Dear Kathryn Bigelow: A Love Letter

Dear Kathryn Bigelow,

My heartfelt congratulations on becoming the first woman EVER to win the Oscar for Best Director! Your film, The Hurt Locker, was nothing less than a triumph of film making, with more heart and soul than Michael Bay could ever dream of.

It warms my heart to think that tonight I witnessed history in the making. The fact that, until tonight, no woman or African-American had won the Oscar for Best Director saddened me and filled me with shame. We claim to be so modern and highly evolved, and yet sexism and racism still exists, it’s just well hidden. Thank you for doing your part to show to the world that women are just as skilled at making movies as men.

When I first watched The Hurt Locker the fact that the film was directed by a woman didn’t even cross my mind. I watched that film and just went “Holy shit, that was amazing!” I was highly impressed. It was one of the most delicately and beautifully crafted tales of war that I have seen in the last decade. It was a character study, in the highest regard, and done so with such kinetic energy that I felt emotionally and physically exhausted by the time the credits rolled. Well done!

Take a bow, Kathryn Bigelow, you deserved it!

Respectfully yours,

Nathaniel Ochoa

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Dear Conan: A love letter

Dear Conan,

I’m going to miss you, buddy. I’m so sorry that NBC is treating you like a five dollar hooker. You deserve better than that.

I remember when I first discovered you. It was sophomore year of high school for me. My parents had gone to bed (they rarely stay up late, unless it’s New Year’s Eve) so I decided to stay up and do some reading. As the clock chimed 1 a.m. I put my book down and flipped on the TV and there you were, prancing about in all of your ridiculously tall and gawky Irish glory. Who the hell is this? I thought to myself as I chuckled at your on-screen antics. I don’t remember who the guest was that night, to tell you the truth, but I remember you. It’s hard to forget the sight of a giant, red-headed guy once you’ve seen one, you know.

The next day I went to school and I turned to one of my friends in biology class and said “Have you ever watched Conan O’Brien? He’s really funny!” After a long pause my friend looked at me and said “You just now discovered Conan?!? Oh man, I’ve been watching him for years. Conan’s the best!”

After that you became my religion, Conan. I watched you every night (I didn’t really discover alcohol until my college days, so back then at 12:35 a.m. I was sober as a judge), laughing so hard that my Dad would come out to the living room in his underwear to tell me to shut the hell up so he could get some sleep. Hahaha! Those were the days.

As time passed and I slowly grew up and went off to college I watched you less frequently, but I never lost my fondness for you. We even moved into our new places on the same day waaaaaaaaaaay back in Summer of 2009. The day you took over the reins of The Tonight Show was the day that I moved into my first one-bedroom apartment. I realize that moving into a new apartment isn’t quite as glamorous as hosting The Tonight Show for the first time, but it still made me laugh that you and I were getting used to our new digs on the same day. I even put it on my calandar: MOVING DAY/CONAN’S GLORIOUS RETURN!!!

And that brings us up to today: Friday, January 22nd. Your last Tonight Show. I’ll be there for your last show, buddy. Hell, I’ve been watching all week. You’ve been great (as always)! To your credit, you have handeled this shit storm with grace and professionalism. You’ve had A-list guests stopping by to show their support for you and the Internet audience is on your side. You’ve done well, man.

I hope that this isn’t the last that I’ll see you, Conan. You’ve brought so much joy and laughter into my life. You’ve meant a lot to me and I’m going to miss you. I hope that in September Fox or Comedy Central puts you back on the air. The world is a better place because of you, Cone-bone.

So until we meet again, stay classy, Conan.

Fuck Leno. Fuck Letterman. I’m with Coco!

Yours truly,

Nathaniel Ochoa