Last week, an event happened that could resurrect the stale world of network television.

NBC announced that Conan O’Brien will be Jay Leno’s successor when he retires in 2009. They preemptively named him as the host to avoid a similar type of power struggle to the early ’90s between Leno and David Letterman after Johnny Carson retired.

This is the best news I’ve heard in a long time. Conan is unquestionably the funniest man on late- night television. Forget Letterman and Leno — they are dinosaurs who ran out of comic material once Bill Clinton left office.

In glorious contrast, Conan fills every episode with loads of self-effacing humor and zany skits that are too weird not to love. Example: In his newest comedy bit, he has a big fake lever that he pulls several times a night, and it shows a 10-second clip from “Walker, Texas Ranger.” The audience is then treated to an awkwardly edited scene featuring Chuck Norris, one of the most ridiculous actors in the universe.

Conan’s “Walker, Texas Ranger” lever is low-budget and random, but it’s 100 times funnier than the expensive gimmicks used by Letterman and Leno. And I haven’t even mentioned Conan’s other pieces of comedy gold. There’s Triumph the Insult Comic Dog, who managed to piss off all of Canada (which scores major points in my book), Conan’s Wild Desk Ride and the Clutch Cargo skit, in which an actor’s lips appear over a still image of President Bush, Arnold Schwarzenegger and other people who won’t ever appear on Conan’s show.

In contrast, Letterman and Leno are well past their prime and their ages are starting to show. It’s sad to watch the 57-year-old Letterman try to look hip by bringing in musical acts like Franz Ferdinand when it’s obvious he’s been out of the musical loop for two decades. But Letterman has his redeeming features. His Top 10 lists are still funny, and his banter with Paul Shaffer is about 50 percent as good as the dialogue between Max Weinberg and Conan.

Letterman definitely tops Jay Leno, who is completely unworthy to fill the seat of Johnny Carson. Every night it’s the same thing: Jay struts out with his grotesquely oversized chin, opens the show with a stiff monologue of bland jokes (some so bland that even Kevin Eubanks has trouble laughing) and conducts a formulaic interview.

The only segment that can even qualify as humor is Jay Walking, where Jay tracks down tourists and asks them what year the War of 1812 took place. They obviously don’t know the answer, and hilarity ensues. If you took this skit and replaced Jay Leno with Bill Cosby, it wouldn’t be too different from an episode of “Kids Say the Darndest Things.”

My biggest fear about Conan taking over the show is that Leno’s old audience won’t appreciate his brand of humor. Old baby boomers who laugh at Leno’s latest zinger about John Kerry’s long face might be confused by the Pimpbot 5000, a robotic pimp that “combines the classic sensibilities of a 1950’s robot with the dynamic flare of a 1970’s street pimp.”

But that’s their problem. They can either learn to appreciate better humor or settle for reruns of Leno whenever his show starts appearing on TV Land. These audiences have settled for a second rate talk-show host for too long.

Conan will begin his glorious reign in five years and make the 10:30 p.m. timeslot infinitely funnier. That’s a gift that network television doesn’t deserve.