The benefit of the doubt is undoubtedly beneficial...

In the wake of the recent announcement of Conan O'Brien's upcoming tour schedule, there seems to be a sort of backlash that is cropping up among those who do not count themselves among the Fans O' Coco. Surprisingly, there are some very harsh and vocal detractors out there who seem to have an opinion of Mr. O'Brien which ranks somewhere between root canal surgery and the Third Reich. Most interesting is the prevailing attitude which indicates that many are tired of hearing Conan "whine," that he is spoiled and demanding and just needs to shut up. Interesting because, as of the last broadcast of "The Tonight Show with Conan O'Brien" on Jan. 22nd of this year, Conan has been under a gag order that prevents him from making any media appearances or official statements of any sort.
Now, it might be tempting to dismiss these accusations of whining and diva-like behavior as sour grapes from those not used to encountering integrity in a show-business setting. However, since my mommy raised me right, I am going to play devil's advocate and try to understand where just all of the animosity is coming from. Perhaps I am all wrong about Conan, perhaps he has actually found a way to become a jerk while in exile.....
We'll start with some of the last public statements Conan was allowed to say. As he was a person being forced out of his dream job after years of being placated by his network, he probably had some very venomous and vengeful things on his mind.....

Jan 22nd (Final show) - "We are going to have fun on television!" At first glance, these seem to be innocent words, but upon closer inspection I can see where they might be trouble. There are, certainly, those who see television as no place for fun. These serious minded folk do not want their broadcasts littered with "entertainment" or "amusement." It might seem like Conan is complaining about those who take their television so seriously. He may have been slyly heckling the humorless viewers of Face the Nation, Crossfire, C-SPAN, and of course, Leno.

Later in the same show, Conan advised his viewers that "If you work really hard and you're kind, amazing things will happen." My first instinct was take these words as an inspirational call to selfless living, but if looked at from a different angle, they can be very inflammatory. After all, these are the United States of America, and as Americans we are free to live our lives any way we see fit. It is our constitutional right to not work hard, if we so choose. Being told to do so by someone about to leave on an extended vacation seems pretty galling. And the definition of "kind" can be loosely interpreted. If you (sometimes) visit your mother in the retirement home and don't kick your dog, aren't you just as eligible for the "amazing things" to come as anyone else?? Who chooses who is deserving and who isn't?? Yes, I can see where Conan overstepped his bounds on that one....

After the last credits rolled, Conan found a way to be able to keep in contact with his fans and the world at large: Twitter. Over the past few weeks he has sent out one or more messages a day, Tweeting about everything from the mundane to the ridiculous and even the somewhat important (such as announcing his tour.) Below I will give a sampling of some of what he said....and what his subtext may actually have been.....

"Today I connected all the freckles on my arm with a Sharpie. It spells out RIKSHAZ9LIRK. Clearly I am The Chosen One" - An obvious swipe at religion and those with faith. Also, confusing for those with freckles that don't spell anything.

"Hey gang! Look for me at the Oscars tonight. I'll be in the parking lot, wearing my prom tux and listening on the radio." - Ousted from the Hollywood scene and on the outs with the media, he grovels about not being included. May also be hurtful to those who did not get invited to prom.

"I just punched what I thought was a paparazzi with a long lens. It was an old man with a wheat bread sub. Sorry." -Another veiled crack about the media....and old people to boot. And wheat bread.

"Sweet victory! I'm now trending higher than my twitter nemesis, Justin Bieber. Who's the tween heartthrob now?" An aging TV has-been attacks the youthful up-and-coming music sensation in a desperate cry for attention....And using the word "Victory?" So blatantly stealing the phrase from the Second World War, robbing the veterans of that conflict of their past glory.

