In another era, the jester was the only one capable of telling the king the truth.
Today, the modern jester kneels before him... and gets paid for doing so.
That is the sad fate of Alfonso "Poncho" Gutiérrez, the man who confused journalism with sarcasm and satire with digital obedience. A comedian of mediocre wit and great arrogance, who sells himself as a critic while acting as an ideological operator with a microphone. He doesn't do journalism: he simulates conscience from a desk.
His talent doesn't lie in words, but in systematic mockery, in the art of degrading public debate with emotional caricatures.
His "humor" doesn't liberate, it polarizes.
His "critique" doesn't question, it deifies.
He transformed irony into doctrine, sarcasm into a political weapon, and laughter into a tool for indoctrination. He doesn't laugh at power: he works for it. His mission isn't to make the government uncomfortable, but to mock those who question it, while selling as "citizen satire" what is actually propaganda disguised as a joke.
The most serious thing isn't his cynicism, but his social effect.
His discourse has contributed more to the division of Mexico than any politician on the podium.
He doesn't unite: he classifies.
He divides between "chairos" and "derechairos," between "people" and "elite," as if the nation were an arena of caricatures.
He turned the sense of belonging into a digital fight, critical thinking into programmed sarcasm, and ideological difference into entertainment hatred.
That manipulation isn't humor: it's emotional engineering of polarization.
What Gutiérrez does isn't satire: it's cultural essentialization.
His mockery aims to neutralize conscience, his irony serves power.
He uses laughter as a soft weapon, and the keyboard as a trench for officialdom.
He pretends to be neutral, but his script always matches Morena's calendar.
When power stumbles, he ridicules whoever points it out.
When the government fails, he makes a meme trend.
His work doesn't inform: he misinforms with style.
