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How AI Can Help Communications Pros

Everyone asks What AI tools do you use? Does it help or harm your workflow? What do you need to consider when using it? Using AI can assist in many roles. The most important thing to remember is trust but verify. It is not 100 percent perfect. But it is getting there. For the record, nothing is 100 percent perfect.

I have been using AI for a variety of functions. One of the key things we need are solid media and influencer lists. Yes, there are the media relations platforms: Cision, Meltwater, and Muck Rack. I have used two of the three and tested the other. All have their merits and demerits. In many instances, what’s wrong with them isn’t entirely their fault.

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Thanks to the consolidation of the news market, the media landscape is changing. Reporters who used to cover telecom may still cover it. But add healthcare or earnings to their beats. Some of the top reporters who you worked with at Bloomberg News, Dow Jones, and The Wall Street Journal are now freelancing for them and writing for other outlets or doing work on the client side. Their @wsj.com email address is dead. Most are using Gmail. Keeping track of who is covering what, their news submission preferences, and deadlines is harder to track. The media platforms try. However, it is difficult. Also, some databases aren’t broad enough. While they offer international databases, they generally stick to major foreign cities and aren’t wide enough for some projects.

That’s where AI comes in. It is excellent for typing in the subject matter you want covered and asking who covers it nationally and in key geographic regions. More often than not, it can give you a fairly detailed list of reporters, their deadlines, and contact information. For me, this has worked better than the list-building exercises in the media databases mentioned.

I know some people who use AI to write their marketing materials. Should you? That’s your choice. I write all of the material on my Substack and WordPress platforms. If you used AI detection scanners, they’d say 0. Do I use AI to help me? Yes. I usually write everything and use various AI tools in Google and elsewhere to check readability and get ideas to shorten or further explain. It can also help you tailor it towards a specific audience.

Is this using AI to write your piece? Not at all. In the old days, you had fun, interesting brainstorming sessions, and people got together in conference rooms and mapped things out. These days we do it on Zoom or maybe via email or chat. It works. Sometimes it doesn’t. But for the most part, we are more independent and too swamped to do the classic sessions. I miss those. AI has been a great friend for brainstorming. It pulls data from a variety of sources and will tell you which audience it is appropriate for.

Is it taking the job away? Not at all. It is a valuable tool. Should you swear by it and drop your traditional reviews and edits? Nope. Use it like you use everything else.

The following are my other AI posts.

AI and Transcript Creation

AI and the Arts

The Happiness, Toils and Tribulations of AI

What Does AI Really Know About You?

How Your Views of People Change from When You Were a Kid

Do you remember the people you looked up to when you were a kid? Perhaps it was a religious or Scout leader, a teacher, or a coach. Maybe an uncle or older cousin? Or the maintenance man at the community center? Or someone else?

When we were kids, we couldn’t wait to go to a community event, a family dinner, a sports match at school, or a Little League game. We wanted to see the people who pointed us in the right direction and were there for us. We wanted to see what they’d do next. We knew it would be the greatest thing. Or so we thought?

What happens when we get older? We remember how those people were when we were kids and try to emulate them. We add our own methods into the pot, and we usually have a good time.

Have you ever gotten together with those you looked up to? In some cases, you looked up to them decades ago and haven’t seen them since you graduated high school or college. But in your heart, they were the best.

What happens when you are the one running things, and these people are now several years older and much greyer? Yes, you’re happy to see them. You talk about old times. You pay homage to those that us whether it was the right time or too soon. It is never really the right time. We don’t want to lose anyone.

Some want to come back and ask you about it. You think, well, maybe. But then you notice they hang at your event and spend it with the bottle. Then they are dumb enough to get in their auto and drive to another part of the venue where your events are taking place. Were they doing that when you were a kid, and they were much younger? In many cases, yes.

What to do? You remember how you loved these people. They had every honor and helped you get them. Some tell you that they are much older; they can’t do what they once did. Some of us can’t do it at my age. Some of the older folks are still in fighting form.

How does it make you feel when you see people you thought were the greatest come to your event, shoot their mouths off, and sip drink after drink? You are thankful for the experience they gave you and promise to be more responsible.

AI and Transcript Creation

For those of you who read my prior AI posts, “The Happiness and Toils and Tribulations of AI” and “What Does AI Really Know About You,”I thank you. Now it’s time to jump into how well it does when it comes to making transcripts when you upload videos to YouTube.

A few days ago, as chairman of the Ten Mile River Scout Museum, I made a few presentations at our annual Alumni Weekend. One was to present a tile in honor of a deceased Scouter who made an impact on hundreds of youths. The other was the introduction of my board of trustees. Both were recorded on someone’s iPhone.

