Jimmy Kimmel and Trump: Late-Night TV’s Most Entertaining Feud Erupts Again

Max Sterling, 12/6/2025 Jimmy Kimmel’s latest late-night act is a high-wire roast—skewering Trump, media hypocrisy, and America’s hate-watching addiction with self-aware wit. If outrage is currency, Kimmel’s banking big, turning political spectacle into late-night gold and making us all complicit in the meta-meme machine.

Kimmel, for his part, steers this circus with his usual relish—a maestro both conducting and lampooning his own orchestrated mayhem. There’s a sly mastery in acknowledging the absurd: giving a nod to one Donald J. Trump, whose attention is both bane and blessing for a late-night show in this attention-drenched era. Kimmel’s brand of thanks—“none of this would ever have happened without the support of loyal viewers like President Trump”—hung in the air with that perfect blend of faux gratitude and dagger-laced mischief. Like, thank a mosquito for the inspiration to finally buy a screen door.

One might think a host would move on after such a jab. Not Kimmel. The meta-commentary doubles down, archiving presidential viewing habits in a way that doubles as a late-night Nielsen metric. Trump’s post-show diatribes, time-stamped only minutes after credits roll, almost read like a bizarre endorsement—if hate-watching increased ad revenue, Kimmel would owe the former president a fruit basket every sweeps week. “It’s viewers like you who keep us on the air, ironically,” Kimmel notes, tiptoeing the line between mockery and a strange kind of appreciation. Sometimes, being the villain in someone else's narrative is excellent for business.

Earlier this year? A plot twist worthy of prestige drama: Kimmel, benched by ABC after comments on the fatal shooting of Charlie Kirk, found himself at the center of a media dogpile. Trump wasted no time, pouncing on social media to ask why anyone tolerates a host with “NO TALENT and VERY POOR TELEVISON RATINGS.” There’s a symmetry here—Trump’s outrage fueling Kimmel’s monologue material, and Kimmel’s irreverence providing Trump with yet another reason to doomscroll into the late hours. The ouroboros of modern media—each side feeding off the other, neither quite willing to let the meal end.

And then there’s the perennial ghost story: Trump’s evaporating healthcare plan. Kimmel, never shy about blue-collar analogies, likens it to a contractor promising a new roof—year after year, season after season, no new shingles in sight. Four years pass, the rain keeps coming in, and somehow the same promise returns for another round of applause. It’s the classic bait-and-switch, only with a soundtrack of news montages and a parade of politicians auditioning for MythBusters.

Meanwhile, around the White House, the air has grown unmistakably drowsy. Trump, now notorious for public catnaps, found himself the unwilling star of a viral clip, snoozing mid-peace deal announcement. The optics weren’t subtle. Kimmel dubbed him “Dozy Donald,” and quipped about MyPillow endorsements. Sure, it’s low-hanging fruit, but sometimes the sweetest jokes require no ladder. The more interesting fallout, however, erupted in the media echo chamber: Fox News, once ruthless about Joe Biden’s (alleged) tendency to nod off, suddenly pivoted to a defense worthy of Olympic gymnastics. The cognitive dissonance is almost a sport at this point.

Caught between reruns and rage-posts, Kimmel offers up America's neurosis on a platter. Every punchline is a tiny MRI scan of the national psyche—our appetite for outrage, our willingness to follow spectacle wherever it leads, our strange pride in being hate-watched by the powerful. The crowd laughs, but behind the laughter, a question lingers: who’s actually in control here, the performers or the audience? At what point does looping outrage become the show itself?

If there’s any kind of alchemy at work here, it’s this fusion of satire and reflection, the funhouse mirror that late-night now holds up to the whole republic. Presidents pulling double-duty as critics. Comedians suspended and then instantly canonized by their own controversies. And through it all, the ever-reliable chorus of memes, monologues, and unattainable policy promises providing background music to the spiral.

Looking back, it’s almost poetic: a country perpetually caught between waking and dreaming, whose most dedicated viewers keep the screen glowing—even if half the time, they’re muttering at it through clenched teeth. Perhaps the real secret to late-night’s staying power isn’t just sharper jokes or better guests, but its knack for turning every nap, every outburst, every online feud into one more log on the bonfire. Almost makes one wonder what’s next—a president live-tweeting his own cameo on “Dancing with the Stars”? Stranger things have happened. Welcome to 2025; the show must, improbably, go on.

