I feel a bad moon rising.... Or do I?....

Here we are, so close to March 1st that we can almost reach out and taste it - unless you happen to be in an Eastern Time Zone as I write this, in which case it is already March 1st. (Sucks to be you guys).....The date seemed so far away back in January, looming like a dread execution date for we the prisoners of fickle fate, the fans of Conan O'Brien. And yet, the day has come. The day, or rather night, when all that was once good will be pushed aside in the name of evil and lame jokes. When righteousness will be struck dumb by, well....dumbness. A date that will resound in infamy as the "night the laughter died"....and not of natural causes, but trampled by idiots running to give the wrong answers to easy history questions to ensure they get on TV. All seems lost, and yet....
And yet....
Sure, there is the distant BOOM BOOM BOOM of jungle drums in the distance, and the air is still and electric; and there is a metallic taste in our collective mouth, something akin to that of rust, or blood.....But above all of that, beyond the oppressive doom and darkness, there is....hope. A light flickers on the horizon, perhaps a distant ship taking off for unknown waters, being captained by a tall man, full of promise and humor and a little too much Irish Whiskey. This man has set a course, plotted a map, and has begun undertaking an adventure that one day our grandchildren will talk about over their bowls of Sugar Smacks. This man, heroic and bold, thrusts his chin into the wind and pushes ahead, emboldened by his surly crew of writers whom are now below deck eating Cheetos and napping.
He knows, this Captain of all that is funny and right in the world, that there is still humor to be found out there, beyond the Edge of Reason and the Horizon of Mildly Comfortable: He breathes deeply and feels all of the possibilities wash through his body and he wants, no he NEEDS to push on, farther, faster.....to find the comedy that lies far beyond the shore he leaves behind. It won't be easy - nothing worth having ever is for those who Work Hard. Questioning the random capitalization of his thoughts, he steers into the moonlight, this man in whom so many have staked their hopes and dreams. The seas are on his side...the journey will be favorable. From below, a faint voice calls out that the Cheetos are gone. There is always pain and sacrifice when legend is at stake...
Back on shore, we who at once felt so hopeless and alone are now oddly comforted. The darkness has enveloped Late Night, but it no longer seems so frightening. What power can it yield if we give it none? And so we turn our backs on He Who Panders and look off toward that slowly shrinking light.....Where will he end up, our Captain O'Brien? When will he call to us to join him, so we can once again hear laughter echo off the mountainside? We send our hearts with him, bid him safe passage, and as that light disappears from sight, we pull out our cell phones to wait for his next Tweet. This is 2010 after all, and an analogy, no matter how well written, only goes so far. So stand strong, my many friends, and take heart....tomorrow is just another day we Wait for Coco....