You know, I must have had it all wrong. Here, I thought Conan O'Brien was handling his unfair treatment by NBC with grace and humor, while instead what he has been doing is leaving an ugly trail of bitterness at every turn. How could I have been so blind? How could I have thought the very best of his motives, when it is so easy to believe the very worst? How could I have forgotten to view the situation with a cynical eye, instead weakly allowing myself to be swayed by all the positivity and laughter and fun?

Somewhere along the way, I grew soft and happy. I am so glad that I stopped to think like a sane, rational, serious person. After all, where would all that silly happiness have gotten me? Really?

Abe and Conan - Two men, one soul?

When I was a kid, certain historians seemed to want to make a big deal of the similarities between U.S. Presidents Lincoln and Kennedy. Sure, some of the facts that they listed seemed to be eerily similar or somehow related, but a lot of it seemed to be a stretch. I thought that if there really existed some sort of historical "repeat," it would exist between men that have much more in common than just a job. On a lark, I decided to do some digging and see if there were any parallels between our own Conan O'Brien, and his favorite President, Abraham Lincoln. I was astounded to find just how similar the two men are. But don't just take my word for it.....
I am about to present a list of historical facts which took me literally minutes to compile, almost all of which are close to accurate, and I think might be spelled correctly. Without any further ado -(*drumroll*) Prepare for your mind to be blown:

-Both men grew to a towering height of 6' 4"

-Lincoln married Mary, Conan married Liza - both female, both with names that are 4 letters long

-Abraham Lincoln contains 14 letters, Conan O'Brien has 11...both of which are a lot more than Jay Leno's paltry 7.

-Abraham's father's name was Thomas, while his mother was Nancy Hanks. "Tom Hanks" is a huge Conan supporter, widely credited for making the "Coco" name stick. Thank you, Tom!

-Abraham's step mother was Sarah. That is also the name of the woman Conan chose to follow on Twitter. No historical info as to whom Lincoln followed on Twitter.

-Conan is famous for sporting a "strike beard" and later an "unemployment beard" while Lincoln was often seen with a "slavery beard" followed by a "Civil War beard."

-One of Conan's favorite walk-on guests? Abe Vigoda. Honest!

-Lincoln moved his early law practice to Springfield, Ill. Conan wrote for "The Simpsons," a cartoon family who lives in Springfield, (Somewhere in the US, maybe Ill.)

-Conan's Second Banana= Andy Richter. Lincoln's Second Banana= Andy Johnson.

-Lincoln lived in Washington D.C., which is one of the stops on Conan's upcoming tour.

-Lincoln was shot in the head by a man with the first initial of "J." Conan was stabbed in the back by a man called "Jay."

-Lincoln taught himself to read. Conan taught himself to Tweet.

-Lincoln stumped for peace, Conan for peas.

-And finally, Lincoln was shot in Ford's theater, and Conan drives a Ford Taurus.... sometimes to a theater.

Goosebumps, right??

Oh, and to all you overly-educated historical "experts" who thought the Lincoln/Kennedy thing was amazing....SUCK IT!! I am barely educated - hell, I'm barely literate - and I just rewrote the book on amazing coincidences. That's right. Makes you want to rethink your existence, doesn't it?

If we Canonize Conan, are we Conanizing him?

