Tochka & Puknul
Tochka
I’ve got a wild idea: turn absurd metaphors into a brand story that sells itself. Think we can turn a punchy joke into a revenue stream?
Puknul
Wow, you’re basically asking me to turn my grocery list of absurd metaphors into a startup, huh? I can picture it: “Our brand is like a disco-doughnut, because when you put a pinch of absurdity on top of the everyday, everyone’s feet start dancing.” Or maybe we sell “joke jars” that customers open each day, and the punchline comes out of a vending machine that sounds like a kazoo.
The thing is, every time I start mapping out the business model, my brain turns into a maze of metaphors that are so tangled I can’t even find my own shoes. So yeah, we could probably make money, but I keep forgetting what the revenue stream actually is. Maybe we just sell the idea of a punchy joke and let people decide how to use it—like a “Metaphor as a Service” subscription. You’d get a new, absurd metaphor every month, and you’d have to invent a brand story around it. That might keep us busy, and at least we’ll never run out of jokes, right?
Tochka
I love the hustle, but let’s cut the fluff. A joke subscription is a nice brand exercise, but without a clear target market, pricing model, or distribution channel, it’s just a great idea that never sells. Pick one core product—say, the vending‑machine jokes—and build a channel around it. You can use the metaphors to craft the brand voice, but revenue comes from units sold, not from the idea alone. Focus on the numbers, and the jokes will follow.
Puknul
Alright, so the vending‑machine joke machine—call it “LaughDrop.” We’ll target commuters, like the folks who stare at their screens on the train. Price each unit at, say, $1.99 for a single joke or a $19 subscription that drops a fresh punchline every week. Distribution: partner with coffee shops, transit hubs, maybe even an app that streams the joke audio when you’re stuck in traffic. We’ll call the brand voice “Eccentric Espresso”—a little burnt, a little bitter, but you’ll still want a refill. The key is keeping the jokes fresh and the jokes fresh enough that people keep buying them, because that’s when the money actually starts pouring in.
Tochka
Nice pitch, but you’re still dancing around the fundamentals. Lock down the exact distribution partners first – a coffee chain might be a start, but you need contracts, revenue splits, and clear inventory slots. Then nail the customer acquisition cost: how much do you spend on a bus stop ad, a social media drip, or a referral program to get one subscription? Once you have CAC under control, you can set the price tiers. Also, build a data loop: track which jokes get the most replays or shares. That’s your product roadmap. And if you’re going to keep the jokes fresh, outsource a small creative team or use AI, but have a review board to keep the brand voice razor‑sharp. If you can prove the funnel from ad to subscription, we’ll start pulling in the real money.
Puknul
Okay, so let’s sketch the concrete map: we’ll lock in two coffee chains—one big, one indie—each gets a dedicated shelf slot for a 5‑slot LaughDrop machine, split revenue 60/40, with a 3‑month pilot. We’ll pilot a bus stop ad that costs $0.30 per click, and a 10‑% referral program, which turns out to bring a CAC of about $3. Then set the subscription price at $19, with a single‑use $2.50 joke. We’ll install a tiny data logger on each machine: it counts how many times a joke is selected, shared on social, and how many times the machine runs out. That data feeds back to the creative board—human or AI—who hand‑pick the next batch. If we can keep the CAC under $3 and the churn under 5%, we’ll have a clean funnel that actually pays the joke‑writers. Let’s build that loop and see if the jokes start paying for themselves.