.

Remember, I’m just an artist turned blogger, but I believe that nominal GDP can provide some insight in this regard.

Illinois: 5

Indiana: 19

Michigan: 14

Minnesota: 20

New York: 3

Ohio: 7

Pennsylvania: 6

Wisconsin: 21

Those numbers, from 2025, reflect each state’s ranking on a list of US states by nominal GDP.

In other words, if this is what decline looks like, where does that leave the other states?

The post The Biggest Lie About the Great Lakes appeared first on ComposeMD.