Conan O'Brien to Succeed Jay Leno in 2009, NBC Announces

Wow, been crazy busy. This news was just to big to pass up though. Check out the New York Times article. Much to come..

Tonight I write to answer certain question asked by you, the readers, by imaginary people and by myself. I know, everyone is curious. But lets see, where to begin?

Why haven't you hooked up with any girls form the sorority yet?
OK, I guess we'll jump right in then. I could say that I already have but I just haven't told you. Of course that would be a lie. I could say it's because I'm ugly and shy. I'm neither. I guess it comes down to a few reasons. The first of which is, of course, the G2K. She is not necessarily forbidding me to do anything (in fact, she said if I really I had to hook up with a girl here to be happier then I should) but really because I think about her so much it's hard to think about all those girls scampering around. In that regard I have become less mike a boy in the house and more like a piece of furniture. I'm a lightstand. Just there but not really interacting except for essential purposes. Of course it's by choice and it's not 100% of the time but I'm not out there peeking up skirts and down skirts. And of course, while being a lightstand, I'm still attracting some attention. What can I do if some girls just want to hump the lightstand? If it comes down to it and one of the girls really corners me, I don't think I would hesitate too much to say yesAnd there's one girl who's getting closer and closer. The other answer is, you gotta be tactful. Cause if you play a girl wrong on the first shot you're gonna screw yourself for the rest of the house. It's all strategery.

Is "Hegemonic" a word?
Apparently so. I refuse to tell you what it means.

How Old are You?
My soul is 100. My body is still early 20's. It's kinda like being your parents when they say "if I had you're youth and strength knowing what I know now..." only not. I get cranky.



How come you wrote that crazy post about Karl Rove and didn't say anything about CBS or Dan Rather?
Let me start off by saying, fuck you. And by fuck you I mean I'll write what I want when I want, with no regard for equal time, actual factual analysis or any regard for truth. But at the same time, I am a dedicated student of journalism and understand that CBS fucked up. I know my media law (or I'm learning it) and the supreme court case of New York Times V. Sullivan decision gives the media the power to basically say whatever the fuck they want about government officials so long as they think it's true, don't intend to cause "actual malice", and don't show blatant disregard for the truth (I know, school is making me all smart again!) but still CBS fucked up. And I didn't write about it because there are hundreds of blogs out here where you can read conservatives calling Rather a hack, telling you to never trust the media and demanding CBS to fire everyone on their staff. So I thought I would take a different approach. That's what us journalists do. We chose an angle and use it to our advantage. Bitch please.

What's hot on your ipod right now?

I hate talknig about music because I have weird tastes and always piss someone off. That's why I love it too. I recently discovered David Gray's "Lost Songs." It's one of those albums that just cuts through the bullshit and right into the artist's soul. I can't let go of the Garden State soundtrack either. The Killers pick it up a little bit, and I rounded it off with a live set from a usual suspect that none of you yet appreciate but who you will eventually come to realize is crazy talented... even if he is a toolbag.

Wow, I thought I had more questions to answer. Guess not. I could make some up, but then again, there's enough bullshit on this website already.

My grandfather came to visit me last night. He sat right down on the edge of the bed. An act of closeness completely out of context for the tough Jew from Brooklyn who didn't take shit from anyone. But there he sat, with a Buddha like grin of complete contentment. And when I saw that smile I knew I was in the presence of something special. Because just like myself, my grandfather had never been able to wry himself free of that heavy burden. The one that that shows itself in the wrinkles between our eyebrows and the the corners of our eye-sockets every time we smile. But there he sat, all anguish washed away.

Why weren't you at holiday services this past week? It's our people's new year. Are you so quick to forget?

No, I've just been blazing my own trail lately. Trying the circuitous route to some of those answers I've been looking for.

Well from the looks of you you haven't found what you've been looking for.

Why? How do I look?

Tired. Tired of searching. Tired of trying. Tired of carrying that load on your back. You're young, but still you've managed to pull so many heavy stones right out of thin air.

Well you and all the generations before me have left me such a mess. It's just not black and white anymore. I can be anywhere in the world in less than a day and I can learn anything about the world from my tiny, second-story bedroom but all that does is make me more lost and confused.

