Pondering the powerpointlessness of existence.

Why do we exist? Is that chair really there? What is the sound of one hand clapping?  Long have I pondered these mysteries, as I'm sure you have.

Sitting cross-legged, somewhere in the high Himalayas?

No, sitting in a meeting room, somewhere between slide 37 and slide 157 of a powerpoint presentation.

We have Bill Gates to thank for bringing verbal vomit into the digital age. Powerpoint makes it possible for people effortlessly to spew words onto slides, slide after slide, forever, mercilessly, to the last syllable of recorded time.

Actually, you can't blame Mr Gates for inventing a tool which, like any other, can be used or abused.

You can, however, blame Moses.  His coming down from the mountain is the first recorded instance in history of someone using visual aids in support of a presentation.

Two tablets of stone, five points hammered onto each.  A lot to take in. No wonder the human race finds them hard to follow.

There's a clue in the first word of the phrase 'visual aid' - and that's what a slide should be.

Whoever came up with the phrase didn't say 'verbal aid'.  Verbal aids include the lungs, throat, tongue, teeth and other bits we use when talking. Our brain, maybe.

Words belong in your mouth, not on your slides.  For a visual aid to be effective it has to be entirely or predominantly graphic.

Let's say I'm giving you a presentation about a dog.  Here's an example of a non-graphic visual aid.

The only graphic element here is the colour.  You may say there's useful information, but I can tell you all that.  I don't need to write it on a slide.

Unless I say nothing and let you read it in silence, I'm forced to read it out to you word for word.  Which is boring - and suggests you can't read.

Much better, surely, to use an image, such as a photo of the actual dog.

If you have to use words on a slide, then why not set yourself the challenge of using no more than five?  They'll have much greater impact that way.

Because there are so few words here, they become graphic elements in their own right.  Most of the slide is white space (well, purple).  This reduces the information load and gives impact to the few words that you do use.

But perhaps it's a blessing that we've moved on from stone-age visual aids.

There's a lot less wear and tear on arm muscles.