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"a fish, a barrel, and a smoking gun"
for 6 November 1996. Updated every WEEKDAY.
Ashes to ASCII
Given the volatile life
expectancy of the average
Internet start-up, it seems only
natural that developers are
increasingly turning their
attention to that inevitable,
last-gasp revenue pump, the Grim
Reaper. Before the death of the
web, there's death on the web:
software that helps you shut
down your system one last time;
funeral-casts featuring
superfluously live video; HTML
sim-eteries where souls, once
animate, now exist as marketing
data for aftercare
consultants ...
At the moment, web-based funerary
applications are in their
infancy, but their future
success seems all but
guaranteed. Indeed, Time
Eternal, which has always
favored the death-merchants, has
a special dividend in store
starting around the year 2010;
that's when the first Baby
Boomers, despite decades of
aerobics classes, antioxidant
megadoses, arterial scrapes,
vigorous colonics regimens, and
facial rejuvenation programs,
will start to drop dead in
record numbers. The annual
mortality rate , currently
hovering at around 2.3 million,
will suddenly increase by at
least several hundred thousand;
the nation's undertakers, coffin
manufacturers , morticians, grief
therapists, and other sundry
entrepreneurs whose livelihoods
depend upon a healthy inventory
of corpses are already
anticipating the happy days to
come.
Of course, the Boomers will bring
a downside with them too. After
lifetimes of no-frills
comparison-shopping at box
retail giants like Price Costco
and Wal-Mart, the great majority
of surviving spouses will
undoubtedly reject the high
margins the funeral business has
historically enjoyed. As
customers search for better
deals, the relatively
noncompetitive nature of the
business will change; some
industry mavericks are already
raising the ire of their
colleagues with their
progressive sales techniques.
One cemetery in California has
been known to offer two-for-one
plot sales. A funeral director
in Illinois hawks discount
coffins out of a barebones strip
mall location.
And just imagine how the
competition will increase when
companies that haven't
traditionally included death in
their business plan begin to
understand the opportunities
their aging clientele present:
With cradle-to-grave marketing
all the rage now, can a Pottery
Barn coffin, handcrafted by
Italian artisans in the
classical style of Etruscan
funeral caskets, be far off? Or
headstone-washed burial garb
from Levi's? And what better way
to create a stylish-to-the-end
"memory picture" than with a
little Pallor eyeshadow from Urban
Decay ? Such corporate
necrophagia is bound to catch
the fancy of soon-to-expire
consumers engaged in their
final, poignant credit-card
sprees: Why pay higher prices
for stuff you've never heard of
when you can buy funeral
products from the brands that
have given your life its
meaning?
Oh, well. Nothing lasts forever,
not even fantastic mark-ups on
ugly jewelry for dead people.
Funeral directors will surely
mourn the loss of such robust
revenue streams, but if anyone
knows about grief management,
they do. In the end, the river
of profit is eternal - one must
simply learn to catch its newest
currents. It was this philosophy
that helped transform a modest
sideline enterprise for
cabinet-makers into an
approximately $9 billion a year
business in the U.S. alone- and
now with Jessica Mitford gone,
and no comparable contrarian
stepping up to take her place as
industry watchdog, one imagines
the nation's undertakers may
once again give free rein to
their most unabashedly
hucksterish impulses as they
learn to capitalize on a whole
new array of digital death
services.
Or at least one hopes...
Because right now, the nascent
death software industry is in
desperate need of
entrepreneurial vision. Sure,
cyberfunerals have a certain
appeal: It's easier to fake
attendance - and grief :'-( -
on the net. But how many people,
for example, really need a
program that helps them kill
themselves? It's sort of like
recipe databases: another
"solution" that turns what was
once a cheap and simple process
into something complicated and
expensive - technological
overkill.
courtesy of St. Huck

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