Milton Friedman once told that Free Market Principles depend on, well, nothing being free. (Well, it was some old bloke who looked like Milton Friedman. College. Whatever.)
But the Facebooks of this world seem resolute in refusing to believe that people might decide that if it cost nothing then it can't have been worth anything.
So, and it pains me to utter these words, but what would happen if Facebook led the charging?
What if they created normal, ordinary membership, then, you know, a gradation of colors? Like credit card companies. Where platinum stands for 'person living far beyond their means, but still earning money so they'll make the minimum payments and, hey, you never know, their stock options might kick in.'
(Credit:
egg (TM))
And Black for 'I may not pay my bill on time, but why should I have to? I'm richer than you'.
Wouldn't that be more real world rather than Real World?
The status benefits would, naturally, have to be of a kind that Facebookers would really appreciate.
So what if you paid $100 a year for Facebook Green?
That would guarantee you Friend Status with one Division One college athlete, a secondary actor/actress in an independent movie and the Senior Manager of a significant financial institution.
If you coughed up, say, the $400 a year to be Facebook Gold, they would guarantee you could be Friends with two B-list movie and TV stars (which would include Luke Wilson, but not Owen. Cokie Roberts, but not Julia), one retired sports hero, one current sports hero and the Senior Vice-President of a significant financial institution.
For the $1000 a year of Facebook Platinum, you could, firstly, CHOOSE your friends. (Oh, didn't we mention when you joined? We choose your Friends in Green and Gold.)
You would also get all of the Gold privileges. PLUS two A-list movie and TV stars, three current sports heroes (convicted felons would be excluded, but those yet to stand trial are still capable of experiencing Friendship), three Senior members of your chosen political party, and most importantly, all the members of your two favorite bands (the only exclusions here, for obvious reasons, would be the members of Metallica and Simon and Garfunkel).
The $20,000 Facebook Black. Well, what would you expect? All of the Facebook Platinum privileges, of course.
But, in addition, the precious and rare commodity of Lifetime Friendship with Jon Voight, Joe Lieberman, Keith Olbermann, John Lydon and Lindsay Lohan; the guarantee of one business deal with your favorite financial institution (Bear Stearns, for example); the ability to record a song with your favorite Friended band or singer (yes, you and Mariah Carey. Or Mary Carey, if you prefer her singing); your favorite Friended product would release a special personalized version of the product featuring your name (wouldn't everyone want a can of Heineken Bryan?); and, most prized, your own personalized Werewolves, Friends For Sale and PimpFights, designed by the good folks at Marvel.
Wouldn't these status levels be a truer reflection of society? Surely you separate your friends into various levels: Drinks Friends, Dinner Friends, Drunk Friends, Friends You Want Something From, Friends Who Want Something From You And You Like That.
In addition, this new and exciting revenue stream would take some pressure away from the need to monetize through advertising.
It's a win-win, as really good friends would say to each other.
I know that some people are worried that mad scientists can now clone sheep.
Soon, they say, they will do the same with human beings.
Think of it. Tasteless nerds creating hundreds of Thomas Kinkades and David Archuletas to alter the cultural balance of America.(Or, perhaps, confirm it.)
I am here to tell you that those very probably nice, sane scientists at Netflix are surely ahead of the game.
Here's how it works. I declare that "Climates", a very sensitive and refined Turkish movie, deserves five of my stars. The Netflixsters tell me that they have no doubt I will surely, therefore, enjoy "Rumpelstiltskin". Then they throw me a mind-altering gem.
They give me a line of movies that were enjoyed by "People Like You."
I would very much like to know who these People Like Me are. As I would just as dearly love to know what these Netflixsters know about me.
Have they dumped a surveillance cookie onto my laptop and discovered that I have been buying music created by Van Der Graaf Generator, Little Acre and Sugarland? Have they sent the mailman to peek through my windows and take notes on all the Michael Dibdin and Neil LaBute on my bookshelves? (Well, the US Postal Service has to find some way to make a profit out of Netflix.)
(Credit:
darkpatator)
Do they know about my cute little smile, my tendency to arch an eyebrow beyond my hairline when I'm cross, and my deep aversion to anyone who says "that's funny" when you tell them something funny?
How have they discovered there are People Like Me, when I have spent my whole life attempting to find them on four different continents and failed?
Am I not within my rights to demand that they reveal everything they know?
Is there some secret cabal of just four of us who gave five stars to "Dodsworth", "Inspector Morse" and "Metallica-Some Kind of Monster"?
What about those wise few (of us) who gave the minimum single star to "Johnny English", "8 Mile" and "Click."?
Why can't I meet these people? This could change my life. This could actually give meaning to my tawdry existence. By finding people who might like me, this might make me actually likable.
Might.
If the Netflixsters are so sure that there exist People Like Me, they should prove it. They should send me the email addresses, phone numbers, pictures and all other personal information of all the People Like Me in America. (Do they like lemon scones? Are they prone to hissing at anyone in a Prius? Do they find Lindsay Lohan and Gene Simmons strangely fascinating? Do they think Britain is responsible for 63% of the world's ills? )
Then I will hold an open experiment, with all readers of Technically Incorrect as my witnesses. I will meet each of these People Like Me and report on our supposed similarities.
It's over to you, Netflix. Work with me here. Together, we could bankrupt Match.com overnight.
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