The War for Late Night_ When Leno Went Early and Television Went Crazy - Bill Carter [193]
Just before they started, the on-site producer tried to tease Kimmel about his friend Adam Carolla, who had become a frequent Leno guest: “I hope you’re half as funny as your buddy Adam when he’s on the show.”
“I’m gonna be funny,” Jimmy said. “Don’t you worry about it, you motherfucker.”
Kimmel sat at his desk for the bit, which was being satellited all the way from Hollywood to Burbank. It began innocently enough. Jay introduced Kimmel with his usual buoyancy, asking if anything was new in late night. Kimmel said he only watched Oprah in late night. (It was an inside joke, because several ABC stations, including a big one, in Chicago, carried a rerun of Oprah at midnight and delayed Kimmel’s start time, which affected his national ratings.)
Nothing much happened until question four, when Jay asked who in the world Jimmy would most want to interview. This was teed up for him:
“You and Conan, together,” Jimmy said.
But it was at question five when Kimmel’s real purpose in the visit became clear: “What’s the best prank you ever pulled?”
After a real answer about the time he painted his aunt’s house orange and green, Jimmy said, “I think the best prank I ever pulled was, I told a guy once, ‘Five years from now I’m going to give you my show.’ And then when the five years came, I gave it to him and I took it back, almost instantly.”
“Wow, wow,” Jay said, trying to laugh along agreeably. “A very good friend,” Jimmy said under the laughs, and then added, “I think he works at Fox or something now.”
Then question six: “Did you ever order anything off the TV?”
“Like NBC ordered your show off the TV?”
Question seven was about the most number of lap dances Kimmel had ever ordered in Vegas. Jimmy first said his mother was watching, then clarified, “Wait a minute. The show’s canceled, right? Nobody’s watching the show.” Then he added, “Strippers I don’t like in general because you have this phony relationship with them for money—similar to when you and Conan were on The Tonight Show together? Passing the torch?”
Jay was saying, “Right, right,” to play along. Next question: “What do you fear most?”
Kimmel went through volcanoes and tidal waves before he added, “I fear the network will move my show to ten o’clock.”
“I had that nightmare!” Jay threw in.
At this point, number nine looked like an invitation to open hunting season: “Is there anything you haven’t hosted that you want to host?”
“Oh, this is a trick, right?” Kimmel asked. “Where you get me to host The Tonight Show and then take it back from me?”
The final question was a multiple choice on why Jimmy came on the show (with stupid choices like “You like satellite technology” except for the last, which was about keeping Jay happy in case he decided to switch to ABC). Kimmel turned it into an all-Conan fest: “Listen, Jay. Conan and I have children. All you have to take care of is cars!”
“That’s right,” Jay muttered, still playing along but looking to end this thing as amicably as possible.
“We have lives to lead here,” Kimmel said. “You’ve got eight hundred million dollars! For god’s sakes, leave our shows alone!”
Jay, smiling as best he could, finished it up. “A plea from Jimmy Kimmel! Jimmy, thank you, my friend.”
Kimmel had been nervous beforehand, but he was now elated. It had the feel of winning a ten-round fight. Jay’s producers seemed stunned. Kimmel waited until he got out of earshot of the Leno crew, then erupted with his writers. “Oh my god, that was so uncomfortable,” one said. Kimmel thought Jay might drop the whole thing, because it had gone so badly for him and there was essentially no way to edit it.
Jimmy had no remorse. As he saw it, he took what they were trying to do to him—make him Jay’s boy—as a hostile act that justified rough treatment. But he had not expected Jay to just stand there and take it,