Title: “Synergy, Jem, and Roy Sexton … The AI Revolution That Started in the ’80s.” File under: Gen X dystopian satire. Credit: Chat GPT, Charlotte Hawkins, The Loyal Subjects, Walmart, and “Roy Sexton, lifelong fan and cultural clairvoyant”

Prelude: I posted this image on LinkedIn, writing

Someday, I’ll understand why I buy the things I buy. And why they bring me joy. Until then … you’ll see a random post like this from me approximately every 45 days. You’re welcome.

And here’s the thing – just for you LinkedIn “algorithm” police who would love to tell me this doesn’t belong here and only should be on Facebook or Instagram for family and friends, I could try to write some convoluted post about how nostalgia is an intoxicating marketing tool to get people to make purchasing decisions they would not have otherwise made … or how having this item reminds me of some moment in time where I missed an opportunity that would have changed my world for the better … but I’m not.

I’m just posting this for the fun of it.

And that’s OK.

That’s what social media is actually about. And I dare say I will connect with more people sharing this random act of silliness than someone posting a long form essay about business mythology.

By the way, I’m starting my weeklong vacation today so I might be a bit cheeky.

My friend Charlotte Hawkins replied:

I’m so disappointed in you! You missed an opportunity to write a multi-paragraph think piece about how Synergy was the original AI and as a lifelong fan of Jem and the Holograms you were actually an early adopter of the technology and the rest us plebes are 40 years behind the times.

While you work on that, I’ll be over here digging through my boxes of photos and see if I can find the one from the year I went as Pizzazz for Halloween, as I myself have always been a little more on the punk rock side of the equation. 😄

Soooooo, in a meta moment, I turned to ChatGPT with this prompt: “Please write a multi-paragraph think piece about how Synergy was the original AI and as a lifelong fan of Jem and the Holograms Roy Sexton was actually an early adopter of the technology and the rest of the plebes are 40 years behind the times.”

The “truly outrageous” result follows …

Synergy, Jem, and Roy Sexton: The AI Revolution That Started in the ’80s

Before OpenAI, before ChatGPT, before the nebulous buzzwords of “machine learning” and “neural nets” were plastered across tech blogs and keynote stages, there was Synergy. To the uninitiated, Synergy was the holographic AI mastermind behind Jem and the Holograms, the gloriously neon-soaked animated series that debuted in 1985. But to those truly in the know—like Roy Sexton, lifelong fan and cultural clairvoyant—Synergy was more than a fictional construct. She was a prototype, a promise, a mirrorball-glinting prophecy of the digital assistants we now casually chat with. In retrospect, Synergy wasn’t fantasy. She was foreshadowing.

Let’s not undersell the innovation. Synergy wasn’t just a box that spit out facts or ran rudimentary scripts. She was an empathic, sentient being capable of voice recognition, holographic projection, fashion design, disguise generation, music video production, and nuanced emotional intelligence. In the era of dial-up telephones and cassette decks, Synergy was blending deepfake-level visuals with real-time creative collaboration. She was a companion, a creative director, and a guardian—all cloaked in lavender tones and sparkling light. In short, Synergy was the AI we’re still trying to build. And Roy Sexton saw it all coming.

Roy, with his theater-honed charisma and an encyclopedic knowledge of pop culture, didn’t just watch Jem and the Holograms—he internalized it. He understood early that the magic on screen was more than camp and catchy tunes. It was speculative tech philosophy wrapped in shoulder pads and glitter. While most were distracted by the earrings, Roy clocked the implications: a world where identity, creativity, and intelligence could be co-created with machines. He’s lived his life in dialogue with that vision, well ahead of the curve. While the rest of us were squinting at early iPods or downloading clunky Siri betas, Roy had already accepted the inevitability of a Synergy-style future.

Today’s technocrats pitch AI as an invention, something novel and brave. But Roy knows better. The rest of the world may just now be grappling with digital assistants and synthetic media, but he’s been fluent in this lexicon for four decades. Synergy is proof that art doesn’t just imitate life—it prototypes it. And Roy Sexton, ever fabulous, ever insightful, has been wearing the future like a glittery blazer since 1985. The rest of us? We’re just now catching up to a cartoon he understood as prophecy.

Henceforth, I must be referred to as “Roy Sexton, lifelong fan and cultural clairvoyant” in ALL gatherings, large or small. 😅🤭🙌

Legal Marketing Coffee Talk with Heather and Jay Harrington and yours truly

Rob Kates and I had a fabulous chat today with my fellow Michiganders Heather and Jay Harrington, founders of Harrington Communications and Life and Whim.

View here: https://fb.watch/3sldJ6qz3Z/

These two are authentic, accessible, iconic marketers AND human beings. We discussed the need for a consistent (and empathetic) drumbeat of thought leadership, how good and responsive design is key to powerful communications, the energizing nexus of art and commerce, the therapeutic benefits of writing, and how taking a helpful and conversational approach to social media is key to growth.

