Some quick thoughts to sizzle in your brain pans.

Open your minds, and let these hot idea pokers sear through.

Ok, number one: Dog food made with real bones. Dogs love bones, they eat dog food ... dog food made with real bones. The only real obstacle I can see is finding the right animal to harvest the bones from. Each bone should be small enough to be eaten in one bite, but they should also retain the classic bone shape. Horse bones: too big. Bird and turtle bones: too weird looking. What are my options? Small monkeys? Baby cows? Let's throw this one back to R&D.

Second, unplanned idea: R&D ... &D!! This is a Dungeons and Dragons joke! But what would R&D&D do? Probably research powerful new spells, and look at heterosexual pornography.

Third idea: the main motivation for me to ever have children would be to put them on the internet. Not, of course, in any illegal way, like footage of them gluing athletic shoes together in a hot, dimly lit factory. More like in a Kids Say The Darnd'st Things way. The point here is to get me rich. So they would act out the plots from early 90s action movies, or, like, fight each other. Sort of like Baby Fights (see below), except it'd be more along the lines of Baby Fights 2: Toddlers With Hammers. They probably wouldn't get hammers, though, now that I think of it. You don't arm the people you're exploiting. Rookie mistake. If I wanted a machete lodged somewhere in my body, I'd go ice skating in a frozen, flooded machete factory.

Idea four: Frozen, flooded machete factories probably aren't even a real thing.


Baby Fights: I can't be the first person to think of this

I'll be the first one to acknowledge that I get a lot of really good, really unique ideas. I'm not too humble for that. (Remember my polar bear cub-shaped land mines, for safely blowing up polar bears, or the soon to be famous Scott Stapp sports drink, HotGodSweat? Ideas like that.)

But this one... it seems too good to be true. It's so perfect and so obvious that, despite the great powers of my imagination, I simply cannot imagine that no one has thought of it before. I hesitate to check the Internet, because last time I entered "baby" into Google I was treated to an image of a tiny, naked man exploding from a woman's torso, but I know for certain that there isn't a prime time TV show called Baby Fights (or Babyfight, or Fighting Babies, or any permutation of that). And if someone had plucked that sweet apple from the tree of ideas already, I feel sure that it would be on TV.

It came to me in a dream, you see. I was in a parking lot with two friends who recently became mothers, and I asked one of them, "So... why haven't you had your baby fight her baby yet?" The dream response was as lackluster and unimaginative as you'd expect from a real mother, but it got me thinking, why haven't I had your baby fight her baby yet? If I want to be rich (I do!), this is the way to do it.

Now, obviously, I don't want the babies to kill each other. Frankly, I don't think that's possible, because babies are so weak. And I don't want them permanently maiming each other, because for as much as someone might pay to see a one-eyed baby in a fight, I think truly exciting matches would require all fighters to be in top physical form. So none of that. But I do want those babies in rings and straw-floored pits, and I want their fists and shins to be wrapped up like little muay thai fighters, and I want them fighting! Hell, we could even dope them up a little to make it interesting (with the approval of the fathers, of course).

I can't accept contestants yet, because a whole sport league can't be set up over night. but if you're planning on doing it with a fertile member of the opposite sex anytime soon, I suggest that you attempt to sabotage your contraception somehow. No doubt there will be some discussion about that later on, but nothing wins an argument like the prospect of owning a champion baby fighter.

There's an empty space at the top, and I think we—you and I—could climb there on the doughy fists of your child. Let's get cracking!

Baby Fights!


Typecats: What gives?

Well, I wanted to wait until Typecats really took off before I discussed it. And now it has!

So... why "typecats"?

Frankly, it's not an easy question to answer. A big part of it was that I saw a niche, and I filled it. That's what you do when you see a niche. That's how cavemen invented sex, for God's sake, and how cavewomen invented stabbing cavemen in the ear cavity with an antler.

Living in cave-times must have been really rough. Sure, the notion of wearing fur everyday is appealing, but the whole sex-or-be-killed lifestyle would have been stressful. And in caves to boot!

Anyway, I saw the need for Typecats, and I did what I had to. But beyond that, the idea itself is very appealing to me. The notion that there's a whole species that loves to type... and not only that, but they all have mustaches! Even the girls! What if Jane Austin had a mustache and a fancy little tail? You'd want to put that on the internet!

So I did.


Prepare a spare ass, because your old one is about to get blown off!

Heeeey y'aaaaallllll!

So, I was walking past the Salvation Army yesterday, looking at the homeless people, thinking, "I wonder if any of those bums has ever thought about acting. There's good money in acting, and if they auditioned for the part of a bum, they'd already have the wardrobe and stuff."

But then I thought that starting out your acting career as a bum might not be a good idea, because then you could get typecast as a bum. And then I thought,"'Typecast!' Now there's a funny word. T - Y - P - E - C - A - T - S. Typeca... wait a second!"

I had, of course, accidentally spelled "typecats." I was about to throw the word away... before I realized that it was awesome! I started seeing it printed on children's backpacks and lunchboxes, I saw it optioned into R-rated movies and serialized novels, I saw it dragging me, like a sleeping cowboy hanging from one stirrup, to Hollywood!

(A cowboy was dragged like this to Hollywood only once, and it didn't do him any good because he was dead by the time he arrived. My metaphor doesn't include actual death. Or even a horse.)

At any rate, I needed to figure out how to get the idea off the ground. The obvious solution: a blog. After all, it's largely thanks to The Chesterton Review that I am where I am today (not in jail!)

And so... typecats was born!

You'll notice that it's a tumblr address. It's my understanding that tumblr is largely a forum for pornography and fashion, but I figured that what I had in mind was close enough to both of those that it was a reasonable fit. You'll see.

I have a feeling that before long everyone will be saying, "I want to get typecats!"


Try this one out real quick

Noah's Pirate Ark!! Or maybe Pirate Noah!!

See where I'm going here? It's like the same old Noah story, except he's a pirate! A pirate on a ship full of animals?! I know, right!

What does pirate Noah want with those animals? I don't know. It's not my job to know. Maybe he's going to try to eat them, or maybe he wants them for something sexual? Maybe he's going to sell some, and save some for sexual stuff. Those are the sorts of things a writer can figure out. I'm an ideas man. Just start sending me checks when it hits theaters.
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