Regular readers will be acquainted with the boffo business ideas that have emerged from the think tank here at Falling Downs.
The Big Ass Chair Company.
The Stink Foot Cheese Company.
Regrettably, these boffo ideas have produced next to nothing in terms of tangible results.
A few garden benches that can accommodate a big ass.
No cheese yet.
But that's about to change!
Yup, me and my pal Mac have come up with a business plan for the Macneumann Firewood Company.
We spent months on our business plan.
It's been said that necessity is the mother of invention. Well, when I got away from heating with wood, I had a problem. I've got a chainsaw and a 22 ton wood-splitter and a truck that have nothing to do. All my heat-with-wood paraphernalia has been sitting idle.
Oh, I also have two woodlots; ten acres on the south side of the road and fifteen on this side. They've been sitting idle too.
These are necessities crying out for mothering.
So me and Mac devised this business plan. The key factor was beer. Can we make enough off the firewood to pay for the beer that would inevitably be consumed in the course of cutting and splitting the wood?
I am happy to report that after running our business plan through multiple potential scenarios, the unanimous answer is YES WE CAN!
Showing posts with label Big Ass Chair Company. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Big Ass Chair Company. Show all posts
Saturday, June 3, 2017
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Ad campaign for the Big Ass Chair Co. Inc.
The farm manager here at Falling Downs was mightily pissed that I blabbed the Big Ass vision all over the internet. She figures oh great, only good idea you've had in fifty years, and you give it away.
I'm like, hey, the mere fact that I put it out there makes it Falling Downs intellectual property. We can sue! Didn't seem to calm the waters much.
Since I'm in the doghouse anyway, let me tell you how I see the ad campaign unfolding.
I see thirty second spots on late night cable. Judging by what's on there now they can't be too expensive. Here's where we work the ecumenical magic.
Like I said, the beauty of this product is its universal appeal. "Appeal" isn't even the right word. More correctly, there is a universal need for this product.
TV spot 1. Bat Mitzvah party. Folks are gathered in the backyard. Auntie Flo takes a seat, and...
TV spot 2. Hells Angels barbecue. The brothers are gathered in the back yard at the club house, feasting on pulled pork, when Killer Kenton from the San Diego franchise takes a seat, and...
TV spot 3. Hip Hop CD release party. The brothers are gathered in the backyard of the place the manager rented for the occasion. Lead singer Hefty Ham takes a seat, and...
TV spot 4. Graduation party in the backyard of an Indian family. Auntie Ahbilasha, hors d'oeuvres in hand, waddles to the folding lawn chair, and... KERSNAP!!!
Auntie, Killer, Hefty, whoever, struggle to get up, with that damned mangled tangle of cheap-shit Walmart lawn chair firmly clamped to their ass.
See what I mean about the universal appeal?
I'm like, hey, the mere fact that I put it out there makes it Falling Downs intellectual property. We can sue! Didn't seem to calm the waters much.
Since I'm in the doghouse anyway, let me tell you how I see the ad campaign unfolding.
I see thirty second spots on late night cable. Judging by what's on there now they can't be too expensive. Here's where we work the ecumenical magic.
Like I said, the beauty of this product is its universal appeal. "Appeal" isn't even the right word. More correctly, there is a universal need for this product.
TV spot 1. Bat Mitzvah party. Folks are gathered in the backyard. Auntie Flo takes a seat, and...
TV spot 2. Hells Angels barbecue. The brothers are gathered in the back yard at the club house, feasting on pulled pork, when Killer Kenton from the San Diego franchise takes a seat, and...
TV spot 3. Hip Hop CD release party. The brothers are gathered in the backyard of the place the manager rented for the occasion. Lead singer Hefty Ham takes a seat, and...
TV spot 4. Graduation party in the backyard of an Indian family. Auntie Ahbilasha, hors d'oeuvres in hand, waddles to the folding lawn chair, and... KERSNAP!!!
Auntie, Killer, Hefty, whoever, struggle to get up, with that damned mangled tangle of cheap-shit Walmart lawn chair firmly clamped to their ass.
See what I mean about the universal appeal?
Monday, January 2, 2012
The Big Ass Chair Company Inc.
Now here's an idea I've been sitting on a good 15-20 years.
Everybody has been to a backyard get together at one time or another, when one of the larger friends or family members has had the unfortunate experience of ripping the ass out of some piece-of-shit made-in-China patio furniture.
Happened to my brother-in-law at the family reunion just this past August. Gets up to fetch his fourth plate of appetizers, sits down, and snap! He's sitting flat on the deck with his ass ensnared in one of those flimsy folding Walmart lawnchairs.
You know what happens then. There's a moment of awkward silence, followed by enquiries as to his well-being, followed by, depending on how the victim is reacting to circumstances, either raucous laughter or a quick change of subject.
Here's the idea; a line of patio furniture that's guaranteed to handle the biggest of backsides without exposing folks to the humiliation and indignity of one of these chair episodes.
