As the 2024 election cycle heats up, the lines between politics, pop culture, and late-night satire have blurred beyond recognition.

Nowhere was this more apparent than on a recent episode of The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, where the host took aim at President Donald Trump’s latest online tirades against American icons, multinational corporations, and, perhaps most surprisingly, the beloved children’s program Sesame Street.

In a monologue that ricocheted between the absurd and the alarming, Colbert painted a portrait of a president who sees enemies everywhere—from Walmart’s price hikes to Taylor Swift’s chart dominance and Bruce Springsteen’s stadium anthems.

Colbert’s show opened with his signature blend of warmth and sarcasm, welcoming the audience to “the late show” and poking fun at Trump’s recent Middle East trip, which he described as an “all you can bribe buffet.”

The president, Colbert quipped, seemed to revel in the opulence of palaces and gold, but returned home with a renewed appetite for domestic combat.

“He spent this beautiful weekend viciously attacking any who dare defy him,” Colbert said, setting the stage for a rundown of Trump’s latest feuds.

The first target? Walmart, the retail behemoth that recently announced it would raise prices in response to Trump’s tariffs.

Colbert riffed on the everyday impact: “It’s going to cost you a lot more when you run out for milk, one Goodyear tire, and a t-shirt that says ‘Shrek yourself before you wreck yourself.

’” Trump, never one to let criticism go unanswered, fired back on social media, insisting that Walmart should “eat the tariffs”—a phrase Colbert lampooned as the logic of a man who expects others to clean up his messes.

“As is said, I make a mess, you eat it.

That’s how the world works,” Colbert joked, before launching into a surreal bit about hot dogs stuck in golf cleats.

But the president’s ire wasn’t reserved for corporations alone.

In a move that stunned both fans and detractors, Trump took to social media to declare, “Has anyone noticed that since I said I hate Taylor Swift, she’s no longer hot?” Colbert, a vocal Swiftie, responded with mock outrage: “Keep my best friend Taylor Swift’s name out of your filthy nugget hole.

” He went on to note that Swift’s reduced media presence was more likely due to her Eras Tour having ended six months ago, rather than any presidential hex.

The absurdity of the president’s fixation on celebrities quickly became the monologue’s central theme.

Colbert lampooned Trump’s assertion that Swift’s popularity had waned, listing tongue-in-cheek “evidence” such as her absence from Kansas City Chiefs games and the lack of Christmas presents in spring.

The bit crescendoed with the announcement that Trump had fired Santa Claus, appointing Marco Rubio as interim Saint Nick—a jab at the president’s penchant for replacing perceived enemies with loyalists.

Trump’s next target was Bruce Springsteen, the legendary “Boss” of American rock.

Springsteen, performing in Manchester, England, labeled Trump “corrupt, incompetent, and treasonous.”

Trump’s response was predictably harsh: “I see that highly overrated Bruce Springsteen goes to a foreign country to speak badly about the president of the United States.

Never liked him.

Never liked his music or his radical left politics.

And importantly, he’s not a talented guy.

” Colbert, channeling the incredulity of millions of fans, remarked, “Attacking Bruce is like attacking America itself.

I haven’t seen a politician be this tone-deaf since Herbert Hoover’s campaign slogan, ‘Apple pie sucks.

And so does your mom.’”

Trump’s online tirade didn’t stop there.

He described Springsteen as a “dried out prune of a rocker” with “atrophied” skin, suggesting he ought to keep quiet until returning to American soil.

Colbert couldn’t resist the opportunity to mock Trump’s famously orange complexion: “Pretty bold to say someone else’s skin is atrophied when your own complexion can best be described as tandoori catcher’s mitts.”

The president’s war on celebrities soon widened.

In a single post, Trump accused Beyoncé of accepting $11 million for a quick endorsement of Vice President Kamala Harris, calling it “an illegal election scam.

” He lumped Springsteen, Oprah, and Bono into the mix, warning that they “have a lot of explaining to do.

” Colbert imagined the resulting panic among Hollywood’s elite: “Some agent in Hollywood is getting this phone call: ‘Why am I not on Trump’s list? Why does Oprah get sent to all the good gulags?’”

While some celebrities “shake it off,” Colbert noted that Trump’s attacks have had real-world consequences.

A few weeks earlier, Trump signed an executive order cutting all government funding for PBS, resulting in Sesame Street laying off 20% of its staff.

The beloved children’s program, a staple of American culture for generations, faced an existential crisis.

