MAGA-rioting ‘Bob’s Burgers’ star: Feds targeting me because I’m an ‘acclaimed actor’

The claim that being an “acclaimed actor” places someone above the laws they choose to break feels audacious, bordering on delusional, particularly in the case of the “Bob’s Burgers” star known for his portrayal of Jimmy Pesto. The reality is that if you decide to take part in a violent insurrection, the consequences should follow regardless of your occupation or status. Johnston’s situation stands as a stark reminder that actions have repercussions, and attempting to evade accountability because of a perceived celebrity status only compounds the audacity of his actions.

It’s intriguing how he frames his legal troubles as the result of being targeted due to fame. This narrative is rich with irony, particularly when juxtaposed against the seriousness of the January 6 events. His lawyers allege that he is suffering professionally due to his involvement, presenting him as a martyr of sorts within an industry that has rightfully shunned him. However, it’s critical to recognize that his very actions—not his career—led to the fallout he experiences today. Declaring oneself an “acclaimed actor” when so many others in higher-profile roles—from H. Jon Benjamin to Kristen Schaal—have not faced similar legal troubles speaks to a deep-seated denial of responsibility.

Understanding the depth of the term “acclaimed” reveals an uncomfortable truth about Johnston’s self-image. It’s a term better suited to those who have genuinely made significant contributions to the arts, far surpassing typical voice roles in animation. To classify himself as such, particularly after engaging in behavior that many unequivocally label treasonous, appears almost laughable. The character of Jimmy Pesto is a supporting role, not a central character that defines a groundbreaking career. Imagine delineating celebrity based on a background voice role while simultaneously participating in a historic insurrection. It’s absurd.

The comments surrounding his situation highlight the societal fundamental that no one, regardless of their status in the entertainment industry, is immune to the consequences of their actions. There’s a clear divide between those who are celebrated for their talent and those who attempt to rally support on the back of a cartoon character, claiming they’re victims of an overzealous government. It’s telling to see how quickly the support can evaporate when the mainstage shifts from entertainment to the courtroom, particularly when criminality is involved. Suggestions that he’s not experienced career setbacks because of his talent, but because he’s merely a target, feel less like a defense and more like a desperate plea for sympathy.

It’s one thing to put forth the argument that Hollywood targets conservatives and takes a dim view of those who engage in controversial politics; it’s another to ignore that the true reason for Johnston’s struggles lies in his actions. Many have experienced the loss of livelihood for various reasons, but it’s ironic and rather paradoxical to cry foul when one willingly participated in an attempt to upend democracy. The narrative of martyrdom falls flat when the crimes committed are so egregious and publicly scrutinized. To position oneself on a pedestal while surrounding oneself with insurrectionists speaks volumes about culpability and accountability in modern discourse.

In a broader context, Johnston’s plight reveals much about our culture’s perception of fame and consequence. Is there truly a divide in how we treat those with celebrity status compared to everyday citizens? The stark reality contrasts heavily with the idea that shouting “I am famous!” should afford someone leniency or evoke pity when they are obviously guilty of wrongdoing. I find it deeply troubling that this narrative persists, where the supposed victimhood is inaccurately aligned with actual malfeasance.

“To fuck around is human; to find out, divine” seems particularly apt in this situation. Johnston and those like him seem to believe they have immunity, yet the backlash they face speaks to a societal stance that does not tolerate insurrection or treason, regardless of your star power. The loyalty of fans quickly diminishes when faced with the hard truth of treachery, exposing a fundamental flaw in the notion that one can act with impunity under the glow of fame. As Johnston navigates the fallout of his actions, the spotlight has shifted entirely in the wrong direction. Celebrities are not impervious to justice; the scales are balancing, and this recognition may be the only silver lining in an otherwise turbulent narrative.