The relationship between American presidents and late-night television has always been complicated, but rarely has it been as contentious, theatrical, and unrelenting as the long-running feud between Donald J. Trump and the hosts who occupy the country’s nightly comedy stages. From the monologues of Jimmy Kimmel, Stephen Colbert, and Seth Meyers, to the more satirical political skewering of Jon Stewart, late-night television has provided a stage where the Trump presidency and post-presidency have been dissected, mocked, and criticized in real time.
That adversarial relationship took another dramatic turn in September 2025, when ABC announced that Jimmy Kimmel’s late-night show had been pulled off the air indefinitely following remarks he made in the wake of conservative commentator Charlie Kirk’s murder. The move sent shockwaves through Hollywood, the political world, and media circles. It also drew immediate attention from Trump himself, who has never been shy about celebrating what he perceives as the downfall of his late-night adversaries.
Within hours of Kimmel’s suspension, the former president was on Truth Social gloating, mocking, and using the moment to further his ongoing campaign against what he calls “Fake News comedy.”
On the night of September 17, Trump opened up his Truth Social app and delivered a pointed message:
“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. Their ratings are also horrible. Do it NBC!!!”
The statement was classic Trump—personal, mocking, and calculated to stir the pot. But more importantly, it was part of a broader pattern. For years, Trump has treated late-night television not as entertainment but as a battleground, where comedians are political actors and jokes are partisan weapons. His response to Kimmel’s ouster wasn’t simply about celebrating a rival’s misfortune; it was a continuation of his mission to delegitimize late-night TV as little more than propaganda for the Democratic Party.
Kimmel’s removal didn’t come in a vacuum. Only months earlier, CBS announced that The Late Show with Stephen Colbert would end after the 2025–2026 season. Officially, the decision was attributed to financial concerns and the broader contraction in traditional television viewership. But Trump and his allies were quick to spin the development as vindication.
On July 18, 2025, Trump crowed on Truth Social:
“I absolutely love that Colbert got fired. His talent was even less than his ratings.”
To Trump, Colbert’s departure wasn’t about market forces or CBS’s business strategy—it was a cultural win. Colbert had become one of his fiercest and most consistent critics, often using his monologues to hammer the administration on everything from immigration policies to election denialism. For Trump, silencing Colbert was not just about one host; it symbolized the broader weakening of what he perceives as the late-night “machine” stacked against him.
Trump’s rhetoric in July also carried an eerie foreshadowing. In his celebratory posts about Colbert’s exit, he pointedly declared that Jimmy Kimmel was “next” and had “less talent” than Colbert. At the time, it read like a continuation of Trump’s endless insults toward entertainers who criticize him. By September, however, those words seemed almost prophetic.
When Kimmel’s show was suddenly suspended, Trump’s earlier comments were recirculated, with critics accusing him of egging on a political culture that punishes dissent. To his supporters, however, it was further proof that Trump could “call the shots” in Hollywood—even from outside the entertainment industry.
If Colbert and Kimmel have been open combatants in the late-night war with Trump, Jimmy Fallon has played a far more complicated role. His relationship with Trump has vacillated between awkward friendliness, regret, and half-hearted attempts at reconciliation.
In September 2016, Fallon invited Trump onto The Tonight Show during the height of the presidential campaign. The interview was lighthearted, apolitical, and most infamously, featured Fallon ruffling Trump’s hair. At a time when most of the media world was aggressively scrutinizing Trump’s candidacy, Fallon’s playful moment was seen by critics as trivializing—or worse, humanizing—the controversial figure.
The backlash was swift and intense. Fallon later admitted in a 2018 interview with The Hollywood Reporter that he regretted the segment, insisting he had no intention of normalizing Trump’s politics. But Trump saw the reversal as weakness.
In the middle of the night, Trump unleashed a blistering attack on Twitter (before migrating to Truth Social years later):
“@jimmyfallon is now whimpering to all that he did the famous ‘hair show’ with me (where he seriously messed up my hair), & that he would have now done it differently because it is said to have ‘humanized’ me—he is taking heat. He called & said ‘monster ratings.’ Be a man Jimmy!”
The attack summed up the strange dynamic between Trump and Fallon. Trump loved the segment because it boosted his image, and he despised Fallon’s later attempt to distance himself from it. Fallon, caught between his role as a host and his desire not to be labeled as complicit, spent years trying to find balance.