Colbert joked that the letter D had resorted to doing targeted ads on OnlyFans, a nod to the increasingly commercialized media landscape.

But in a rare moment of good news, Colbert announced that Sesame Street had been “saved” by a new streaming deal with Netflix.

“Great work, Netflix.

All is forgiven,” he quipped, before imagining a slate of mashup shows: “Grover Things, Big Burggerton, and Snuffaros.

” The bit took a darkly comic turn as Colbert, in the voice of Snuffleupagus, warned Big Bird to stay silent if approached by the cops—a satirical nod to the paranoia and secrecy that pervade both politics and entertainment.

The monologue then shifted to Trump’s admiration for strongman rulers, specifically Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan.

Colbert showed a clip of Erdoğan attempting a dominant handshake with French President Emmanuel Macron, likening Trump’s leadership style to such displays of power.

The host also referenced reports that the Department of Homeland Security was considering a reality show where immigrants compete for citizenship—a dystopian concept that Colbert compared to “The Hunger Games.”

The proposed show, reportedly the brainchild of a Canadian-born producer behind Duck Dynasty, would feature state-based challenges such as pizza-making in New York, rocket launching in Florida, and “Nebraska things,” which Colbert guessed was “being corn.

” He skewered the idea as an exploitative ploy, dismissing the producer’s claim that it wasn’t “The Hunger Games” with the retort, “Anyone who thought about it for six seconds would say, ‘Oh, wait.

No, this is The Hunger Games.’”

The monologue’s final act brought together religion, fitness, and satire in a segment about the new Pope Leo, who had just delivered his inaugural mass at the Vatican.

Colbert, with characteristic irreverence, described the Pope as “a servant of God with a rockin’ bod,” referencing reports that Leo trained regularly at a gym near the Vatican.

The image of the pontiff inspired by the Sistine Chapel fresco of Gabriel “getting ripped on a Bowflex” was classic Colbert: absurd, affectionate, and slyly subversive.

Throughout the monologue, Colbert’s humor masked a deeper anxiety about the state of American politics and culture.

Trump’s attacks on celebrities, corporations, and public institutions are not just fodder for late-night jokes; they reflect a broader strategy of division and distraction.

By picking fights with beloved figures like Taylor Swift, Bruce Springsteen, and the cast of Sesame Street, Trump positions himself as a populist warrior against an elite that he claims is out of touch with ordinary Americans.

Yet the irony, as Colbert’s satire makes clear, is that these targets are among the most popular and enduring symbols of American life.

Taylor Swift’s music speaks to millions across generations.

Bruce Springsteen’s songs are anthems of working-class pride and resilience.

Sesame Street has educated and entertained children for over half a century.

Even Walmart, for all its corporate might, is where millions of Americans buy their groceries and school supplies.

Trump’s willingness to alienate these pillars of American culture suggests a political strategy that values spectacle over substance.

Each new feud generates headlines, dominates social media, and keeps the president at the center of the national conversation.

For his base, these battles are proof that Trump is unafraid to challenge sacred cows.

For his critics, they are evidence of a leader more interested in personal vendettas than in solving the country’s real problems.

Colbert’s monologue, with its rapid-fire jokes and surreal scenarios, captures both the absurdity and the stakes of this moment.

The notion that Taylor Swift’s popularity could be undone by a presidential tweet is laughable, yet the very fact that such a claim is made from the highest office in the land is a sign of how far political discourse has drifted from reality.

The same goes for the idea that Bruce Springsteen, a musician whose career has spanned decades and whose influence is global, could be diminished by a president’s online insult.

The controversy over PBS and Sesame Street is perhaps the most telling.

The show’s near-death experience, brought on by budget cuts and shifting media landscapes, was averted only by the intervention of a private streaming giant.

It’s a microcosm of a broader trend: public goods and cultural touchstones are increasingly at the mercy of political whims and market forces.

As the episode drew to a close, Colbert returned to his familiar banter with the crew, joking about graphics mishaps and the nature of friendship in the workplace.

The laughter was genuine, but the message was clear: in an era where politics and entertainment are inseparable, the role of satire is more important than ever.

Colbert’s humor offers not just relief, but also a lens through which to view the chaos—a reminder that, even as leaders attack the things we love, the spirit of comedy and critique endures.

As the 2024 campaign continues, the battles between Trump and America’s cultural icons are likely to intensify.

For now, at least, the late-night stage remains a sanctuary for those who would rather laugh than despair, and for those who believe that the best way to confront absurdity is with a well-timed punchline.