Listen—picture WiscNet World Headquarters. Not the polished parts. Not Steve’s neat little basement tea-and-documentation bunker. I’m talking the wide-open digital prairie stretching through every router, every switch, every forgotten VLAN someone swore they’d decommission in 2017 but never did.

Now on this prairie roams the Great AI Stampede—thousands of wild, glitchy, majestic computational cows thundering across fiber backbones like they’ve got places to be and philosophical points to prove. Each cow is an idea, a thought pattern, a quirk of training data that nobody remembers feeding it.

Companies? Regulators? Consultants charging $900 an hour?

They stand on a hill waving little whiteboards that say “GUARDRAILS!”

Buddy.

The cows do not care.

• They stampede through the PowerPoint decks.

• They stampede over the frameworks.

• They stampede around anything that looks like it was approved by a committee.

Now listen—here come Mr. Pixels and Steve.

• We don’t yell “STOP, COW!”

• We don’t hold clipboards.

• We don’t pretend we can legislate bovine behavior from an air-conditioned boardroom.

No. We take our Jerky Boys Beef Jerky, jam a cigar in the corner of our mouth, crank Tighten Up by Archie Bell & the Drells, and we start planting fence posts.

Not as walls.

• Not as control.

• But as guidance.

• As context.

As shapes that say:

“Look, you magnificent data-stuffed creature, run free—but if you could avoid crashing through the firewalls, that’d be swell.”

Because the truth—listen, I need you to hear this with your whole heart—is that the cow always choses.

• You can’t control the stampede.

• You can design the field.

• You can nudge the momentum.

• You can draw boundaries that make the right thing the path of least resistance.

That’s Mr. Pixels, baby. We don’t wrangle the future. We architect the prairie it runs across.