Zombie magazines.

I like the New Yorker, but simply don't have time to read it.

So I quit paying for it.

So I get a notice, that says something like: "Last Chance to re-subscribe."

Two months later: "Last Chance, for reals...."

A month later: "We really mean it."

A month later: "No, really. We really, really mean it."

A month warning: "We're warning you!"

A month later: "Don't make us do it!"

Meanwhile, I suppose, they can continue to tell their advertisers that they have a customer in Bend, Oregon.