The Big Ass Chair Company.
Truth be told, I've already made a couple of proto-types. About twenty years ago there was a gal working in the front office of the shop asked if I could maybe undertake a side project for the benefit of her son. Seems he'd had the same problem, and she was worried that he was going to develop a phobia about sitting down at family picnics.
I was too polite to bring it up, but I'd met the son, and I knew that although he was a big lad Mama had a good fifty pounds on him. She really needed these chairs for herself.
I was able to accommodate her, and she had a couple of great looking patio chairs a couple weeks later. 3/4 solid round bar for the frame, solid 1/2 inch bar for the cross members. Made it a little wider than what you'd find in a store, for obvious reasons. I was able to book both the time and material to one of the big jobs in the shop at the time, so it was a win-win all round.
As a side benefit, these babies come in at around seventy-five pounds each. They'll stay put right there on your deck in anything less than a Cat five hurricane.
Then I got to thinking. There's got a be a huge market for stuff like this, and if even a fraction of the scary stories you read about obesity are true, that market has grown like topsy over the last twenty years.
It's also one of those beautiful products that has appeal across all kinds of religious and ethnic barriers. A chair fail is every bit as likely to smite an Indo-Canadian family in Mississauga as an Afro-American family in Mississippi.
Like I said, it's an idea I've had on the back burner for a long time, but with the turning of a new year, I find myself pumped to make something happen.
2012, year of the Big Ass Chair.
Everybody has been to a backyard get together at one time or another, when one of the larger friends or family members has had the unfortunate experience of ripping the ass out of some piece-of-shit made-in-China patio furniture.
Happened to my brother-in-law at the family reunion just this past August. Gets up to fetch his fourth plate of appetizers, sits down, and snap! He's sitting flat on the deck with his ass ensnared in one of those flimsy folding Walmart lawnchairs.
You know what happens then. There's a moment of awkward silence, followed by enquiries as to his well-being, followed by, depending on how the victim is reacting to circumstances, either raucous laughter or a quick change of subject.
Here's the idea; a line of patio furniture that's guaranteed to handle the biggest of backsides without exposing folks to the humiliation and indignity of one of these chair episodes.
The Big Ass Chair Company.
Truth be told, I've already made a couple of proto-types. About twenty years ago there was a gal working in the front office of the shop asked if I could maybe undertake a side project for the benefit of her son. Seems he'd had the same problem, and she was worried that he was going to develop a phobia about sitting down at family picnics.
I was too polite to bring it up, but I'd met the son, and I knew that although he was a big lad Mama had a good fifty pounds on him. She really needed these chairs for herself.
I was able to accommodate her, and she had a couple of great looking patio chairs a couple weeks later. 3/4 solid round bar for the frame, solid 1/2 inch bar for the cross members. Made it a little wider than what you'd find in a store, for obvious reasons. I was able to book both the time and material to one of the big jobs in the shop at the time, so it was a win-win all round.
As a side benefit, these babies come in at around seventy-five pounds each. They'll stay put right there on your deck in anything less than a Cat five hurricane.
Then I got to thinking. There's got a be a huge market for stuff like this, and if even a fraction of the scary stories you read about obesity are true, that market has grown like topsy over the last twenty years.
It's also one of those beautiful products that has appeal across all kinds of religious and ethnic barriers. A chair fail is every bit as likely to smite an Indo-Canadian family in Mississauga as an Afro-American family in Mississippi.
Like I said, it's an idea I've had on the back burner for a long time, but with the turning of a new year, I find myself pumped to make something happen.
2012, year of the Big Ass Chair.
Monday, November 28, 2011
99 billion served, but only 37 customers ordered the salad
An interesting stat came out the other day. The average American weighs 26 pounds more today than fifty years ago.
That's the average. Obviously the under-five crowd aren't contributing much to that number. Your average pre-schooler probably isn't worth more than five or ten pounds to the per-person average. That means that us grown-ups are probably a good forty or fifty pounds overweight. Each. On average.
And keep in mind the Lulu-lemon and three-hundred dollar jogging shoe crowd has never been bigger. So us beer-swilling Dorito-gobbling couch potatoes must be up a good hundred pounds each.
That's a lot of flab. That's a lot of crumpled patio furniture.
Oddly enough, while we've been packing on the beef, somebody's bragging about 99 billion served. Coincidence?
I think not.
That's the average. Obviously the under-five crowd aren't contributing much to that number. Your average pre-schooler probably isn't worth more than five or ten pounds to the per-person average. That means that us grown-ups are probably a good forty or fifty pounds overweight. Each. On average.
And keep in mind the Lulu-lemon and three-hundred dollar jogging shoe crowd has never been bigger. So us beer-swilling Dorito-gobbling couch potatoes must be up a good hundred pounds each.
That's a lot of flab. That's a lot of crumpled patio furniture.
Oddly enough, while we've been packing on the beef, somebody's bragging about 99 billion served. Coincidence?
I think not.
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