Conan O’Brien Is An American Treasure

Last night, Conan O’Brien did his entire show on a miniature version of his set. A miniature desk, a miniature couch, a miniature table, all of it. If you had told me beforehand that this was going to happen, I probably would have thought (a) that it sounded like a neat sight gag, but was too thin a premise to get a whole hour out of, and (b) that you were a witch who could see the future and we should hold a trial immediately and/or burn you alive just to be safe. You can’t be too careful in these situations.

And yet, as I watched the show, I was consistently delighted. In addition to planting a giant, gangly Irishman at a tiny little desk for an hour, they also rolled out my favorite recurring segment on late night television (Puppy Conan), and brought on someone even bigger than Conan (Shaquille O’Neal) to play up the tiny set. It was inventive, and fun, and everything I liked about Conan when he had his gig at 12:30 on NBC. He may not have his good fastball everyday anymore, but when he reaches back to really let one fly, he can still light up the radar guns.

In other news, Jay Leno lost a bet and wore a mustache. Good one, Jay.