Tick Tock

As previously reported on these pages, my lifetime subscription to Rolling Stone makes retirement planning simple and easy.

The mailing label helpfully identified – with precision – the date of my demise. Sometime in 2054, though I can’t recall the specifics of month and day. But close enough. And, that far out, who cares?

As also previously and dutifully reported, Rolling Stone underwent a change of ownership, format, frequency of publication and, it seems, content focus.

New format and design, new mailing label. No surprises. All expected.

Except for one thing. The end. The end of me, that is.

The mailing label is now a physical label, stuck on the cover with an adhesive to the magazine. Previously, it was printed on and as part of the cover, thereby ruining the designer’s cover design. And, doubtless, their life.

All the required information is included on the new adhesive label – sufficient to get the publication to my mailbox, at least.

And it’s only been a few months since The Change, so maybe the-change-that’s-coming is premature.

But search though I have, I see no demise date for me. At least none that I recognize as such.

There’s an impenetrable string of letters and numbers that, surely, make sense to someone. Though not me. And a bar code. So, I can still go to the bar.

But no “2054.” Anywhere. No matter which way the label is viewed.


The only thing close to an expiration date is an inscrutable notation: “NOV95”.

Quoting the Eagles: maybe I’m “Already Gone.”

And never touched the Social Security account.

You’re welcome.

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