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Screwtape
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“Am I the only one who thinks that Conan’s tweets are painfully unfunny?”
The odds against it are damn near astronomical, but wouldn’t it be crazy if you really *were* the only one? That’d be some fucked up Twilight Zone-type shit right there.
You’d be running all wild-eyed through the streets, grabbing random strangers by their lapels and shaking them, screaming “He’s not funny! Those tweets are lame! ‘Hey guys: I just interviewed a squirrel, hurr, hurr.’ Explain to me how that’s funny! The emperor has no clothes! He is naked! Naaaakkkeddd!!” And they’d just stare back at you with blank eyes, flatly intoning “What-do-you-mean-not-funny. Conan-is-very-funny. Conan’s-tweets-are-very-funny. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.”
And then a siren would sound and a giant TV screen would rise up out of the earth and Conan’s grim visage would appear, thirty yards high, and his voice would thunder across the city “Citizens! A dissenter walks among you! One who is as he should not be. Capture him! Capture the interloper!” And everyone would slowly turn and start shuffling toward you. And you’d flee madly through the streets, knocking over trash cans and the occasional gray-suited pedestrian.
And then you’d round a corner and nearly run headlong into a pair of hovering killbots with pincer-like hooks for hands who float menacingly toward you shrieking “DISSENT-OR!! DISSENT-OR!!” And so you dash away and round a corner but there are two more killbots waiting for you there. And now the crowd on foot has caught up to you and they back you into a blind alley where you run smack into a brick wall. And as you drop to the ground the people and the robots move in closer and closer and their hands and claws reach out to grab you by the throat…
And then you wake up and it’s completely dark and you grope blindly in all directions, crying out “Where am I? What’s happening??” And a soft, feminine voice whispers “It’s OK, sir. We’re just about to begin.” And then you hear a roll of sinister-sounding drums and a cacophony of horns and a god-like voice bellows out “And now, here he is… COOONAAAN O’BRIIIIIIIENN!!” And the curtain flies up and suddenly everything is a blaze of white light.
I like the part where they rhyme “miracles” with “miracles” like twenty times in a row.
But magnets can go fuck themselves.
I like how his buddy is all:
Hurry up, bro! Here comes th–
Oh shit I better back this up so I don’t get blood all over my bike…
This would have been a better ending for Spielberg’s AI than the one he ended up using.
I’ve got it beat, Euse. It was some time in the early 80s, during one of those college tournaments they always do. The clue looked something like:
_T TAK_S ON_ TO KNO_ ON_
And this girl spins the wheel and then triumphantly cries out “I’d like to solve the puzzle, Pat! E.T. takes one to know one!”
I laughed, and laughed.
Justin Timberlake is sooo funny!
(So funny I forgot to laugh.)
“Rocky Balboa, you march right upstairs and clean your room, mister, or no dessert for you!”
Bob Eubanks: Where was the strangest place you ever made whoopee?
Brad Altman: Oh, probably the back seat of my car.
Bob Eubanks: Alright, let’s see what your partner wrote…
[George Takei flips card over]
Bob Eubanks: He wrote “Walter Koenig’s butt”.
You know who the real villain was in all of this?
That one little kid with glasses.
On the contrary, I thought it was highly watchable, if only to witness Jay Leno’s palpable discomfort every time he detected the threat of something spontaneous, interesting, or actually funny happening during the interview.