They cancelled me, stole my life’s work,

perverted it.

I was absolutely vilified, and I decided

to take that legal route.

And it’s just sometimes people have to

distance themselves. It’s business.

ABC’s biggest stars have finally had

enough and walked away for good. After

Michael Strahan and George Stephanopoulos band together on GMA against Robin Roberts: 'Guess I'm outvoted' | HELLO!

years of canceled shows and stolen work,

they’re now signing huge deals with NBC.

Deals that offer everything ABC did. But

it’s what they’re planning to do next

that will leave you in shock. The

George Stephanopoulos and Michael Strahan's daughters feature in GMA's on-air tradition | HELLO!

Breaking Point at ABC. For decades, ABC

cultivated an image as one of America’s

most reliable television institutions.

It was the network of family dramas,

prime time soaps, daytime talk

GMA hosts' childhood photos — see George Stephanopoulos, Michael Strahan, Robin Roberts and more like never before | HELLO!

powerhouses, and late night comedic

institutions. Yet, by the middle of the

2020s, its reputation had undergone a

violent transformation. The company that

once projected stability now stood

accused by its own stars of

George Stephanopoulos' noticeable absence from new GMA video sparks reaction from fans | HELLO!

authoritarian micromanagement, cowardly

political capitulation, and a

suffocating culture of censorship. A

steady stream of public controversies

hardened into a collective breaking

GMA's Robin Roberts is left unimpressed with co-star Michael Strahan during live show | HELLO!

point, producing an unprecedented

revolt. The fallout was not quiet, not

polite, and certainly not handled behind

closed doors. Instead, actors,

producers, and talk show hosts began

exiting in a coordinated wave,

punctuated by one defiant declaration.

ABC can kiss our ass. The unraveling of

ABC’s control began most visibly with

its daytime juggernaut, The View. The

panel show had weathered years of

criticism for its combative style. But

in the eyes of its talent, the pressure

from corporate headquarters reached

intolerable levels. Executives initiated

what they described as an internal

review into the show’s liberal bias. The

framing was bureaucratic, but to hosts

and former hosts, the subtext was

unmistakable. Censorship dressed as

balance. Rosie O’Donnell, who had spent

years locked in battles with the

network, said plainly that cancellation

loomed behind the euphemisms.

So, apparently, Rosie Odona is warning

that ABC might be getting ready to pull

the plug on The View. For the cast, this

was confirmation of a long building

pattern. O’Donnell herself had warned in

other interviews that networks were

caving to political intimidation and

bribery. In one widely circulated clip,

she framed the industry as compromised.

This is what they do. They try to

silence the artists. They try to silence

the truth tellers.

When she alleged that networks like ABC

had paid out millions under legal

threats only to bow further to pressure,

the picture crystallized. From the

vantage point of the talent, ABC was no

longer a creative partner. It was an

adversary. Inside the view’s daily

routine, this perception grew

unbearable. Meetings that were once

animated by ideas for interviews, debate

topics, or cultural commentary now

bogged down in legal disclaimers and

directives. According to production

staff, nearly every segment required

legal notes to be attached to the

teleprompter. What was once spontaneous

conversation began resembling a scripted

courtroom. Sunonny Host, who joined the

panel as a legal expert, was said to be

privately frustrated that her own

commentary was subjected to disclaimers

before the words left her mouth. Joy

Beihar reportedly described the sessions

as death by a thousand lawyers. Whoopy

Goldberg, the show’s longest serving

anchor, grew disillusioned that her

comedic timing was continuously undercut

by interruptions demanding corrections

or clarifications. As the view

fractured, ABC’s scripted division was

battling its own crisis. Gay’s Anatomy,

once the network’s crown jewel, had left

scars on its cast. Isaiah Washington’s

firing in 2007 was an open wound still

discussed years later. He recounted how

his dismissal transformed him from an

award-winning actor into what he called

a cultural scapegoat.

The poster child for an agenda, which I

actually support,

and public shaming when she was branded

difficult by executives and colleagues.

For years, she admitted she internalized

the narrative until she learned to

reject it.

