The trucks were supposed to roll out of Los Angeles this morning, carrying the familiar staging and lights that transform Jimmy Kimmel's Hollywood studio into America's late-night living room. Their destination: the Brooklyn Academy of Music, where Kimmel has brought his show seven times before, returning to the borough where he spent his earliest years.
But as crew members packed equipment yesterday—their movements captured and shared across social media—nobody knew for certain whether those trucks would make the cross-country journey, or whether Kimmel's planned September 29th homecoming would ever happen.
A Joke That Changed Everything
It started with 31 words during a recent monologue. Words that, in the grand tradition of late-night television, were meant to provoke thought, maybe a chuckle, certainly not a constitutional crisis.
"We hit some new lows over the weekend with the MAGA gang desperately trying to characterize this kid who murdered Charlie Kirk as anything other than one of them and doing everything they can to score political points from it," Kimmel said.
Within hours, those words had been dissected, reinterpreted, and weaponized. Conservative outlets, led by Fox News, claimed Kimmel had directly labeled the suspected killer as part of the "MAGA gang." Federal Communications Commission Chairman Brendan Carr didn't just condemn the comments—he threatened action.
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way," Carr warned during a podcast interview, his words carrying the weight of federal authority. "These companies can find ways to change conduct and take action, frankly, on Kimmel, or there's going to be additional work for the FCC ahead."
When Laughter Becomes Liability
For Jimmy Kimmel, this wasn't just professional turbulence—it was personal. The 56-year-old comedian had built his career on the premise that humor could illuminate truth, that late-night television served as both entertainment and a forum for American discourse. Now, that very premise was under assault.
Inside the corridors of Disney's Burbank headquarters, panic was setting in. Two major media conglomerates, Nexstar and Sinclair, announced they would preempt Kimmel's show across their ABC affiliates. The message was clear: the comedian had become too hot to handle.
"They were pissing themselves all day," recalls one ABC insider, describing the emergency meetings that consumed Wednesday as executives scrambled to contain the damage.
The arithmetic was brutal. By midday, approximately 66 out of 200 ABC affiliates had signaled they wouldn't air Kimmel that evening. Advertisers were calling with concerns. Disney employees reported receiving death threats and being doxxed online. The entertainment giant that had stood by Kimmel through previous controversies found itself calculating whether one comedian was worth a potential war with the incoming Trump administration.
The Brooklyn Dreams on Hold
The timing couldn't have been more poignant. Kimmel's Brooklyn residency represents more than just a change of scenery—it's a homecoming that speaks to his journey from a working-class kid in New York to one of television's most influential voices. The $5 million production move was meant to be a celebration, complete with a full slate of guests, including fellow late-night host Stephen Colbert, himself no stranger to political controversy.
"New York is Jimmy's hometown and Brooklyn has always been a high-energy crowd," explains a production source. The shows at BAM have become a tradition, dating back to 2012, each one a reminder of Kimmel's roots and his connection to audiences beyond the Hollywood bubble.
But as Wednesday turned to Thursday, those plans hung in limbo. Trucks loaded with equipment waited for word that might never come. Guest bookings remained uncertain. The very future of the show that had defined Kimmel's career for over two decades was suddenly in question.
The Price of Principle
Behind closed doors, Kimmel was facing a choice that would define not just his career, but his legacy. Disney executives, led by TV chief Dana Walden, urged caution. They wanted a statement that would calm the storm, reassure affiliates, and move past the controversy with minimal damage.
Kimmel had other ideas. Sources close to the comedian say he was willing to clarify that he never meant to suggest Kirk's alleged killer was affiliated with MAGA. But he also wanted to call out what he saw as the deliberate distortion of his words by Fox News and other conservative outlets.
"He wasn't kowtowing," one Kimmel ally told industry insiders, describing the comedian's stance as principled rather than defiant.
Disney executives saw it differently. They worried that any statement from Kimmel would "fan the flames with the MAGA fan base" rather than extinguish them. The gulf between corporate caution and comedic integrity had never seemed wider.
A Pattern of Pressure
This wasn't Kimmel's first dance with corporate anxiety. In 2013, he faced similar pressure over a segment where he asked children how America should deal with its debt to China. When one boy suggested "Kill everyone in China," Kimmel's deadpan response created an international incident that threatened Disney's expansion plans in the lucrative Chinese market.