We uploaded the videos to YouTube and transcripts were created. In the first video, “August 8, 2026: TMR Wall of Fame Induction of John D’Arcy,” the only speaker was me. In the second, “August 8, 2026: Presentation of Museum Trustees*,” each of my trustees introduced themselves. We do a lot of work and have fun. We don’t take ourselves too seriously. Most of us have been friends for decades and love to joke around.

I was told by the person who recorded the videos that he placed them on YouTube. I was excited and took a look. YouTube automatically created transcripts. I was aghast when I saw the transcripts. Yes, it got some things right. But it misspelled many things. Before alerting me that it was live, it should have been checked. But it is not the end of the world.

I don’t think YouTube’s AI understands Brooklyn. Everyone in the video is originally from NYC. Many are from Brooklyn. However, as far as the other boroughs, YouTube doesn’t speak that either.

Several of our camps have Native American names. One of our now-shuttered camps was Nianque. One of our trustees said he started over sixty years ago in that camp. The transcript said, “Camp Miami.” We’ve all been there. Miami and a Scout camp in the middle of Narrowsburg are way different. Personally, I like my camp better. But have had many adventures in Miami. It spelled many first and last names wrong, as well as the titles.

We toyed around with editing the transcript. But it was time-consuming and, for some reason, more difficult on Macs v. Windows-based computers. Why? Who knows? You’d think it’d be easier and quicker on a Mac. Everything is. What did we do? We deleted them and uploaded again without transcripts.

Am I upset? Not at all. As a matter of fact, I am pleased. This was a great learning exercise. It is fantastic that AI is being put to work to create transcripts. They look nice and are perfectly placed at the bottom of the video. This taught us that you always need to check and verify. I do not doubt that as we move forward, this will get better. My other work with AI tools has proven that. We are on a learning curve, and we are learning, learning a lot.

*- These are the final videos.

They Spend More Time in the Woods

Anat Sees Christy A.

After the Woodsman left, the two crawled into their tent. Marc is still mourning the destruction of his leanto. He knows who did it. He will make him pay. The guy will never know what hit him.

They woke up, washed up and made pancakes. They looked at each other. Each of them knew what the other was thinking. Marc took out his phone and texted his parents to ask how the twins were doing. Mom texted back that they were great and she was sorry they were picking them up later. She wanted more time.

Marc texted back that they decided to stay an extra day. Mom texted back the smile emoji. The two of them discussed chilling out in the woods a little longer. They hiked down to the Delaware River and jumped in. They were at a site Marc used to camp in. There was a crooked tree that he loved. He used to stand near it and take pictures. Sadly, it fell.

Their swim was refreshing. They hiked a little bit. Marc showed Alana his old stomping grounds. His favorite greasy spoon closed years ago. It is now a fancy restaurant. He has yet to dine there. One day. They saw several does and their fawns. Beautiful they are. They grazed while Alana snapped a few images and sent them to Anat, Ellen, Jen, Stacey and Tzipora. Alana hasn’t been with her girls since the twins were born. She needed a night out with them. Hopefully, a peaceful one. She still remembers the first night she used her powers when some dumb jock wouldn’t leave Stacey alone in the bar. She still wonders why he was in a goth bar—made no sense. Those women weren’t interested in him. He learned that the hard way after Alana made him whimper. Oh well.

The weather perfect. They got to their site and started grilling to the tunes of the Stripes, Nena’s first band before she found a red balloon.

Anat didn’t know these people. That was the time she was the enemy and had no friends. Wow, how things have turned around.

Sometimes she thinks of those days. How much better her life has become since she found Jerry abandoned on a bench during her run along Hudson River Park near the West Side Highway. She was out there almost daily. That one day she saw Jerry in tears changed everything. He was becoming quite powerful and doing well in school.

She was out on her run and saw a disheveled-looking Christy on a bench. She was still bruised pretty badly from the recent fight. She was shivering. Anat snapped a shot, texted it to those who needed it, and kept on running.

Farewell

But Not Gone. The Memories Will Live Forever. Maybe Longer.

A few days ago, I went up to the camp I spent my pre-teen and teen summers in. It was there I made some of the best friends I ever had. We are still friends. At our campfire, I was sitting with people who said, “We’ve known each other for over forty years. We are old.” We are. For those of you that saw Chris Rock’s show, “The MotherF**ker with the Hat,” you might recall when Rock’s character told another you make all your friends from when you’re about five until college. That’s it. I agree. However, I have made some great friends after college. They are right up there.