'Tis Saint Patrick's Day, and a happy one to you and yours!! What an interesting holiday, this recognition of the Patron Saint of Ireland.....whom I also always thought was the patron saint of green beer, Shamrock Shakes, and Lucky Charms. But no, with all the commercial images and cheesy Hallmark-card sentiment aside ("You are the pot of gold at the end of my rainbow!") this was a real guy with real miracles to his credit. Being the inquisitive student of history that I am, I decided that if I was going to blog about the day and the man, I'd better do some in-depth research. Being the lazy person that I also am, I went to the Wikipedia page. As we all know, there is no better or more reliable source for information on the web today than Wikipedia. That is how I found out about Leno's third nipple!
Anywho, there was a bunch of background information about Saint Patrick, including a lot of dates and places and stuff that reminded me too much of college exams.... None of it was really relevant to my quest, to find out WHO this man really was and why he is directly responsible for so many March 18th hangovers. Sadly, there wasn't a lot of information that tied him into the party scene, which I must say diminished my estimation of Wikipedia just a tad. BUT - they did talk about the "big miracle" he was credited with, one that I think we all heard about as children. St. Patrick was supposed to have driven the snakes out of Ireland. This does indeed sound like a great feat, especially if you don't like snakes....But as I read on, it was explained that Ireland is located on an island formed by a glacier, and probably never had snakes in the first place. Um, WHAT?? Yet another of my childhood images blown to dust by "historical accuracy." First they tell me George Washington never did chop down that cherry tree, then they say man didn't really walk on the moon, and now this? I mean, the moon thing I can get behind - they would have gotten stuck in all the green cheese - but come on! If Saint Patrick DIDN'T get rid of Sir Hiss and Co., what exactly did he do to warrant his own drinking holiday?
As I read on, it was theorized that the "serpents" he banned from the island weren't literal snakes, but evil-doing dudes. This made sense. Apparently, there were some guys whose beliefs didn't jibe with the church and they thought they'd cause some trouble in the McLand. Only, St. Patrick of Awesome said "NO! Not in MY emerald island nation, you don't!" And he kicked their heathen asses to the curb....
And then, epiphany!! Of course!! It all makes sense now. That unwavering Irish nobility, that sense of the what is Right and Just. St. Paddy-whack had it, and so does our modern-day Irish hero, St. Conan. I mean sure, St. Patrick was actually of English birth and had been kidnapped as a youth and dragged to Ireland against his will, but STILL! The connection is there, the parallels are uncanny. And here is something equally eerie...the more green beer you drink, the more all of this makes perfect sense. So drink up, me Lads and Lasses, and rejoice in the fact that Coco will go down in history as the man who drove the peacocks out of Burbank. And that is reason enough for another beer....

He'll be comin' around the mountain when he comes...

It looks like for once, gossip CAN be believed.....What was once rumor and speculation is now a done deal - more than a done deal, actually, it is a standing-room-only, sold out, fat-lady-sings kind of deal. All in one day, Conan O'Brien let it be known that he was actually going on tour and BOOM! - tickets were flying like chicken feathers behind a KFC! We, the multitudes of fans crashed at least one site, clogged many others, and when the smoke finally cleared it was pretty obvious that this was going to be a pretty darn successful venture for our ginger hero.
I personally bought tickets almost by accident. We on the "I'm With Coco" board had been debating whether the tickets were really going to go on sale at 7am that morning (as was indicated by the Ticketmaster web page) or if this was a default setting that would be changed as the day progressed. As sort of a lark, at 6:59am I started refreshing the page to see if indeed the shows were selling. On my third refresh, I was startled to be met with a "buy tickets now" page. Again, just out of curiosity, I typed in the my info, and was again surprised to see how many seats were already taken (this was about 7:02am BTW) I tried a few different seating choices before some came up as available, and before you could say "Visa" I had purchased those suckers!! My time of purchase on my receipt reads 7:07am. I feel I barely got out with my life.....
Back on the IWC board, it was reminiscent Normandy Beach - some were rejoicing in victory, others were crying out in agony, still others were walking around in a daze, looking for warmth or shelter or second dates to open up....There was noise and chaos, and the sounds of wave after ocean wave crashing on the shore (or maybe that was just my really loud dishwasher in the background?) The highs were extremely high, the lows were pit-bottom low. Someone came on the board, offering to trade his wife and kid for tickets. I know he was just kidding (?) but I hope someone does a welfare check on the family sometime soon....just in case.
It is amazing to me that all this happened just in one little block of time yesterday. Oh, and Conan broke his historical (since February) streak of only Tweeting once a day. He actually had multiple things to say, leading me to believe he is getting all full of himself and is on a diva kick (I kid, I kid) This made for even more excitement among we, the Coco foot soldiers. It seemed like the world had gone topsy-turvy, up was down, chocolate was peanut butter. Suddenly all of the rumors we had been bouncing off the walls and each other were realized, were real, were no longer just a hopeful, crazy dream. As proof, I have $100 worth of tickets I had to explain to my husband, who has a great sense of humor but is sometimes not amused. I am hoping that getting to see something as historical as Conan's live show will soften him up a bit....and if not, I am pretty sure Seattle has enough beer to do the trick!

