Many years ago, I stupidly suggested my parents watch Pulp Fiction. When they were done with the viewing my dad called me and asked, "What the %*@# did we just watch?" They may have had the same reaction had I suggested they watch Late Night With David Letterman when it debuted 33 years ago. (Of course, they may have also wondered why a seven year old was making 12:30am television viewing recommendations.) No, Late Night was not hilariously violent like Tarantino's masterpiece. No, Letterman didn't accidentally blow of Marvin's head or "Bring out the Gimp", but he brought out Larry "Bud" Melman, Stupid Pet Tricks and the dumbest gags night after night. Discovering Letterman ten years later as a seventeen year old college freshman was a freakin' revelation. In the ensuing twenty-plus years, the only person to bring more joy to my late nights than David Letterman is my wife. (If you know what I mean. Wink.) While it isn't as funny as Adam Sandler's lyrical tribute or as emotional as Norm McDonald's, I wanted to write a brief tribute to the King of Late Night as he signs off for the last time tonight.
Letterman being passed over for the Tonight Show in favor of Jay Leno may have been the best thing to happen to him. He left for CBS and never looked back. When the Late Show debuted in 1993, Dave came out swinging, crashing the 11:30 hour with a force that he may not have had if he had been handed the Tonight Show. We were all better for it. Dave was fearless, sarcastic and hilarious. Jay was safe, comforting, boring, there to tuck you in. Dave was your buddy that dragged you out of bed and said, "Let's get drunk and throw a TV off the roof. Dave made wacky okay. Acting like a dope moved you from the dunce corner to the head of the class.
"Voice of a Generation" is perhaps too strong a designation to hang on a TV host. Maybe that moniker should be reserved for an author, poet or musician. But for twentysomethings in the early 90's was there a better arbiter of cool, hip and funny than Dave Letterman? Maybe the aforementioned Quentin Tarantino. Maybe Kevin Smith. Maybe Dan Patrick and Keith Olbermann glibly doling out the highlights anchoring ESPN's Big Show. But my money's on Dave. He was the ringleader and chief entertainer presiding over a circus five nights a week. Acerbic and absurd met nutty and shameless night after night. Whether throwing footballs into moving taxis or piercing the bloated ego of a celebrity with sarcastic precision, Letterman was defining funny.
My friends and I slurped it up with a spoon. In the pre-internet/pre-DVR age, monologues and Top Ten Lists were appointment television. Dave's catchphrases and comedy bits seeped into our collective consciousness and populated our lexicon. I can all but promise you that the simple act of me writing, "Freeze, Hair Boy!" will elicit a chuckle from my friend Rob if he reads this. And that was a throwaway line from a throwaway bit twenty years ago. But we remember. Our own gags, from shopping cart races to Wacky Hat Night, from a Rascal parade through Wal-mart to a little student film called "Charmin: Not Just for the Bathroom Anymore" were, if not inspired by, were at least unwittingly sanctioned by our TV pal Dave.
As I've gotten older, I am not usually up at 11:30 unless I am weeping through a Capitals' NHL playoff overtime or addicted to a Netflix binge. I had not watched much Late Show over the last few years. When I did tune in, Dave seemed a little tired, not as sharp. (Until these last couple weeks leading to the finale. He seems happy and energized.) Clearly Jimmy and Jimmy,thanks in part to social media and a change in how we consume television, have passed Dave. I'm sure they know the debt they owe Letterman. It's a debt we all owe Letterman. He has been directly or tangentially responsible for millions of laughs. Late night will never be the same. Thanks, Dave.
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