Make sure to mark the electronic calendar in your smart phones, ASU-ers, because this Friday marks the end of an era in American comedy. No, Steve Carell won’t go all Joaquin Phoenix on us and start doing opera; what I’m talking about is the last episode of “Late Night with Conan O’Brien.”
If you are like me, then some of your earliest memories of the gloriousness that is life past midnight involve ridiculous claims of what the year 2000 was going to be like and the freakish offspring of random celebrity couples. You always knew that the long-winded debates with your parents to let you stay up would be rewarded when that bear in the diaper would come out and fondle himself to the tune of “Sabre Dance.”
For nearly two decades now, Conan O’Brien has been at the forefront of the absurdist humor that has defined our generation. People like Andy Samberg and Will Ferrell owe a debt of gratitude to O’Brien for letting us know that it’s OK to laugh at things that don’t always make sense. (What the heck does a FedEx Pope do anyways?) “Late Night” launched the career of funny man Andy Richter and let us see Max Weinberg in a slightly more perverted light.
Now, I know that O’Brien will be back in June to take over the reins of the “Tonight Show,” but there is a part of me that fears O’Brien’s show as we know it will never be the same. As anyone who has seen the “Tonight Show” knows, the humor at 10:30 is … well, let’s just call it “different” than the line-crossing jokes that we are used to.
NBC knows that tamer humor is what sells before midnight, which is why instead of Triumph the Insult Comic Dog telling us what is suitable for him to poop on, they have Jay Leno asking undereducated tourists who the vice president is.
While I do believe that O’Brien will be able to stand up to some of the demands, it’s inevitable that the battle will be lost on some of the more risque bits. Coked-Up Werewolf is going to be walking a thin line come June.
The move to the West coast is also very disconcerting in the eyes of this “Late Night” superfan. From “Saturday Night Live” to “Seinfeld,” New York has always been the epicenter of American comedy.
Who knows what Pacific Standard Time will do to Conan’s comedic equilibrium? And just think of what those summer rays will do to his ginger kid skin.
Look at what happened to Matt LeBlanc, funny and dopey in New York-based “Friends” but sad and listless in L.A.-based “Joey.”
I know a lot of you are saying, “Well, what about Jimmy Fallon? He might be funny.” Although breaking character with laughter and awkward looks at the camera might be more acceptable on a talk show, I still doubt that he’ll be able to fill 17 years with an acoustic guitar and an Adam Sandler impression.
So, this Friday, at 11:37 p.m., sharp, take a seat in front of the boob tube and breathe in that O’Brien goodness, because it may be the last time you’ll see it at its finest.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I promised Frankenstein that I would let him waste a minute of my time.
In the year 2000, Andrew will take over the world with a band of martial arts trained dwarves known as Nindgets. E-mail your leader at andrew.hadder@asu.edu.
