Unlike blogs or Barack Obama speeches, newspaper columns can’t go on and on and on. In the newspaper game, space is money — and when you run out of space, it’s time to stop.
That’s what the editor is for. If the columnist exceeds his limit, the editor slashes the thing like a slaughterhouse worker run amok, with no thought given to the art of the essay. That’s why some of my columns read like a dramatic murder mystery, until you get to what is presumably the end — and realize that you’ll never know whether the butler did it.
Space limits, word limits, have their value; without some constraint, everything would read like Sarbanes-Oxley rulemaking, which goes on and on about non-GAAP financial measures, especially as they relate to the disclosure threshold, except for disclosure of off-balance sheet transactions, especially when the effective time for disclosure must be balanced against a general prohibition against non-audit services. And don’t forget those directly comparable financial measures. It’s right there. I think.
In theory, at least, even formal speakers are urged to limit the blah-blah-blah. The old rule of thumb for corporate CEOs: Don’t make the speech longer than 20 minutes, because even the Sermon on the Mount wasn’t that long.
Which brings us to the point of today’s column (you must get to the point rather quickly, before you run out of space). What about the Ten Commandments? The commandments are a marvel of terse writing, required to fit on two tablets that you could carry down the mountain. That’s probably why there are only 10. Can you imagine some Fortune 100 general counsel being told to compose an extensive code of conduct, in the form of 10 commandments, displayed as bullet points?
There’s almost an irresistible urge to tinker with the Ten Commandments, constrained as we are by the “ten” thing. The changes must be in the form of subtle edits or annual-report sized footnotes, except for the occasional suggestion that we add an 11th Commandment (more about that later).
One of the most edited commandments is IV, which in some editions now reads: “Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy, except for the kids’ soccer games and the entire National Football League season.”
Governor Malloy has proposed a Fourth Amendment revision, which would read: “Remember the Sabbath day, as best you can, because Connecticut is finally going to allow you to buy booze on Sundays.” The small liquor stores will obey the commandment about not killing anyone, but they will hire armies of lobbyists to remind us that on the seventh day, thou shall not do any work — especially the sons, the daughters, the menservants, and the spoiled liquor store owners.
The itch to add an extra commandment or two is often up for discussion. As the GOP Presidential contenders bear false witness against each other, Ronald Reagan’s often-quoted 11th Commandment comes to mind: “Thou shalt not attack a fellow Republican.”
The Jewish magazine “Moment” asked a team of rabbis last year for suggested 11th Commandments. The best modern add-on came from an Englewood, N.Y., rabbi, who suggested: ‘Keep your ego in check.” As he explained, ‘In this age of rampant narcissism, where we place ourselves at the center of our own universe, we require divine reinforcement of the message that we are here to do God’s work.”
Of course, theology is tricky. Since great columnists already do God’s work, it’s hard not to have a bit of an ego.
I have to stop now. It’s written in stone. Like the 11 Commandments.
Laurence D. Cohen is a freelance writer.
