I’ve been noticing naming rights becoming ever more ubiquitous these days. Vodafone Arena. Toyota Park. Chevy Chase Stadium. (That last one’s true, you can look it up and everything.)

If it can be sold, it should be sold. That’s just the nature of this crazy little thing we call capatalism. And you can’t beat capatalism. Che Guevara tried and just look at what happened to him; shot in the thorax and consigned to bad t-shirt purgatory.

I, for one, think the concept should be taken to it’s logical extreme; the naming rights to children should be sold.

Genius, I know. Only problem is, I don’t have kids or - for that matter - the necessary reproductive organs to bear them. But I do happen to have this one friend with a womb, so I explained my ingenious plan and asked her if I’d be able to borrow it for about nine months.

Would you believe it, she said no (I mean, c’mon! She wasn’t even using it!). So I’m forced to run with plan B; I’m selling the naming rights to my puppy.

She’s a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, cute as a button and prime real estate for your company or product name. She’s currently in good health and has a forecasted 13 years of life ahead of her (refund not available in the event of acts of God or Nissan).

The successful bidder could have [your name here] screamed across the park every time she runs away (which is regularly). The successful bidder will receive a double copy of the new dog tags I make up for her and a number of photos of her with me, on which will be a speech-bubble where I clearly refer to her by her new name.

It’s on ebay now.