In a world where everything is judge by its surface, where happiness is the answer and ‘love' is traded for ‘likes’. Where ‘friends' are a commodity and where our most valuable asset is to show how fucking great out lives are.
In a world dominated by this superlative conspiracy. Where true emotions are boring and success is religion. Right there, in its epicentrum on Hollywood Blvd, a certain Mr Jimmy Kimmel decides to tell the world about the passing of his friend and legendary comedian Mr Don Rickles.
It’s an unexpected turn on the otherwise more or less flimsy monologue. It’s full of laughter, anger and grief. Emotionally naked. Stripped down to the very core of being human.
- And it’s honest. So very honest.
Dear Mr Kimmel, you give me hope. You give me hope and the notion, that the artificial state we’re in right now is just a phase. That the autocracy of the shine-happy-people will inevitably fall, like all hollow kingdoms has fallen before them. Like the Emperor's new clothes and Milli Vanilli's Grammy.
And when it does, we will all be ready.