So, Jimmy Kimmel got suspended. Why? Because he made a comment about Charlie Kirk and MAGA. Now, let’s pause here. Kimmel has said far worse things about far more powerful people and lived to tell his next monologue. But this time? The outrage machine kicked into overdrive. And it feels, quite frankly, intentional.
I sat on my hands for a while because it didn’t feel appropriate to rush into commentary. I have opinions about Charlie Kirk and his politics, but my feelings are irrelevant to the gruesome, unnecessary way he was killed. Let me be perfectly clear: I unequivocally abhor and do not condone violence—political or otherwise. If you’re going to win arguments, you win them on the field of ideas, not with a gun or fists. Period. Full stop. I'm also not saying Charlie Kirk was a bad man. I didn't know the man, but I am saying, like all of us, Charlie Kirk was flawed. He was human.
To me—someone who’s spent time in the press and reveres free speech—this suspension is a five-alarm fire. All I can do is bring my small bucket of water and try to help.
And there are those who are going to say, “Stafford, I don’t do politics.” Look, that’s cool. It’s a choice, but as the old saying goes, “You can choose to not do politics, but just know one day, politics will definitely do you.”
And once you move past the violence of this story, you will definitely see the cross-section of politics involved—the pressure campaigns, the legacy-building, the rewriting of narratives. And that’s where free speech, reputation rehab, and even Jesus enter the story.
Free Speech and the Third-Grade Understanding of the First Amendment
Let’s be honest: a lot of folks we know never got past the third-grade version of the First Amendment. You remember it—say something mean, get called out, then puff your chest and shout, “It’s a free country! I can say whatever I want!” Technically true. But that playground truth misses the rest: free speech doesn’t mean free from consequences.
The Amendment prevents the government from prosecuting your speech (except the classic “yell fire in a crowded theater” scenario). It does not absolve you from public accountability. The problem with Kimmel’s suspension is it doesn’t feel like ordinary public accountability. It smells like the powers that be leaning on ABC’s broadcast license. That’s not just bad optics—that flirts with violating the very First Amendment principles people claim to defend. It’s the very definition of cancel culture—ironically from an administration that says it vehemently opposes cancel culture.
Don’t like what Jimmy says? Don’t tune in. But ultimately, he is free to talk about public people and events in whatever manner he sees fit as long as he abides by the rules. Jimmy followed the rules and was suspended because his opinion was not appreciated. It wasn’t appreciated because there is seemingly a concerted effort to induce a national amnesia about Charlie Kirk and some of his questionable opinions.
The Kirk Comparison Game
Now, let’s talk about the elephant in the room that was the impetus for this: the attempt to rehab Charlie Kirk’s reputation in real time. The narrative machine wasted no time. Step one: “He was only 31 years old.” Step two: “He had a wife and two beautiful daughters.” Step three: “He founded a conservative group, Turning Point USA.” Sympathy → credibility → admiration.
Now people are trying to compare Charlie Kirk to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Because both were killed when they were relatively young and Christian, the argument goes, they are comparable martyrs. This comparison collapses the nuance. MLK preached nonviolence, racial reconciliation, and an expansive moral imagination—“Free at last…”—a vision of children joining hands across color lines. Charlie Kirk? He once fretted that his Black pilot might have been a DEI hire. Not exactly the I Have a Dream speech.
It’s like that Sanford and Son episode “Tooth or Consequences” where Fred refuses to see a Black dentist and insists on seeing a white one. Spoiler alert: when Fred finally gets the white dentist he’s been desiring, the dentist admits he’s not qualified to handle Fred's complicated problem. Realizing he’s out of his depth, the white dentist brings in his more senior, better-educated, and more competent colleague—the Black dentist Fred had disregarded earlier in the scene.
The lesson, DEI or affirmative action does not denote incompetence, but in Charlie Kirk’s mind, publicly, it did. That divisive type of comment is being glazed over in the MLK comparison, and this is where the reputation rehab takes place.
The Psychology of Reputation Rehab
Let me explain the reputation rehab assembly line. First, strip the person down to universal relatability for those not versed in the person—“so young,” “family man,” “Christian.” Next, reframe their work as noble—“debated people on the left,” “Prove Me Wrong tour.” Finally, bury the messy stuff—the divisive rhetoric, the dismissal of marginalized groups—all under a wave of sentimental packaging.
Most people don’t live in the weeds of politics. They come home, make dinner, put kids to bed, and scroll for a little relief. For many, their first exposure to Charlie Kirk wasn’t his podcasts or speeches—it was the horrific video of his assassination. Then came the narrative. And just like that, an image was reborn—not because it was accurate, but because it was convenient to a cause.
