This month he took over The Tonight Show, and for these next few minutes he will take over the giggle center of your brain. Ladies and gentlemen, he-e-e-e-re’s Conan!

What did you learn about America while you were on the road visiting NBC affiliates back in the spring?
Incredible ribs in Kansas City. And killer nachos in Oklahoma City-I didn't see that coming. It was mostly the food that I became obsessed with. People kept trying to ask me about the new Tonight Show and I'd always have my face in a bowl of chili or I'd just be ladling melted cheese into my mouth. Basically what I learned is, whenever I'm done being on television, wait three months and I'm going to weigh four hundred pounds. I'm just going to wander around in too-short terrycloth robes on the interstates of America with barbeque sauce on my cheeks.

Some paparazzi pics of you on a kiddie train popped up recently. Care to explain?
The thing I’ve learned about Los Angeles is that there’s always someone shooting you. It’s nice, because you have a record of what you’ve been doing at all times. So for tax purposes it’ll come in handy. It’s like, “Well, I don’t have a receipt, but I have a photograph of me buying those tube socks in Us Weekly.” I had taken the kids to Griffith Park, and like an idiot I’m trying to take a shot of my son with my flip phone. And these guys are shooting me in incredible high-def video. It’s like, why don’t I just ask TMZ if I can borrow their pictures? I’m gonna invite TMZ to my house on Christmas and let them shoot my kids opening presents. I’ll make sure Jennifer Aniston stops by—topless.

Has Jay Leno been taking you around L.A.?
Years ago I was in L.A., and Jay invited me out to dinner. Just as a joke I said, “Only if you pick me up in a pre-1915 car with candles for headlights.” And sure enough, he pulls up in some 1915 car that was like 20 feet high. In those days they built cars so that they would be high enough to go over a horse without killing it. And it had these, like, gas lamps. So we’re driving down Sunset Boulevard, and I suddenly realize that Jay’s head and my head—it’s like the two biggest heads you’ve ever seen, and we’re basically a parade float in a car that’s powered by manure. You could see us on a satellite.

Leno said there are only five people in the world who can understand what helming a late-night show is like. Do you agree, or is he just being a whiny little worm?
Well, there are more and more of these shows cropping up. I can only pray that everyone else is killed by an asteroid. And with digital technology, we’re probably five years away from everyone in America hosting their own show and putting it on the Web. Four years from now I’m not going to be worried about Letterman or Leno; I’ll be worried about a 65-year-old woman in Duluth who’s got a killer talk show.

Would you like to go on record and say you’re gonna kick Arsenio Hall’s ass?
I’m going to get in a time machine and go after Pat Sajak. That’s who I’m gonna taunt. Actually, it’s not really in my nature to taunt. The only person I’m really comfortable taunting is myself. Every morning I get out of the shower and stand there naked in front of a full-length mirror and point and laugh at myself and say, “You’re going down!”

Have you heard of “insult porn”? A woman looks into the camera and laughs at the size of your penis.
Uh, I didn’t know that, but I’d like to sue those people for copyright infringement. I have no interest in seeing that. I will not pay for something I can easily achieve for free.

One of the things that I always admired about your show is that if a bit doesn't kill, it wasn't because it was lame, it was because it was just so deeply bizarre.
That's nice! All I've ever done is stuff that I thought was funny. We never start off thinking, "Yeah, this is hacky, but it'll fill some time and someone will like it." You always start with the attitude of "Let's try to make this really great." It doesn't work all the time, but you have to start that way. We do a show every night. It's not like The Simpsons where I could hone and craft and make sure every line was just the way I wanted it. You could spend a year on a Simpsons episode.

How does that compare to late night writing?
We've reworked stuff right up to the last second. The audience has been at the door ready to come in, and we're on the floor, still trying to write the ending for something. But that's also the thrill of the whole experience. And that's the kind of show business I wanted to be in. I love the craziness. Your adrenaline is going, you gotta be on in 45 seconds and the whole set just fell over.

On-camera mistakes are usually pretty fantastic.
Oh yeah, I pray for mistakes. You can have great prepared jokes and they'll get a great laugh but there's nothing like, you know, a marmoset shitting on your head. Trust me, there's nothing like it. It's what I'm into.