May 14, 2008, marks a decade since “Seinfeld” went off the air. But in the ensuing 10 years, the show hasn’t gone away or been relegated to reruns at 2 a.m. on Sunday. Instead, the show is just as big — and just as important — as it ever was during its original run from 1989-98.

What’s interesting about its popularity are the sheer numbers behind the show’s (continued) success. In January 1999, “Seinfeld” had a 6.5 rating. During the 2006-07 syndication season it had increased to a 7.9 rating, an 11 percent increase from the 2005-06 season.

Speaking of ratings, the show’s finale was the third-most watched finale ever, with about 76.3 million people tuning in.

Want more? Let’s move on to the show’s titular star. Seinfield reportedly turned down a $5 million per episode for a 10th season by NBC, which the Guinness Book of World Records now identifies as the highest offer ever turned down in show business history. Seinfield also made an estimated $225 million when the show was sold into syndication. Fast forward to 2007: Seinfeld made $60 million last year alone from syndication, placing him at No. 2 on the Forbes list of Top TV Personalities and just behind Oprah Winfrey.

In addition to the absolute moneymaking behemoth “Seinfeld” was in the ’90s and has become today, its status as a great television show also lives on. The UK’s Channel 4 named “Seinfeld” the third-greatest sitcom in history. Better still, our own “TV Guide” named it the best show in the history of television.

But the show isn’t just a numbers extravaganza, as impressive as those listed are. There is also the modern vernacular the show has injected into our culture: “soup nazi,” “yadda yadda yadda,” “not that there’s anything wrong with that” and “master of your domain,” just to name a few. I don’t know anyone who hasn’t used at least one “Seinfeld”-ism in his or her life.

The show was, oddly enough, a lightning rod for celebrity guests and cameos. Among the most notable were Rudy Giuliani (while mayor of New York City), Bryant Gumbel and Keith Hernandez. Lesser known guests include Courtney Cox (before “Friends”), Kathy Griffin and Jane Leeves.

In addition, “Seinfeld” was a how-to on manners, albeit on situations that are just the “silly details” of life, as Caryn James in a New York Times article put it. The show discussed how long you’re supposed to hold onto a card, whether bringing chocolate or cinnamon bobka to a party is better and how many dates you have to go on before a phone call break-up is not an option. Then there was the marble rye incident in which George’s mother exclaims cake has to be served after dinner with coffee because drinking coffee by itself is ridiculous.

The show even spawned a new holiday that has actually caught on — Festivus. A holiday that replaces Christmas, it was invented (on the show) by George’s father Frank after he became cynical about the commercialism of Christmas. The holiday apparently has staying power, because a 2005 New York Times poll showed 3 percent of Americans celebrate the fake holiday. In reality, writer Dan O’Keefe drew from childhood memories to create the show: His father created the holiday in 1966.

The show has some rather unusual ties to Wisconsin, too.

First, our very own Gov. Jim Doyle has “encyclopedic knowledge” of the show, according to the The Capital Times. “Governor Festivus,” as he was dubbed in 2005, even put up the fabled Festivus pole for the holiday season (but stopped after the Michael Richards incident).

Second, Milwaukee-based hand-railing manufacturer The Wagner Companies produced a series of Festivus poles in 2005. And, yes, they have actually turned a profit on them.

Perhaps most important of all, the show went against the grain with its characters, creating the opposite of adored and likeable sitcom people. “Seinfeld” created “essentially unlikable, petty characters who would be annoying in real life,” as Caryn James put it.

Kramer was the ever-eccentric oddball who loyally kept his best buds (Jerry and Bob Sacamano) close. That said, Kramer also was the most candid of the group, spouting off whatever opinion came crashing into his discombobulated mind, usually causing emotional pain to others as a result.

Elaine was always hunting: hunting for the better job and the better man. Her failures at both throughout the nine seasons scream irony, considering she’s the smart one in the group — she scored a 151 on an IQ test. She was also incredibly superficial, almost to the point of self-parody. In addition, she was also the most violent with her trademark “Get out!” shove.

George was the neurotic high school best friend of Jerry. George’s one talent in life was lying: He once frankly admitted to living 20 lies simultaneously. He lied, cheated and stole whenever possible for his own benefit, and only told the truth for the same reason. His insecurity was the infinite well of entertainment from which Jerry drew whenever possible. Oh, and he (accidentally) killed his fianc?e.

Then there was Jerry, the egocentric narcissist. He seemed to be the culmination of the rest of the group: He had Elaine’s superficiality (on an exponential scale), Kramer’s brutal honestly and George’s incredible selfishness. He was usually the most reasonable of the four but was always up for whatever dumbass adventures the group got into — usually so he could laugh at them.

And yet America seemed to root for these human reprobates every week no matter what they did — whether it was betting on who could go the longest without masturbating or laughing at a fat guy getting robbed (while filming it, no less).

It’s odd, really. A show that began and ended with a conversation about a shirt button became the defining program of the ’90s. But maybe it all makes sense: The ’90s, after all, were a decade about nothing, so does it really seem so far-fetched that its accompanying show was also about nothing?