I still can't stand him. He's disgusting, irritating, and ego incarnate. Almost always when I'm trying hard to go to bed at a decent time, guaranteed to grant me instant health, I turn on TV to catch news or music or an ancient Carey Grant film, and guess who pops up on the screen--skin and bones with a suit hung on him in the dressing room, probably by people paid minimum wage who cringe when he pulls at his collar, a constant habit that, I'm certain, he does in his sleep, in the shower, and at his grandmother's funeral. His face barely has enough skin stretched across the sharp angles and pointed nose and chin. Like Chucky--he's my worst nightmare.My friends say, "Stay with him; he's brilliant in interviews, smart, funny." I usually trust my friend's judgement, so, I try to get past his floppy hair--I make it--then he moves into shaking his arms like he's got a bee stinging his elbow--I'm there--he starts his chicken dance from the '70's--and I'm fading fast. He starts pointing at the audience. Why? Why does he point at the audience?
"Nooooo, stay, give him a chance, you'll love his interviews, we promise," my ghost friends dance up and down on the couch, forcing me away from the channel changer, even grabbing it to throw across the room. Then, it comes.-- The jump.
What is that? Why does he do this thing? It's not even a real jump. He squats down, then winds up, brings his arms higher, looks to the left then to the right, and waits as if he's saying "and now, here it comes . . . ready?. . . everybody watching? . . . and I have to turn away because he reminds me of every little geek in high school that I felt sorry for and wanted to befriend because they didn't know--they never knew they were loud, tasteless, in-your-face, creepy geeky. . . . Then Conon springs, bringing his feet straight up to his suit coat. When his feet hit the ground, his bony face with the indescribable smirk jerks backward . . . I AM PRINCE HAMLET. LOOK! LOOK AT ME! I AM ODYSSEUS RETURNED FROM THE GRAVE, and you poor smucks are so lucky to see me, have me, hold me close to your chests, and love, love, please love me. He points again at the audience: "Ahhhh, yeah, I know you; you glad; you glad and you and you, so glad to see me. Then, barely able to contain my gulping nausea, I watch this insecure, gawky excuse for an entertainer smooth his red hair one more time and that's it-- I'm scrambling for the remote--beating off my ghostly friends with whips and sabers, hoping I can flip the channel before I shoot the screen out with my new 22 pistol.
Conan O'brian embarrasses me. I hide my head under a pillow. He doesn't even know his stupid, hair-flipping prancing makes him look like a complete idiot. Sorry. I just can't do it. I can never make it past his flagrant love affair with himself to listen to his "brilliant interviews." It feels like eating Peanut Butter. I want to eat Peanut Butter; I want to like it because, I've been told, it's a good source of protein; all my friends like it; my family loves it; but it smells like rotten peanuts and sticks to the top of my mouth and . . . I HATE PEANUT BUTTER.
15 comments:
I like the way peanut butter lingers in your mouth and deliciously melts down your throat in thick sweet trickles.
Conan, however, goes down like a Cat's hairball comes up.
Cat's hairball--great line. Once when Beau was 18 months, I was afraid he wasn't getting enough protein, so I decided to feed him peanut butter. But I was afraid he'd hate it as much as I do, so I loaded the spoon full to get it down him before he hated it, and his mouth stuck shut. I had to scrape it out with my fingers to keep him from suffocating. Mother of the Year, I am, I am.
Tonight, Charity, I played with the colors on my Blog for three hours--three stinking hours, which absolutely forces me to admit how much my life sucks. So, I'm home to sleep in deep self-pity before I have to sit at this stupid desk again in the morning. Ugnnnnn. Can you hear me groan, AZ?
Wait, wait, I'm straining to hear......nope, no groaning. Just the breathing of a good friend I am glad is awake at unearthly hours of the night as much as I am, messing around on my own computer.
I love Conan because I've BEEN that awkward spaz. I have a kindred spiritship with Conan that comes from my jr. high days, when I realized I was sort of brilliant, mostly gawky and nerdy, and able to satirize most teenage things to my own humor.
It is only a miracle then that I didn't drive you just as crazy with my mock cantaloupe fights with Trevor or Serena and my army man cakes. You say you hate them, but for some reason you don't. I think God helped you not pull a gun on me like you want to pull it on Conan.
Sharon, you're just damn wrong about this. That is all.
And FYI, Conan is reputed to be an incredibly friendly guy to work with. His antics might be hard to handle, but his comedy writing is unrivaled.
I'm sorry, but you're just wrong. And no, I won't allow for "difference of opinion" or crap like that...it is a universally valid and absolute principle that Conan is funny. Sorry. I hate to break it to you. And you're still tops, just wrong and tops.
Joe, I'm so RIGHT about this. And now that you tell me he writes his own stuff, you've taken away my only excuse for his chimpanzee antics. I thought surely someone high up in the network, who thinks all night-time-TV-watchers are mindless idiots, insisted he goes through his spastic routine to bring in viewers. NOW, I have no excuse for him at all. He's a first class nerd, Joe. Face it. You're just a softy who happens to like nerds. and that's OK. Don't worry. We honor you and love you anyway.
I'm ambivalent about Conan. I used to hate him mightily. My friends persuaded me to give him a chance. I gave him a chance. And a chance. And a chance. And then finally I saw that he really was funny, funny in a weird but genius way. I thought that about him for a few years before I realized he reuses the same tired jokes over and over again. I can't tolerate watching him anymore. I don't think it's because he's unfunny; I think it's because he's been in that role for so long he's gotten sick of it.