The places and answers you seek aren't outside, they're inside.

Trust me, I've spent plenty of time looking in. That's where this all started.

I think you were looking in the wrong parts.

Does it all make some sense at the end or will I just look ridiculously foolish?

You know what the last thought I had was?

I can't imagine.

I wondered if the caddy had a full tank of gas.

What?

That's how much sense it makes at the end. Just the same amount it did at the beginning when I watched you take your first breath, open your eyes and start screaming as loud as you little lungs would allow.

So then every choice really makes no difference?

Oh no, each choice is critically important.

Well then How do I make the right one?

Chance. It's chance that got you this far. You've seen places across the globe and you've made friends and you even met a nice half-Jewish girl since we last talked, didn't you?

Ya, well we're not really talking right now. I mean, I'm young and I'm far away form her and I want to make mistakes. Stupid stupid mistakes that could send my life hurtling off in the completely wrong direction.

OK, you can run away but you gotta face that maybe you fell in love.

You're not one I'd expect to be giving me any relationship advice. I know your past.

Respect your grandfather you tyrant! I learned something about love in my journey. Cause a kid like you, you think lust is love. You don't know love. The secret that lets you know when you're in love.

out with it...

When you've in love, every time you see that person it's like coming home. It's like you've been lost and stranded without a map. But when you meet them, and you see their face, you know that you're home. You know you're where you are supposed to be. That is the love that's real. That's the love that's going to last.

I'm tired and weary.

You're weary from your long journey. Those are bags under your eyes. You found your home and you've left it again and all you want to do is curl up where you belong. Look at me. I know. I know what it's like to lose your way. I got so lost and turned around I never found my way back. But I'm here to point you in the right direction.

But Papa, I just don't know if I'm ready to be pointed.

Sleep now, you'll find your way. You've got something I never had. You've got the key to deciphering the map. You just gotta crack the code. It will come.

And with that he patted my stomach, stood up, smiled down at me once more and walked out the door.

If Karl Rove did what Maureen Dowd suggests than he might be one of the more brilliant political tacticians of all time. Lets take a walk in his shoes for a moment. It's getting down to the wire. You've indirectly been advising the Swift Boat veterans and exploiting the 527 loophole without so much as a peep out of the FEC. You've been bashing Kerry's decorated Vietnam service record for the last few months and loving every minute of it. So what happens when the dems go, "hey wait a second... we're getting asked if Kerry earned those two purple hearts while Bush was sitting around in the Air National guard?" So they go looking for info on Bush's guard career. For anything. The problem is that's exactly what they can't find. Anything. Anything that provides any details beyond the fact that Bush was in the guard. So they dig and dig and dig. Maybe He missed a physical or was honorably discharged with a little less honor. The press wants anything. They'll take anything they can possibly get.

That's when Karl Rove saunter's into the picture. Is he sweating it yet? Hell no. He's Karl Rove. That nasty little grin of his. Why? Cause he may have just pulled the most brilliant move the of 2004 Vietnam campaign. He took facts that very well could have been legitimate, threw them together on a document that, after any in-depth investigation, would easily be discovered to be false documentation. Then he leaked those true facts on that false document to CBS. Suddenly every fact is considered suspect. Badabing-badaboom. CBS looks like amateurs. No one knows what's true about bush's service and they don't care to investigate. Because they know any document worth finding got shredded long ago.

I'm not saying Rove did it. I'm saying if he did he's the nastiest, slimiest, ugliest and most brilliant tactician in the world. Now the House Reps wants a congressional inquiry. and as Dowd says, the same republicans who didn't want an inquiry into Sept. 11 or the lack of WMD's in Iraq (oh ya, do you still remember why we even went to war in the first place?) or why a Medicare bill was passed on faulty figures or whether the FEC is letting the 527's ruin the election.

I'm not saying. I'm just saying.

