Dave

There's this friend of mine who's a writer and also writes a blog. Well, sometimes he writes a blog. A lot of the time he just captions pictures. But he's putting it out there and often the captions are quite funny. It all counts - at least he's making the effort.

Which, if you read this blog on a regular basis, know that's something I rarely do.

Anyway, like many other blogs including this one, he posted about David Letterman today. Here's one of the things he said about Dave when he left Late Night at NBC: "But then the real Dave moved to CBS, and the middle of the road with his humor and he lost a step. And he lost me."

I'd agree with him, except then we'd both be wrong.

I don't believe he lost a step. I think it's clear he found his footing. I'm sorry he lost you pal, because that means you missed some of the best, most subversive and defiant comedy ever put on network television.

Dave's master plan was always to bring his brand of innovation, lunacy and comedy to a wider audience. That audience's address was 11:30. After he was wrongfully denied the Tonight Show (and by the way, if you're calling anyone's humor middle-of-the-road you might want to start with Jay Leno), executive Howard Stringer at CBS gave Dave the platform and freedom to do his show his way.

A lot of it meant bringing over staples from the NBC show (Top Ten List, Stupid Pet Tricks, Stupid Human Tricks, Jack Hanna). But since NBC claimed the intellectual property rights and threatened to sue - which turned out to be an empty threat - Dave was forced to do something he would've done anyway: continually stretch the boundaries of what a talk show could be.

I'd argue he did more innovations to the format and pushed the boundaries - sometimes to the breaking point - more in the CBS years than ever before that.

The beauty of it was that unlike the boot-licking, let's not offend anyone host Leno became, Dave was always Dave. If he didn't like a guest, we knew it. And if he loved a guest (I'm looking at you Julia Roberts), we knew that too.

On a personal note, when Paris Hilton appeared on the show just after her release from prison, Dave made a point of repeatedly asking about her ordeal. I don't think she'd been that uncomfortable since someone accidentally called her smart in the fifth grade. It's some of the finest eight minutes ever aired. You can see it here.

Yes, Dave went from sports coats and sneakers to suits and leather shoes (still with white socks though). If you're going to live at 11:30 you have to dress for the occasion. It wasn't just college kids and stoners watching anymore. It was the world.

Jay Leno built a career out of copying bits, routines and ideas Letterman had years before. Maybe that's why there is no Jay Leno legacy, aside from mediocre political jokes. There were no tributes. There was no emotional investment in Jay Leno. He didn't influence a generation of performers in the way Dave did. Once he was gone, he was forgotten.

Something no one will ever be able to say about Dave.

What is sis-boom-bah

Unless you like your jokes professionally tamed, the edges sanded off, watered down and served with an extra helping of corn, you already know that night after excruciating night, Jay Leno proves he isn't worthy. Certainly not of the job he's had hosting The Tonight Show since 1992 - with the exception of the seven months Conan did a far better job of it.

Jay Leno wants you to believe he's a good guy, a man of the people. The kind of talk show host you can have a beer with, and who'd never take your show away from you just because his new one flopped and he wants his old one back. Well, not so much on that last one.

To realize how bad Jay Leno actually is in the modern late night era, all you have to do is watch Letterman. Or Jimmy Kimmel. Craig Ferguson. Or Jimmy Fallon (who ever thought anyone would be saying that?).

But before all of them, there was Johnny.

Johnny Carson owned late night in a way no one else ever will. Every night, almost, for thirty years Carson put America to bed with style and wit that was at once ahead of and very much a part of its time.

When I was a kid I remember watching The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson one night when I was up late fighting a particularly nasty flu. It happened to be the night of what was perhaps his most famous line as Carnac the Magnificent:

Carnac: Sis boom bah.

Ed McMahon: Sis boom bah.

Carnac: Describe the sound made when a sheep explodes.

It was the first thing to make me feel better in a week. If Johnny was on, things were okay in the world. Even if they weren't.

The reason Carson's on my mind is this week's Newsweek features an article by Bill Maher remembering Johnny twenty years after his retirement. It's a good article.

The first night Leno hosted The Tonight Show in 1992, he didn't mention Carson's name once. Not to thank him, not to acknowledge him, nothing. When asked about it, he blamed it on Helen Kushnick, his notoriously overbearing manager and agent who got him the show. Many people say she orchestrated Johnny's retirement so Leno could get it.

For all his posing about being a good guy and putting out this straightforward "you know me" "I'm a regular guy" image, the fact he didn't ever thank Carson betrays Leno for what he was at the time: an ungrateful coward who didn't have the guts to stand up to his manager and do the right thing.

I'll never forgive him for it.

But his punishment is what he's become. Jay Leno, before he got the Tonight Show, used to be the best stand-up working anywhere. He'd do Springsteen-length sets. I used to love seeing him, and hearing material that was fresh, original and edgy with cleverness and insight. I imagine the Leno that did that material isn't the same one he sees now when he looks in the mirror.

Despite his publicity machine, and because of his slighting Johnny that first night, Leno will never be a class act.

Certainly not anywhere near the one he replaced.