I don't blame anyone who doesn't see his humor. Nor do I blame anyone who does.
I blame anyone who doesn't see his humor. I blame SM.
Joe, beloved friend of all friends, you little snot. How come I get more blame than wishy washy Watson? I have to admit that after your strong endorsement and because Em likes him, last night I got home early to tune in to the car driving desk, which I had to quickly tune out. Charlie Rose ...blah blah. But, then, because I love my friends Joe and Emily so much, I sacrificed my integrity and tuned back in to see Conan interviewing the guy from "Office." I had to admit that he's a smooth interviewer--not choppy like Leno, not look-at-me like Craig F.(although he does loves his hair flipping in the air), not tired like the once brilliant Letterman, but . . . where is the hook? Actually, if either of you could just explain what his opening antics are trying to do, I'd love it. Help me. Help me. What is he doing? Is it Abbott and Costello? Harold and Maude? WHAT
And Em, you can't compare. Your nerdy dripping and spitting a full mouth of hamburger, ketchup, and pickles all down the front of you (in front of my father, Geez, I forgot you really did this) among other Gillz personal weirdness never has had arrogance attached to it.
SM, your father loves me.
And the car driving desk!? I LOVE the car driving desk skit!
But you're right about the opening antics....I admit in 2001, Jade Janes and I used sit on pins and needles to see whether tonight would be a Conan spin finale or not (he didn't ALWAYS do the jump and spin just before the opening monologue...it used to be a one out of seven or eight type deal). But I agree a bit with Stubb...Conan's gotten a bit comfortable and recycles a bit much of his old jokes because he has enough of a superficial following to get away with it. Today's Conan isn't the same as 2000's Conan.
So the question is, what happens when he takes over Leno's studio? What happens when this most New Yorker of New York talk show hosts has to migrate to LA? What happens when Mr. Tall-n-Pasty has to hobnob with surfers and board shorts? This could be a hefty turning point in O'Brien's personality. I like him. I hope he lasts. I hope he doesn't wear down into a gravelly rut of past jokes. I don't think he has to. He's a Harvard man after all, and a old Simpsons writer. He's got the stock of brilliance in him yet and I'll still stand behind him. The car driving desk bit......that's brilliance. Can't you see the arrogance is all a show?
Interesting point about his move to LA.
Yes, of course, it's a show. His whole show is a showy show, but I detest arrogance of any kind (possibly because my inner soul is filled with it, but I don't know...). Whose modern day arrogance is he satirizing? If you say the Governor of California, I'd almost buy it except for the jump and spin, which I've never seen him not do. guga. But, just stop making fun of Conan right now, Emily G. You're going to get us in trouble with good friend Joe, and I'm not having any part of that. (Though I have to admit my image of him when he gets upset at me is of a beautiful black haired dark Thor with angry wasps flying out eyes, mouth, ears, and circling head. Someone should paint that? Charity? It'd be thrilling.)
Hey, Em. I need you. Coming up here anytime soon?
Yeah, Rexburgian friend Price and I might show up during our next off-week. It's up to him because my car would never make it.
And I'm not making fun of Conan....I'll always stand behind him. Really. He's been there for me through thick and thin and many a finals week was saved by his spinning and jumping reminding me that there is still joy to life.
And if you hate arrogance so much, why are you making Grifter out to be a greek god thor man? Sheesh. It'll go to his head.
Anyway, I'll let you know about Rexburg on Tuesday, hopefully. It wouldn't be for another week and a half. But I'd really like to come. We almost left a few nights ago but then decided it'd be a bit rash.
Sharon, I have to agree with Joe and disagree with you.
What you see as unaware is completely self-conscious. He is a nerd, that's his schtick. He knows exactly how hideous he looks, how floppy and unsightly his hair his, how skinny and ungainly, how pale and ridiculous he is.
The ego that Conan exudes is a parody. It's not real. I've seen him turn it on when I've gone to see him live. The reason that Conan is more brilliant (yes, I'm saying it) than Letterman, Leno, and Carson (Johnny not Daly) is the fake ego. Letterman navigates guests like an angry kid at a birthday party who doesn't want anyone stealing his thunder. Leno is a buffoon who thinks his stand-up is topical and new and is painfully wrong. Carson's unrivaled nighttime spot made him lazy and unwilling and blind to why he should reinvent himself. Conan's blown up super ego is a parody of all talk show hosts.
I've been watching Conan since the first year he started. I've watched him try to be different, find a routine, be horribly awkward to the point that no one in the audience was laughing, and just find hilarious moments of "this-is-who-I-am".
You hate his opening monologue? I hate that he has to do it. I hate that a talk show host has to be a Stand Up Comedian as well as a host. His little awkward jumps and fake guffaws, his walks off camera are refreshing as opposed to Letterman's constant buttoning/unbuttoning of his jacket, Leno's shoulder shrugs, Carson's "I'm funny" smirk. I hate monologues anyway. I wait for his opener skits which are great, and yes, his interviews are whip smart.
I hope he stays off-beat when he moves to L.A. I think Leno is completely unfunny and Letterman is an ass. Conan is my hero.
Letterman is an ass, but I have a soft spot for him, too.
Letterman won me over with how he took NOT getting Carson's spot. He was in line. And I stay with him--though I don't watch him anymore 'cause he's tired--because of his brilliant 9/11 monologue. He put his heart out there with no show, no shame, no self-consciousness. He started with "I'm angry. I'm just damn angry. . . ."
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