Last Episode of Late Night with Conan O'Brien

to air tonight. White Stripes to play, which might look a little somethin' like this.

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I remember how I put a picture of Conan with a milk moustache on my bedroom door. He was everything I wanted out of humor in the 90s: sarcasm, self-deprecation, spazziness. Okay, so, the picture is still there, whatever.

I remember when I created my first online profile on AOL, and listed my favorite TV shows as "Felicity, Buffy, Friends, and Conan."

I remember when my sisters and I went around adding the phrase for me to poop on to the ends of all of our sentences, and especially to each others' (after a sufficiently dramatic pause), which made us laugh so hard we'd cry.

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Conan'll be back June 1, so there'll be no tears tonight, but I'll still watch, and feel sorry for his move to the opposite coast, about which he says: "I think putting us in Los Angeles, on the other side of the country, a place I'm genetically not engineered to exist in, could be just the ticket for us."

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In the meantime, we'll have some Jimmys:



My favorite Jimmys, ranked:

1. John
2. Kimmel
3. Fallon

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Apparently I am precisely aged to be "a member of the demographic most likely to view Conan with love and affection: people who reached late-night-TV-watching age at around the same time Conan's show started getting good, around 1995 or so. If you're like me, you started watching Conan regularly at around age 13 or 14, and continued as a highly regular viewer for the next eight or nine years, your loyal fandom enabled by the fact that, as a teenager and then a college student, you had no problem staying up until 12:40 every night."