I literally believed

that version and felt such shame for

such a long time and then had to go,

wait, wait, who’s who am I listening to?

I’m not even listening to myself.

The label of difficult had derailed her

trajectory and became a cautionary tale

across the industry. For performers like

Hygel, ABC was no longer a gateway to

stardom. It was the factory of stigma.

Elsewhere, Nichollet Sheridan’s legal

war with ABC over her treatment on

Desperate Housewives hardened into a

symbol of the network’s cruelty. She

recalled how coming forward with her

allegations left her ostracized.

For me, when I spoke out of being being

the victim of assault and battery, I was

absolutely vilified. Sheridan’s fight

left her estranged from former

colleagues and in her view blacklisted

by the industry. To her and others who

experienced similar retaliation, NBC’s

eventual courtship represented not just

an employment opportunity, but

vindication. Even scandal, ABC’s buzzy

political drama produced its casualties.

Columbus Short’s departure was widely

reported as a response to his off-screen

troubles. But in his own telling, the

separation was as much about ABC

distancing itself from reputational risk

as it was about justice. And it was just

like at the time what was going on was

just so ridiculous. So I had to go to

jail and it was ridiculous. You know

what I mean? All over something

erroneous. I never put my hands on a

woman ever. My character has been

assassinated.

Short emphasized that ABC treated the

situation as a political campaign

cutting ties to protect its image while

leaving him to absorb the fallout. The

cumulative effect of these stories was a

network reputation for abandonment and

betrayal. Talent who encountered

trouble, whether from politics, personal

controversy, or disputes with

executives, found themselves discarded

with remarkable speed. ABC’s culture was

increasingly seen as one of appeasement.

Appeasement of advertisers, appeasement

of political figures, appeasement of

critics, but never of the performers

themselves. The tipping point arrived

when whispers began spreading that ABC

was exploring sweeping changes across

its political and comedic programming.

Executives privately debated whether to

reduce exposure for controversial hosts,

scale back late night segments, and

place restrictions on political

commentary. Jimmy Kimmel, long one of

ABC’s late night anchors, was even

scrutinized for remarks viewed as

crossing lines. The implication for

stars across the network was clear.

Every word could now be weaponized,

every sentence subject to punishment.

Rosie O’Donnell articulated the

psychological toll of working under

those conditions when she described her

decision to step away, citing the health

consequences of relentless stress. But

when I told Disney, I said, “Listen, I’m

having way too much stress, and my

doctor has recommended that I not do a

daily show anymore.”

For her, the choice was survival. For

others, the realization was that ABC’s

environment itself was unsustainable. At

precisely this moment of maximum

disillusionment, NBC made its move.

Executives at NBC Universal had been

studying ABC’s decline carefully,

waiting for the moment to strike. Their

strategy was calculated. poach ABC’s

disaffected stars by offering not only

larger paychecks, but freedom. NBC

branded itself as the network willing to

embrace controversy, willing to house

polarizing figures, and willing to

prioritize cultural relevance over

sanitized conformity. The first

conversations were deliberately quiet.

Nichollet Sheridan was contacted through

her representatives with a promise of

creative autonomy. Katherine Higgel was

approached with the offer of roles that

would not be micromanaged by a network

intent on controlling her image. Rosie

O’Donnell was told she could produce a

politically unapologetic talk show

without scripted disclaimers undermining

her delivery. Columbus Short was

reassured that his past would not

disqualify him from future

opportunities. NBC framed itself as the

home of reclamation, where the discarded

could thrive. The outreach escalated

rapidly. Within weeks, agents

representing ABC veterans reported a

surge of interest from NBC recruiters.

Multi-year deals worth tens of millions

were dangled before performers who only

months earlier felt exiled. For actors

who had spent years fending off whispers

of being difficult, toxic, or

blacklisted, these offers were

transformative. The decisive moment came

in Los Angeles, where a private

gathering of disaffected ABC alumni

reportedly took place. Sources described

a celebratory mood with champagne toasts

and frank conversations about years of

mistreatment. The rallying cry that

emerged from that evening spread quickly

among their circles. ABC can kiss our

ass. It was repeated with catharsis,

with humor, and with rage. It became

both slogan and manifesto. Inside ABC

headquarters, panic spread. The

entertainment division convened

emergency meetings to stem the exodus.