I took a few rides to my section of the camp; parts have been shuttered since 1988. Other sections a decade plus later. As we drove in, tears fell out of my eyes. When we traveled along the trails and saw where many buildings stood, all but one have been knocked down. All are pieces of wood and cement foundations.

My site was the one closed in ’88. It used to have a dining hall, office, old school latrine, and many leantos (sleeping quarters). We had a terrarium. As a staff member, I helped build it many times. We had a giant treehouse.

Below our hill was a no longer functional dining hall, ball field, shower house, and usable dining hall. We had our own shower. We even had hot water. I say this because my first 2.5 summers or so we didn’t. You took ice-cold showers. Or walked to the shower house for hot water. I froze.

We had lots of fun singing songs in the dining hall. And no fun eating in it. Camp food was not enjoyable. The camp had several dining halls. Mine had the best food. But it wasn’t good. I walked by most of these sites.

The main site had movie nights in a once fully operational dining hall beneath my hill. My group did our movie nights in our palace (camp office). We often brought in McDonald’s, pizza and sandwiches from El Monaco’s, an Italian restaurant famed for its red sauce. BTW, the main dining hall was kosher. We were so reverent when we brought in other food.

After spending some time in my section, I went back to the main section. The next day, I went back. I went with one of my pals from a long time ago. We first went into the lake. Our section was closed off. We went into another site’s section. At different times, there were several operational camps around that beautiful lake. When I went, there was one.

Foundation Block for Double Decker Tip Pan Latrine

We walked through a swamp to get to the entrance of the lake. I found a spot with some rocks to leave our towels. We jumped in and swam like it was many years ago. We exited and walked back to the car. We spent some time by the now boarded-up main dining hall. We walked over to the old rifle range and found the foundation blocks that once held a two-floor, 8 – or 10-seater tip pan latrine. My site had the last of the tip pan latrines. It was a five-seater.

Our ball field where we played softball, volleyball, and ultimate Frisbee now looks like a tree farm. We went up to our site and looked where the terrarium was and where our small fields were where people sunned themselves. From the trail, we walked into our site. We saw the foundation where the shack was. Years before I got there, it housed tick tubes. That’s about all we saw. The site was laden with ferns, weeds, trees and mud. Am I happy it is gone? No. Am I happy nature took it back? Yes.

We hopped in the car and drove to the gate. I jumped out of the car, turned around, looked at the trail, locked the gate and said farewell as we drove away.

The Fight Ends

The fight went on for a few hours. Alana, Anat, and Marc never tired. They kept attacking. Christy A. and Dan were a bloody mess. Their bodies were bruised everywhere. The area looked like something the board of health would condemn.

Things came to an end. The people hiding in the stores ran out. Many jumped onto the soon-to-be departing Newhouse ferry boat. The maintenance staff stood with their mops and brooms. They had no idea what to do. They knew there was no way they’d be able to clean the place up.

Christy and Dan were sprawled out on concrete. They stared at each other. The two of them just underwent bloody hell. They knew Alanna, Anat, and Marc left. Where they went, they don’t know. The two of them want to keep fighting each other. But they aren’t sure if they have the energy.

The two of them tried to stand up. Both fell. They needed water. They were drunk from all of the wine they took in from Alana’s attack. They could have also used some food. All of the eateries shut down. Plus, the two couldn’t just get up and walk over to one of them.

Tears fell from both of their eyes. They were scared. They knew they’d be attacked again.

Anat, Alanna, and Marc wound up at the Staten Island Mall. At one point, Alana and Marc were mall rats. Those days are over. All the stores they shopped in are gone. But their memories are alive.

Thank You, NYC Transit Part II

I thank those who read, “Thank You, NYC Transit.” I hope you enjoyed and thought of your own NYC Transit or other public transit stories. Every city has them. I have been lucky enough to ride the trains and buses in the following cities: Berlin, London, Madrid, Milan, Moscow, Rome, St. Petersburg, Safed, San Francisco, Tel Aviv, Tiberias and Vienna. I probably I left some cities out. Feel free to add your thoughts to the chat.

Annadale Station – Staten Island Railway

Since we live in modern times, our subway system has a website. It is supposed to tell us what trains have service changes during specific hours. Service changes mean they are not running, skipping stops, or facing significant route changes. For example, trains that normally travel into Brooklyn are not. They are going to Brigadoon. If only.

I check the website fairly regularly. Is it helpful? Sometimes. Often, the information is inaccurate. You get to your usual station or go to a different one thinking you had proper guidance, only to find out the site was incorrect. That means you either get on the subway where you are and transfer. Or exit the station, walk to another one and pay a new fare.