I got soul but I'm not a soldier. It's that time of year I figured everyone would start to become a little more scarce. It's the last chance weeks. Last chance to get what you want out of summer. Last chance to take a breath before you have to buckle down for the winter roller-coaster. So I'll cut you some slack if you're not rocking out. But most of you are. In, fact, I think you're hitting your stride. . That Ashley Girl isn't talking about sex but I'm still loving it. The Simpleton is getting richer but maybe losing his soul in the process. And who does this girl Paige think she is?And I save the best for last. Tony P. Oh Tony. You're rocking hard from all angles. Marvin Gaye in the background. Inner-city blues. And I will wait to find if this will last forever. It's not supposed to.

It's make or break week for me. I chose make. Out the door at 8:30 AM and never back through the door until 10:30. G2K? Sorry babe, time is a precious commodity, I'll send you a postcard. Smokin' hot and well-mannered sorority girl? Ya sure, I got a few minutes to hang out with you on the couch after dinner. You play hockey? Ya I'll marry you. Don't judge me bitches, you don't know the half-of it. I don't wear flip flops. I don't wear mesh hats. I probably won't smile at you if you pass me by on the street. If you wear a pink polo-shirt I might punch you in the face. If you pop the top I definitely will.

My sister writes to me from the other hemisphere. She's younger and she's stranger and she could kick my ass and as a reward she is in south Africa rubbing elbows with Nelson Mandella's grandson and getting to be the one with the hot foreign accent. This is some communist propaganda bullshit. So I read about laws and reports and discoveries and get asked if I have registered to vote every time I walk outside. "Oh I'm registered, a registered felon" usually shuts them the hell up. Got so many books on my back is starting to hurt. Slept on the hard floor last night to compensate. Also maybe a girl in my bed. Bring the pain. Bring the pain. Bring the pain. I don't drink coffee but I did today? Can you tell?

Do you do the scramble? Stupid kids in the library get a cell call. And they jump up and run out so they can grab the call outside. Cause they are everyone else's bitch. I'm not my cell phone's bitch. I'm your bitch. Ask me to blog and I'll blog. Ask me to talk about sex and I'll talk about sex. Ask me to talk about politics, well I'm working on that. Don't ask me to talk about anything and this is the crap you are going to get. Journalist, law school, journalist, law school, journalist, law school. It doesn't matter so long as I can get my hands on an ibook.

Is god punishing Florida for the 2000 election? Maybe it's a warning for October. "this is your last chance or I'm wiping you old people off the face of the earth." Cause they're just voting for their prescription drug costs. They don't' give a fuck about the war I'm going to be paying for for the remiander of my natural life. Maybe I'm just tired. Maybe it's the call of the wild. Maybe it's all the short skirts and push-up bras. Makes me wanna holler, throw up both my hands. This ain't living, this ain't living.

And on that note...

I hope you appreciated Remembered. But I realized I left out a piece of my expirience. It's what I've learned of New York City since that day. My first trip to New York City was in early spring of 2002, following the WTC attack. It was an amazing place and I was only given a day to explore. 1 day to see what I could see. I spent that day with two friends. And I could still feel the pain. I could look into the people's faces and understand the hurt on a real level for the first time. I could stand over the WTC site and see how symbolic and powerful that gaping hole really was. New York City didn't really move as fast and as crazy as I had expected.

But this summer I took a second trip out there. And as I sat here looking at the Snow globe on my desk I remembered it. It was a different city. A city full of the life I had expected to see. The sun was shining and people were moving and life had a pace and a rhythm and best of all the city had a love. Or maybe it's that I had a love. I walked with her and I held her hand and we smiled all the way as we stepped from Grand Central to Greenwich Village and back again. And New York City wasn't about pain anymore. It wasn't sad. The city glowed with life and love. For a few days it was everything I had ever dreamed of my entire life.

And it would have been a shame to leave you with only the sadness. Cause it's out of that sadness that all other emotions can be reborn. All that emotional energy made that love all the more real. It was all the more intense. There was a passion in life there that I will strive to live with for the rest of my life. And I hope I can bring a little bit of that to you.

