April 28, 2026

Let’s give Jimmy Kimmel his due. He has every right to spew any garbage he likes under our free speech laws. He can insult and offend whomever he wishes.

There’s no such thing in America as a right to not be offended.

By the same token, we have every right to tell him exactly what we think of his attack on President Trump and the First Lady, when he said on a recent show, “Look at Melania, so beautiful. Mrs Trump, you have a glow like an expectant widow.”

Let’s put aside the unfortunate fact that two days later, Cole Tomas Allen was arrested before he had a chance to harm Trump at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner.

On its own, telling a first lady she looks like someone expecting her husband to die is not just mean-spirited. It doesn’t carry a neutrino of humor. It might be titillating for someone who hates Trump so much they dream of his extinction.

But funny? Not close.

The first lady’s reaction went the expected route.

“Kimmel’s hateful and violent rhetoric is intended to divide our country… his words are corrosive and deepens the political sickness within America,” Melania Trump posted on X.

She went on to call Kimmel a “coward” who “hides behind ABC because he knows the network will keep running cover to protect him” and called for “ABC to take a stand.” White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt called Kimmel’s joke “completely deranged” while President Trump called the comedian’s joke a “despicable call to violence” on Truth Social.

True to form, instead of letting Kimmel stew in his anti-comedy, Trump is throwing the FCC at him and threatening to revoke Disney’s broadcast license, turning Kimmel into the victim.

All this is music to the ears of a smug comic like Kimmel. Getting such a nasty reaction from the hated Trumps, including calls for his firing, is a badge of  honor in Kimmel’s elitist world. It means I must be doing something right! What courage!

Not so fast, Jimmy

A “joke” on the demise of a president who’s already braved two assassination attempts doesn’t win you the glory of becoming a free speech martyr with your Trump-hating comrades. It just makes you a lousy comedian.

You should apologize, above all, for not doing your job. We all love a good joke. The tasteless and mean-spirited “Mrs Trump, you have a glow like an expectant widow” is no joke. It’s professional malpractice.

“Look at Jimmy, so unfunny.”

If you want to be taken seriously as a writer, it makes sense to write about serious stuff. God knows the list is long: the normalizing of Jew-hatred and antizionism; how digital technology has isolated us; how politics has bred chronic cynicism; the ongoing battle between capitalism and socialism; the loss of trust in institutions; the mental health crisis; the global disruption of AI; how the war in Iran will end; and on and on.

Laughter, you’ll notice, rarely makes the list.

By its very nature, laughter feels neither urgent nor important. It’s usually accidental: If it happens it happens.

Laughter also has a silly quality, and silly is the opposite of serious.

Then there are the optics.

At a time when our world is awash with so much danger and anxiety, is it appropriate to just sit there and laugh your head off?

I understand the dilemma. Given that I often write about serious stuff, people expect me to weigh in on those issues. But what many people don’t know is that as much as I value serious issues, I’d much rather find reasons to laugh my head off.

Since my childhood in Montreal, cracking up has been my drug of choice. My buddies and I would poke fun at pretty much everything. I guess that made us laughter predators. We had to hunt for the laughs or they wouldn’t show up.

You should know that what I’m doing now— being serious about laughter—really annoys me because it’s not very funny.

I did it again the other night when I connected the high-brow philosophy of Michel Foucault and Jacques Derrida with “Curb Your Enthusiasm.” These academic stars were known, among other things, for something called “deconstruction.”

“That’s what Larry David does!” I said to a friend in a burst of unabashed enthusiasm. I tried explaining how David “deconstructs” the most mundane, overlooked aspects of everyday life to deliver cringe-worthy belly laughs.

My friend got the point, but still, there was something forced about my need to be serious about what should require no explanation.

Of course, lots of serious stuff has been written about laughter. The biblical patriarch Isaac’s name in Hebrew means “he will laugh.” As Matthew Schultz writes, “Isaac is born in laughter. The child of ancient parents — a wizened patriarch and a fertile crone — he is the laugh with which one greets the beautiful absurdity of a miracle.”

It’s also well known that throughout centuries of persecution, Jews used laughter to nourish their resilience. When they landed on American shores, they were well equipped to deliver the laughs. The fact that America’s personality was shaped by the serious Protestant work ethic may well have made Jewish comics that much more in demand (We’re working too hard! Somebody make us laugh!)

In any case, laughter is never too far from serious.

One of my favorite examples was when my friend Elon Gold and his comedian pals took the poison of antisemitism and gave it a classic roasting. During a wild and memorable “Roast of Anti-Semitism” show at the Saban Theater, the packed crowd didn’t just crack up — it was experiencing something new.

You see, we’ve all attended countless Jewish events devoted to serious causes, but hardly any devoted to the cause of laughter.

Among the powers that be, laughter doesn’t have the lucrative grandeur of ethics or justice. At best it’s a cherry on top. To paraphrase the immortal Rodney Dangerfield, it doesn’t get much respect. It is never the obvious choice. Unless one goes after it, laughter never shows up.

What does show up is the sobering stuff, either from current events or our own lives. That’s why this tends to dominate our conversations. We’re dealing with vital issues, we tell ourselves, why break it up with silliness? Why look for laughs when so much important stuff has already found us?

For me, there’s really one reason: I love to laugh. I love making others laugh, especially my mother. I consider laughter one of life’s most instinctive and sublime pleasures. The more I laugh, the more I want to laugh.

Those of us who belong to Laughers Anonymous don’t mind the hunt. We know laughs don’t come easy. We also know we only have one life to live, and it’s serious enough as it is. So why not imbibe a drug whose only side effect is the occasional stress on the stomach or the eardrums of whoever is near you?

Now that I’m done with the column, I realize I actually don’t mind giving you this serious take on something as silly as laughing my head off. I know it’s only a quick time-out until I go back to being a serious writer.