Somewhere beneath the glare of late-night’s shifting spotlights, Jimmy Kimmel has managed to redefine trolling in a way that few could have anticipated, least of all the algorithms still trying to chart the fever dream of American celebrity. Achieving the status of “third most trending person in the world” is hardly new for late-night hosts, but this particular round saw Kimmel sandwiched between a singer whose moniker would give English teachers a migraine (D4vd—because, sure, vowels are optional now) and Kendrick Lamar, whose Super Bowl performance left Drake fans reeling into 2025. If relevance had a border patrol, surely these three have blown right past the checkpoint.Kimmel, for his part, steers this circus with his usual relish—a maestro both conducting and lampooning his own orchestrated mayhem. There’s a sly mastery in acknowledging the absurd: giving a nod to one Donald J. Trump, whose attention is both bane and blessing for a late-night show in this attention-drenched era. Kimmel’s brand of thanks—“none of this would ever have happened without the support of loyal viewers like President Trump”—hung in the air with that perfect blend of faux gratitude and dagger-laced mischief. Like, thank a mosquito for the inspiration to finally buy a screen door.One might think a host would move on after such a jab. Not Kimmel. The meta-commentary doubles down, archiving presidential viewing habits in a way that doubles as a late-night Nielsen metric. Trump’s post-show diatribes, time-stamped only minutes after credits roll, almost read like a bizarre endorsement—if hate-watching increased ad revenue, Kimmel would owe the former president a fruit basket every sweeps week. “It’s viewers like you who keep us on the air, ironically,” Kimmel notes, tiptoeing the line between mockery and a strange kind of appreciation. Sometimes, being the villain in someone else's narrative is excellent for business.Earlier this year? A plot twist worthy of prestige drama: Kimmel, benched by ABC after comments on the fatal shooting of Charlie Kirk, found himself at the center of a media dogpile. Trump wasted no time, pouncing on social media to ask why anyone tolerates a host with “NO TALENT and VERY POOR TELEVISON RATINGS.” There’s a symmetry here—Trump’s outrage fueling Kimmel’s monologue material, and Kimmel’s irreverence providing Trump with yet another reason to doomscroll into the late hours. The ouroboros of modern media—each side feeding off the other, neither quite willing to let the meal end.And then there’s the perennial ghost story: Trump’s evaporating healthcare plan. Kimmel, never shy about blue-collar analogies, likens it to a contractor promising a new roof—year after year, season after season, no new shingles in sight. Four years pass, the rain keeps coming in, and somehow the same promise returns for another round of applause. It’s the classic bait-and-switch, only with a soundtrack of news montages and a parade of politicians auditioning for MythBusters.Meanwhile, around the White House, the air has grown unmistakably drowsy. Trump, now notorious for public catnaps, found himself the unwilling star of a viral clip, snoozing mid-peace deal announcement. The optics weren’t subtle. Kimmel dubbed him “Dozy Donald,” and quipped about MyPillow endorsements. Sure, it’s low-hanging fruit, but sometimes the sweetest jokes require no ladder. The more interesting fallout, however, erupted in the media echo chamber: Fox News, once ruthless about Joe Biden’s (alleged) tendency to nod off, suddenly pivoted to a defense worthy of Olympic gymnastics. The cognitive dissonance is almost a sport at this point.Caught between reruns and rage-posts, Kimmel offers up America's neurosis on a platter. Every punchline is a tiny MRI scan of the national psyche—our appetite for outrage, our willingness to follow spectacle wherever it leads, our strange pride in being hate-watched by the powerful. The crowd laughs, but behind the laughter, a question lingers: who’s actually in control here, the performers or the audience? At what point does looping outrage become the show itself?If there’s any kind of alchemy at work here, it’s this fusion of satire and reflection, the funhouse mirror that late-night now holds up to the whole republic. Presidents pulling double-duty as critics. Comedians suspended and then instantly canonized by their own controversies. And through it all, the ever-reliable chorus of memes, monologues, and unattainable policy promises providing background music to the spiral.Looking back, it’s almost poetic: a country perpetually caught between waking and dreaming, whose most dedicated viewers keep the screen glowing—even if half the time, they’re muttering at it through clenched teeth. Perhaps the real secret to late-night’s staying power isn’t just sharper jokes or better guests, but its knack for turning every nap, every outburst, every online feud into one more log on the bonfire. Almost makes one wonder what’s next—a president live-tweeting his own cameo on “Dancing with the Stars”? Stranger things have happened. Welcome to 2025; the show must, improbably, go on.