Remembered

I can't believe that today is September 11th. Not because it feels like it came too soon or because I don't want to face it but because it seems like nobody cares. Was there a moment of silence at the college football games? Not really. Did the news network give it any more than a passing 5 minute story? Barely. And that hurts me. Because really that day means so much in our history. And I think as future unfolds, it will mean so much in the future of our globe. The day everything changed. And I agree with Tony P. when he says it's ridiculous sept. 11th isn't yet a national holiday. Not so much a holiday but a day of remembrance. A day for all of us to sit back, to realize what was lost and to be so grateful for everything we've been given. But this day, September the 11th 2004 is just like any other saturday.

In my own way to honor the people who lost their lives and to keep the spirit of that day alive, I'll continue with what has become my yearly ritual of recounting my morning of September 11th, 2004.

I woke up for that ungodly early 8 AM geology class. I think that's when it happened. I wish I could say that I knew right then something went horribly wrong but honestly I had no idea. I left the science building and headed for the third floor of M house where I kicked off my shoes and returned to sleep. The phone rang, just like it had dozens of other times since I'd lived there, although I realize now it must have merely been a week or so into classes. I rose halfway out of my bed but not quite as far out of my slumber and answered the phone. It was my roommate P's dad. He asked politely how I was (that family was full of politeness, but east coast snobbery as well) and when I returned the favor his voice sounded strange. A sound of exasperation that I might ask how he was at a moment like this. He worked in the city and he told me the news. I was speechless. Whatever sleep still filled my eyes drained out as my brain tried to understand whether what I had just heard was some cruel joke or an even crueler reality. I think I may have let out a chuckle of utter disbelief. I think that was the last time I laughed all day. He told me to inform P that though he was shaken, he was out of harm's way. I assured him I would, hung up the phone, slipped on my shoes and headed downstairs. I met up with Dena on the first floor and explained the news, she said she had head a whisper of the similar story but, as we had not yet installed cable, we had no way of knowing what had happened. We walked to The Den, piecing together what few facts we could arrange. We arrived at the diner minutes later where the only operating TV could be found and suddenly we saw it all. We walked in to a packed house. People standing, sitting, all in awe, all silent and all in shock. I watched. I watched the gaping hole and after I stared I disbelief for long enough, I watched as the first tower came crumbling down. I watched, with horror, with sorrow, with disbelief and despair. I wish I could say that I was adding some bit of emotional bravado to this story but it would not be the truth. I watched as the dust cloud rose, as the people ran and as the windows shattered. I watched. In silence, in shock. I watched until I could watch no longer. Dena had disappeared. I was surrounded by all these people but I was alone. I left. I could not watch any longer. The ancient campus served its first real purpose. I sat down in the nook of a gigantic tree in the middle of the quad, and didn't know how to feel. I didn't know what to think. Then suddenly I just put my head in my hands and closed my eyes to try and process what I had just seen. But I couldn't think, all I could do was weep. I wept for a long time until I think there were no more tears left to cry. And then I sat. I sat and imagined why, imagined what it was like to be there. I sat. I imagined. I wanted to be part of the tree, to curl up within it and feel its unmoving strength. I wanted to feel the warmth of the water and the nutrients, roots to leaves to roots to leaves. All I wanted was to be something other than human, or at least something other than American.
That was by no means the end. There were days of piecing together what had happened. Days of complete stillness in NYC. There were weeks of sadness. Weeks of fear and confusion. I remember months later. I was leaving that place and I found myself in some hotel in middle America. Maybe it was Iowa, maybe Illinois, I have no idea. HBO was presenting a special remembrance of the day. I watched, and all of I came rushing back. All the things I had felt. I have a feeling it will be that way for a while. When I remember what happened, when I remember what I saw and what I felt and what I couldn't believe. I will remember, even if it does more harm than good. I will remember because I cannot forget. Because I shouldn't forget. Maybe I want to, need to but I won't. It's just not an option.

Down but not....

I'll bet you think I haven't been writing you for all these days. I'll bet you think I've been all busy and I forgot about you and decided you just weren't worth the effort. Nope. Not true. I wrote you three whole post. Three bulging and brilliant posts. Cause I really wanted to hit that political nail on the head. I really wanted to hammer that bitch home. Not home, maybe I wanted to hit it out of the park. Post one came at me low and away. (I'm a southpaw so that outside left un case you are really curious). Strike one. Pitch two was a high in my face speeder. Strike two. And the third was a sinker that made me look like I belonged back in the minors. Strike three. I was down but not out. Wait. Scratch that. 3 strikes. I was out. So I'm regrouping a setting the comeback stage. I think I found a way to get to you without fancy links and without naked pictures and without witty catchphrases. Well, maybe a few witty catch phrases. there is clearly much work to be done.


