It was pure late-night mayhem, the kind that makes television history and sends Secret Service scrambling for extra blood-pressure meds. Jimmy Kimmel, armed with nothing but a smirk and sixteen years of pent-up Trump material, just delivered the most savage twenty-minute demolition in late-night memory. He dubbed JD Vance “Vice President Maybelline,” roasted Trump as “Sham Mussolini,” and turned the entire MAGA makeup counter into a five-alarm comedy inferno. The studio audience didn’t just laugh; they wheezed, they cried, they had to be revived with oxygen between segments. Even the cue-card guy dropped his cards from laughing so hard.
Kimmel opened with the eyeliner massacre we’ve all been waiting for: “How do we wind up with a president and vice president who wear more makeup than Kylie Jenner and Lady Gaga on New Year’s Eve combined?” The camera cut to a side-by-side of Vance’s glossy campaign glow-up next to a bronzed Trump, and the place absolutely erupted. Then came the kill shots: Trump groping NYC’s new mayor like they were auditioning for a rom-com, Vance praying so badly the Pope supposedly used his last breath to say “not this,” and the now-legendary line, “I wouldn’t pardon them even if Melania opened her robe and begged me, darling, why do you throw up when I do that?” The crowd lost consciousness. Security had to carry people out.
Meanwhile, down in sunny Mar-a-Lago, sources say Donald Trump was watching live on a 90-inch screen surrounded by Diet Coke and rage. Witnesses describe a Category-5 meltdown: remote controls flying, gold curtains being yanked, Trump screaming “Get that washed-up clown off my television!” while pacing in circles like a Roomba that ran out of battery. One insider whispered, “He turned to the room and yelled, ‘JD looks like a drag queen who lost a fight with Sephora!’ Then he demanded Brendan Carr at the FCC shut Kimmel down immediately or ‘there’ll be no more mascara money for anybody!’” The tantrum allegedly lasted a full 47 minutes until aides lured him away with the promise of two Filet-O-Fishes and a new Sharpie.
By sunrise the clip had exploded past 28 million views, trending #1 worldwide in seventeen countries (including some that don’t even have ABC). Twitter is calling it “the Maybelline Meltdown,” TikTok is flooded with slow-motion replays of Vance blinking in high-def, and late-night historians are already engraving it on the Mount Rushmore of roasts next to Charlie Murphy’s Rick James story. Stephen Colbert texted Kimmel a single eggplant emoji. James Corden came out of retirement just to post “I quit too soon.” Even Fox News anchors were caught stifling giggles in the makeup room.
JD Vance, still recovering from the eyeliner assault, reportedly fired off an angry statement to the FCC, then deleted it, then posted a Bible verse, then deleted that too. Sources close to the Vance campaign say staffers have been banned from using the words “contour,” “blend,” or “late-night” in the building. One aide was seen burning a perfectly good bronzer in the parking lot while sobbing.
Jimmy Kimmel, cool as ever, closed the show by winking at the camera: “Donald, JD, if you’re watching, turn the volume up. And JD? Blink if you need us to send rescue mascara.” The applause lasted so long the network had to cut to a Geico commercial just to give America time to breathe.
This wasn’t just a monologue. This was a cultural event. This was the night late-night television reminded the most powerful men in the world that waterproof mascara still runs when you cry hard enough. The internet has spoken: Jimmy Kimmel didn’t just roast Trump and Vance; he turned them into the best late-night bit since the Covfefe days. And somewhere in Florida, a former president is still screaming at a flat-screen that won’t scream back.
Grab the popcorn, hide the bronzer, and buckle up; because if this is what happens when Jimmy gets bored on a Monday, we might not survive the rest of 2025.
