Tim Waltz could clinch MI in about 6 minutes
Go to a Karaoke bar and sing Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.
No matter how badly he sings it, he'd clinch every upper midwestern sane human.
To most others, it would come off as tacky and contrived whereas I swear I've heard him singing that song as it played on the radio during rush hour. Or at least can imagine him singing it.
= new reply since forum marked as read
Well, maybe one guy 
Seriously. It used to get played a lot. Even the people who didn't like it knew it - I was one of them. I thought it was a dark and depressing song and I knew all the words.
But tell me honestly, how many chords could you get through without looking at the lyrics?
One? Maybe the second, maybe? 
I'd love to see that. I couldn't get past the first line
The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call 'Gitche Gumee'
The lake it is said, never gives up her dead
When the skies of November turn gloomy
With a load of iron ore, twenty six thousand tons more
Than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty
That good ship and true was a 'bone to be chewed'
When the gales of November came early
The ship was the pride of the American side
Coming back from some mill in Wisconsin
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most
With a crew and good captain well seasoned
Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
When they left fully loaded for Cleveland
Then later that night when the ship's bell rang
Could it be the north wind they'd been feelin'?
The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
When the wave broke over the railin'
And every man knew, as the captain did too
'Twas the witch of November come stealin'
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
When the gales of November came slashin'
When afternoon came it was freezing rain
In the face of a hurricane west wind
When suppertime came, the old cook came on deck
Sayin', "Fellas, it's too rough to feed ya"
At 7 p.m. a main hatchway caved in
He said, "Fellas, it's been good to know ya"
The captain wired in, he had water comin' in
And the good ship and crew was in peril
And later that night when his lights went out of sight
Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald
Does anyone know where the love of God goes
When the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
If they'd put fifteen more miles behind her
They might have split up or they might have capsized
They may have broke deep and took water
And all that remains is the faces and the names
Of the wives and the sons and the daughters
Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
In the rooms of her ice-water mansion
Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams
The islands and bays are for sportsmen
And farther below, Lake Ontario
Takes in what Lake Erie can send her
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
With the gales of November remembered
In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed
In the Maritime Sailors' Cathedral
The church bell chimed 'til it rang twenty-nine times
For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call, 'Gitche Gumee'
Superior, they said, never gives up her dead
When the gales of November come early
Nowadays, if I hear it I can still often keep up, maybe miss bits, but I can't usually just start singing it on my own anymore. My memory is bad now, Covid did a number on my brain. I can't type fast anymore, either.. Tons of mistakes. 
I used to be 120 wpm, no errors. Those where the days, boys. Those were the days.
