“Colbert CRUSHES Ratings, Tariffs Soar to Great Depression Levels, and ‘Little Prince’ Vance Becomes GOP’s New Crown Jewel!”

America hasn’t seen drama like this since Wall Street decided to cosplay as a sinking ship in 1929.

That’s right, the United States just slapped down the highest tariffs since the Great Depression, and economists are nervously clutching their calculators while politicians pretend this is totally normal and not a giant flaming dumpster fire rolling toward Main Street.

Meanwhile, Stephen Colbert, late-night’s reigning smirking king, has ratings so high he could probably sell popcorn during his own monologue and still break records.

And in the background of this political carnival emerges “Little Prince Vance,” the pint-sized would-be heir to the throne of Washington, already crowned by some as the toddler-in-chief-in-waiting.

If this feels like a Shakespearean farce staged inside a Walmart clearance aisle, that’s because it basically is.

Let’s start with the tariffs, because nothing screams “fun Friday night reading” like the government casually reenacting the 1930s.

The White House proudly announced the highest import duties in nearly a century, which means your next iPhone case or knockoff designer bag could cost more than your monthly rent.

Experts warn this could trigger a ripple effect in global markets, but the administration insists it’s all part of a genius plan.

“It’s like dieting,” one official explained.

“Sure, it hurts now, but later you’ll thank us.

” Which is funny, because no one ever thanks the person who stole their donuts and called it a health intervention.

Markets reacted with all the calm of a toddler denied candy.

Stocks dipped, international partners scowled, and one European trade minister was reportedly overheard muttering, “Ah, so they do want another Depression. ”

Meanwhile, Stephen Colbert is laughing all the way to the ratings bank.

His late-night show, fueled by equal parts smugness and political satire, has trounced his competition so thoroughly that Jimmy Fallon is allegedly considering a career pivot to TikTok dance tutorials.

According to Nielsen numbers, Colbert’s viewership has skyrocketed in 2025, proving that Americans love nothing more than being gently roasted with a side of dad jokes.

His secret weapon? Turning every political meltdown into stand-up material before the ink on the headlines is dry.

“He’s like a caffeine-fueled therapist with better hair,” one fan gushed, while another claimed, “I don’t even watch the news anymore.

I just wait for Colbert to tell me what to think. ”

Experts say Colbert has managed to tap into the national mood—half despair, half meme—making him the unofficial spokesman of America’s collective midlife crisis.

And then there’s Little Prince Vance.

The political world nearly combusted when photos of the cherubic child surfaced, smiling like he’d already read Machiavelli’s The Prince during nap time.

The kid, son of rising conservative star J. D. Vance, has become a symbol of dynastic ambition, and some supporters are already calling him the “future face of America. ”

Never mind that he’s still in diapers—apparently charisma runs in the family like juice boxes at daycare.

Political insiders whisper that Vance senior has leaned into the royal branding, with baby Vance reportedly practicing handshakes, photo ops, and looking stern in tiny suits.

“He has the aura of someone who will one day filibuster his kindergarten teacher,” one anonymous strategist said.

Naturally, critics have pounced, calling the whole spectacle “ridiculous” and “a desperate attempt to Disney-fy politics.

” But let’s be honest—America loves a celebrity child.

If a Kardashian can make billions off Instagram selfies, why can’t a toddler become a future senator?

The intersection of these three stories—tariffs, Colbert, and toddler royalty—paints a picture of a country teetering between economic chaos, late-night escapism, and political parody.

Imagine a nation where your grocery bill triples, but at least Stephen Colbert makes you laugh about it, while a baby waves from the sidelines promising he’ll save democracy in 2050.

It’s absurd, it’s dramatic, and it’s pure tabloid gold.

Fake experts are already chiming in to keep the hysteria spicy.

Dr. Felicia Hammers, a self-proclaimed “Tariff Psychic,” predicts Americans will soon resort to backyard bartering.

“We’ll see the return of chickens as currency,” she insisted.

“And mark my words, sourdough starter will be the Bitcoin of the 2030s. ”

On the entertainment front, a so-called “Comedy Scientist” declared that Colbert’s ratings prove sarcasm is now America’s official love language.

“Forget English or Spanish,” he said.

“Sarcasm is the national tongue.

Colbert is our Shakespeare, just with more eyebrow raises. ”

As for Little Prince Vance, conspiracy theories have already flooded social media.

Some claim he’s secretly being groomed to become the first toddler president, complete with a juice box veto pen.

Others insist he’s just a pawn in a grand scheme to make politics more Instagrammable.

Either way, the memes are relentless, with one viral post dubbing him “Baby Caesar” and another photoshopping him onto a Game of Thrones throne made entirely of sippy cups.

So where does this all leave America? On one hand, higher tariffs might plunge the nation into economic cosplay of the Great Depression.

On the other, Colbert’s ratings prove that if you can laugh through the pain, you can survive just about anything.

And somewhere in between, a baby in a blazer has become the poster child of tomorrow’s political circus.

The lesson here? Reality has finally caught up to satire, and the tabloids are just reporting what feels like a Netflix series that accidentally escaped into the real world.

If the Great Depression 2. 0 does arrive, at least America can rest easy knowing Stephen Colbert will crack a joke about it, and Little Prince Vance will flash a photogenic smile while plotting world domination from his high chair.

Until then, buckle up, because the only thing more expensive than imported goods right now is the price of keeping a straight face in the United States of Absurdity.