I once walked to a MetroCard agent and asked him if a certain train was running. The signs on the platform made no sense. Trains the signs said weren’t running stopped in the station. The ones the signs said were running did not.

The agent said that your best bet is to check our website. He continued to say it is never wrong. I said I just did and it was incorrect. He was dumbfounded. Then there are times when only certain train cars will open at a specific station. That is usually only relevant to the Long Island Railroad, Metro North and New Jersey Transit. But not always. You’d think the signs and website would publish this. Not.

I rarely ride public buses. I tried it many years ago from Staten Island to Grand Central Station. I used to get off feeling nauseous not far from Macy’*s and walked the rest of the way.

Anyway, what choice do we have? You really can’t drive into the city. So, we keep riding. See ‘ya on the platform.

Thank You, NYC Transit

Most New Yorkers get around via NYC Transit. Be it our “timely” buses or our ever “timely” and “clean” subways. We should not forget the Staten Island Railway. That’s like a trolley from yesteryear. But hey, today’s subway systems seem to be on that track. What track it is on no one really knows. It is unlikely we will ever know. For the record, I know all the lines. I have friends all over the USA. They often text me when they’re coming to the Big Apple and ask for train advice. I coach them as best as I can. But ‘ya never know.

Each time you ride, you can probably write a story. You need to take in the salespeople, preachers, drunks, crazies, tourists, and the performers. Today, I will focus on the quality of the service. No need to talk about the cleanliness of the stations, the trains, and the restrooms. That’s for another time.

Once I was on the R going to Cortlandt Street – World Trade. After City Hall, they just ran the train right to DeKalb Avenue. They didn’t tell us. Eventually it pulled into DeKalb. The tourists asked me what they should do. They were hoping to go to Ground Zero. I said we have to go to the Manhattan-bound platform and hope it goes there. Heck, we were at DeKalb. I should have just said, go to Junior’s, get a delicious burger, and a piece of its award-winning cheesecake.

Once I was going to see Paul McCartney at Yankee Stadium, I got on the D train. It is supposed to run to the Stadium when there are ballgames and other events, such as concerts. A packed train flew right by the Stadium and, unlike a cutter by Mariano, missed the strike zone. In other words, it didn’t stop. The conductor sheepishly announced that they forgot to program the train to stop at 161^st. He told us to get off two stops later and take the Manhattan-bound train to the Stadium.

Another time at the Stadium after a Yankees-Red Sox game, the station was packed beyond belief. The NYPD let everyone know they forgot to add the extra service they usually do during games. They were trying to catch up.

NYPD Boat – I know it is not an image of an officer at the subway station. But NYC Transit would not know the difference

Another day, I wanted to take the Queens-bound R to Queens. It wasn’t running. I figured I’d get an F. I went to the station and paid. They said the F wasn’t running. But they were running the E (a train that the Board of Health should condemn) through that station. But it may not go to the stop I wanted. The F wound up running through. I asked the conductor if that train was going where I needed to go. She said, “I don’t know. They didn’t tell me. Get on my train.” I did. It worked.

For a moment, let’s jump the Long Island Railroad (LIRR). A week or so ago, I saw Joe Jackson at the Beacon. I wanted to take the 2 or 3 from 72^nd to Times Square to get the E. The E was out of service. I could have walked over to the F. Or take the LIRR at Penn Station. Mind you, due to construction that has been going on for years at the Forest Hills Station, only the first four cars open when it pulls in. When will it be finished? Why ask? You know.

I got into what looked like the first car. I asked the conductor if I was in the right car. He said my train is stopping at Forest Hills. I asked again whether this car would open. He didn’t know. He never scanned my ticket. That happens on all the trains that have that payment procedure. I experienced that in Berlin, too. I always buy one. I am not willing to take the risk. But it does feel like I was wasting money. Or not. Honestly needs to count for something.

Then there are the nights that after games or concerts at the Garden several of the subway lines in Penn Station aren’t running and you have to walk to Herald Square or elsewhere. I have had interesting experiences on NJ Transit, PATH – Path to where is what you should ask and Metro North.

Despite all of this, it’s our way to get around and helps make NYC what it is. Keep riding.

They Regroup

They Regroup

Anat headed back to her Upper East penthouse. Alana and Marc jumped into Alana’s Infiniti and drove upstate with Lebanon Hanover, Strawberry Switchblade, and the Sisters of Mercy blasting. They had been listening to some of the newer darkwave but needed to remain faithful to their origins. That’s why they added the Sisters. How could you not?