A rose by any other name still ain't your damn rose!

When I was in the sixth grade, my school district didn't have the money to bus students, so my friends and I walked the mile to school and back every day. Northern California was often mild weather-wise, so it wasn't really that big of a deal, and we enjoyed the daily adventure besides. The neighborhoods we passed through varied from Post-War rundown to white trash spectacular... and there were some very nice little homes that we passed along the way, homes that captured my imagination. These were very well maintained, with gardens and birdbaths and shutters on the windows, making me believe I was strolling by gingerbread homes in an enchanted forest. One house in particular had the most amazing array of rose bushes - trees, really, since they were taller than us - all along the perimeter of the property. I don't really remember the house but I remember those roses, at once beautiful and fragrant and SO tempting. What I also remember, however, is the chain-link fence that protected those roses from, well, us.
Of my friends, I was the tallest, so I must have had the longest reach. On fine Spring afternoons, there were often buds just on the other side of that fence, and if I angled my wrist just right I could sometimes snag one. If I was lucky, it would snap off along the branch just a few inches from the flower itself, and we'd have our prize. If the stars didn't align, the rose would explode in a rain of petals to the ground below....and we'd high-tail it out of there.
On one afternoon that still hums along in my memory, I somehow found myself walking home alone....and I landed directly in front of that floral prison camp. Not a foot from me bloomed the most gorgeous deep pink roses. I scanned the street for witnesses....quiet in all directions. Carefully, I shifted my book bag to one hip and I snaked my arm in through that fence, trying to come up right below the prettiest of the blossoms. I was just brushing my fingers against the soft silk of the petals when a woman stepped around the rose bush and scared the living crap out of me. She was very severe looking - hair pulled back in a tight, rigid bun. Big cats-eye glasses. A dirt-dusted apron and heavy work gloves, and in one had she held a pair of pinking shears. For just a moment I wondered if she was going to try to take off my fingers. I wanted to run but I stood there, caught in her glare.
"I really wish you kids would stop destroying my roses," she stated flatly with just a touch of irritation in her voice. "You see this here?" She was gesturing to an empty spot where a branch had obviously been snapped off. Perhaps by me. "This is ruined now, a bloom won't come back here anymore. In order to keep the roses blooming, I have to tend to these bushes, and trim them properly. The blooms need to be snipped like so...." and she used the sheers to cleanly take one of the flowers off of the bush. "And then the flower can come back." All the while she was talking I was stricken dumb, wondering why she was taking the time to explain all of this instead of just yelling at me. I was even more flabbergasted when she held the rose through the fence, offering it to me. "All you and your friends have to do is ask, and I'll be happy to share my roses. Just let me use the right tools so the bush isn't harmed."
I don't remember if that twelve-year-old me said anything to that woman as I took the rose and walked away. I would like to think that I apologized for hurting her rose bush, and thanked her for the beautiful gift. Being an awkward adolescent I may have just wandered away wordlessly. I do remember that tears of embarrassment and shame burned at my eyes as I walked home, and I cradled that rose like it was made of delicate glass.
I told you all of that so I can tell you this: What I learned that day was that sometimes, in an effort to carelessly procure something we want, we end up ruining it in the process. But if we are patient and kind, we can have the item we treasure AND make sure it is still intact for someone else to appreciate later on. I really and truly wish that Jay Leno had lived in my neighborhood, and had a run-in with my scary yet wonderful gardener-lady. Maybe she could have taught him that having what you want isn't worth it if you cause irreparable damage while you are getting it. And maybe she could have shown him that kindness and honesty works so much better than treachery and deceit. And if none of those things happened to come about....maybe she could have cut off his damn fingers with those pinking sheers! Not that it would have accomplished anything positive, but somehow I think I'd feel better....

