Alex always comes off as a lost child amazed by the world's cruelty. His look of emotionally wounded disorientation would be heart-rending if he wasn't an awful person and a complete loon.
Those tears are as fake as Beck's, people. These two are just months into the most drawn-out, absurdly white, postmodernist poetry battle the world has ever seen. The kayfabe among AM radio commentators would put any wrestler to shame.
I could just listen to this, without the video and imagine Jones sitting in a gloomy dive bar with an almost empty bottle of whiskey in front of him, ranting against Beck on the TV behind the bar this way. And if I were at the same bar, listening to him, I'd buy him another bottle.