Jimmy Kimmel for president. Why not? We’ve tried everything else. We’ve had the Hollywood actor, the reality TV gameshow host and the sleepy grandad who insists on sniffing people’s hair. America, that great, deranged carnival of a nation, has given us monster trucks, chicken and waffles and Joan Rivers. Why not cut out the middleman and elect the joke itself?
Kimmel has already got the first job of the presidency ticked off the list: he’s divided the country into two foaming, hate-filled camps. One side thinks he’s the last brave truth-teller, a secular saint of The Resistance. The other says he’s an overpaid pub bore who laughs at his own jokes. Each calls the other fascists and paedophiles, sometimes both, depending on what time of day it is. It’s Biden versus Trump all over again, only this time with a laugh track.
Qualifications? Well, on foreign policy, he’s been insulting Europeans for decades. Not in the Kissinger sense, but the late-night host sense: mocking their trousers and their cheese. Economics? He’s proven he can deal with advertisers and network bosses willing to pull him off-air for a bad joke. Religion? He once dressed as Karl Malone in blackface, which proves he understands Original Sin and the need for constant public atonement. If the presidency is just another prime time slot, Kimmel already has the tie and the claque of trained seals applauding on cue.
His fans, the ones who hashtag themselves “the resistance” on Bluesky, pretend he’s a moral compass, a sort of late-night Mandela. In truth, he’s closer to one of those inflatable clowns you punch and it bounces straight back up. Wobbly, grinning, slightly pathetic. But in America, the land where they once thought Joe Biden was a unifier, the one-eyed clown can be king.
And people really are saying it. After his teary return to air after his week of paid leave, posts popped up online from people who hadn’t watched his show in a decade, suddenly inspired: “Who knew it would take Jimmy Kimmel to unify America. Jimmy, you should run for president!” They never cared for his monologues when they were actually on telly, but now, like moths to a very dim bulb, they’re desperate to see him in the Oval Office. This is how it starts. In 2018 Kimmel even joked with P Diddy about a White House run, claiming he was a “Boy Scout” compared to Trump. One wonders where he falls on the Trump to Diddy scale.
What a field he’d enter: Kamala Harris, whose speaking style suggests she’s permanently high on her own supply; Trump, red-faced, barking about a third run; Joe Biden, decaying, as Jill props up his head, his aviators sliding down his nose. Against that line-up, Kimmel doesn’t look so bad. He appears less perma-drunk than Kamala, laughs at his own jokes less, and is fractionally funnier. Which, given the Democratic bench, makes him practically a winner.
And perhaps that’s the best reason to put him in the White House: it would finally expose the absurdity of his worshippers. The Left has been treating Kimmel as a demigod, elevating a man whose main contribution to culture is sneering at Matt Damon. When Disney benched him, they shrieked that fascism had arrived. When he returned, they called it a triumph for liberty. Elect him, and let’s see how long they can keep a straight face.
In the end, the outcome would be perfect. Kimmel gets his shot at global significance, and the rest of us get to exercise the oldest American right of all: not watching. His presidency, like his show, would be dull, full of laboured jokes, mawkish sermons, the cloying smugness of a man convinced he’s important. It is, quite honestly, just what the country needs.
So yes. Kimmel for president. He’s ticked every box already: divided the country, cheapened the culture, made half the population recoil in horror. Which, when you strip away the pomp, is all the presidency has been for thirty years.
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