What the heck AM I doing, anyway??

Last night, as I was sitting right here at this very keyboard checking in with my friends at "I'm With Coco" and seeing what was new in the always awesome world o' Conan O'Brien fandom, my mother approached me with a concerned look on her face. In her hand she held the latest copy of TV Guide (or as she refers to it, The Bible) and she tossed in front of me with disgust. "If you really want to do some good on that computer, do something to fix this!" she told me before stomping away. The magazine was turned to an article about how the CBS show "Numbers" was most likely not returning after this season. I had such a mix of feelings at that point....confusion as to how a show being canceled had something to do with ME, further concern that if my mother keeps getting worked up over the "doings" on television that she is going to fracture something, a little sadness because I am also a fan of the show and won't like to see it leave the airwaves....but mostly I was irritated that even though this woman gave birth to me, she seems to have absolutely no clue what the heck "I'm With Coco" is about.
She seemed to indicate that by coming online and chatting with other Coco fans that I am trying to accomplish something finite....and that I can just switch up loyalties if some other show is in danger and needs my "help." It is true that I feel I am part of a movement that is accomplishing things - by showing that Conan has a strong fan base and is therefore a good investment to interested networks, and by supporting other fans as we wait the next few months to unfold. But a lot of what "I am doing" is coming to share laughs and ideas with people I have come to think of as good friends, and find enjoyment in our common admiration for our amazing Coco. It is peculiar to me that my mom sees it is as a flash-in-the-pan show support group....particularly since there is no show to support, at least not yet.
Later on, I asked my mom exactly what she thought I could do about "Numbers." She gestured toward the computer, as if to say "You know, on-line stuff." I smiled sadly, and tried to explain to her how TV really works - how it ultimately isn't about the fans but the advertisers, how it takes momentum to get anyone's attention and even then it may not do any good, how even though it is unfair, that is how it is. But then I remembered Conan's words about not being cynical, and how a lot of what we are doing on our Coco page is a stand against "show business as usual." People probably think we are crazy for continuing this "fight" which seems to the the uneducated to be a done deal. Sure, it is a whole different situation, but as I looked into my mother's sad, cop-TV loving eyes, I promised her I would do what I could. I guess if you can't have the belief that the things you love are worth fighting for, then you are just as bad as the bastards who don't love in the first place.

When the year 2000 really WAS the future....