I went cruising my own blog today and I realized something shocking. The header reads :At the moment I live in a crazy town and work at a super cool magazine. The Truth Blog has no official connection with The Truth. The rest of my life you will discover here. It's all blatant lies along with my profile these days as well. time for a change? I guess so. Stay sharp.
This week's theme: freedom.
Last week's theme: fightin
Next week's theme: Sorority house threesomes.
It's fashion week bitches.
Someday baby baby.
Maybe tonight baby.
Blues riff etc.
See you soon. Sooner than you think.

I feel the pressures of politics building. The internet never forgets. It doesn't forget when I say I don't want to talk about politics unless it really pisses me off. It's getting close. Close, but not quite. The G2K and I are "in a fight" I think. It's hard to be in a fight with some girl for reasons you don't know and especially when she is 2000 miles away. But she has ignored my phone calls and IM's for the last 2 days. I don't know how I feel about it. Kinda sad. Kinda indifferent. Maybe it's all the eyes around here looking in my direction. Maybe it's that I can't take her seriously when I start to forget her face and her smell and her smile. Maybe it's that I see how rediculous it is to hope this would last. To hope this could last. But it's OK, and I'm young. I have plenty of time. Time to make mistakes, burn bridges and build them back up again.

Speaking of mistakes, last night was Thursday night and I was doing what we do. Hanging with the kids, and just may have run across Tom Arnold and the Best Damn Sports Show crew. And the kid from Dumb and Dumber...er. A hot girl gave me a wedgie. A hotter girl put her number in my phone under"balls." At some point between the vodka and tonics I was offered a PR job for and up and coming software engineering company. Riiiight.

But the whole kicker came earlier in the day. I will not date a sorority girl again forever. I will not. Especially not a blonde one. Especially not a dropdead gorgeous blonde one who's smart and funny and not obnoxious and maybe even worldly, I wouldn't even if she lived in Ghana for a while. I will not. I will not. Give a man a fish and he will want a steak. Give a man a steak and he will want a fish. But it's friday night and I am ready to do whatever I gotta do. But the politics. Oh the politics. They are coming, oh yes, they are coming.

Chapter 2

Into the belly of the beast? Sure, why not. I'll just keep rolling on. Rolling on the bus everyday. I love riding the bus. Watching all the people walking by on the street and smiling in the sunshine. I live watching them. Even when the girl form my stop is talking to me. Even When it's standing room only and I smooshed up next to her so close that I can hear the sound her mouth makes when it smiles next to my ear. So I walk with her to class? Why not? After all we are aparenlty in the same one. That's fine.

And when I'm done I'll hop on my t-board and everyone will stare at me. I don't mind. I'll roll on it all the way to the sorority. Cause I work there now. Ya, a lot of guys prolly are wishing they were me. And ya, there's lots of boobs and pearly whites and daddy's visa platinum flashed daily and I'm cool with that. Belly of the beast baby. Republican convention? Nope, no time. I swear I would have been the first to break the Kobe story this afternoon way before anyone else on the web but unfortunately didn't have internet all set. Now I'm rocking.

Common themes are emerging. Ideas flow into thoughts and thoughts to theories and theories suggest deeper meanings. Fighting. Lately it's about struggle. I'll bet you'd like to know, wouldn't you. We'll get to that. We'll get to the struggle and the drinking and the girls and the G2K and the thoughts and the stories and the places and faces. Oh yes. Cause I'm egocentric and all 5 of you out there keep coming back to listen to my shit. We've got time. I've had over 1000 visits. That means the five of you have been here at least 200 times a piece. Hey, whatever floats your boat.

I'm back, I'm on track and there's a 100 foot ethernet cord connecting my computer to a mystery router somewhere unseen. Oh no. Here we go again. The Truth Blog, chapter 2.