Here’s a question I’ve been asking myself lately: “Am I one of the last employees at the Penny Farthing factory?”
To put it another way: have I spent the last ten years of my career making hoops and sticks for boisterous young lads, and it turns out that the boisterous lads just aren’t super into playing with hoops and sticks anymore?! Maybe I’ve been making cozy seats for horse-buggies, or I’m a silent film actress with an annoying voice—and the world just invented talkies.
The point is, it is the year 2026 and I am a late-night television writer. I’ve spent the last decade or so writing for shows like Last Week Tonight with John Oliver and The Amber Ruffin Show. Currently, I work on the Roy Wood Jr. hosted show, Have I Got News For You on CNN. At least I think I do. Who knows if, in the time I’ve been writing this, someone bought a company that merged with a corporation that talked to a politician who read a fake tweet and now our show is being replaced by an A.I. hologram of Andrew Jackson.
The Late Show with Stephen Colbert airs its final show tonight. And in these final weeks, Colbert is doing what we all dream of doing after getting fired: trash-talking our bosses, hanging out with our best friends, destroying company property, and showing everyone a whole bunch of butts.
It’s been both devastating and glorious to behold—a legend finding a way to go out on his own terms in the midst of getting forced out on the most public possible stage.
Colbert is far from alone in this moment. There have been numerous threats to Jimmy Kimmel’s job from the current administration and strong hints from the president about what he wants done with Seth Meyers’s show. That is, he wants Meyers’s show done. The women’s shows disappeared even faster, by the way. The Amber Ruffin Show? Canceled. After Midnight? Done. Samantha Bee? How about Samantha Been? (Every boss I’ve ever had would happily re-hire me just to fire me for writing that joke.)
It doesn’t even feel like the beginning of the end; it’s the late-middle of the end at best. But I’m going to go way out on a limb here and say that late night might actually be… ahead of its time. (I know, I know. This is a little bit like a passenger on the Titanic saying, “You know, I think I’ll stick around and listen to that lovely string quartet!”)
Just hear me out. I’m not saying the medium couldn’t use an update. Because right now, late-night is mostly white guys, ideally named John or James, up on their well-paid high-horse and telling you what you should be mad about. In that way, it’s not so different from the presidency… which probably explains a lot about Trump’s obsession with it.
But there’s a lot that’s genuinely great about late-night TV and what it says about our culture. It’s the idea that at the end of a hard day—and isn’t every day hard now?—we come together and laugh about it. Some people might say that’s old-fashioned, but I think it’s just human.
When I see a movie or TV show I love, the first thing I want to do is find someone else who saw it too to discuss it with. That’s what the people shoving A.I. down our throats can’t seem to wrap their heads around. We don’t want bespoke content— and certainly not “slop”— that is precisely what we asked for, made for us alone. We want stories and art and creativity we never could have imagined that we can share together.
Late-night TV is a way back into a world that we all want to live in. One where we get together at the end of the day to laugh. One where people in power are required to take a joke—something that’s essential in a free society. One where we have a shared base of knowledge and culture, because jokes only work in that shared reality.
And I have a real soft spot for jokes. I can’t help it. Jokes are one of the truly great parts of the hell that is being human. A flourishing comedy ecosystem is a sign of a healthy society.
Once, a long time ago, I was attacked on the street by a random man. Afterwards, I had a therapist tell me, “Jill, I think you’re avoiding dealing with your pain by telling jokes.” And I was like “YEAH! I think that’s a great way to avoid dealing with pain. You know how that guy who attacked me dealt with his pain? BY PUNCHING ME IN THE FACE!”
So I’m going to mourn the loss of another late-night show. I don’t know Stephen Colbert personally, but I know many people on his staff. They are hilarious, ridiculously hard–working, talented people. If you have the opportunity to hire them for anything, do it. (Unless you are currently my boss and it is my job we are talking about. In that case, they are fine—average, even—and I heard that they are kind of divas.)
Look, I’ll just say it: I think my old therapist was wrong. Jokes aren’t just a way to avoid dealing with hard things. They’re a way to deal with hard things. Things are hard right now, and I think we need every tool we can get our hands on. So I will choose to be optimistic about jokes and yes, even late-night TV.
Hold on, I see an iceberg out the window. But don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll be fiiiiiiiii–