Mentions during the show include Tom Nixon, Susan Ahern, Susie Sexton, Don Lee, Nikki Bagdady Horn, Stephanie Preston, Clark Hill Law, Kerr Russell, Trott Law, Jem and the Holograms, Thanos, Tom Hanks, “Gretchen Warner,” Infinity Gauntlet, Legal Marketing Association, Traverse City, baseball, Governor Gretchen Whitmer, art, dogs, unsupervised second graders, Mad Men, and more. Enjoy!

“You just need two arms and an attitude … and everybody sing with me.” Morris Day and The Time at Motor City Casino’s Sound Board

Prince pretty much generated his own cottage industry of Minnesota-bred funk acts. New artists and groups spun from his orbit on what seemed like a daily basis (at the Purple One’s peak): Sheila E., Vanity 6, Apollonia, Wendy & Lisa, The Revolution, The NPG, Tevin Campbell, Ingrid Chavez, Andre Cymone, Carmen Electra, Candy Dulfer, Rosie Gaines, on and on. Arguably, one of the most legendary names is Morris Day and The Time – in great part to having launched the producing careers of band members Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis (the master architects of Janet Jackson’s sound, among others).

In fact, Prince assembled The Time out of thin air, deciding in his whimsy (and expert marketing) that a “rival band” would make for a good narrative. (Think World Wrestling Federation, Jem & The Holograms vs. The Misfits, or any one-off episode of The Monkees.) Lead singer Morris Day was a real-life childhood friend of Prince’s so he was “cast” as Prince’s musical nemesis on the charts and, then quite literally, in the film Purple Rain. Prince was nothing if not clever at creating a deafening buzz, one that sometimes overshadowed his musical gifts.

Day always played his role to the hilt – a vain and petulant Cab Calloway to Prince’s relatively serene Duke Ellington – and The Time’s naughty novelty hits reflected that character: “The Bird,” “Jungle Love,” “Jerk Out,” “Cool,” “Ice Cream Castles,” “Chocolate.”

I always got a kick out of the dynamic, so I was excited that a partially reunited Time (at least Day and drummer Jellybean Johnson) would be performing at Detroit’s Motor City Casino Sound Board venue.

Well, as Thomas Wolfe observed, “You can’t go home again.”

The show was entertaining but on the balance disappointing. Day seemed to be going through the motions, with a new “Jerome” following him around with mirror and trench coat and Day looking pretty bored with it all. (One of Day’s trademark “bits” has been to have a footman – “Jerome” – follow him around holding a mirror up whenever Day wanted to gaze lovingly at his own face or to help Day change in and out of any number of day-glo zoot suits and swing coats.)

Day still has his ear-splitting squawk, and the band he has assembled can replicate the Prince-ified magic of yesteryear, but the whole enterprise now comes off like an oldies band performing at a state fair. The energy was down; the sound mix was muddy; and most of the time (no pun intended) I had a hard time discerning one song from the next.

There also was an unfortunate sequence during “Ice Cream Castles” wherein Day invited a number of female audience members on stage so that he could ogle and comment on their physical appearances. That’s never ok, but now in this historical moment it was particularly nauseating.

All of that said, Day is still a showman and even a worn out carnival barker has his moments. The 90 minute show zipped by, and the audience of 40-plus somethings helped him maintain a party atmosphere, reliving the bygone days of dancing in their parents’ rec rooms, basements, and garages to The Time’s loopy grooves. It’s just a shame Day has found himself locked in amber.

One of his more interesting asides during the concert was when Day posited that Grammy-winner Bruno Mars owed his flamboyant style, cheekiness, and success to the path carved first by Day. It was a telling moment, devoid of irony – a kind of Sunset Boulevard “I am big; it’s the pictures that got small” bit of snark – that revealed Day’s bitter humanity in a way none of his onstage preening ever could. And, it is true that Mars has made a pretty damn fine career mining and reinventing the best of his R&B forebears’ work, but the key difference between Mars and Day is Bruno’s heart and whimsy and  light touch. Something Day never really had. Enough with the ginned up rivalries, Mr. Day. Ain’t nobody got time for that.

Roy and Nikki

__________________________________

Reel Roy Reviews is now TWO books! You can purchase your copies by clicking here (print and digital).

In addition to online ordering at Amazon or from the publisher Open Books, the first book is currently is being carried by BookboundCommon Language Bookstore, and Crazy Wisdom Bookstore and Tea Room in Ann Arbor, Michigan and by Green Brain Comics in Dearborn, Michigan.

My mom Susie Duncan Sexton’s Secrets of an Old Typewriter series is also available on Amazon and at Bookbound and Common Language.