The Year of the Near Miss
by Conan O'Brien -- Rolling Stone Magazine -- December 26, 1996 -- Page 222
The planets will never align like this again. Future generations will look back on the past year and shout, with righteous anger, "Those bastards could have had it all!" And they will be right. 1996 was the year humanity was offered utopian perfection not once, but as many as 62 times. But at each opportunity, our arrogance, stupidity and self-hate caused us to pull up just short of nirvana. Maybe evolution is a lie. Maybe we 're not meant to move toward the light. The facts of the past 12 months speak for themselves.
The union of the Presley and Jackson families created a mass wave of euphoria. Finally, humans were moving to the next great stage of development. And we would see it in our lifetime. But suddenly, in January, the ber-couple defied natural law and inexplicably split up. Whoopi Goldberg tried to distract the sorrowful masses by dating Frank Langella, but it just wasn't the same.
Still we shrugged off this cosmic miscue and prepared for the golden moment we had prayed for but never thought possible: a second O.J. Simpson trial. And yet, to our horror, it soon became clear that the greatest sequel in history would not only feature no TV coverage but absolutely no new murders. What had O.J. been doing with his time? Is it possible that he just doesn't get it? Once again the train of human perfection left the station with mankind waiting on the platform.
The Olympics traditionally feature man at his best. Dedicated, daring, fleet and sculpted. In other words, John Tesh. But what do the corporate Luddites at NBC do? Do they unleash his full talents across the entire Olympiad? No. They restrict all Teshian involvement to the gymnastics events. The bind Prometheus and dilute his seed. How will we explain this to our children?
Space doesn't permit me to list all the criminal gaffes of '96. Be assured that none of our blunders will escape history's cruel leger. Instead, let one moment alone crystallize the Year of the Near Miss. It's the MTV Video Music Awards. David Lee Roth stands united with the other members of Van Halen. They smile and hug. For a heartbeat, all the other missteps of the year are forgiven. We're collectively bathed in the glow of a new Eden. But it is not to be. Air will not unite with water. Fire thinks Earth is still and asshole and would rather work withe the guy who used to be in Extreme.
And so we gather ourselves up in the tattered rags of 1996 and hobble into the new year. The scope of our failure is only now beginning to dawn on us. We'll never see a heaping cocktail platter of opportunity like that again. Or will we? Michael Jackson is to have a child next year. And if that child will lead, I will follow.
copyright: Rolling Stone, 1996.