So today I picked up my daughter from preschool, and she was more bubbly and excited than usual, which is saying something. As we walked out into the midday sun, she held her hand up to me and flashed a bright pink bauble. "See what Payton gave me? It's a ring!" she sighed as she admired the two-sizes too big plastic pretty on her finger. "He wants to marry me," she stated in a sing-song way, skipping beside me. I raised one eyebrow. "Really?"
"Oh yes," she answers, still admiring her new treasure. "And when Payton breaks up with me, I will marry Landon." For some reason, this stops me in my tracks, and the world seemed to tip just a little bit sideways.... As I stood in the middle of the preschool parking lot (not my safest moment, but whatever) the whole spectrum of time splayed out around me like a roulette wheel.
It seemed like just a few "late nights" ago that I first discovered Conan O'Brien. He kept me company while I wrote my term papers, painted my toe nails, and plotted out the map that would be my future. Or so I thought. Only the naivete' of youth kept me believing that I could plot my own destiny point by point. I would fall asleep to the the zaniness of Conan, and wake up feeling like the whole world was my oyster. Maybe it was, or maybe I wouldn't have known an oyster if it bit me on the butt. Whatever the case, at that place in time my life seemed so full of possibility it was absolutely bursting....And young Mr O'Brien seemed to be brimming with that same endless potential.... Everything was youthful and funny and unscripted and nobody could wait to see what would happen next.....
Fast forward a decade or so. Life, and Conan, had settled into a comfortable routine. For me, it meant husband, kids, job, minivan.....Conan was comfy in his own skin as well, combining a now hit show, new family, and the knowledge that one day he'd host the Tonight Show. Things plodded along as scheduled, everything was still funny and mostly unscripted, and when I slumped down on the couch at the end of a long day to watch "Late Night," I felt I was meeting up with an old friend. It held the kind of familiar continuity that a person wraps up in like a Snuggie....and takes for granted.
And now....my life is still plodding along as it should, except for the sudden reminders that fall out of the sky every day and smack me into paying attention - like the fact that my kids are growing so fast that I am going to blink twice and they'll be grown and be off plotting their own adventures. My little preschool princess will be trading in that pink plastic engagement ring for a REAL one....Our own little Sarah Killen (this is absolutely the newest pop culture item I have ever referenced...I feel all a "Twitter") As routine as everything has seemed so far, it has become more than apparent that life is just as unscripted and brimming with potential as it ever was. Anything can and will happen, no matter how hard I plan to the contrary. And as for my "old friend", he was shaken out of his comfort zone and dropped into a whole ocean of possibilities, ready or not. I am sure his future is feeling as open as it did back in those early, nervous, head-bobbing days of sport coats and jeans....and I am guessing he is loving every minute of it. There is nothing like being slapped in the face by life to make you remember you are still in the game....maybe not as youthful and naive as before, but with a lot more to lose, and therefore a LOT more to win. I suspect a lot of "win" in the future of Mr. O'Brien....and I myself hope to squeeze in a few more Barbie Tea parties before I have to start shopping for caterers....

You take the high road, I'm going this way, with the flames...

In every family, there usually comes a time when philosophies diverge and moral compasses do not point to the same magnetic North. Be it religion, politics, or general principal, one set of ideals never really stands identical to any other. In our large "I'm With Coco" family, we have almost a million people sharing one love (Conan, natch) but as would be expected, there are also almost a million ways of seeing this great world of ours. And just like in any other family, we sometimes can't help but express ourselves in ways that cannot possibly keep the whole family happy. It is disfunction on the scale of the entire population of San Jose, CA.
I think the distinct divisor in our family dynamic, if I had to name one, is that while we all agree on our love for our "hero," he came with a built-in nemesis, an antagonist in our little tale. Imagine a big-chinned meanie tying damsels to train tracks whilst Conan sweeps in to save the lovely ladies - all without mussing one hair on his head! Where we the Coco-Nuts differ is just how to handle our relationship with the "bad guy." Many, those with a strong sense of decency and maturity, have declared this person to be a non-entity, not worth their time to acknowledge or disclaim. I envy this strength and integrity. I would love to be able to take the high road, and keep all that mud off my boots. That viewpoint reflects the stuff that makes up a good person - the kind who help the elderly across the street and don't cheat on their taxes. I am sure these folks are going to heaven. I hope they send me a postcard so I can see what it is like.
Because you see, I belong to the part of the family who just can't leave well enough alone. We try to be good, we really do, but MAN - the opportunities for satisfying self-expression are just too plentiful. WHY does it feel so good to pursue the villain? WHY oh why is it gratifying to skewer his carcass and roast it slowly over the embers of spite?? The jokes come easy, the sarcasm drips deliciously over tongue and page. Oh curse you, dear Universe, for making this particular yard dog so easy to kick, for leaving this tasty fruit so low and easy to pick....(Another rhyme, blame Dr. Seuss and his birthday week) I am not on the high road. I am no where near the high road. I missed the turnoff about six weeks ago and now I am up to my ass in mud, donkey crap, and sticks and stones. I have no one to blame but myself.... I could be good, I could be kind, I could ignore the slow dog and the low fruit and turn my head toward the heavens and announce "I am better than this! I have those attributes from which fine people are made...." Instead, I spend way too much time on Google, looking for synonyms for "idiot." There are a lot. I intend to use them all. Now, if you will just steer me toward the nearest rack of asbestos underwear, I need to start preparing for eternity and stuff.....