Look, the truth is, MLK was a philanderer. But his private peccadilloes did not affect the national discourse in a negative way. I don’t remember MLK saying, “I have a very, very radical view on this, but I can defend it, and I’ve thought about it. We made a huge mistake when we passed the Civil Rights Act in the 1960s.” Charlie Kirk did say that.
Charlie Kirk also tried to slander MLK on the celebration of his birthday just this year, saying MLK was “awful. He’s not a good person. He said one good thing he actually didn’t believe.”[Factcheck link: https://www.factcheck.org/2025/09/viral-claims-about-charlie-kirks-words/]
MLK was a Ph.D. and a preacher. He was the head pastor at Ebenezer Baptist Church, like his father before him, and studied the Bible. Charlie Kirk was a born-again Christian; however, the spin machine—and Rep. Troy Nehls R-TX—would have you believe he was the 13th Apostle. (Propaganda much?)
Jesus in the Middle of It
The “but he believed in Jesus/He was a man of faith” defense showed up quickly, as if faith was a universal get-out-of-criticism card. And let me be clear, believing in Jesus and following Jesus are two very different things. Plenty of non-Christians live more Christ-like lives than those who loudly claim the label. (See Matthew 7:21-23)
Jesus spoke directly to the very issues Kirk often twisted into fearmongering:
- On immigrants and the vulnerable: “For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in.” (Matthew 25:35)
- On wealth and power: “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! … you have neglected the more important matters of the law—justice, mercy and faithfulness.” (Matthew 23:23)
- On violence: “Put your sword back in its place…for all who draw the sword will die by the sword.” (Matthew 26:52)
- On priorities: “What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?” (Mark 8:36)
If Jesus is the measuring stick, let’s be clear: he wasn’t worried about DEI pilots. He was worried about who was left out, pushed down, and forgotten. And that’s where the tragedy of Kirk’s short life really hits.
The Tragedy of No Second Act
As John Fugelsang put it: “Every racist, xenophobic, or misogynistic thing Kirk ever said is now stapled to his obituary forever. His kids will grow up knowing every punch he threw was downward. And he’ll never have the chance to balance it out.”
I’ve known people who grew—who lived long enough to lose arguments, gain humility, and change. (In the Bible this is the origin story of St. Paul!) They had time for a second act. Kirk won’t. He won’t have the slow, sometimes painful exposure to other lives that softens a heart. Yes, he occasionally spoke about a colorblind society. Two things can be true: he could say that and also say vile things. But we’ll never get to see which version of Kirk might have won out.
And while we may never know what a man like Charlie Kirk would have grown to be, we are starting to see the ramifications of his death in the Kimmel suspension.
Jimmy Kimmel and the Podcast Bros
The irony is, based on his past, if anyone should be the patron saint of “podcast bros,” a class of broadcasters of which Kirk is lumped into, it’s Jimmy Kimmel. He was a ringleader on The Man Show, after all. But unlike the many, many "bros" who have come after him, Kimmel has had time to grow. Time to become more thoughtful, more compassionate, more whole. And that’s the cruel twist here; Kirk won’t get that chance. Yet in the rush to canonize him, we pretend he already did.
The Bigger Picture
So where does this leave us? Kimmel’s suspension wasn’t just about one joke. It was about the pressure campaigns that sanitize reputations and control speech. Kirk’s legacy was being reframed before he was even buried. And America once again is fumbling its way through the difference between free speech, consequence, and censorship.
I don’t believe in violence—never have, never will. But I also don’t believe in letting tragedy become an excuse to rewrite history. Charlie Kirk wasn’t MLK. He wasn’t a martyr for peace. He was a provocateur who thrived on division. You can mourn his death, still respect him and still be honest about his life. (MLK was allegedly a serial philanderer as touched upon in the 2014 film Selma. A hard truth, but apparently the truth.) That’s what free speech should protect: the right to tell the truth, even when the spin machine wants a different story.
And if Jimmy Kimmel loses a few weeks on air because he refused to play along? That might say less about him and more about the state of American free speech—and us. Because last time I checked, the First Amendment wasn’t about polishing legacies. It was about protecting the messy, uncomfortable truth.
I’ll close, strangely enough, with Tucker Carlson’s words regarding this suspension: “If they can tell you what to say, they're telling you what to think...There is nothing they can't do to you because they don't consider you human.”
I guess politics really does make for strange bedfellows and when Tucker and I are on the same page on something it is admittedly weird. Like that David Bowie/Bing Crosby mash-up you see every holiday season...
But the warning stands: when speech is policed by power, we all lose.
