Last week, we all watched with great anticipation as Conan O’Brien told America about Texas. Then we carefully analyzed each joke and felt the need to defend ourselves.

For instance, my facebook page filled up with people complaining about his joke on how “Dallas-Ft. Worth” should just be called “Dallas.”

As much as I’m a champion of ragging on Dallas, I didn’t have a problem with that. After all, he probably didn’t know any better. I was the same way when I first moved here.

Five years ago, I set up shop in Arlington, started telling people I live in Dallas and didn’t realize I was supposed to pick sides. Since then, I’ve written extensively about how much I’ve enjoyed learning there were sides and then taking one.

Update: After I posted this, a friend pointed out that my facebook page still tells you I live in Dallas. See what I mean, people?

Conan’s right: the show’s called Dallas, not Dallas/Ft. Worth.

If the show had taken place in Ft. Worth, Larry Hagman would have been an upstanding and transparent businessman who sealed a transaction that benefited both parties with a hearty handshake. The entire series would have run its course in about five minutes.

Who wants to watch that?

“Tonight, on Ft. Worth,” the announcer would say in a low, menacing tone. “Conflict arises in the Ewing clan when they must decide among an overwhelming number of live music options.”

“The free parking downtown makes each venue too accessible,” Sue Ellen would say, weeping.

Also in this alternate universe, JR Ewing would have greased enough palms that Tarrant County would have an extensive light rail system up and running, even if it did zigzag inexplicably through parcels of land he owns.

Back to Conan, I think the more interesting exchange occurred during the interview with Charles Barkley.

“They lectured us on not calling it ‘Dallas,'” Barkley said, upset that no one knows what “North Texas” is.

He’s right: the Final Four logo shouldn’t read “North Texas.” It should read “Arlington.”

I’ve discussed this issue with Arlington Mayor Robert Cluck on a number of occasions. Once, he told me he called ESPN during Monday Night Football because the announcers kept saying they were at “beautiful Cowboys Stadium in Dallas, Texas.”

I imagine Mayor Cluck sitting at home in a darkened study, watching the game with a glass of bourbon on the table next to him. His face is lit only by light from a streetlamp passing through the slats of the window blinds. Upon hearing the reference to Dallas, Cluck would shift uncomfortably in his chair and pick up the phone. As he dials, he mutters, “For 400 million dollars, you can damn well learn the name of the city where–hello, this is Robert Cluck. Get me Mike Tirico!”

“Listen, Tirico,” the mayor would hypothetically continue, for all we know. “I’d better start hearing the word ‘Arlington’ and I’d better start hearing it right now. I’d hate for something to happen to that pretty little mouth of yours. Of course, if something did happen, I could also set your jaw because I’m a doctor, so that’d save you a trip to the hospital. But I’m an obstetrician, so I probably wouldn’t set it very well and it wouldn’t heal right, so you wouldn’t be able to pronounce the letter R for, like, six weeks or something. Think about that the next time you want to run your mouth about Dallas.”

Arlington has been fighting a battle for its own identity since Tom Vandergriff built that GM plant with his own bare hands and then lured the Washington Senators by promising to start in left field himself “until we can develop a Rusty Greer-type to take over.” He was a visionary, especially because Rusty Greer was three years old at the time.

And despite such a forward-thinking municipal government, Arlington’s desire to pull out of Dallas’ shadow is even obscured by Ft. Worth’s desire to pull out of Dallas’ shadow. Arlington doesn’t even have the region’s leading inferiority complex!

When the bid for the Final Four was submitted, the host committee named it “North Texas,” so that’s what appears on the logo.

If we’re not careful, “North Texas” will become the next “Southern California.” Do you know what happens then? The Dallas Cowboys change their name to the “Arlington Cowboys of Dallas.” Sunglasses will grow larger and more glamorous. TexMex gets replaced by “artisan tacos” that probably have cilantro on them.

I don’t even really know what cilantro is, and I don’t want to find out.

This reporter suggests we should let Arlington be Arlington and do so before the hipsters start tinkering with Irish nachos.