If a death clock suddenly became visible and advertised your life rations for easy viewing, say your smartphone, would you spend your time differently? Would you be OK sitting at a desk five days a week, doing a job you hated? Would you spend two days camped outside at Best Buy, hoping to save two hundred bucks on a curved television? How about buying into a financial scheme that promised freedom only after 90 percent of your life’s rations have bled dry? And more importantly, what remaining time on your death clock would deliver the much-needed head smack that screamed, “OMG, my life is too
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