Break

Finally!  A break!

Carson rushes to relieve himself, loosening the top button of his pants as he hurries.

And there it is — right around the corner.  That welcome sign.  Upcoming:  a porcelain audience for that splash of relief!

But it is already too late. 

He is blocked by a crowd of people with Burfies waving above them like reeds in a field, all squealing:  “Here’s Johnny!”

Carson ducks his head, shields his eyes and tries to push through. 

Then he stops. He is a professional.  He sought fame.  He cannot complain that he has succeeding in achieving his desires.

He adjusts his chin and his shoulders and smiles warmly. 

His bladder objects.

Honestly, Carson doesn’t mind the discomfort. 

Physical discomfort ties him to the show. 

It reminds him of the days when performing was as fulfilling as conducting a symphony.

When he would laugh at real mistakes.

When he would make mistakes.

King of Late Night Television.  Best dressed man in America.  The most likeable man in the country.  Trusted by millions. 

Only Walter Conkrite beat him on honesty ratings.  

His Burfie is flashing yellow: “Go!  Go! Go!”

Nowhere to go.

That was the problem. Once you’re on the top, there is nowhere to go.

Nothing to look forward to except losing what he’d already gained.

Always looking down and never up.  Fending off the competition — erstwhile friends.

Focused on avoiding loss instead of creating.

Prodded, not encouraged.  Pushed, not pulled. His smile became automatic:  his whole body a lie.  “Let this night be over,” he thought while he laughed and said, “Oh, come on… Not really.”  Or some other automatic line. 

He was no more than a mouse pushing a lever for a laugh. 

The man was no longer there.  Only the performer.

Polished.  That’s what Joanne called it.  “You look so good on the outside, you never know what’s on the inside,” she said when she divorced him.

Joanne received the highest divorce settlement in the nation that year.

And that wasn’t enough to absolve his pain.   

Now Carson feels like he woke up and everything is bright again. 

So:  He can’t complain about people loving him.

“Here’s Johnny!” “Here’s Johnny!” the people echo as they jostle to get closer to him.

Johnny Carson holds up his hands and says: 

Yes, yes…

You all sound very much like Ed McMahon… As good as he ever did.

But the opening theme has changed. 

It is no longer “Here’s Johnny”

But:  “Where’s Johnny?” 

Or maybe:  “What’s Johnny?”

His words  are repeated by Burfies through imbedded buds up and down the concourse.  It’s progress can be tracked by human chuckles moving away from him like a wave on a shore. 

The professionally modulated voice of a broadcaster stands out from the cacophony: 

“Mr. Carson, I see by your Burfie that you are very motivated right now.  Flashing yellow!  As Emcee of the Sons of Liberty Convention, what is your immediate objective?”

“To get moving.”

Burfies bleep in unison: Mobilize the herd. Set the nation in motion.

“Mr. Carson, what is your objective for this convention?”

“Honestly—I just need to go,” Carson says, motioning with his chin to the pictogram in front of him – the man and an arrow.   So close…

Burfies report: Driven to rescue the nation.

“And how will you accomplish that?”

“That won’t be a problem.  It’ll be done as soon as I get through the door.”

Plan in motion.  Expects smooth and swift action at the first opportunity.

“What will the result be?”

“Instant relief!”

“You’ve been under considerable pressure?”

“Indeed, I have.”

Expects instant relief of tension.

“If you do encounter resistance?”

“I’ll just push until it’s done.”

Willing to exert force if necessary.

“And if things collapse?”

“Then someone better open a window.”

Transparency and the cleansing wind of liberty.

“What is your primary goal, Mr. Carson?”

He breaks.  “Look… I just want everyone to get out of my way and let me go!”

The news report is twittered around the world instantaneously:

Johnny Carson, Emcee of the Reunion of the SOL of NY, declares a 2nd Revolution to vent the chamber– admit a fresh flow where putrid air is now trapped.  He vows to plunge right in to unclog resistance, excrete the binding strands of tyranny, and flush away the slimy corruption.

He will not store public papers in the bathroom.

He is willing to use force.  “I am prepared to push,” he promised.

“We need to rise up and go!” he thundered. 

The Great National Mobilization has begun!

Some Burfies report:  Approval: unanimous. Integrity: unquestioned.

Others report to the Headless Horseman and his Big Beautiful Government. 

Then, all Burfies announce the beginning of the next session and direct their humans accordingly.  The crowd disappears.

Carson pivots back towards that blessed corridor.

He opens the first door he sees.

Wrong door.

The red warning light over the studio door begins to flash:  “On air.”

The Reverend Doctor John Rodgers stands before a tiny audience holding his Bible.

“There is no beginning before today,” he says.

As Johnny Carson enters, John Rodgers repeats: 

There is no beginning before today.

Today is all there is.

You are where you are.  You can be no where else.

Your choices begin today.

And every choice you make changes the course of your life.

Including the decision to make no change at all.

An opportunity passed is like an off–ramp you failed to take.   You can reverse your course, find another way to get there, or abandon your goal.  But you can never undo that which no longer exists.

So be wary. 

Recognize the off ramps and choose your course wisely.

This is not metaphysics.

But physics.

Johnny Carson backs out into the corridor only to find that a cleaning cart is now blocking the door to the men’s room. 

He is planning to ignore the sign and barge in anyway, when a boy tugs on him.  “Sir!  Sir, you’re already late! Come!  You must come!”

He is pulling Carson. 

As soon as Carson is away from the sign, the boy whispers:  “That cart’s a decoy. To catch desperados.”

They wouldn’t arrest me, thinks Carson.

He knows its true.  It’s just one of those things he knows.  He isn’t the type of man to be harassed. 

He’s not the type man caught.  Or prosecuted.

It must be his Burfie setting.

Carson follows the boy into the crowd. 

“Where’s the script?” he asks the boy.

Of course, the boy is gone. 

And Johnny Carson is standing in the Cathedral.

He has a mic in his hand and the red light is on.

Why should he be surprised?

Johnny Carson makes a beeline for the podium – or pulpit… What is he supposed to say in a Cathedral?