Caitlin Wiffler ’27
Staff Writer
An article published by The Spire in 2094:
Media Mogul Charles Kane Dies at 91
“Ba…ba…butt,” he said. Those were the last words of Mr. Charles Kane ‘26, the most famous man in America. He was laid to rest this week, leaving his legacy behind. Rising from humble origins in New York, Kane took his modest social media presence and built it into GTN, one of the largest media and entertainment conglomerates in the world. He was known by all as a potent figure of our Century.
I was tasked with deciphering these last words. What could this man have meant? Was it a mere stuttering of the word butt? No, the words were “ba,” not “bu,” two completely different sounds. “Butt” has left millions perplexed: like the end of a cigarette? Maybe the back of a train? The back of a…human? This is what I was desperate to reveal.
I first spoke to his first ex-wife, Jane Harris ‘26. “He was never fulfilled. He always had to be working towards his next merger or his next plot for more power, but he was once a good man. The man I married had a good balance of work and his personal life. I used to hear him in the basement, chatting with his friends. Sometimes, he would get really fed up with whatever game he played, and would smash his controller on the couch for five straight minutes, yelling words that we don’t say anymore. It was when he was most relaxed,” she told me. While this was a good sentiment about the importance of work-life balance, I didn’t think it had anything to do with his last words, so I told her to buzz off.
My next interview was with Fred Jones ‘26, his business partner. “It’s unbelievable what he was able to accomplish in his life. We started out as just a couple of young aspiring entrepreneurs, recording videos of each other crashing skateboards into trash cans, chucking our buddies fifty feet in the air just to see how they’d land, and eventually hosting the world-renowned podcast Favorite Farts where we discussed politics.” I asked him what Bababutt might mean, and he told me it could have something to do with his past. “Yeah, once you climb to the top, you change. You start looking for an escape back to your old life.” He kept asking me if I’d be a guest on his new show, 24 Hours of Nothing but Chilling and Eating on the social media platform Glitz!, so I had to excuse myself.
By this point, I was no closer to figuring out Bababutt than I was to Ursa Major. No one knew what Bababutt meant. This man’s legacy relied on the meaning of his last word, but it never came. My colleague suggested, “Maybe it had to do with his merchandising company that sold hats. You know, the slogans like ‘Grandma Got a New Car,’ ‘Theirs Your Tuna’ or ‘Where’d My Pants Ran Off To?’” (Editor’s Note: Literacy in America rapidly dwindled in 2030, leading to the change of spelling “there”), but I knew it couldn’t be.
One thing was for certain: this word was not about this man’s work. He was always chasing after something more. As I stood next to my colleague in Kane’s mansion, the place swimming in candelabras, laced curtains, and the finest wine from The Hamptons made during the COVID pandemic of 2020, I realized maybe Bababutt was a dream. A dream he couldn’t quite reach.
We were standing next to this giant firepit where these men were loudly throwing Kane’s collection of turquoise glassware from the Phoenician trading ports, trophies from the ancient American 1970 Disco contests, and a collection of Alec Baldwin’s suits in, so my colleague didn’t quite hear me. I was annoyed by this because that was a great line. When I said my line, “Maybe Bababutt was a dream,” this guy hurled some ancient machine labeled ‘XBox’ into the flames and yelled, “What kind of moron makes their gamertag Bababutt?,” so my colleague Paul didn’t even hear me. Can you believe that guy? Yelling over my moment? I really cracked the case there, and this guy goes ahead and ruins it!
Kane is survived by his third wife, Tina; his sons, Kyle and Eric; and his grandchildren, Theodore, Simon, and Allison.
Featured image courtesy of Britannica
Copy Edited by Sophia Olbrysh ’28
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