Joel McHale is a star in low hours that is pigeonholed in the comedy Community and now it is redeemed in a modest program of Netflix where it mixes sketches with videos of zapping. In each installment they review the most monstrous, delirious and infamous of American television, which for a Spanish spectator has the incentive of the exotic (relieves to see foreign garbage, for a change) and of the revealing (so that we do not forget that the best television of the world is also the worst television in the world). But, after a few chapters of freaks, actors of soap operas that overcome any parody, realities cigars and ganes with muscle in the neocortex, I am invaded by the same bad conscience that all these programs provoke, they are broadcast where they are issued.
Suddenly, I see myself with my face deformed by an absolutist laughter, of a felon king who laughs at a circus of dwarves and slaves. As much as Joel McHale fulfills the imperative demanded of any comedian (who, before laughing at others, has to laugh at himself, and his character is that of an actor in decline), the programs of zapping who make fun of telebasura flatter the moral superiority of the spectator. We laugh at those we consider inferior and grotesque. Gentle, in short. The average Netflix viewer, urban, thirty-something and university, mocks the ignorance of the vast majority of the population.
We do not have to walk much farther to find one of the reasons why they explain Donald Trump. Richard Pipes tells in his story of the Russian Revolution that, in 1905, spontaneous violence against the ochkastie, name by which people who wore glasses were known. The myopic people were beaten because the crowd considered the intellectuals arrogant and inhumane. The trumpistas they have risen up against ochkastie, but the ochkastie We have not heard yet and we keep laughing at the mob as if it could not hurt us.