Then, as now, Kimmel ultimately apologized. But the pattern was clear: in an era of global media conglomerates, comedians increasingly find themselves constrained not just by audience sensibilities, but by corporate vulnerabilities across multiple markets and regulatory environments.
The Bigger Picture
What's happening to Kimmel reflects a broader shift in the American media landscape. The traditional late-night format—where comedians serve as informal commentators on the day's events—is colliding with an increasingly polarized political environment and corporate structures that prioritize risk management over creative freedom.
"The future of late-night may be on streaming, where you can watch whenever you want and skip past whatever you don't," suggests one industry insider. "It's how people consume these shows, anyway."
The observation hints at a potential solution, but also at a fundamental change in how comedy and commentary might coexist in American culture. If traditional broadcast television can no longer accommodate the kind of pointed humor that has defined late-night for decades, where does that leave both comedians and audiences?
An Uncertain Curtain Call
As the sun sets on another day in this ongoing drama, the trucks remain packed, the Brooklyn Academy of Music waits, and Jimmy Kimmel faces the most significant challenge of his career. The comedian who built his reputation on being unafraid to speak his mind now confronts a system increasingly designed to silence those who do.
Whether those trucks roll toward New York this week may depend on more than logistics and scheduling. It may depend on whether there's still room in American entertainment for the kind of voice that made Jimmy Kimmel—and late-night television—culturally relevant in the first place.
The Comedian in the Crosshairs: Jimmy Kimmel's Fight for Late-Night Television
The trucks were supposed to roll out of Los Angeles this morning, carrying the familiar staging and lights that transform Jimmy Kimmel's Hollywood studio into America's late-night living room. Their destination: the Brooklyn Academy of Music, where Kimmel has brought his show seven times before, returning to the borough where he spent his earliest years.
But as crew members packed equipment yesterday—their movements captured and shared across social media—nobody knew for certain whether those trucks would make the cross-country journey, or whether Kimmel's planned September 29th homecoming would ever happen.
A Joke That Changed Everything
It started with 31 words during a recent monologue. Words that, in the grand tradition of late-night television, were meant to provoke thought, maybe a chuckle, certainly not a constitutional crisis.
"We hit some new lows over the weekend with the MAGA gang desperately trying to characterize this kid who murdered Charlie Kirk as anything other than one of them and doing everything they can to score political points from it," Kimmel said.
Within hours, those words had been dissected, reinterpreted, and weaponized. Conservative outlets, led by Fox News, claimed Kimmel had directly labeled the suspected killer as part of the "MAGA gang." Federal Communications Commission Chairman Brendan Carr didn't just condemn the comments—he threatened action.
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way," Carr warned during a podcast interview, his words carrying the weight of federal authority. "These companies can find ways to change conduct and take action, frankly, on Kimmel, or there's going to be additional work for the FCC ahead."
When Laughter Becomes Liability
For Jimmy Kimmel, this wasn't just professional turbulence—it was personal. The 56-year-old comedian had built his career on the premise that humor could illuminate truth, that late-night television served as both entertainment and a forum for American discourse. Now, that very premise was under assault.
Inside the corridors of Disney's Burbank headquarters, panic was setting in. Two major media conglomerates, Nexstar and Sinclair, announced they would preempt Kimmel's show across their ABC affiliates. The message was clear: the comedian had become too hot to handle.
"They were pissing themselves all day," recalls one ABC insider, describing the emergency meetings that consumed Wednesday as executives scrambled to contain the damage.
The arithmetic was brutal. By midday, approximately 66 out of 200 ABC affiliates had signaled they wouldn't air Kimmel that evening. Advertisers were calling with concerns. Disney employees reported receiving death threats and being doxxed online. The entertainment giant that had stood by Kimmel through previous controversies found itself calculating whether one comedian was worth a potential war with the incoming Trump administration.
The Brooklyn Dreams on Hold
The timing couldn't have been more poignant. Kimmel's Brooklyn residency represents more than just a change of scenery—it's a homecoming that speaks to his journey from a working-class kid in New York to one of television's most influential voices. The $5 million production move was meant to be a celebration, complete with a full slate of guests, including fellow late-night host Stephen Colbert, himself no stranger to political controversy.