Executives attempted to reassure

remaining talent that reforms were

underway, that creative freedom would be

respected, that new guidelines were

being drafted to prevent overreach. But

the credibility deficit was too severe

for performers whose careers had already

been derailed. Those assurances rang

hollow. The scars of vilification,

lawsuits, and dismissals could not be

erased with promises. By the close of

the quarter, the scope of the revolt was

undeniable. Agents were pulling clients,

contracts were being terminated early,

and press leaks confirmed that NBC was

finalizing new deals. The entertainment

press buzzed with rumors of a mass

migration unseen since the golden age of

television. ABC, long accustomed to

being a star-making factory, was now

hemorrhaging the very talent that

defined its legacy. The entertainment

world now braced for the public reveal,

whose names would be on the first wave

of NBC’s contracts. which stars would go

public with their denunciations of ABC

and how far would the rebellion spread.

What was clear was that the balance of

network power was about to shift

violently. The breaking point had

arrived and for ABC, the nightmare was

only beginning. The revolt goes public.

When the first rumors of ABC stars

defecting to NBC began circulating

inside Hollywood’s inner circles, the

public knew nothing. The meetings, the

private dinners, the signed intent

letters, all of it had been cloaked in

silence. But as the weeks wore on, the

pressure could not be contained behind

closed doors. What had begun as private

negotiations exploded into full public

revolt. The actors and hosts who once

sustained ABC’s prestige now took to

interviews, podcasts, and social media,

blasting the network with unprecedented

ferocity. For ABC executives, this was

the worst case scenario. The disgruntled

voices they had once tried to contain

were now speaking in surround sound,

amplified across every platform. The

first major detonation came from

Roseanne Bar, who had already lived

through a public execution at the hands

of ABC years earlier. Her firing in 2018

over social media remarks had been one

of the most sensational cancellations in

modern television. Yet, Bar herself

maintained that what happened was far

more sinister than disciplinary action.

She accused ABC of not merely cutting

ties, but of erasing her cultural legacy

altogether.

They didn’t try to cancel me. They

canled me, stole my life’s work,

perverted it just just to show me that I

better keep my mouth shut and killed

assassinated

my character who was kind of America’s

mom.

Her bitterness only deepened with time.

In her telling, ABC not only removed her

from the air, but sought to rewrite

history, stripping her contributions

from the cultural memory of American

television. She described her

blacklisting as a systemic silencing of

older women in the industry, a purge

designed to make examples of those who

refused to conform. By the time NBC

approached her, Bar was ready not merely

to return to television, but to wage war

against the network that had exiled her.

Next came Rosie O’Donnell, again at the

center of controversy, but this time

speaking with more urgency than ever

before. Having already warned that ABC’s

review of The View was a precursor to

cancellation. Oddonnell broadened her

attack. She claimed that the network’s

capitulation to political pressure

represented nothing less than the

corrosion of American democracy. In a

televised discussion, she explained why

she left the United States altogether.

And I left before the inauguration on

purpose because for 20 years, he’s been

using me as a punchline in all of his

jokes. And uh he’s a very unbalanced

individual and it’s very dangerous to be

in uh his target range. O’Donnell

revealed that ABC’s entanglement with

political intimidation was so severe

that she feared for her safety and the

well-being of her child. Her remarks

resonated because they reframed the

exodus not merely as a matter of

entertainment contracts, but as a moral

confrontation with authoritarianism.

ABC, once seen as a pillar of free

expression, was now characterized as an

enforcer of silence. As O’Donnell and

Bar unleashed their accusations, another

wave of voices entered the fray.

Columbus Short, whose departure from

scandal had been shrouded in rumors of

legal trouble, sought to reclaim his

narrative. He granted interviews in

which he clarified that while mistakes

were made in his personal life, the

decision to sever ties with ABC had been

driven as much by optics as by truth. In

his words, ABC treated his situation as

a liability to be managed rather than a

human being to be supported.