In 2025, Fallon surprised many by inviting conservative Fox News comedian Greg Gutfeld onto The Tonight Show. The move was interpreted by some as a peace offering to Trump’s base, though it also underscored Fallon’s preference to avoid being pigeonholed as purely anti-Trump.
If Fallon has been the fence-sitter, Seth Meyers has been the unflinching critic. Since taking over Late Night in 2014, Meyers has carved out a space as one of Trump’s sharpest comedic adversaries. His “Closer Look” segments regularly dissect Trump’s policies, scandals, and gaffes with biting precision.
That relentless criticism has not gone unnoticed. In January 2025, Trump posted a furious late-night rant aimed at Meyers, calling him “dumb and untalented” and mocking Comcast, which owns NBC.
“How bad is Seth Meyers on NBC, a ‘network’ run by a truly bad group of people—Remember, they also run MSDNC. I got stuck watching Marble Mouth Meyers the other night, the first time in months, and every time I watch this moron I feel an obligation to say how dumb and untalented he is, merely a slot filler for the Scum that runs Comcast.”
Trump went on to accuse NBC of essentially donating “in kind” contributions to the Democratic Party through Meyers’s nightly monologues. It was a familiar refrain, echoing his broader attacks on mainstream media.
Despite the criticism, NBC doubled down on Meyers. In 2024, the network extended his contract through 2028, signaling that they saw his voice as valuable—even if, or perhaps because, it enraged Trump.
Long before Colbert, Kimmel, or Meyers, there was Jon Stewart. As host of The Daily Show in the early 2000s, Stewart became one of the most influential comedic voices in America. He wasn’t afraid to lampoon politicians across the spectrum, but Trump seemed to occupy a special place in his crosshairs.
In 2013, Trump fired off a now-famous tweet:
“I promise you that I’m much smarter than Jonathan Leibowitz—I mean Jon Stewart @TheDailyShow. Who, by the way, is totally overrated.”
Stewart, never one to let an insult slide, responded on air by giving Trump a new nickname: “(Expletive)face Von Clownstick.” The moniker stuck in the public imagination, much to Trump’s irritation.
Even after Stewart stepped away from nightly television, his shadow loomed large. His recent return to The Daily Show as an occasional host has reignited his battles with Trump, proving that more than a decade later, the animosity remains undiminished.
What makes Trump’s war with late-night television so unique is that it has endured for nearly a decade without losing steam. Part of that longevity comes from the fact that both sides benefit from the conflict.
For Trump, late-night comedians are perfect foils. Their jokes allow him to paint himself as a victim of elitist “coastal” entertainers who look down on ordinary Americans. Every monologue mocking him becomes evidence of a liberal entertainment industry conspiring against him.
For the comedians, Trump is an endless source of material. His bombastic style, unconventional presidency, and polarizing public statements provide nightly fodder. In a media environment where attention is currency, Trump guarantees ratings, even for those who claim to despise him.
The result is a mutually reinforcing cycle: the more comedians joke, the more Trump lashes out, and the more Trump lashes out, the more comedians joke. Neither side has an incentive to walk away.
With Colbert’s show set to end in 2026 and Kimmel’s status uncertain after his suspension, the landscape of late-night television is in flux. Fallon continues to straddle the line between political neutrality and cultural relevance. Meyers remains entrenched as a liberal voice, though his reach is smaller compared to his rivals. Stewart, meanwhile, pops in and out, but his presence alone is enough to rekindle old battles.
Trump, however, remains constant. Whether in office or out, his presence dominates the late-night conversation. As long as he has a platform—and an opponent willing to mock him—this cultural tug-of-war will continue.
The saga of Donald Trump versus late-night television is about more than jokes, ratings, or even politics. It is about the collision between entertainment and power in modern America. Late-night hosts see themselves as truth-tellers and satirists, shining a comedic light on political hypocrisy. Trump sees them as propagandists, part of a media-industrial complex determined to undermine him.
The truth lies somewhere in between. What is undeniable, however, is that their feud has shaped the tone and tenor of American political comedy in the 21st century.
Kimmel’s ouster, Colbert’s cancellation, Fallon’s awkward balancing act, Meyers’s pointed monologues, and Stewart’s enduring legacy are all chapters in a story that continues to unfold. And as long as Donald Trump has both critics and a smartphone, the late-night wars are far from over.
