...is lists. Yes, lists--the cultural equivalent of spam--are why Dave is going to Hell.

Lists litter the internet landscape. They clutter newspapers and magazines. List books routinely shove their way to top of the Bestseller List. Communication has become an exchange of PowerPoint presentations: five bullets and a graphic.

And Dave started it all.

The Beginning of the List

Long ago, in another millennium, back in the 80s, when Dave had hair, the Top Ten List was a popular weekly feature, even more popular than Stupid Pet Tricks or Larry "Bud" Melman or (my own favorite) Dave's mom. It was popular for good reason; it was genuinely funny, always funny. People looked forward to it. They talked about it the next day, between classes or at the water cooler.

But success breeds excess. The Late Show eventually made the Top Ten a nightly feature, and of course even Dave's two dozen gag writers couldn't write ten themed gags five nights a week. In short order it became a lame routine tricked out with guest listers and increasingly frenetic visuals.

It's still popular, of course, even more than before. Its rote predictability is part of its appeal, a familiar pause before bowel time and bedtime. No harm there, but what should have been confined to a glowing 27" cathode ray tube has migrated to real life. Now people do their own Top Ten lists. They do them everywhere: business presentations, dinner parties, campaign rallies, end-of-year reflections, New Years parties, birthdays, school essays, vacation plans, after-date gabfests.

Numbers Are Not Content

"So what's wrong with that, ranter?" you ask, "Just what have you got against lists?"

At one time, nothing. Everything in moderation, but lists have gotten out of hand. As an element of content, lists are fine. As a relief from content--a break between thick paragraphs (back when paragraphs actually were thick, and not today's sentence-and-a-half Attention Deficit Disorder blurts)--lists are fine.

But lists have become content or rather, lists are now mistaken for content by both writers and readers. Lists have replaced discussion, persuasion, conversation. The countdown has become part of the ritual: Top Ten Best. Top Nine Worst. Top Eight Funniest. Top Seven Dumbest... and so on, till we reach the end of the countdown and the inevitable half-hearted applause (a letdown that deters no one from the next time).

How to Write When You Have Nothing to Say

Yawningly dumb and boring as they are, lists persist. The are the linguistic equivalent of opportunistic plants and creatures. Like kudzu and nutria they have moved into a soft yielding part of the (social) environment, choked such weak competitors as wit and insight, and proceeded to carpet or devour cultural intercourse.

Lists are popular with writers because they require little effort, less thinking. Suppose, you're a blog writer stuck for a topic. You've been here before. You know the drill. First grab something general—say, food—and narrow the category into something more specific, say, "pies."

Ah, but you have nothing to say about pies, other than you happen to like them. Not a problem! Just make a pie list. Give it a theme:

"My Favorite Pies."

Now do a brief introduction, something off the top of your head, nothing that requires more thought than an elevator chat.

"My mother makes great pies. I like homemade pies best. I don't much like restaurant pies, though sometimes they're good."

Now, segue:

"These are my favorite pies:"

Now paste your list. Warning: beside each pie, you must write something, anything, for instance:

"Spray on some AutoWhip and put it before the fridge. Great on a hot day!"

Who Cares?

Notice that I did not stipulate which pie. Your comments needn't be specific to the item. No one will notice. People scan the internet. Your readers, trained to speed-read, only pick up the boldface. They don't notice the words. For instance the preposition "before" in the "Autowhip" sentence makes no sense. The right word is "in." Did you notice? (Good for you if you did. You have the makings of a reader.)

Back to the blog. Wrap things up with a personal observation. Repeat your theme. Encourage the reader to get involved.

"Those are my favorite pies. What are yours? Make a list!"

Now post. Coffee break.

Yes, We Have No Content

Readers like lists almost as much as writers. Lists don't require thinking, only agreement or disagreement. "Yeah, I love AutoWhip!" or "AutoWhip sucks!"

Most of all though, a list gives the reader the false sense of having ingested something. Each number in a list is a distance marker saying "You made it this far, only __ to go." By the end, the reader feels he has actually achieved something. He can put a check mark on his Do Today list: "read something."

Yes, the reader has read, but what has the reader learned? Granted, every blog post doesn't have to be educational. Put it this way: what's the take-away? Entertainment? Instruction? Information?

Nothing. The reader doesn't know how make a pie, or make a pie crust or what makes the quickest pie filler or even how high to set the oven. He doesn't know what might make one pie better than another. He doesn't know anything about the history of pie-making, or what pies are popular in different countries. He doesn't find out that pies have uses beyond food. (See "Stooges, Three.")

Content: RIP

In conclusion, I would like to say that though Content was once King, the King is dead. Long live the King. Or rather, "Kings," since royalty is now plural: as many rulers as can crowd onto the throne.

And it started with Dave.

The Late David Letterman Goes to Late Show Hell

Dave has a lot to pay for. And someday he will. He'll arrive in the Pit, which will bear a striking resemblance to a TV set, complete with zombie cameramen. A self-important little devil with a clipboard will hand him a Styrofoam cup of old, cold coffee and greet him.

"Sorry to hear you died, Dave. Welcome to The Hell Show, which runs 24/7 forever. The Boss will be out shortly. He always likes to start off with a funny list. You know what I mean, I don't have to explain that to you. Anyway, we'll need that in fifteen minutes. And since the Boss does a new show every half hour, we'll need another one right after that. And don't milk the same jokes, okay? The Boss hates that. I know, it's a tough job but, well, it beats the pitchforks, right? Hey, I like that! Can you do a Top Ten for pitchforks? You'll think of something. Ah, here's the Boss now! You got that list yet?"

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