As far, you know, as ABC was concerned,

I think you look at it as like a

presidential campaign. If there’s some

stuff that’s kind of messing up the

campaign, you start losing support. and

um and it’s just sometimes people have

to distance themselves.

Short emphasized that ABC’s approach was

calculated, political, and

transactional. The network, he claimed,

had no interest in nuance or context.

For him, NBC’s offers represented a

chance to demonstrate resilience to

prove that reputational exile at ABC was

not a career death sentence. The revolt

was not limited to scripted dramas and

daytime talk. ABC’s late night division

also fell under scrutiny when Jimmy

Kimmel’s program faced backlash over

controversial commentary. In one viral

segment, Kimmel mocked political

hypocrisy in the aftermath of a national

tragedy. His critics demanded ABC

reprimand him, and whispers circulated

that the show’s future was in jeopardy.

The incident added fuel to the narrative

that ABC’s late night hosts were no

longer safe to express unfiltered

opinions.

This is not how an adult grieavves the

murder of someone he called a friend.

This is how a four-year-old mourns a

goldfish.

Kimmel’s defenders argued that comedy

must push boundaries, but ABC’s silence

on the matter spoke volumes to many

inside the industry. to outspoken hosts.

The network’s willingness to bend under

pressure confirmed Oddonnell’s warnings.

The sense of suffocation grew so strong

that even long tenur staffers began

confiding to reporters that they were

updating resumes. Meanwhile, Isaiah

Washington reemerged with even sharper

critiques of the culture that had

defined his departure from Gayy’s

Anatomy. In addition to describing how

he became the poster child for

controversy, he emphasized the career

destruction that followed. He recounted

how Hollywood abandoned him overnight,

transforming him from a rising star into

a pariah. He explained that his

ostracism revealed how fragile black

success in the industry could be.

Yeah, I lost everything. But the

what happened to Spike Le and you know

the people that

Nobody was there. Nobody wanted to touch

me. It was it was gone. Everybody.

Washington reframed his ordeal as

emblematic of systemic forces. He argued

that networks like ABC were quick to

exploit black talent for ratings, but

equally quick to discard them at the

first hint of controversy. His decision

to sign with NBC was cast as an act of

reclamation, not just of his career, but

of his dignity. As these testimonies

piled up, ABC’s defenses crumbled.

Public relations team scrambled to issue

statements insisting that the network

remained committed to diversity, free

speech, and talent development. Yet

every attempt at damage control was

immediately undermined by fresh attacks

from the very stars who had once carried

ABC’s programming. The narrative of

betrayal was too strong, the pattern of

exile too clear. NBC, sensing an

opportunity for maximum impact, began

encouraging the revolt to go public.

Executives quietly signaled to talent

that their grievances should not be

muted, but amplified. Every public

denunciation of ABC, every viral clip of

a former star describing mistreatment

functioned as free advertising for NBC’s

new programming slate. The network’s

calculation was ruthless. ABC’s pain was

NBC’s gain. The revolt crescendoed with

Bar, Oddonnell, Washington, Short,

Higgel, and others hinting openly that

new deals had been signed. While the

specifics were not yet disclosed, the

subtext was unmistakable. ABC was

bleeding stars, and NBC was building an

arsenal of outspoken voices ready to

redefine television. But the revolt was

not only about individuals reclaiming

their careers. It was also about

solidarity. Nichollet Sheridan, whose

lawsuit against ABC had left her

isolated years earlier, now found

herself vindicated as others told

similar stories of vilification. She

explained that when she once dared to

speak out, she had been left alone in

her fight. But now in the collective

revolt, she saw a united front.

It was such a such a weight that was

lifted off me because I felt so alone in

my fight against the machine. That

machine in the eyes of the defectors was

ABC. A company once synonymous with

opportunity was now synonymous with

censorship, abandonment, and betrayal.

And the exiles were no longer whispering

their grievances in private. They were

proclaiming them on national platforms.

