In 2010, the majority of the Baby Boomer generation will be solidly in their 60’s.  Retirement age.  A time when most willingly pass the torch of labor to the younger, less-tired masses.  Most except for Jay Leno.  He, apparently, refuses to leave.  Even by the chin of his chinny chin chin.

Now, Jay, I don’t think it’s entirely your fault.  You’re the champion of the boomers, nightly proof that the generation after the Greatest Generation was pretty good, too.  And they, Jeff Zucker chief among them, don’t want you to admit that maybe it’s time to call it a night.  Their relevance and mortality are tethered to yours.  So tightly, in fact, that they’ve convinced themselves that your saccharine satire is actually biting, further proof of the indirect relationship between aging and the ability to recognize comedy.*

While their taste is questionable, their numbers are not.  Your reverse coup has their full support.  You, Vanilla King, can take back your throne and return scripted drama to the 10PM hour in on fell swoop.  Greenlight a courtoom procedural starring the love child of Andy Rooney and Angela Lansbury and they very well may anoint you the Christ child.  Except that would make you a Jew.

Do them a favor, Jay:  show your peers how to step down with grace, how to die with dignity.  Even Springer had the decency to pass the torch to his predecessor.  You know this is for your own good.  Another three years and you’ll be Mays for the Mets fan, Dylan for the audiophile and Survivor for the secondarily educated.  Jay, look at me.  You’re Buick.  You’re parades.  You’re white Presidents.  At least Favre implied he keeps playing because he can’t stand his wife.  You’re happily married and nauseatingly rich.  So what’s your deal?  You better start enjoying your golden years, because, honestly, you seem to be fading.  You know how sick dogs get those “please kill me” eyes?  You’re getting those eyes, Jay.  You’re getting those eyes.

And if he can’t make the change himself, I ask the compassionate boomers among you to help him out.  End his misery and tell your kids he’s happily “living on a farm.”  Write NBC in protest as if Jeff Zucker is a congressman trying to build a prison in your neighborhood.  Listen, we thank you for trying to keep our water clean and curtailing your wanton oil consumption.  Now give our generation a gift we can immediately appreciate:  save us from the tyranny of oppressively boring late night.

*Before you protest, consider that Wild Hogs grossed over 168 million geriatric dollars domestically.