Here’s Johnny

“There’s a two hour special on tonight with Johnny Carson,” Mom announced as I was clearing her dinner plate away.

“With?” I asked, somewhat confused.  “Don’t you mean about?”

“Well, it’s called Johnny Carson, American Masters, so I’m guessing he’s the master of ceremonies,” she concluded.

“Mom,” I sighed, “Johnny Carson is dead so I don’t see how he can host a two-hour TV show.”

“Oh?  I didn’t hear anything about him dying.”

“I think it’s been at least five years,” I said over my shoulder, as I headed into the kitchen with her dirty dishes.

“I don’t know about that,” she shouted after me.  “Maybe you’re thinking of someone else.”

“Okay, you’re probably right,” I shouted back.  “And I’m sure he’ll have George Burns and Dean Martin on too.  Maybe even Lucille Ball.”

“That would be nice,” she called back to me.  “Are you sure you don’t want to watch?”

“Positive.  We’ll catch him later on the Tonight Show.”

“Okay,” she yelled as she turned up the volume in preparation for Wheel of Fortune.

“Catch who?” asked Bill as I set her dirty dinner plate on the kitchen counter.

“Johnny Carson,” I replied.

“Didn’t he die?” he asked.

“Apparently not,” I said, “because he’s got his own two hour special on TV tonight.  Plus Mom seems to believe that reports of his death have been greatly exaggerated, so I guess it isn’t true.”

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