The revolt had gone public. The next

stage would be the reveal of the new

empire being built at NBC, NBC’s new

empire. As the dust from ABC’s talent

exodus settled, the industry braced for

the revelation of where the defectors

would land. Insiders had whispered for

months about NBC’s strategy, but now the

contracts were finalized and the

announcements began rolling out in

coordinated waves. What emerged was not

simply a series of casting moves. It was

a tectonic shift in network power

engineered with military precision. NBC

had constructed an empire from ABC’s

castoffs, transforming exiled talent

into the foundation of a new programming

slate designed to dominate prime time,

daytime, and late night simultaneously.

The unveiling began with Rosie

O’Donnell, whose voice had been at the

forefront of the revolt. NBC positioned

her not merely as a host, but as a

cultural figurehead. She was given a

multi-year deal to headline a prime time

hybrid talk and documentary program, one

that promised editorial freedom without

the scripted disclaimers that had

strangled her at ABC. Oddonnell framed

the show as both a career revival and an

act of resistance against corporate

censorship. In a previous interview, she

had tied the suppression of entertainers

directly to the decay of democratic

values. They took all of these amazing

pundits off the television. Terry Moran,

Jim Acasta, and you know, once ABC and

CBS

gave in to the bribery, gave in to the

blackmail that Trump threatened them

with lawsuits that were bogus, and they

gave him millions of dollars. As soon as

that happened, they’re done as a media

company.

NBC capitalized on her narrative,

marketing her as the unfiltered truth

teller ABC could no longer contain. Next

came Nichollet Sheridan, whose legal

battles with ABC over desperate

housewives had once left her vilified.

NBC cast her as the lead in a new

prestige drama centered on themes of

resilience and reinvention. The

symbolism was unmistakable. Sheridan,

who had testified to feeling abandoned

during her lawsuit, now stood front and

center on a rival network. She had

described the sense of isolation during

her ordeal.

It was such a such a weight that was

lifted off me because I felt so alone in

my fight against the machine. NBC

leveraged her testimony in promotional

materials, framing her return as both a

personal triumph and a rebuke to the

system that had once silenced her.

Katherine Higgel’s role in the NBC slate

was equally strategic. Long branded as

difficult, Higgel had spoken openly

about reclaiming her identity after

years of shame.

Wait, wait, who’s who am I listening to?

I’m not even listening to myself. I know

who I am.

NBC seized on this narrative, presenting

her not as a liability, but as an icon

of self-determination. She was attached

to both scripted projects and executive

producer roles, signaling that her voice

would not be muted behind the camera

either. For NBC, Higgel’s reclamation

story provided a powerful counterpoint

to ABC’s record of stigmatization.

Isaiah Washington’s return to television

through NBC was perhaps the most

dramatic. While his exit from Gayy’s

Anatomy had been cast as Scandal,

Washington had since redefined himself

through humanitarian work, particularly

in Sierra Leone. He had spoken about his

role in building schools and providing

opportunities for thousands. I’m

representing 6 million people, 6,000

villages as a chief gond my village and

I’ve already saved lives.

NBC framed his new deal not simply as an

acting comeback but as the platforming

of a global statesman. He was tapped to

develop both scripted and unscripted

programming that would draw on his dual

identity as actor and humanitarian. In

press releases, NBC highlighted his

transformation from exile to ambassador,

contrasting his new role with ABC’s

abandonment. Columbus Short also secured

a new chapter at NBC. Once dismissed by

ABC as a liability during his scandal

exit, Short was now granted an

opportunity to shape projects from the

ground up. His deal emphasized not just

acting, but producing, a chance to

control his narrative after years of

being defined by controversy. Short’s

comments about ABC treating him like a

disposable campaign issue, not a human

being, resonated deeply. NBC positioned

him as a cautionary tale turned success

story, proof that talent silenced by one

network could thrive under another. Even

Late Night underwent transformation.

