Hello Goodbye

And so the day I dreaded arrived. My wife and I shared so many years of watching the opening monologue of Stephen Colbert and we both feel indebted to the way he cushioned the blows of the fiasco of the 2016 election and the four difficult years that followed with humor married to his deep caring and sincerity. It was the only way I could stomach trying to keep abreast of the news, in small doses and with Colbert’s classic comedic wit. 

He also helped us through the pandemic, continuing to broadcast from his home and keeping our spirits up during a different kind of darkness.

 

When the unfathomable happened again in November of 2024, I had to take a break. There simply was nothing funny in a nation dedicated to an unhinged soulless psychopath and determined to keep shooting ourselves in the foot until we could barely walk. I was tired of genuine evil being the fodder for entertainment, even as satire continued to be one of the weapons of resistance. I just didn’t want to see the guy’s face or hear about his next outrage, even as Colbert kept trying to put it into a bearable context. 

 

Off we went into the even-worse-second term (hard to believe!), where the four things that had kept things somewhat in check— a somewhat-reliable judicial court system, term limits, free elections and free speech— were starting to crumble. A 42-count felon still walking free and threatening a third term, the out-in-the-open gerrymandering and attempt to curtail voting or simply abandon the mid-terms and demands that critics like Colbert shut-up, with acquiescence from the CBS suits. Alongside the enormity of the No Kings Rallies and the extraordinary inspiration of Minnesota is a population so beaten-down by the relentless assault from every corner— the war in Iran, the non-reaction to the Epstein files, the Supreme Courts’ latest antics, the freakin’ ballroom and beyond. And now the end of the Late Show with Stephen Colbert.

 

Here I confess great disappointment in the last show. There were some beautiful things— particularly having Sir Paul McCartney on the show, bringing Jon Batiste back and the stirring final musical number of Hello Goodbye. But I believe Colbert missed the moment here. It was a time that I hoped for him to put aside the entertainment mask and speak from the depth of his heart about what this means to him, to us and to the future of our country. And so imagining that I could have been his speechwriter, I would have written something like this.

 

My friends, here we are at a moment I never thought would happen. It is one thing had I come to the end of my time doing what I love doing but knowing that the moment has come for me to do other things and step down. That is the natural order of the world and worthy of some bittersweet sadness and farewell. The kind we saw on the last episode of Cheers or Seinfeld or Prairie Home Companion Show.

 

But this is something different. This decision was made for me by cowards unwilling to face down the man who I have spoken out against almost every episode of my 11 years here. I had so looked forward to the moment when I could stand before you announcing that the monster had finally been held accountable and marched to jail. Or had died from the sheer weight of his evil heart finally exploding. I pictured us all rising to our feet in thunderous applause for 10 minutes straight, followed by Louis Cato leading us in a rousing chorus of “Ding, Dong, the Witch Is Dead.” And as a Christian, I know I shouldn’t rejoice in someone’s death, but if anyone deserves it, is this pitiful excuse for a human being who himself has unleashed so much death, destruction and suffering. I have spent so much time on this show reacting to his next atrocity and how sweet that would have been to celebrate with you a moment when justice might finally prevail.

 

Instead, I’m walking off this stage because he wanted me off and his supporters who care nothing about human morality or decency agreed. I’m sure he’s gloating with pleasure, a schadenfreude beyond imagining, his small mind and heart thinking he won. But friends, I’m here to tell you he didn’t win and won’t win. 

 

Here in the Ed Sullivan Theater, the place where Ed Sullivan shook Nat King Cole’s hand, put his arm around Bill Robinson, kissed Pearl Bailey on the cheek and told his complaining network advertisers to go bleep themselves, we did what we could to carry on the legacy of both resistance and joyful celebration of the beautiful Americans who walk among us. I mean, just look at this band, this Great Big Joy Machine with black and white, women and men, playing together, and my friend Jon Batiste’s band before that reminding us to Stay Human. That’s what we stand for and will keep standing for long after the CBS suits and their ilk—all the enablers, all the compliant silent people, all the people who profit from unearned power and privilege—are long gone. They will not win. I may not be here to see it and celebrate it with you all, but our time is coming, is already here amongst us and despite their best efforts, they will not stop us. 

 

When I walk off this stage with a reluctant goodbye, I’m heading to the next Hello and I hope you’ll be there to join me. So come on out Jon and Louis and Sir Paul McCartney and all for the appropriately named final song, appropriately performed in this theater again by Paul, Hello Goodbye. 

 

How much more powerful that song would have been after a speech like that. 

 

So this my goodbye to Stephen Colbert, deep thanks for all the years and hopes to see him again down the road.