Jimmy Kimmel Needs An Exorcism
NASHVILLE – I did not arrive at this conclusion lightly. I am a Christian mother. I buy the giant cinnamon applesauce packets from Costco. I lead the Wednesday casserole rotation at church. I have spent seventeen years quietly forgiving secular America for inventing crop tops and energy drinks.
But after watching fifteen consecutive clips of Jimmy Kimmel laughing at ordinary Americans with the expression of a man who recently sold his soul in exchange for premium parking at the Oscars, I believe spiritual intervention is now necessary.
This is no longer politics.
This is not comedy.
This is a haunting.
You can tell by the eyes first. Mothers notice these things. We notice when a child has a fever, when a husband is lying about buying a smoker grill, and when a late night host appears to contain several lesser demons specializing in sarcasm and almond milk.
Jimmy Kimmel used to seem relatively normal. He hosted a show where grown men jumped on trampolines and women guessed what objects were hidden under towels. America survived it. Nobody called a priest. But somewhere along the line he began developing the exact facial expressions described in the Book of Revelation right before the rivers turn to blood.
Every night he appears on television with the exhausted smirk of a man spiritually trapped inside an airport Chili’s.
My husband Frank says it is probably just Hollywood burnout. That is exactly the kind of thing Satan wants Frank to think.
The evidence is overwhelming.
First, the man laughs after saying things that are not jokes. This is a classic symptom of possession. Catholic experts call it “forced mirth.” Pentecostals call it “TV face.” My aunt Denise calls it “California.”
Second, he has developed the strange confidence of someone who believes no human consequences apply to him anymore. Last month he reportedly lectured the nation from behind a desk while dressed like a casino magician who lost custody of his birds. A spiritually healthy man does not do this repeatedly under studio lighting.
Third, and most disturbing, is the audience.
Watch closely and you will notice they clap before understanding what he said. This is known in ministry circles as pre-applause suggestion. Mega churches pioneered it in the 1990s. Late night television perfected it. Entire rows of adults now react to Jimmy Kimmel the way medieval peasants reacted to unexplained solar eclipses.
One former NBC technician who asked to remain anonymous told me the building temperature drops several degrees whenever Kimmel begins another monologue about the moral failures of people who own patio furniture.
“He walked past me once and my FitBit died immediately,” the source said. “I’m not saying it was demonic. I’m just saying my priest asked follow-up questions.”
Hollywood insiders have denied the rumors, although several admitted Kimmel’s dressing room now contains “an unusual quantity” of scented black candles and a rescue dog named Voltaire.
Naturally, the mainstream media refuses to investigate. They would rather spend time fact-checking Facebook posts from grandmothers than address the very real possibility that America’s late night ecosystem has become spiritually radioactive.
Meanwhile, churches remain silent.
This country used to conduct exorcisms proactively. Now everybody waits until a celebrity fully levitates during an awards speech before taking action.
I recently proposed a peaceful solution during Bible study. Simply invite Jimmy Kimmel to a church potluck in rural Tennessee and observe whether he can physically enter the fellowship hall. If he recoils from a crockpot or bursts into flames near a quilt raffle, we proceed accordingly.
The Methodist women agreed this was reasonable.
One Baptist deacon suggested beginning with light interventions first, including anointing his studio with olive oil and forcing him to spend a weekend helping Habitat for Humanity volunteers who own bass boats.
A Presbyterian elder recommended exposing him gradually to joy.
“Start with a golden retriever,” he said. “Then maybe a high school marching band.”
Experts remain divided on whether the condition is reversible. Some believe prolonged exposure to network television permanently damages the soul’s ability to recognize normal human behavior. Others remain optimistic and point to the successful rehabilitation of former cable news contributors who now operate pumpkin patches.
As Christians, we are called to forgiveness.
I do not hate Jimmy Kimmel. I pity him.
Somewhere underneath the expensive suits and professionally whitened teeth is a frightened man trapped in an endless cycle of applause, sponsored content, and spiritually corrosive audience clapping. No human being was designed by God to discuss celebrity tweets four nights a week under artificial lighting.
At minimum, the man needs prayer.
At maximum, he needs two priests, a livestock-grade crucifix, and whatever they used on that Annabelle doll.