DOUBLE INDEMNITY REVISITED

         Shall we sing a few choruses of 'Another One Bites The Dust"? The Wall Street Journal reports that CyberRebate, which did its business on-line, will not be able to meet its obligations to its creditors. In this case,its creditors are its customers, who bought goods from the firm at prices four to five times higher than market, on the promise that after rebates their final price would be zero, zilch, nada or whatever word you want to use.

         Experts who study crowd behavior should really check out the gene pool of those who clicked and double clicked through the cash registers at this web site. Back in 1964 or so, I remember reading in my sociology book of the Kallikaks and the Jukes, two abnormal families used as examples for the course. I always wondered what had become of them and now I know.

         I am very mean today; I didn't sleep with a hanger in my mouth and wake up with a smile on my face. Yet it is hard to find sympathy for anyone taken in by such an idea. Customers would pay $300 upfront for a $75 printer, and within three months, were to receive a rebate in full from CyberRebate. When we buy on the web, we do not see the man with his slicked down hair, standing behind a card table, with his three little cups and the pea, asking us to follow his hand and wager which cup holds the pea. Most of us, if we saw such a set up on the street, would flee the other way and into the line to buy lottery tickets. Not these fools.

         What a deal!! My printer is free as long as I lend Mr. Ponzi some money for a couple of months on an interest free loan. Undoubtedly lawyers and state attorney generals will be saddling up their mounts, ready to call press conferences to denounce this unconscionable scheme. They could save their energy by seizing the mailing list of CyberRebates and selling it to Grifter&Bunco.com and distributing the proceeds.

         My theory is that those who forget the past are too busy looking up who said that and will be separated from their money again. New businesses, or old businesses trying new ideas, have and will always come up with hairbrain schemes to get them off the ground. All of us should remember that no one has yet successfully circumnavigated the world in a hot air balloon.

         Eons ago, in 1980 or so, banks were trying to get us to accept ATMs. Since their product, money, is not usually given away for free, they had to look to the past for other premiums, but the narrowness of the slot in the machine limited the shape of the prize. There could be no glass with a photograph of Neil Bush, or dish emblazoned with the corporate seal of Lincoln Federal. It was the back of the receipt that held the premium.

         My bank gave away tickets to Phillies' baseball games. A half premium was printed, but not on every receipt, and the customer had to collect both halves to use the prize, and only for certain games. The seats given away afforded a wonderful view of midgets playing baseball far below us, so that often the prizeholder upgraded the free tickets for a better location. Clever bank, more clever baseball team. At least the prize was real and tangible, and neither the bank nor the team were a threat to go out of business, barring a player strike.

         I guess peanuts and crackerjacks were not enough of a stimuli, so the bank offered cheap group term life insurance to ATM card holders. This seemed like a good deal: No hassles, no doctor's exam, and the face value could be as high as $50,000. The premium would be automatically deducted from the holder's bank account each month.

         I signed up and for sixteen years I had this modest policy on my life. It was legitimate life insurance, not the accident and health come-ons that have been sold by every credit card company in the country. Payment of face value was not predicated on being run over by a ferry boat while crossing Moyamensing Avenue during the month of August. To collect, I had only to die.

         I never really considered that condition until I was notified in the summer of 1996 that the insurance company that sponsored the group was terminating coverage effective September 30th of that year. This letter put a different spin on matters.

         My life, or my non-life, had a tangible value I could reach out and touch, or rather my heirs could. One day my remains would bring in 50K, the next day, if it were the first of October, they would be worth a big fat goose egg. I had become Mr. Dietrichson, waiting for Walter Neff to show up and push him off a train, preferably before September 30th.

         This was the opportunity of a lifetime. That whole summer I wracked my brain trying to think of a way to eat my cake. The Present Value of that policy in August, 1996 was staggering. I needed a hitman, but one with lousy aim. I don't think there was an eBay back then, and even had there been, how would I advertise what I wanted? The matter, shall we say, had to be handled with some delicacy, lest Mr. Keyes get wind of it.

         Time passed, as it has a way of doing, and the deadline slipped by, accompanied by great gnashing of teeth on my part. A year later I met Mr. Kallikak for lunch. He had moved up in the world and was wearing a shark skin suit with expensive Italian loafers. He offered me the chance to buy printers for fifty dollars over cost. I turned him down. I knew where I could get them on-line for free.