The Toilet-on-a-Farm Ad That Made Two Comma Club — And What It Means for Your Budget

I can't stop thinking about a toilet on a farm.

Kristine Mirelle — marketer, Two Comma Club winner, and one of the most refreshingly honest voices I've come across on the topic of ads — shot her best-performing ad on a farm with no Wi-Fi. Her brother was sitting on an old toilet. It went viral. It sold product.

And I keep coming back to it because it perfectly destroys the excuse most people use to avoid putting themselves out there.

The bar for a good ad isn't production value. It's whether it stops the scroll. And nothing stops a scroll like something real, weird, and a little uncomfortable.

The Muhammad Ali Hook (Steal This Formula)

Kristine's framework for building a funny, high-converting ad comes down to three moves she calls the Muhammad Ali Hook:

Step one: Call out your target customer by name. Not "entrepreneurs" or "small business owners" — be specific. "Hey, chiropractors." "Hey, moms who've been trying to start a Etsy shop for two years."

Step two: List their specific pain points. The ones that make them feel a little seen and a little called out. The ones they think about at 2am.

Step three: Visually exaggerate those pain points for comedic effect. This is where the toilet comes in. You're not being embarrassing — you're being relatable in a way that polished ads can never be, because polished ads feel like ads.

The formula works because it short-circuits the brain's automatic ad-rejection filter. When someone sees themselves in a piece of content — when they laugh because it's too real — they stop scrolling. And once you've stopped the scroll, you've done the hardest part.

Most people get so caught up trying to look professional that they forget the goal: connection. A high-budget ad that nobody watches is just an expensive mistake. A weird video shot on a farm that makes someone snort-laugh and click? That's a conversion.

Why I Start Every Ad at $1/Day

Here's how I approach ads, especially when I'm testing something new: I start at a dollar a day.

I know that sounds almost insultingly small. But hear me out. At $1/day, you're boosting posts to see what resonates — less risk, but you're gaining real data on what your audience actually responds to. You're not burning $500 on a hypothesis. You're spending $7 to find out if your hook works.

The bigger mistake I see people make isn't the budget — it's the objective. Most people go into Facebook ads without thinking clearly about what they're asking the algorithm to do. If you ask for engagement, you get engagement. Likes, comments, shares from people who will never buy. If you want sales, you need to optimize for conversions. These are fundamentally different campaigns, and conflating them is one of the most expensive mistakes in online marketing.

Kristine's toilet-farm ad works with this framework perfectly. Start with a funny, scroll-stopping concept. Test it cheap. See if it hooks people. Once you know the hook works, then you scale — and you optimize for the outcome you actually want.

The ad itself doesn't have to be polished. Your targeting and objective setup does.

The Rejection Muscle Nobody Talks About

Kristine started selling door-to-door at age 10. She did it until she was 23. Over a decade of knocking on doors, hearing no, and coming back the next day anyway.

That history is the real reason she's willing to put a toilet-on-a-farm ad into the world. It's not that she doesn't care what people think. It's that she's built a rejection muscle so strong that the fear of looking silly doesn't register as a real threat anymore.

This is the thing nobody talks about when they teach marketing: the psychological prerequisite for being good at it is being comfortable being wrong, being laughed at, and shipping something imperfect. Most people are waiting for the perfect conditions — the right camera, the right script, the right budget — before they'll put an ad out. And that wait costs them everything.

When I had no ad budget at all, I went into Facebook groups. I engaged with posts. I made offers in the comments. I had conversations. Because if you don't make offers, you can never make money — full stop. The mechanism doesn't matter. What matters is that you show up, make the offer, and do it enough times that the yeses start to outnumber the nos.

The toilet-on-a-farm ad isn't an accident. It's the output of someone who learned years ago that embarrassment is survivable, but inaction is fatal.

The Revenue-Share Play

One of the most interesting moves Kristine describes is her equity arrangement with a struggling cologne company. Instead of taking a fee to run their marketing, she took a 50/50 revenue split. She applied her funny-ad system, turned the business around, and eventually earned her way into the Two Comma Club through that single partnership.

There are a few things worth pulling out of this.

First, she had enough conviction in her system to bet her own income on it. That's a level of confidence that only comes from testing the approach enough times to know it works.

Second, she needed $7,000 for a video production and committed to it before she had the money. Within 24 hours, she received an unsolicited $10,000 check. Kristine talks about this as a mindset principle: commit to the decision first, then let execution follow. The resources tend to show up once the commitment is real.

I think there's something genuinely true here, even if it sounds woo. When you're wishy-washy about a decision, you operate at half-capacity. You're not fully scanning for opportunities because part of your brain is still debating whether to move forward. Full commitment changes your perception of what's available to you.

Third, the revenue-share model is an underrated play for marketers who know their system works but can't access capital. Instead of charging for access to your expertise, you charge for results. It aligns incentives and can generate far more upside than a flat retainer.

The Bottom Line

The toilet-on-a-farm ad matters because it's proof that the thing holding most people back from running ads that convert isn't their budget. It's their willingness to look weird.

Kristine Mirelle built a Two Comma Club business partly on raw, funny content that nobody would have predicted would work — except that it does, because it's real. Pair that with a clear formula (the Muhammad Ali Hook), a disciplined testing process (start cheap, optimize for the right objective), and the rejection muscle that makes you actually hit publish — and you have a system that doesn't require a production crew or a massive ad spend.

Stop waiting for perfect conditions. Ship the thing. Even if your brother has to sit on a toilet to make it happen.