Zima died of bad taste at age 14.

Those who didn’t shrug cheered wildly.

The noxious alcoholic beverage was pitched as a “maltalternative” to beer. Coors (TAP) sold 1.3 million barrels of the putrid stuff in 1994 -- the year Zima was introduced -- but consumption plunged to less than a third of that when the product was yanked from the market last year.

The basic problem: Zima tasted like a cheap cold remedy.

Zima was part of the nutty idea in the early 1990s to make products clear. Think Mennen Crystal Clean deodorant, Crystal Pepsi, Miller’s Clear Beer, and Stroh’s Clash.

Who knows why anyone thought transparency in a beverage was a marketing coup (there’s always water), but Coors blew about $38 million promoting Zima’s debut in 1994.

In TV ads, some doofus replaced S’s with Z’s and flogged the drink as “Zima: Zomething different.” Entrepreneurs quickly produced t-shirts reading “Zima Zucks.” This bit of guerilla counter-marketing is now a collectors’ item.

As part of the never-ending battle against zits, ever-inventive college kids mixed Zima with schnapps and christened it Nox-Zima.   

Many women developed a fondness for Zima - and it’s hard to build brand cred on young women’s fondness for just about anything that’s sweet, alcoholic and fast-acting.

Zima developed a reputation as a foofy drink for girls, and soon found itself mercilessly lampooned by David Letterman. Coors attempted to counter the hoots and catcalls by introducing Zima Gold as a hairy-chested, he-man drink.

But it was too late to salvage what was left of Zima’s tattered image, and any guy caught drinking the stuff was threatened by the Brotherhood of Man with permanent revocation of his Y chromosome.

A widespread urban legend also crippled Zima: It supposedly couldn’t be detected by a breathalyzer test, making it the logical choice for underage drinking. The nannies of the world then berated Coors for hatching a demon drink designed to corrupt high-schoolers.

Zima was preceded in death by Annie Bedsprings -- née Green Springs -- a sweet wine with tropical fruit juice tossed in for guaranteed morning-after heaving. 

But Zima survives as a punchline to bad jokes.

Question: What’s the difference between Zima and pond scum?

Answer: Pond scum tastes much better.

In lieu of flowers, please send the following note to marketers: Next time, at least sample the swill you’re selling.