So my Mom watches late night TV. Always has, always will.
When I was a kid, I remember her watching Leno and I always sort of felt my heart belonged to Letterman.
There’s something about late night hosts that really explains a lot about yourself. They tell you who you are, where you’ve been, where you are and where you are going. Oh, and who you like to screw.
How? I’ll tell ya.
Letterman told me, as a young girl, that I was a bad ass. He told me I had been no where, that I was going to go exactly where I wanted and that I wanted to fuck the coolest guy in the room.
He didn’t tell me I was a follower, I was a from a town where we all thought the same and that I was going to go as far as my most famous friend or that I would probably end up screwing the guy at the end of the block. Not that Leno did. He told me that I would probably not even inhale the gas of his exhaust. I always felt like he was too phony for me to watch. I didn’t recognize him in me. It wasn’t him. It was the show. Well shit, maybe it was him. I know that I always felt like he was laughing AT me, or people in my world. I always felt like David was laughing with me and the people that I thought were funny.
I felt like there was a real divide between them and us- meaning the Leno’s and the Letterman crew. You were blue or red, baby. It was black or white. Even as a child I felt it. I love that, I knew it shit existed before I should have.
David was right.