Nelly and Joe sat on the steps of a quiet park amphitheater, the evening breeze carrying the faint scent of pine. The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. Joe was scrolling through his phone, chuckling at something, while Nelly sipped her iced coffee, lost in thought.
“Joe,” she said suddenly, breaking the silence.
“Yeah?” he replied, not looking up.
“Do you think geniuses are born once in a millennium?”
Joe paused, lowering his phone. “What do you mean? Like, someone so brilliant they redefine the world?”
“Exactly,” Nelly said, her eyes lighting up. “Think about it—Leonardo da Vinci, a polymath who could paint the Mona Lisa and design flying machines. Mozart, composing symphonies as a kid. Socrates, shaping philosophy itself. And…”
Joe raised an eyebrow. “And?”
“Conan O’Brien,” Nelly said with a smirk.
Joe burst out laughing. “Conan O’Brien? The talk show guy?”
“Not just a talk show guy,” Nelly said, leaning forward. “The man’s wit is razor-sharp. He’s a master of timing, self-deprecation, and absurdity. Plus, he wrote for The Simpsons in its golden age. That’s genius-level comedy.”
Joe shook his head, still grinning. “I mean, I love Conan, but you’re putting him in the same league as da Vinci and Socrates?”
“Why not?” Nelly countered. “Genius isn’t just about inventing or philosophizing. It’s about shifting perspectives, making people see the world differently. Conan does that with humor. He’s like a modern-day Socrates, but instead of questioning the Athenian elite, he’s roasting celebrities and making us laugh at ourselves.”
Joe leaned back, considering her point. “Okay, but if we’re talking about a once-in-a-millennium genius, shouldn’t they have a broader impact? Like, change the course of history or something?”
“Comedy changes history,” Nelly argued. “Think about it. During tough times, laughter keeps people going. It’s a survival mechanism, a way to cope. Conan’s humor isn’t just funny—it’s smart. It’s layered. He’s like the da Vinci of late-night TV.”
Joe chuckled. “So, in your book, it’s da Vinci, Mozart, Socrates, and… Conan.”
“Exactly,” Nelly said, grinning. “Though, if we’re being fair, maybe we’re overlooking some others. Like, I don’t know, Beyoncé.”
Joe laughed again. “Okay, now you’re just naming people you like.”
“Maybe,” Nelly admitted. “But think about it. Genius comes in many forms. It’s not always about big inventions or grand philosophies. Sometimes, it’s about making life a little brighter, a little better, for everyone.”
Joe nodded slowly. “You might be onto something. Still, I don’t think Conan would put himself in that category.”
“Which is exactly why he belongs there,” Nelly said with a wink.
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the last rays of sunlight fade.
“You know,” Joe said, breaking the quiet, “if Conan ever hears about this conversation, he’d probably make a joke about being compared to da Vinci.”
“And it would be genius,” Nelly said, laughing.
