A story I can’t get enough of: Telosa, a mega-billion Xanadu being pitched for the American desert by former Walmart exec and gazillionaire Marc Lore.

Lore wants Telosa to be a model of sustainability, equality and optimal living—a place where the bicycle is a primary form of transport, and access to outstanding education and healthcare is offered to all.

I...

A story I can’t get enough of: Telosa, a mega-billion Xanadu being pitched for the American desert by former Walmart exec and gazillionaire Marc Lore.

Lore wants Telosa to be a model of sustainability, equality and optimal living—a place where the bicycle is a primary form of transport, and access to outstanding education and healthcare is offered to all.

I don’t have a joke here. Sounds fabulous.

Honestly. Telosa might sound like another dreamy wealthy guy vanity project—it’s far from the first utopia proposed by an entrepreneur—but if Lore can pull it off, kudos.

I’ve long thought, too, about what it would be like to create my own, idyllic city—what I’d build, what I’d prioritize and, of course, what I’d name it.

I’m leaning toward: Jasonopolis. Not mega-original, I know, but sit with it for a while. “Jasonopolis” grows on you. Trust me. It’s better than Meta, at least.

As for funding, we both know I don’t have the scratch to pay for Jasonopolis on my own, so I figure, at least at first, we’re going to have to rely on weekend car washes and merchandising. Yes: that means slapping Jasonopolis on hats, T-shirts, beach towels, drink holders, bumper stickers, neck ties, sunglasses, umbrellas, dog bowls and probably Jasonopolis NFTs, which I will happily sell, as soon as I figure out what NFTs are.

“‘Jasonopolis’ could really be humming. The hazard, of course, is that it works.”

I’d prefer to keep the population at around 10,000, to preserve small-town charm. I don’t want any chain outlets, with one exception: There needs to be a Cheesecake Factory no more than a quarter of a mile from my house. I’d like a few pay phones, in case Superman shows. I wouldn’t mind a bit of farmland, with some self-milking electric cows. They have those now, right?

I’d like two award-winning brew pubs—one for the community to celebrate and gather, and the other just for me to unwind. I would love to land a professional football team—Jasonopolis would happily accept a relocating NFL franchise. Not the Lions. I said professional football team.

We will have a few rules. I don’t want anyone emailing me before 10 a.m. I have to win all of the 5k fun runs. Everyone has to own a hammock. The Internet will not have social media, and TVs will not be able to play cable news. All phones will be flip, and people will listen to voice mails and return calls. There will be one newspaper, the Jasonopolis Street Journal, and it will only be available in print, which I will deliver to subscribers each morning via a red bike with a basket. The newspaper will have at least 14 pages of comics. And not this dopey column.

I figure if we can get all those things, plus that Cheesecake Factory, Jasonopolis will really be humming. There’s not a chance in the world we’ll have any type of disagreement about the future of the place. Neighbors will never turn on neighbors. That stuff only happens in other, angrier towns. Not to us.

The hazard, of course, is that it works. Then everyone will want to come to Jasonopolis. People will start writing stories about how great a place it is to live and put us on the cover of magazines and before you know it, we’ll go from 10,000 to a million, and we’ll have highways and traffic and big box stores and somehow, the Lions will sneak in and start losing.

If that’s going to happen, I might as well take my name off the place. What’s the point of starting Jasonopolis if it becomes just like any other town? I’m not sure if I’m built to start a city. It seems like a lot of work. Let me know when you start yours.

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Write to Jason Gay at Jason.Gay@wsj.com