The Top 10 List of Top 10 Lists

It's that time of year again when editors need to fill space and people need to be told what to buy lest they actually think on their own. Thus, we have not only have The New York Times' Top 10 Books of the Year, but also their Top 100 Notable Books of the Year list which, now that I think about it, is a strangely vague title. Are they notable because they're good or just because they got the biggest PR, media and critical attention? Well, Nicole Ritchie's "novel" never made the list, so their credibility is intact for now, no matter how boring and obvious the list may be.

A more interesting list, however, is The Atlantic's 100 Most Influential Americans of All Time. This title is decidedly not vague, but it is a little unambitious. I mean, geez, only 100? "Of All Time"? Slackers.

The list is full of predictable (which I don't use to imply they're undeserved) choices: Abraham Lincoln (#1), George Washington (2), Thomas Jefferson (3) and Martin Luther King Jr. (8). What's interesting is reading about how the ten historians chosen to vote by The Atlantic made their decisions...

No celebrities! What? Are they all living in some stuffy, TV-less, elbow-patched-jacket vacuum? Historian Walter McDougall "eliminated celebrities altogether on the grounds that their influence is shallow, ephemeral, and replaceable." David M. Kennedy said entertainment is "highly evanescent" and that most entertainers "leave no lasting legacy." How colorless and asexual are their sad little worlds.

Of course, there is Elvis Presley (66) and Louis Armstrong (79), but, I mean, come on. Interestingly, Walt Whitman is ranked 22nd. Haven't they heard? Poetry is so 60's! A-duh hickey, too-cool-for-school (or should I say, too-cool-because-of-school?) historians. Since poetry is such a floundering, uninfluential medium today, how could Mr. Body Electric rank so high? (Please note: the last 39 words are totally sarcastic. Poetry isn't floundering. It's dead. Dead as a rotting carcass on top of a dried skeleton on top of Richard Grieco's career.)

So allow me, at the risk of making those so-called "historians" jealous, to make some of my own suggestions for this sorely lacking list:

3) John Travolta. Bear with me here. OK, in Grease he was this totally studly, good-looking, popular guy who could also sing and dance and wear fitted t-shirts all while appearing 100% heterosexual. So, thanks to him, a whole generation of women could believe that the studly, good-looking, popular guys who could also sing and dance and wear fitted t-shirts who went to their high school were actually straight, and those guys could actually convince themselves and others that they were all about chasin' the cooter. Thus, with one jut of Travolta's slithery hips, a whole generational high school survival system was solidified: millions of guys can avoid getting beat up and get to have prom dates and millions of girls can convince themselves that it's normal for really sensitive boyfriends to bake banana bread for their girlfriends. God bless this American tradition. God bless John Travolta.

2) The Sumerians. Because my .5 seconds of online research taught me that the Sumerians inadvertently invented beer 6,000 years ago (although it doesn't say specifically where they were when this happened, it's safe to assume it was either Vegas or the University of Wisconsin-Madison). Anyone who invented this sweet nectar must have been the celebrities of their time (even if we're talking about an entire culture). Sure, they may not be "American" (what does that even really mean anymore, anyway?) but because of them, ugly people get to have sex, frat boys accelerate the Darwinian process by killing 90% of their brain cells within two months of their freshman year and I get through life every day. (Please note: that last part was totally sarcastic. I also use pot. And Starbucks.)

1) Phil Donahue. Not because he introduced whiny, self-absorbed validation-seeking as self-help. Not because he taught us that the best way to communicate is through confrontation and televised humiliation. And not because he was a totally intellectual stud muffin paving the way for the Matt Lauers and Stone Phillipses (remember Stone Phillips? No? Neither do I) of the world. No, Donahue is influential because without him there would be no Oprah, and without Oprah there would be no Tyra Banks. 'Nuff said.

Yeah, so suck it, Thomas Edison. Eat you heart out, Walt Disney. And it's more like the "Wrong Brothers," Wright Brothers.

But, of course, these are just suggestions. The Atlantic's list is still kind of pretty good. I guess.