They got to closed-off areas of Marc’s holy camp. The two of them jumped into the lake. They were proud of themselves. They knew Christy A. and Jay weren’t done. Severely weakened they were. It was only a matter of time before they were taken out and cast away. They got out of the lake and heard ZZ Top pumping on their random mix. Eclectic the two of them are.

Marc built a fire in his favorite spot. Unfortunately, his sleeping quarters were destroyed by a man who called himself a professional. There was nothing professional about him. One day Marc would take him out. That was easy pickings. One or two pomegranates’ tops. But he’d toss in some barley to make it hurt more.

Other than their music mix, all was quiet. The two held hands and smiled. Their lips locked. They were happy Marc’s mom was taking care of Sarah and Benjamin David. They hoped they behaved and didn’t use their powers. Marc’s and Alana’s parents had no idea who their kids really were. They wanted to keep it that way. Anat hasn’t spoken to her parents in years and had no care what they knew. She still mourned her grandmother.

Darkness settled in. The only light was the fire and the half-moon. The two were sipping Genny Cream Ale and munching on Freihofer’s chocolate chip cookies. Their mix was still playing. Tunes from the Beatles, Damned, Stranglers, Velvet Underground and more played on. Marc and Alana were in each other’s arms.

All of a sudden, the woods got totally silent. All of the animals that were stirring around were quiet. The fire’s blaze grew. Marc knew what this meant. He heard the herd of buffalo and knew the Woodsman was enroute.

As hard as it was for the two of them, Alana and Marc let go of each other. They had to get ready for a higher calling. They slightly lowered their music. The Woodsman got off the lead buffalo and sat down by the fire. His eyes gazed at the two lovebirds. He opened a beer.

A few sips in, he said, “I know what the two of you and Anat did on Staten Island. I do approve. But be patient.” Alana and Marc smiled. The Woodsman continued, “Jay and Christy A. are down. They will try to get their strength back. Be mindful and careful, and you will complete your work.” He finished his Genny and rode off with his herd.

My Pets. Sort of.

I Wonder How Jumper and Oscar Are Doing

Let me set the record straight oter than a few goldfish, I have never had a pet. When I was about nine, a stray dog was wandering my block. It was friendly and let me pet it. Sorry, I do not know if it was a boy or girl. So, I will not say, “he sat by me.” The dog did. I wanted to keep it. I was not allowed. I am allergic to cats and horses. Dogs don’t bother me. But maybe other family members are allergic to them.

Around the same time I wasn’t allowed to keep the dog, I caught a frog at William H. Pouch Scout Camp (Pouch), Staten Island, NY. I went to the camp’s Cub Scout Camp for two summers. I loved it. One afternoon, I caught a frog near Lake Ohrbach. I named it Jumper. I placed my new friend in a small, water-filled cup and held it tightly during my bus ride home. I was so proud when I walked into the house and showed Mom Jumper. She was not happy.

A block or so away are the Woods of Arden, approximately 200 acres of protected green space. I was told, or more likely ordered, to bring Jumper to the Arden Woods. Following orders, I did. I walked in and set him free. I am still shocked I was allowed to go alone. Alas, I did. I let the frog out of my hands, and it jumped into a stream. I am sure it was confused and happy. Jumper was taken out of its former home at Pouch. It had to get used to a new environment. But it was probably happy it was back in living quarters it understood. I am sure it grasped living in a stream is better than it would have been in my living room.

After Pouch, I spent two summers at another day camp. Then I made it to Chappegat Hill, Ten Mile River Scout Camps (TMR), Narrowsburg, NY. I couldn’t wait to go. Other than many weekend overnights and a camping trip or two with dad at Otter Lake, East Stroudsburg, PA, my stay here would be my longest time away from home.

I made many new friends. One friend I didn’t expect to make was Oscar. He was our pet skunk. He was white. I am not sure if he was albino white or just white. We called him our albino white skunk. We never got close enough to inspect whether he really was. But we often saw him walking around the side of our camp’s hill. There are many stories about that section. Old folklore has it that one kid is still cleaning the side of the hill. One day after a BBQ, he made a mess of it, and we made him clean it up. We teased him about it for years after. Still do.

Skunks mostly come out at night or around dawn to look for food. I was the camp’s vampire. I was usually up all night. I got to watch him regularly. I was always the first one up. I rarely slept. That hasn’t changed.

Over the last few days, I have been thinking about Jumper and Oscar. I wonder if they are still roaming around their living quarters. I know what the reality probably is. But I still believe that Jumper is jumping around the Woods of Arden.

Sadly, Chappegat was shuttered in 1988. Its host camp, Kunatah, is being sold. I feel bad for Oscar. I am sure he’s still roaming the side of our hill. Sadly, it has grown in. He is probably looking for us.