"New York is Jimmy's hometown and Brooklyn has always been a high-energy crowd," explains a production source. The shows at BAM have become a tradition, dating back to 2012, each one a reminder of Kimmel's roots and his connection to audiences beyond the Hollywood bubble.
But as Wednesday turned to Thursday, those plans hung in limbo. Trucks loaded with equipment waited for word that might never come. Guest bookings remained uncertain. The very future of the show that had defined Kimmel's career for over two decades was suddenly in question.
The Price of Principle
Behind closed doors, Kimmel was facing a choice that would define not just his career, but his legacy. Disney executives, led by TV chief Dana Walden, urged caution. They wanted a statement that would calm the storm, reassure affiliates, and move past the controversy with minimal damage.
Kimmel had other ideas. Sources close to the comedian say he was willing to clarify that he never meant to suggest Kirk's alleged killer was affiliated with MAGA. But he also wanted to call out what he saw as the deliberate distortion of his words by Fox News and other conservative outlets.
"He wasn't kowtowing," one Kimmel ally told industry insiders, describing the comedian's stance as principled rather than defiant.
Disney executives saw it differently. They worried that any statement from Kimmel would "fan the flames with the MAGA fan base" rather than extinguish them. The gulf between corporate caution and comedic integrity had never seemed wider.
A Pattern of Pressure
This wasn't Kimmel's first dance with corporate anxiety. In 2013, he faced similar pressure over a segment where he asked children how America should deal with its debt to China. When one boy suggested "Kill everyone in China," Kimmel's deadpan response created an international incident that threatened Disney's expansion plans in the lucrative Chinese market.
Then, as now, Kimmel ultimately apologized. But the pattern was clear: in an era of global media conglomerates, comedians increasingly find themselves constrained not just by audience sensibilities, but by corporate vulnerabilities across multiple markets and regulatory environments.
The Bigger Picture
What's happening to Kimmel reflects a broader shift in the American media landscape. The traditional late-night format—where comedians serve as informal commentators on the day's events—is colliding with an increasingly polarized political environment and corporate structures that prioritize risk management over creative freedom.
"The future of late-night may be on streaming, where you can watch whenever you want and skip past whatever you don't," suggests one industry insider. "It's how people consume these shows, anyway."
The observation hints at a potential solution, but also at a fundamental change in how comedy and commentary might coexist in American culture. If traditional broadcast television can no longer accommodate the kind of pointed humor that has defined late-night for decades, where does that leave both comedians and audiences?
An Uncertain Curtain Call
As the sun sets on another day in this ongoing drama, the trucks remain packed, the Brooklyn Academy of Music waits, and Jimmy Kimmel faces the most significant challenge of his career. The comedian who built his reputation on being unafraid to speak his mind now confronts a system increasingly designed to silence those who do.
Whether those trucks roll toward New York this week may depend on more than logistics and scheduling. It may depend on whether there's still room in American entertainment for the kind of voice that made Jimmy Kimmel—and late-night television—culturally relevant in the first place.
The future of the second-biggest late-night show in the U.S. is in jeopardy after ABC pulled the programming "indefinitely" following threats of an investigation by Federal Communications Commission chair Brendan Carr and complaints by an owner company of local affiliate stations, Nexstar Media. These were in connection with comments made in the aftermath of the assassination of right-wing political activist Charlie Kirk last week. Host Jimmy Kimmel of Jimmy Kimmel Live! had, like other hosts, mourned the death of Kirk, but also said that President Donald Trump was using the death to score political points. One comment specifically, about the political positions of Kirk's assassin, has been widely circulated.
The influence the FCC and Trump-appointed Carr is taking on TV programming has raised questions around the right to free speech and has been condemned by public figures and organizations like former President Barack Obama, media union SAG-AFTRA, the Writers Guild of America, the Producers Guild of America, and other prominent current and former late-night hosts.
Stephen Colbert of The Late Show said on his show Thursday that the decision amounted to censorship and called Trump an autocrat. In Q2 of 2025, an average of 2.42 million Americans tuned into Colbert's show, according to Nielsen, followed by Kimmel's program pulling in 1.77 million. This makes them the late night hosts with the biggest audiences in the 11.35 p.m.-segment as well as any other time slot.
