How I’m getting over Conan.

 

conanobrien swedish?Conan is leaving New York. There is less than two weeks left and I just started to deal with it. As if by my divine ignorance, seeing his gangly white body would continue to be a rite of spring in Central Park and he would say no to the yacht load of money and send Jimmy Fallon back to the straight to the DVD hellfire from which he spawned. But noooooooooooooo.

We lived in simple times my friends. Late night was so easy: 11:35 Dave, depending on guest a little Jimmy at midnight, 12:35 Conan, 1:35 COMICS UNLEASHED LATINO HEAT (duh). But they had to fuck with it.

It is deplorable enough having to suggest I make the Solomonesque choice between Conan and Dave but then they only rubbed their salty fingers in the wound of that half child when they announced Jimmy Fallon would take Conan’s chair. It was one of those things you thought was just a dream or a rumor, but then suddenly the Roots are suspending tour dates to become his house band.

The worst of it is the money hounds at NBC took away the one good thing about this whole clusteroctotangofuck and announced Jay Leno was not going away into car fixin’ retirement but instead was getting a NEW show at 10 O’clock. (Is he not the George Bush of late night? You don’t know anyone who watches him yet he continues to win in the ratings.) Conan was becoming the meat between two slices of whole grain healthnut shitbread. (For which Carson is the douche olive on top.) I had been left without an appetite for anything past the six o’clock news. Now it was going to be 11:35 Moral dilemma 12:35 what Netflix do I have left? It was only in the midst of this crisis that I discovered something on the menu that wet my appetite again.

I remember when he first won the seat that another Craig had vacated (How’s that working out for ya Kilborn?), I thought Craig Ferguson was just a stop gap so that Dave wouldn’t have to cancel the show he started as a thank you to his friend and mentor Tom Snyder, and for the longest while it was. Though may have taken him a few years, Ferguson has really hit his stride. Much like Conan did in the latter half of the 90’s, Drew Carey’s former TV boss has let go of the fear of being cancelled at anytime and started being himself. Indeed, his freeassociating Scot persona has become late night’s best opening monologue. While the jokes of Conan, Jay and Dave still rely on Presidents and celebrity gossip Ferguson brings us something more Monty Python then Johnny Carson. The first few minutes after the Dave’s Worldwide Pants logo may contain anything from talking ties fighting shark puppets to lip synching 50’s Mambo music. His joyous monologues following the credits are crafted like an Eddie Izzard show: topical, intellectual, silly, free wheeling with just a touch of homoerotica. His inches from the cameral approach has the intimacy of a friend going into a blissful drunk rant. While the rest of the late night world seems tight and forced during this current transtition, no one looks happier with his job then Craig Ferguson.  The method behind this apparently comes from this grand self realization from about a year ago explaining how he just didn’t want prey on the Britneys and other vunerable people in the world. It was one of those heart heavy moments that you never see on NBC but might expect on Dave (for instance when he had Bill Hicks’s Mom on a couple weeks ago to apologize for cutting him from his last TV appearance before he died.)


So while I’ll probably be forgoing Craig for the next week or so to mourn the Conan’s last few shows. I won’t wear be wearing a black veil for too long.  While Jimmy Fallon maybe sitting in Conan’s seat, Craig Ferguson has become the successor to the throne the was built by Dave himself .

 

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