Conan O'Brien once described the gasoline for his comedic engine as the relentless pursuit of the strange phantom intersection between smart and stupid. In this new series, Conan puts HBO Max's money, or is it just Max now? Who the heck knows? Point is Conan puts someone's money to good use while bringing us a hearty dose of bottled throttled mad genius. As the great philosopher William Q. Wonka once opined, "Conan is the music maker. Conan is the dreamer of dreams."
As a long time O'Brien-o-phile (podcast host, late night host, and . . . Well . . . I guess that's about it) and fellow inbred melanin deficient Irishman, it's no surprise that I loved Conan O'Brien Must Go. Even if you're not, and even if somehow you've been living in a cave and have never heard of Conan, watch the show. His brilliant stupidity and stupid brilliance will win you over. And who knows? Maybe your next houseguest (cave guest?) will be the Red Tornado himself.
One gripe: There was talk of gerbils, but I didn't see any. What gives?
As a long time O'Brien-o-phile (podcast host, late night host, and . . . Well . . . I guess that's about it) and fellow inbred melanin deficient Irishman, it's no surprise that I loved Conan O'Brien Must Go. Even if you're not, and even if somehow you've been living in a cave and have never heard of Conan, watch the show. His brilliant stupidity and stupid brilliance will win you over. And who knows? Maybe your next houseguest (cave guest?) will be the Red Tornado himself.
One gripe: There was talk of gerbils, but I didn't see any. What gives?