CBS announced in July that Colbert's show would be taken off the air in May. While it said its decision was financial, the cut came amid criticism by Colbert of a settlement paid by CBS to Trump, who sued the broadcaster over interview editing of his then-opponent in the presidential election, Kamala Harris. In the case of the CBS settlement, as well as the current complaints by ABC affiliate station owner Nexstar Media, both companies were or are looking for FCC approval on mergers.
Long before the cancellation/suspension of Stephen Colbert and Jimmy Kimmel, Americans have debated whether late-night television has become too political. While critics argue that late-night shows are overly partisan and too hung up on criticism of the Trump administration at the expense of light-hearted fun and broad appeal, others argue that political commentary is and has always been a key part of the genre’s DNA and that the often stinging political satire delivered by the current generation of late-night hosts is merely a reaction and a necessary counterweight to the populist style of politics that Donald Trump stands for. While late-night legends like Johnny Carson, David Letterman, and Jay Leno may have been more subtle in poking fun at politicians, that subtlety has long vanished from the political landscape, with the president himself time and time again raising the bar of what can or cannot be said by political leaders.
Like almost any issue these days, the late-night debate divides the country along partisan lines. According to a joint survey conducted by YouGov and Yahoo in the aftermath of CBS announcing the end of The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, 76 percent of Democrats favor late-night hosts getting involved in politics, while just 11 percent oppose Kimmel and co. speaking out on political issues. At the other end of the political spectrum, 57 percent of Republicans oppose late-night hosts getting involved in politics, and just 19 percent are in favor of it. The same divide is apparent in the views of the reasons behind the cancellation of The Late Show, with Democrats widely thinking that Colbert was canceled because he is critical of President Trump and CBS’s parent company, Paramount, was trying to curry favor with the administration, while Republicans believe that The Late Show losing viewers and money were the main reasons for the cancellation.
When Daniel O’Brien, senior writer at “Last Week Tonight”, the weekly show hosted by John Oliver and known for its biting political commentary, accepted his Emmy last Sunday, he half-jokingly expressed his gratitude for receiving a prize for his work on a late-night political satire series “while it’s still a type of show that is allowed to exist.” Just three days later, he couldn’t be so sure of that anymore after ABC suspended “Jimmy Kimmel Live” indefinitely for remarks made by Kimmel during Monday’s show.
Kimmel had accused the MAGA movement of trying to gain political points from the murder of Charlie Kirk and suggested that the alleged shooter, Tyler Robinson, was “one of them.” The comments immediately caused outrage from conservatives and even prompted a reaction from Brendan Carr, Trump-appointed chairman of the Federal Communications Commission. In an interview on a podcast, Carr demanded consequences for Kimmel, suggesting that his agency might step in otherwise. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Mr. Carr told podcast host Benny Johnson, a right-wing influencer. “These companies can find ways to change conduct and take action, frankly, on Kimmel, or there’s going to be additional work for the F.C.C. ahead.”
Kimmel, like Colbert, is a vocal critic of President Trump and his administration, who in turn, has never made a secret of his disdain for both. “Great News for America: The ratings-challenged Jimmy Kimmel Show is CANCELLED,” Trump wrote in a social media post in reaction to Kimmel’s suspension. “Congratulations to ABC for finally having the courage to do what had to be done. Kimmel has ZERO talent, and worse ratings than even Colbert, if that’s possible. That leaves Jimmy and Seth, two total losers, on Fake News NBC,” he continued, referencing Jimmy Fallon and Seth Meyers, two colleagues of Kimmel and Colbert.
As our chart, based on a recent YouGov/Yahoo poll, shows, there is a deep partisan divide in views of the current generation of late-night hosts. While figures like Colbert, Kimmel, or Fallon are very popular among Democrats, the opposite is true for most Republicans. Jimmy Fallon, who is less politically outspoken than many of his colleagues, is perhaps the only exception, with 20 percent of Republicans calling him one of their favorite late-night personalities. Meanwhile, two-thirds of Republican respondents said that none of the listed candidates was one of their favorites, which is not a surprise given that most of them are very critical of President Trump and his policies.
