It’s graduation season. A time when caps fly, parents cry, and students briefly feel like the world is theirs — even if the real world couldn’t care less how they feel.

At Fordham University this year, something extraordinary happened. Out walked Jimmy Fallon — not to give a speech, but to DJ. Sort of.
“I’ve never done this before,” he joked to the crowd. “Can I just plug in my phone?”
They laughed. Loudly. The good kind of laughter — the kind that’s free, not forced. He queued up “Blinding Lights” by The Weeknd, and just like that, the room transformed. In truth, the roof almost came off the building.
Then the real magic happened. Out of nowhere, The Weeknd himself — real name Abel Tesfaye, arguably the biggest pop star on the planet — walked onto the stage.
The look on the students’ faces? Sheer, unfiltered joy. Jaws dropped. Eyes lit up. People giggled uncontrollably, screamed like they never screamed before. (RELATED: David Brooks Still Can’t Say the Word ‘God’)
Now, what’s my point?
That moment mattered. Not because of who was onstage, but because of what it cut through. We live in a culture so poisoned by cynicism, politics, and digital sneering that something as simple as a surprise DJ set now feels like an act of rebellion. These are vitriolic times, where joy feels suspect, and neutrality is treated like betrayal.
It’s become fashionable to hate on joy. To view everything, especially someone like Jimmy Fallon, through a lens of suspicion. Too mainstream. Too safe. Too silly. He doesn’t seethe like Colbert or John Oliver. He doesn’t sermonize like Kimmel. Unlike Seth Meyers, he doesn’t carry himself like an uptight DNC press secretary.
Fallon made the conscious choice not to wade into the nightly low-blow politics that so many of his peers bathe in. Yes, he had Trump on his show. Yes, he ruffled his hair. And yes, he pokes fun at politicians. But not in a mean, divisive way. Not in the way that tells half the country they’re beneath laughter. Although no lat...