A Different Kind of Final Lecture

Colleagues, students, random gawkers, I wish I could say that I’m happy to see you here today, but I am not. In fact, I do not want to give this lecture at all, and particularly not as I do it because I am dying. To paraphrase the old Woody Allen-quote, I do not want to achieve immortality through my work, I want to achieve it by not dying. And just like Mr. Allen, I’m not afraid of death, but I do not want be there when it happens. But it seems I won’t, and I will.

Now, my university is aware of this, and in their usual sensitive way has realized that they might be able to cash in on me shuffling off my mortal coil. Not content with the fact they’ll now save on my salary and be able to replace me with some adjunct or robot or other, they have insisted I give this last lecture, which they will record and try to monetize over social media. Seeing as there seems to be quite a few people who enjoy watching Randy Pausch and his epigones, my university immediately though that getting professors to give a final lecture would be a nice little earner. They may be craven, but you can’t fault their business logic.

For today, death is a big business. The funeral industry alone is worth over $16 billion annually, and this is not counting the many, many additional revenue streams of what I’ve come to call the thanatonomy, the death industry. My entire research life has been dedicated to studying those things business professors usually ignore, so maybe there is a morbid logic to me addressing this, the final frontier of homo œconomicus, in my final lecture.

We’ve long assumed that economy and business is the land of the living. In studying it, we’ve been used to looking at how living bodies, well organized, can do things like run factories, build roads, and construct wondrous things. Similarly, the living body needs sustenance, sleep and spectacle, which has created industries for food, retail, real estate and entertainment — all for the living. It is the living who come up with ideas that can be turned into innovations and new products or services, and it is the living who consume the same. So death seems to be a most marginal phenomenon in the economy, a case of housekeeping and sanitary processing more than anything else.

Yet in our post-industrial society, this is not altogether true. There is value in death, even to the point where some of us seem to become more valuable by dying. Consider Randy Pausch. Before he started dying, he was a rather obscure computer science professor. I’m sure he was liked by his colleagues and students, and his career seems distinguished enough, but I’d imagine even he would have agreed that he was no rock star. And then he started dying. His famed final lecture became an internet sensation, he got on Oprah, and even had a small role in a Star Trek-movie. His book became a bestseller, and seems to generate income to this day. In many ways, we might say that dying was great business for Randy, or at least his heirs (metaphorical or otherwise).

Now, some might think I’m denigrating poor professor Pausch by saying this, but I do not. What I am saying is that the thanatonomy of Pausch was considerable, and that for some, he truly was worth more dead than alive. This is not as rare as you might think. Consider rap or rock stars. For many such, dying can be the ultimate business move. Jim Morrisson, the Lizard King of the 1960’s, died when he still struck a romantic figure and could be capitalized upon. Tupac Shakur and the Notorious B.I.G. were both gunned down, and this turned them from relatively successful artists to highly monetizable legends, with impressive track-records of post-death releases. Elvis, who died in 1977, made more than $50 million in 2016, and is on track to have a far better 2017, as it represents the 40th anniversary of his death . Michael Jackson has made more than $100 million every year since he died. For some, death is just part of a greater business cycle.

So as I stand here, being filmed by a university who is not about to let my death be an impediment to my exploitation, I am entering an exciting new step in my business… well, not business life, for obvious reasons. Perhaps business process would be more apt. I’m sure there will be at least some attempt to capitalize upon the fact that I’m dying from such a wildly unlikely reason, with the attendant sensationalist interpretations. I will not go into the reasons I’m dying, as I’m sure you all will have heard the stories, but I would like to point out that the more extreme of these, such as the suggestion that I contracted my disease by having unprotected sex with an alien, sadly are false. I can assure you that if I was dying as the result of a mad sex-romp with an alien, I would not only own up to this, I would publicize this far and wide. Dying from being the first human to have done the nasty with an alien life form would have been the ultimate nerd bragging rights, so I am sad to say that my passing will be somewhat more mundane.

This, I am sure, will not stop people from trying to cash in. On some level I’m happy to know that once I’ve died, there will be a biography, no matter how sensationalistic and flawed. I also enjoy the thought that some of my works will be republished as a result of me dying, although I do think it is churlish of the university press not to give me an advance simply because “you’re not dead yet”. I know publishers want to know you make your deadline, but this is just silly.

What all this means, however, is that I foresee that little business engagements such as this last lecture will be caught up in the irrevocable logic of consumer society, and will need to become ever more spectacular. Randy Pausch could make a big impact with just good cheer and a few pushups. Each last lecture after that one will need to up the ante, finding new hooks, in order to feed the demands of the thanatonomy. Looking to how the business of death no doubt will develop, we’ll see increasingly wild attempts to stand out, to differentiate, to “disrupt the death industry”.

It is with this in mind I have decided to make this lecture something more than a lecture, and instead make it a kind of action research. I am very happy to see that so many of my university colleagues are present, and particularly that many from the administration, the same administration that insisted I turn my death into a business engagement for the university, are here as well. You see, I came prepared in more ways than one. You will notice, if you test them, that the doors are locked. You may also wonder where my PhD-students are. They have, on my instruction, barred the exits.

They knew, you see, that I would be bringing this semi-automatic rifle, with the intent of making this not just my last lecture, but also the last lecture of a few others. Calm down, and sit down! I don’t need extra incentive to use this. I will not start shooting indiscriminately, and you will notice I’m aiming at the front row, mainly populated by heads of administration from this university. Now, since they wanted to cash in on my impending death, I’ve decided to add in a spree-killing as a kind of last bonus, my final way of giving back to the university. This will surely drive up the bidding for my biography, and make both my left papers and those of the university administrators far more valuable.

By killing quite a few colleagues and administrators I will also make the university far more famous, and ensure that the video being recorded will be an instant viral phenomenon! Think of the branding gains alone! Yes, yes, you may say that I’m killing innocents, but in the death industry, it’s the bottom line that counts, right? Don’t worry, I will end this all by turning this weapon against me, and thus truly ensure that this is a last lecture.

You see, I do have a deeper point with all this. The growing industry of last lectures is such that we will reach this point sooner or later. What I’m trying to do here is to cut to the chase, and stop this trend. This, as this my last lecture really cannot be topped. Now…