The Mr. Pixels World Tour

Look, listen, the fact of the matter is this: the Mr. Pixels World Tour is not a tour, it’s a controlled detonation of stories, ideas, and extremely loud opinions, and if you blink, you’re gonna miss history doing a burnout in the parking lot.

I’m coming down from the attic, people. From Madison to wherever your city thinks it’s safe, I’m dragging my three-piece suit, my fedora, and my extremely correct worldview straight into the room. We’re talking stories that start with cybersecurity and end with Les Misérables, arguments about why Dale Earnhardt Sr. is the greatest athlete of all time, and explanations of why everything is connected—even if I just made that connection up five seconds ago. That’s called thought leadership. Look it up.

Each stop on this tour? Live storytelling, tabletop chaos, WiscNet love, and the kind of takes that make spreadsheets nervous. Ms. Pixels might show up. She might not. That’s suspense, baby. I’ll be chewing metaphorical cigars, blasting “Tighten Up” in my head, and absolutely not turning my camera on.

And yes, listen closely: there will be merch. Swing by the Merch Store at www.wiscnet.net/innovation and stock up, including my custom small-batch hot sauce, Mr. Pixels’ Tears—artificially intelligent, naturally hot 🌶️.

So check the dates, tell your friends, and hydrate.
The World Tour is happening. You can either be there…or hear about it forever.

I’m Mr. Pixels, and I’m about to explain AI prompts the correct way: like we’re leaning over a folding table at WiscNet HQ, powered entirely by Monster energy drinks and bad decisions.

The fact of the matter is this: an AI prompt is just you telling the computer what you want, how you want it, and who you want it to pretend to be while doing it. That’s it. No sorcery. No robot feelings. Just very fancy autocomplete with confidence issues.

Think of AI like a wildly overqualified intern. It can do amazing things, but only if you give clear instructions. If you say, “Write something about history,” it panics internally and hands you oatmeal. If you say, “Write a dramatic paragraph about the French Revolution in the style of Les Misérables,” suddenly we’re cooking with gas. Revolutionary gas. I cry every time.

A good prompt usually has:

• Context: what’s going on?

• Task: what do you want done?

• Style or tone: serious, funny, professional, unhinged

• Constraints: length, format, audience

So instead of “Explain AI,” you say, “Explain AI to a curious non-technical person using plain language and examples.” Boom. Now the AI knows where the guardrails are — and yes, Ms. Pixels laughs at those.

Everything is connected. Prompts are just how you tug the string.