NBC, already dominant in the space with

the Tonight Show, experimented with

giving slots to voices once deemed too

incendiary for ABC. Former contributors,

comedians, and political commentators

were invited into development meetings,

testing formats that combined satire

with advocacy. The intent was clear. NBC

wanted to capture the cultural lightning

ABC had once commanded, but squandered

under the weight of disclaimers and

compromises. Roseanne Bar’s role was

perhaps the most controversial, but also

the most explosive. NBC gave her a

platform to develop a scripted sitcom

loosely based on her own life after

cancellation. A fictionalized account of

a woman erased by one network, clawing

her way back through another. Bar framed

it as both comedy and catharsis. She had

long claimed ABC not only fired her but

erased her entirely.

I have been blacklisted. Can’t get a

job, you know,

and also erased from popular culture.

NBC embraced the controversy,

calculating that bar’s divisiveness

would translate into ratings. The roll

out of these deals was choreographed to

maximize damage to ABC. Each

announcement was timed to coincide with

ABC premieres or press events, siphoning

attention away from the rival network.

Trade publications noted how NBC’s press

releases often quoted directly from the

stars past criticisms of ABC, turning

their grievances into marketing copy.

The message was unmistakable. NBC was

the home of freedom. ABC the home of

censorship. The cultural impact was

immediate. ABC’s ratings wobbled as

audiences began to perceive the network

as hollowed out. its stars defecting on

mass. Critics noted how ABC’s attempts

to replace the departed talent felt like

pale imitations, stand-ins without the

credibility or charisma of their

predecessors. Meanwhile, NBC’s

announcements dominated entertainment

news cycles, reframing the narrative of

its once struggling network into one of

resurgence. Beyond ratings, the revolt

reshaped the psychology of Hollywood

itself. For years, ABC had been seen as

a launching pad for careers, a place

where stars could secure mainstream

recognition. Now, it was viewed as a

cautionary tale. Agents advised clients

to negotiate exit clauses more

aggressively, wary of ABC’s reputation

for abandonment. Young actors whispered

that signing with ABC felt like a risk,

not a privilege. The revolt had

rewritten the calculus of network

loyalty. Rosie O’Donnell, in one of her

most searing interviews during this

period, articulated the stakes. She

argued that ABC’s collapse under

political and financial pressure was

emblematic of a larger crisis. I feel

like we’re in a dystopian nightmare and

no one is doing anything about it.

NBC amplified her framing, branding

itself not just as a television network,

but as a bastion of resistance. Isaiah

Washington’s humanitarian identity

further underscored the cultural stakes.

His projects with NBC promised not just

entertainment but education designed to

spotlight global issues from healthcare

to civil rights. He explained how his

exile from ABC became the catalyst for

this transformation. Obviously, uh, my

exit from Grace was definitely a

catalyst for sure. Even in loss, you

gain. Even in loss, you win.

NBC highlighted this quote in its

campaigns, turning Washington’s personal

evolution into a brand statement. The

migration of talent also inspired other

networks to reconsider their strategies.

CBS and Fox observed the revolt closely,

wary that their own stars might follow

the same path if they felt constrained.

Streaming platforms, too, began

whispering offers to defectors. Though

NBC’s aggressive moves largely

monopolized the market, the revolt was

not just a reshuffleling of stars. It

was a restructuring of the entertainment

landscape. For ABC, the aftermath was

catastrophic. The network tried to pivot

toward new untested talent, hoping fresh

faces would rebuild its image. But

viewers were skeptical. Ratings slipped

further, advertisers grew restless, and

internal morale plummeted. The phrase

ABC can kiss our ass, once a private

toast among defectors, circulated widely

across social media, becoming a meme

that symbolized corporate downfall. NBC,

by contrast, enjoyed a renaissance. Its

slate of reclaimed stars brought not

only ratings but cultural relevance. By

platforming voices silenced elsewhere,

NBC cultivated an aura of defiance. For

the first time in decades, NBC was not

merely competing with ABC. It was

replacing it as the cultural heartbeat

of American television. The revolt had

concluded, but its lessons echoed

loudly. For performers, it proved that

exile from one network could become

empowerment at another. For audiences,

it demonstrated that loyalty to brands

could be shattered when stars themselves

declared betrayal. And for ABC, it

cemented a new legacy, not as the

network of opportunity, but as the

network that lost its empire to its own

neglect. The empire was now NBC’s.

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