In the golden era of television, late-night hosts were the ultimate outsiders. They were the court jesters, the ones who chugged beers, mocked authority without fear or favor, and poked holes in the egos of the powerful. But turn on the TV today, and you’ll find a very different landscape—one where the jesters have become the preachers, and the jokes have been replaced by approved moral lectures. At the center of this cultural shift stands Jimmy Kimmel, a man whose transformation from the frat-boy humor of The Man Show to the teary-eyed moral conscience of ABC is perhaps the most dramatic rebrand in Hollywood history.

Recently, this evolution has come under withering fire from two heavyweights of the new media landscape: Joe Rogan and Megyn Kelly. In what can only be described as a “verbal demolition derby,” the duo didn’t just critique Kimmel’s comedy; they dismantled his entire modern persona, exposing what they see as a hollow, corporate shell where a comedian used to be.

The “Career Botox” of Jimmy Kimmel

Joe Rogan, a man who has built an empire on raw, unfiltered authenticity, views Kimmel’s shift not as personal growth, but as a calculated survival strategy. To Rogan, Kimmel is the ultimate example of “career botox”—a complete cosmetic overhaul designed to smooth out the rough edges and present a face that is acceptable to the corporate advertisers of 2024. Rogan’s critique cuts deep because it comes from a place of disappointment. He remembers the old Kimmel—the guy who rode the edge of comedy like a wild bull.

Today, however, Rogan sees a man who has traded his comedic spark for Instagram approval. He describes Kimmel as having become “totally beige,” likening his transformation to a 90s punk rocker who grew up to become a spokesperson for Whole Foods. The danger, according to Rogan, isn’t just that the jokes aren’t funny; it’s that they are safe. They come with “safety labels” and HR approval. In this sanitized version of late-night, Kimmel plays the role of the “head babysitter,” carefully curating monologues that reinforce the approved narrative rather than challenging it.

Hypocrisy and the “Strategic Chameleon”

While Rogan attacks the lack of comedic courage, Megyn Kelly arrives with the receipts, focusing on the staggering hypocrisy that underpins this new moral high ground. She points to the glaring double standards that allow Kimmel to thrive while others perish. The most damning evidence? The “Karl Malone” sketches. Kimmel famously performed in blackface for comedy bits that would instantly end the career of a lesser-known conservative or a non-aligned host.

Kelly draws a sharp contrast with the firing of Chris Harrison from The Bachelor. Harrison was ousted merely for suggesting that we shouldn’t judge past actions by today’s standards without context. Meanwhile, Kimmel—who actually committed the act of wearing blackface—not only kept his job but was elevated to host the Academy Awards. Kelly’s verdict is cynical but precise: Kimmel isn’t forgiven because he is sorry; he is forgiven because he “switched teams.” He is a “strategic chameleon” who realized that in the current market, loyalty to the narrative is more valuable than comedic integrity. By becoming a reliable mouthpiece for the establishment, he purchased his own immunity.

The Collapse of the Late-Night Echo Chamber

The critique expands beyond just one man to the entire ecosystem of late-night television. The numbers paint a grim picture. Shows like The Daily Show and Late Night with Seth Meyers are seeing viewership numbers that would have been grounds for cancellation a decade ago. In stark contrast, Greg Gutfeld on Fox News—who operates outside this liberal echo chamber—is pulling in double the audience.

Why? Because viewers didn’t tune in to be graded on their morality; they tuned in to laugh. Rogan and Kelly argue that late-night TV has become a “daycare for ideologues,” a place where the host’s primary job is to signal virtue rather than entertain. When every joke feels like a corporate memo and every monologue feels like a homework assignment, the audience inevitably checks out.

A Hollow Victory

Ultimately, the takedown by Rogan and Kelly highlights a tragic irony. In his quest to be taken seriously as a “Statesman of Late Night,” Jimmy Kimmel has alienated the very people who used to love him for his irreverence. He has become a “human press release,” polished and professional, but entirely devoid of the chaotic human element that makes comedy resonate.

The “roast” delivered by Rogan and Kelly wasn’t just about mean tweets or political disagreements. It was an exposure of a system that rewards conformity over creativity. As Kimmel continues to deliver his sermons from the comfort of his studio, the silence from the audience is becoming deafening. The laughter has moved elsewhere—to podcasts, to YouTube, and to platforms where the risk of offending someone is still considered a small price to pay for the truth. Jimmy Kimmel may have kept his job, but as this brutal critique suggests, he may have lost his funny bone in the process.