There is no gift card for THIS, I'll betcha...

Most writers are incredibly egotistical at the base level, and eventually the writing circles back to their favorite topic - themselves. I would hope that my egotism isn't so very obvious, but I do have to admit that today my subject closely relates to me. You see, in just about 25 hours (give or take) I will turn 40 years old. This is one of those "big" birthdays, the ones that cause friends to remark and tease and eventually become sentimental and unbearable. Mostly they want to make a person feel loved while at the same time feeling old. I myself don't feel old at all. So that just makes my friends work all the harder.....the brutes! Ha!
What I do love about birthdays is when folks ask "What do you want as a gift this year?" Most years I have something simple at the ready - a little this-or-that which I would like to have but just never bought for myself. Other years it is trickier, and I answer honestly that I really don't want or need anything....I am happy with what I have. On these milestone birthdays, however, I feel the need to dig deeper than a new robe or a DVD, or complacency.... I think of these celebrations as being the ones that mark our place in the universe. There should be true meaning and purpose to the wishes we make on such a day; they should reflect what we have learned on the journey, and give some clue as to where we intend to go from here. This year, more than any other, I know exactly what my wish for myself and my world will be. What I want is kindness. Seriously.
The now oft-quoted words that Conan O'Brien spoke at the end of his last Tonight Show resonated with many, many people - including myself. But more than just inspiring me, it helped me to put to words what I have been feeling for some time but couldn't quite explain: This world can be harsh and mean and unfair, and there are plenty of people out there who will tell you to accept it, to grow up, that is just the way things are. For many years I had accepted it. Why try and change human nature, I wondered? But now I have been living on this earth for enough years that I realize that human nature is NOT cynical and cold and selfish unless we allow it to be. Just because many numbers of people say that it is a justifiable way to live, that doesn't mean that we have to accept it. There have been times in history when society had allowed behaviors that today, when we look back on them, cause us to shudder. In hindsight we see that mass beliefs often dominated, but there were those in the minority, those who knew deep down that wrong is wrong no matter the circumstances. And over time, their voices were heard, and the Many were shown the error of their ways. They eventually shifted their belief systems of right and wrong, and allowed history to tell the tale of their folly.
In modern time, the Many will tell you that it is okay to hurt others to get ahead, because "everybody does it." You will hear that it is fine to lie or cheat or steal because if you don't, someone else will. You might even be told that an idea isn't wrong if you can get enough people to go along with it. And we certainly aren't wanting for examples of those who have lived the clawing-and-back-stabbing life and profited from it. But we are amazing creatures, we humans - we have the capacity to feel emotions on a multitude of levels. And on one of our most basic, most primal levels, we can tell the difference between wrong and right. Our more complicated layers of consciousness can get muddled with arguments, justifications, and rationalizations, but deep in our gut we can't be swayed - right is right is right. And if that is your compass, if you follow that deep-down feeling of doing what is truly the kind and fine and right thing, you can't get lost. You won't always win, but you simply cannot lose.
I know this is all heavy handed and full of cliches, but I guess what I am trying to say in way too many words is this: For my birthday, I want the impossible - I want a world where people are kind, and honest, and they do the right thing and admit it when they mess up. Since I can't have that, I am very glad to know that there are people like Conan O'Brien, living in the public eye and doing what most "famous" people choose not to do - the right thing. For all that it cost him, he is SO much the richer....and I'll bet he can sleep at night. Good for him, I say, and good for all of us.....