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There’s nothing here to grab attention! CBS’s cancellation of The Late Show, so central to our rapidly depleting entertainment culture that it’s considered almost a utility—as necessary as water or electricity—has nothing, we’re told, to do with Stephen Colbert, the show’s energetic, insightful, and clear-headed host for the past decade, and his steady stream of criticism of President Donald Trump. It’s worth remembering that CBS’s parent company, Paramount, recently paid Trump more than $16 million to settle his lawsuit against 60 Minutes. And just three days before the cancellation was announced, Colbert vehemently denounced the settlement on air as “a big fat bribe.” Nor should we ignore the fact that Paramount is now seeking to sell itself to entertainment giant Skydance Media, owned by the ultra-rich David Ellison, and that this could result in the Trump administration, known of course for its susceptibility to bribes and ostentatious displays of forced loyalty, hiring a Colbert-sized lamb to pave the way for a deal.
In a statement, CBS executives George Cheeks, Amy Reisenbach, and David Stapf insisted that the cancellation was “purely a financial decision” and, despite much protest, “has nothing to do with the quality of the show, its content, or any other issues that are occurring at Paramount.” It’s a bit of a stretch of syntax and an oddly specific string of denials, but let’s just accept it as truth. We could consider ourselves fully informed and move on. One of the peculiarities of life under a relapsing Trump administration is that the constant sandstorm of everyday lies and destabilizing ambiguities continues to obscure important facts—the very facts on which a constitutional republic governed by a self-governing, theoretically informed citizenry is supposed to be founded.
For example: The Wall Street Journal recently reported that Trump allegedly wrote a summer-camp-style love note to perverted plutocrat Jeffrey Epstein on the latter’s birthday, cooing pointedly that “mysteries never get old,” that “we have something in common, Jeffrey,” and wishing that “every day be another wonderful mystery.” What should we do with this dubious missive? Who knows. Trump claims it’s “not my style.” Great, thanks. Like Epstein, so is CBS—the answer may be one the world will never know. So many big questions and so few answers! No wonder conspiracy theories centered on government and the high spires of business and finance thrive so easily in this era.
These days, we live our lives deciphering signs, analyzing codes, examining symbols and relationships in search of clues that might lead us to the truth. What CBS is hiding may be revealed by some of Colbert's recent appearances.
On the night he, perhaps fatefully, joked with Paramount’s corporate overlord about the Trump deal, Colbert was in a particularly playful mood. He had recently vacationed in Turkey (“I heard such good things about it from Mayor Adams,” he noted) and had returned to the States with an olive tan and a neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper mustache. The “mustache,” grown at the insistence of a persistent barber in Istanbul, had become an integral part of his new alter ego, “Mr. Steven,” an “international purveyor of aromatic oils and rose-flavored candies” who was languidly ready to dot the i’s and cross the t’s.
“Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, my mustache comes to you with a heavy heart,” Colbert said, feigning seriousness. “While I was on vacation, my parent corporation, Paramount, paid Donald Trump $16 million in damages for his lawsuit over 60 Minutes. As someone who has always been proud of my work at that network, I am insulted. And I don’t know if anything can restore my trust in that company. But $16 million would be a great deal if I tried.”
After the joke, Colbert leaned closer to the camera and nonchalantly adjusted his mustache, clearly feeling confident. He kept moving, dancing with a loose, flexible litheness, breaking into a few stomps, as if his own audacity had given him an extraordinary experience. (“What can I say? Mr. Steven loves to dance!”) The deadly serious silliness reminded me of Colbert’s early TV appearances on the long-winded turn-of-the-century sitcom Strangers with Candy, in which Colbert played a reticent high school teacher, Chuck Noblet, who would occasionally break into theatrical raptures, suddenly bursting into song and dance, mixing Colbert’s sincerity—the foundation of his performing talent—with his meticulous interest in the darkest corners of the national consciousness. As a worried citizen and a joyful
Sourse: newyorker.com
