Here’s Conan O’Brien at the sound check for his show in Eugene playing Radiohead’s breakthrough single “Creep.” This is the kind of thing that sets my loins aflame (in a good way), but I realize that the Coco love is a little too strong around here sometimes. To offer a dissenting opinion, my good friend Carlos — a half-Mexican Texan but otherwise stellar human being — emailed me the other day.
Do New Yorkers really love Conan so much or is that they hate Leno with a vengeance? I scroll between WWTDD and your blog and it just appears that you guys would both take a bullet for him. Maybe we are just dumb rednecks down here who have sex with our cousins, but I have asked around and it seems like nobody gives a rat’s ass.
It’s a valid point: most people don’t care. But sporting a Cone-bone isn’t something unique to New York, like pride in the size of subway rats (Brendon from WWTDD is from Louisiana, after all). Conan doesn’t have appeal to Joe Schmoe, which is why he isn’t hosting “The Tonight Show.” He appeals to longtime “Simpsons” fans, freelance artists without health care, and people who’ve been to Radiohead shows and know that Thom Yorke’s accent is more pronounced in concert. He’s a comic for geeks, and his self-deprecation doesn’t translate to “redneck.” I should know, I tried being self-deprecating in the Marine Corps, and my first C.O. almost fired me. That’s not a joke, by the way. It really happened, and it’s a big reason why I’m wearing a bathrobe today instead of camouflage utilities.