I have 1,841 notes in my iPhone, dating back to my freshman year of high school, when the iPhone was introduced. About 95% are incomprehensible nothings related to what I was doing that week and about 5% are business ideas, some bad (shoes so comfortable The Dude would wear them), some good, some good but also terrible.

Here are some of the latter category:

  • Tamagotchi Vape — The iPhone of vapes. It’s a sleek, addictive piece of technology with a couple of buttons and a large touch screen to display your nicotine pet—an adorable little monster that grows big, healthy, happy, and more active the more you vape. Ignore it, and it withers into a pathetic husk, like an archetypical 19th-century orphan. The more you vape, the more it grows and unlocks new upgrades, skills, and mini games. Take a hit at the same time as a friend nearby, and your pets bond and unlock mutually beneficial point multipliers and upgrades. Different proprietary vape cartridges unlock different evolutionary forms. Mango-flavored pods give your beast a tan and a party hat, menthol makes it a little icicle demon, and lower dosage nicotine pods transform your monster into a weeping homunculus with the posture of a Victorian schoolboy and a small cough. Keeping your vape pet alive earns you real-world discounts from BigVape, because nothing fortifies addiction like a sense of moral obligation and a chance to join in on the fun with your friends.
  • Municipal VIP Pass —a sleek, unobtrusive transponder that coaxes red lights to surrender and turn green as your luxury car glides down the avenue. This isn’t your run-of-the-mill toll pass; it’s a discreet badge of elitism that “whispers” to municipal systems, ensuring your commute is less about waiting in gridlock and more about orchestrated convenience. Transponders cost $10,000 per 6 months and 60% of proceeds go the local police department, while 20% go straight to the mayor. Only the ultra-wealthy, with their custom-tailored vehicles and impeccable taste, are invited to this little rebellion against urban congestion. Coincidentally, traffic lights as experienced by the working class majority of the municipally tend to last five minutes each but may randomly last up to fifteen, leading to countless tickets for running red lights. Time is money and money is time.
  • Luxury Vacation Simulator — Step into a world where travel is distilled into pure, curated escapism without the inconvenience of actual transit; perfect for influencers looking to boost their appeal to luxury brands. In this VR-powered retreat, every detail, from the scent of ocean air to the glint of a sunset, is meticulously recreated to evoke the nostalgia of a long-forgotten summer, with high-tech Hollywood style backdrops and countless fake set materials and props to convince anyone. It’s an escape designed not just to relax, but to be flaunted, with every immersive scene perfectly Instagrammable.
  • Blue Collar LARP-ing Experience — The ultimate luxury escape when luxury itself gets boring, this experience lets you pay to be poor for a weekend. You and your friends get fitted for the latest in “authentic” workwear, then thrust into immersive, carefully curated versions of blue-collar jobs—garbage collection, warehouse stocking, coal mining, all with the safety of knowing you can walk away at any time, and that a photographer is on site for future Instagram/LinkedIn points. Your “boss” is an actor trained in just the right balance of condescension and tough love, and at the end of the day, you and your fellow venture capitalists, creatives, and failsons of the elite can gather at the on-site bar to sip artisanally crafted $17 beers while reflecting on how real and grounding the experience was. “They work so hard,” you whisper, half-drunk, before requesting a black car back to your $10,000-a-month apartment.
  • VC Fund For Influencer Pages — Imagine a venture capital firm, but for monetizing the downfall of culture. Instead of investing in businesses, this fund pours money into influencers—the digital economy’s most unstable assets—offering funding to viral content creators in exchange for a cut of their souls (and ad revenue). This fund pays to fund viral content and internet culture, while accelerating the moral and aesthetic collapse of the internet and society more broadly in the form of hollowed-out personas peddling discount codes for protein powder and diet teas.
  • Scales Dating App — A dating app built on the idea that romance is a transaction. Active female users are paid 70% of whatever men pay of all subscription fees, paid by men, encouraging both real and fake female engagement. It’s not about connection, but velocity. Men, desperate to get a return on investment, swipe faster, like harder, and send more “just wanted to check in” messages than ever before. Women, sitting atop a free-market-driven dating economy, curate their profiles like a piece of real estate. The app rewards popularity with higher payouts, so the more engagement, . It’s Tinder meets capitalism meets the inevitable paywalling of human intimacy.
  • Premium Line Jumping — A Social Darwinist service that lets you pay to jump ahead anywhere in real life. Every line, from doctor’s office to airport security and exclusive sneaker drops—becomes an auction, where those who shell out the most get to cut the line while the peasants shuffle further back. Every time someone jumps ahead, those behind them feel a flicker of existential dread, an urgent whisper in their mind that says your time is worth less than someone else. At any moment, you can bid to regain your rightful place, but there’s no guarantee some richer, more desperate fool won’t outbid you. At its core, it’s a service that transforms the basic human experience of waiting into a game of anxiety, social comparison, and financial recklessness. It’s a never-ending, real-time marketplace to determine who deserves to matter the most.