Dave on Demand: Conan exits with a vengeance

It was a stupid idea right from the start.

I don't mean moving Jay Leno to prime time, although that was idiotic, too.

NBC's implicit strategy for that was "Hey, it may be empty fluff, but we'll still make money off it."

That might have appealed to the network suits in Burbank, but it was insulting to viewers and catastrophic for local stations that carry NBC's programs.

Among the network's stated arguments for Leno in prime time was that his show would be "DVR-proof." Huh? I don't know about you, but my desire to see shows that come on after 10 is the whole reason I have a DVR.

The other claim was that while Jay might get murdered by the dramas on the other channels the first time through, as soon as they went into repeats, his real strength would emerge. Well, this week The Jay Leno Show was beaten by a rerun of CBS's The Good Wife, not exactly a Nielsen dynamo.

But (like the guy in the funny FedEx/Kinko's commercial) I digress.

The point is that Conan O'Brien was never going to work on The Tonight Show. The late-night institution has always been a comfortable pair of pajamas that you slip into just before hitting the sack.

Johnny Carson was a sweet lullaby. Leno, a warm bath.

O'Brien was a cold can of Red Bull. Not only was he too hip for the room, he was also too tightly wrapped and maniacal for the gig. Even his theme song was jittery and over-amped.

Of course, the last week, during which he devoted himself to ridiculing NBC, was inspired.

Running up his room service bill before checking out was genius. As he said, "Until NBC yanks us off the air, we can pretty much do anything we want. And they have to pay for it."

There followed a nightly flaunting of outrageous extravagance, "comedy bits that aren't so much funny as they are crazy expensive."

My favorite: trotting newly acquired Kentucky Derby winner Mine That Bird onstage wrapped in a mink snuggie and having the horse watch restricted NFL footage on a monitor. Total price tag for the bit, Coco boasted: $4.8 million.

Bringing Pee-wee Herman on to illustrate the Conan/NBC squabble using plush toys: priceless.

Attacking his employer showcased O'Brien's nervy and subversive punk-comedy style and suited him in a way hosting the show never could.

To paraphrase Macbeth: "Nothing in this job became him like the leaving it."

All-star caliber. CW's new series Life Unexpected is a little contrived for my taste, but I may end up watching anyway because Brittany Robertson (as the foster teen Lux) gives TV's most appealing ingenue performance since Emily VanCamp on Everwood, Evan Rachel Wood on Once and Again, or Claire Danes on My So-Called Life.

Wave to the camera. Football games, I've found, are more fun when you have a rooting interest. Much as I'd like to pull for the New Orleans Saints tomorrow night, I can't, because every time Reggie Bush is involved in a play, Fox flashes up to Reggie's girlfriend Kim Kardashian and her mom, Kris, in a luxury box.

The ladies don't seem too interested in the game. But have you ever seen anyone who realizes they are being shown on the stadium JumboTron as instantaneously as Kris?

It's spooky.

Small shoes to fill. I hate the bland new baby in those E*Trade ads with the talking tots.

What happened to the original baby, the one who branded a fellow golfer "Shankapotamus"? Did he ask for too much money?

At least he wasn't pitchy. Funniest line of the week: After a truculent auditioner in Orlando was dragged from the room and handcuffed on American Idol, Simon Cowell turned to Kara and Randy and, as if the guy were still a candidate to move on to Hollywood, deadpanned, "So. Yes or no?"