The decision about whether to keep Jimmy Kimmel on his late-night ABC show depends on far more than his jokes. The choice is complicated by a web of business and regulatory considerations involving ABC’s parent company, other media companies, and the Trump administration.
It’s the inevitable result of industry consolidation that, over the years, has built giant corporations with wide-ranging interests.
ABC owner Walt Disney Co., a massive organization with far-flung operations, frequently seeks federal regulatory approval to expand, buy or sell businesses, or acquire licenses. And the Trump administration has not spared the company from investigations, opening multiple inquiries in just the past few months to probe possible antitrust, programming, and hiring violations.
Kimmel was suspended from his show this week following comments suggesting that fans of Charlie Kirk were trying to capitalize on the conservative activist’s assassination. Federal Communications Commission Chairman Brendan Carr called the remarks “truly sick” and suggested his agency would look into them.
Carr answers to President Donald Trump, who’s already on record as disliking Kimmel’s comedy.
Two companies that operate roughly a quarter of ABC affiliates nationwide, Nexstar Media Group and Sinclair Broadcasting, also said they would not air Kimmel’s show.
Disney took a step last December to avoid a confrontation with Trump by paying $15 million to settle the president’s defamation lawsuit against ABC News and George Stephanopoulos. It also made moves to dismantle some of its diversity, equity, and inclusion practices, including removing references in its annual report to its Reimagine Tomorrow program aimed at “amplifying underrepresented voices.”
Apparently, that wasn’t enough.
In April, the FCC sent a blistering letter to Disney CEO Bob Iger, saying it suspected the company was so thoroughly “infected” with “invidious” practices favoring minorities that it had no choice but to open an investigation.
Among other questions, the probe sought to determine whether Disney had really ended policies designed to ensure characters in its shows and its hiring practices favored “underrepresented groups.”
Meanwhile, a Disney deal struck in January to buy a stake in the streaming service FuboTV fell under scrutiny, too, with several reports that the Justice Department was investigating possible antitrust violations.
The Federal Trade Commission also launched a probe into whether Disney broke rules by gathering personal data from children watching its videos without permission from parents. Disney settled the case earlier this month by paying $10 million and agreeing to change its practices.
Disney also needs approval from the Trump administration for ESPN to complete its acquisition of the NFL Network.
It hasn’t helped that Disney was a target for many conservatives well before the current controversy. Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis battled with the company over its criticism of a DeSantis-backed law that restricted discussion of sexual orientation in schools.
Kirk wasn’t a fan, either, criticizing Disney when it closed Splash Mountain rides at theme parks three years ago because they were based on a 1946 film about the plantation life in the South. The move, his website posted, was “destructive to our cultural and societal fabric.”
The companies with ABC stations that put out statements disavowing Kimmel have their own business before the government. Nexstar needs the Trump administration’s approval to complete its $6.2 billion purchase of broadcast rival Tegna.
Sinclair has its own regulatory challenges. In June, it entered into an agreement with the FCC to fix problems with paperwork filed with the agency and to observe rules about advertising on children’s shows and closed captioning requirements. It has also petitioned the regulator to relax rules limiting broadcaster ownership of stations.
The companies are being asked by advocates and others to put aside financial concerns to stand up for free speech.
“Where has all the leadership gone?” ex-Disney CEO Michael Eisner wrote Friday on social media. “If not for university presidents, law firm managing partners and corporate chief executives standing up to bullies, then who will step up for the First Amendment?”
The administration’s attacks on Kimmel have also been criticized in some unexpected places, such as the Wall Street Journal and Bari Weiss’ website, the Free Press, both known for their conservative editorial voices.
The comedian’s comments don’t justify the right wing’s move toward regulatory censorship, the Journal wrote in an editorial. “As victims of cancel culture for so long, conservatives more than anyone should oppose it,” the Journal wrote. “They will surely be the targets again when the left returns to power.”
“When a network drops a high-profile talent hours after the FCC chairman makes a barely veiled threat, then it’s no longer just a business decision,” the Free Press wrote in an editorial. “It’s government coercion. Is it now Trump administration policy to punish broadcasters for comedy that doesn’t conform to its politics?”