Category Archives: The Everyman Chronicles

The ABCs of Cultism


http://childpsychiatryassociates.com/forms/ ABC’s punishment of Jimmy Kimmel is less a broadcast decision than a loyalty oath.

pallidly ABC pulled Jimmy Kimmel Live! off the air indefinitely. The show wasn’t darkened for poor ratings or misconduct. It was silenced because Jimmy Kimmel dared to mock the wrong martyr.

Kimmel’s monologue last week needled the “MAGA gang,” saying they were scrambling to frame Charlie Kirk’s killer as anything but one of their own.

That line was enough. Nexstar Media Group, which controls 32 ABC affiliates, branded the comments “offensive and insensitive” and said they failed to “reflect the values of the communities we serve.”

ABC folded. Within hours, the network announced that Kimmel would be “pre-empted indefinitely.” In corporate parlance, that means suspended until further notice—if not gone for good.

The timing is no accident. Kirk, a close ally of President Trump and founder of Turning Point USA, was shot dead September 10 at Utah Valley University. Prosecutors have said the shooting appeared personal, but in today’s America, any political death becomes a shrine.

In that atmosphere, satire is rebranded as blasphemy.

Then came the government echo. FCC Chair Brendan Carr blasted Kimmel’s comments as “the sickest conduct possible” and reminded broadcasters of their “public duty.”

The implication was clear: licenses can be threatened. When regulators start sounding like inquisitors, networks retreat. ABC retreated.

The pattern is obvious: remarks, backlash, affiliate outrage, regulatory warning, suspension. It is less editorial judgment than ritual submission. Nexstar flexed, Carr thundered, ABC bowed.

Earlier this summer, CBS ended Stephen Colbert’s late-night run, officially for “financial reasons.” Insiders whispered politics.

Now ABC has gone one step further—publicly acknowledging that political content is grounds for erasure. The message is loud: satire is welcome only when it offends approved targets.

That should terrify anyone who believes in the role of comedy as cultural check. Late-night was never just about punchlines. It was a national pressure valve, a place where hypocrisy could be ridiculed before it calcified into dogma.

Twain, Bruce, Carlin—all thrived on making the sacred ridiculous. ABC has chosen to reverse that tradition, to treat the sacred as untouchable.

The irony is thick. A network that once prided itself on Ted Koppel’s hard interviews now flinches at Jimmy Kimmel’s jokes. The same corporation that airs primetime dramas filled with violence and scandal cannot stomach a single late-night crack about Charlie Kirk.

This is not about taste. It is about power. And ABC has sided with power.

Every comedian now knows the line is not just edgy language or graphic imagery, but the identity of the person mocked. Step on the wrong grave, question the wrong martyr, and you risk obliteration.

ABC had options. It could have defended satire as an American tradition. It could have clarified intent, reminded audiences of comedy’s purpose, and backed its talent.

Instead, it played hall monitor for Nexstar and the FCC. In doing so, it surrendered the trust of the very audience that tunes in for irreverence.

Since when did Charlie Kirk and Dipshit McGee become litmus tests for virtue?

This is precedent. And it’s poisonous. If one group of affiliates can yank a host for a single monologue, then every host is hostage. If regulators can shape content by threat, then every joke is provisional.

That is a loyalty test, administered nightly.

ABC’s punishment of Kimmel is confession. It confessed that satire has limits, that reverence is mandatory, that obedience outweighs expression.

And in that confession, ABC didn’t just silenced the role of late-night itself.

What The Fuck Is Groyper?


Protests in the streets, politics at a boil, and now a new name in the churn: the Groypers.

Most people had never heard of them until last week. That changed when police linked the suspect in Charlie Kirk’s shooting to the fringe movement.

The facts are still forming. But whether or not the suspect carried a membership card, the Groypers are no longer obscure. They are a force in the shadows of American politics.

The name comes from a cartoon toad, a cousin of the better-known Pepe the Frog. In the language of internet subcultures, the Groyper is pudgier, lazier, and smirking. The frog is a joke, a mask, a banner. It signals belonging to a group that thrives on irony, trolling, and disruption.

Behind the cartoon is a political movement. The Groypers claim allegiance to “Christian values,” “American nationalism,” and “traditional conservatism.”

But when you strip away the slogans, the themes are familiar: anti-immigration, anti-LGBTQ, anti-feminist, and in many corners openly antisemitic.

The leader is Nick Fuentes, a 26-year-old online personality who rose from obscurity during the Trump years. Fuentes has called for a Catholic theocracy, rejected interracial marriage, and praised segregation. He insists he is not a white nationalist. His critics, from watchdog groups to conservative rivals, say otherwise.

The Groypers made their name in 2019 by ambushing mainstream conservatives. They would pack the Q&A sessions at speeches by figures like Ben Shapiro, Dan Crenshaw, and Charlie Kirk.

Instead of softball questions, they lobbed bombs. Why don’t you oppose gay marriage? Why don’t you call for mass deportations? Why aren’t you tougher?

The aim was simple: humiliate establishment conservatives for not being radical enough.

It worked. Videos of the confrontations went viral. Students who had been flirting with the alt-right found a new home. The Groypers built a following by turning college auditoriums into battlefields.

This is not a mass movement. Estimates of the Groyper base run in the low tens of thousands.

But influence does not always match numbers. In the age of social media, a small cadre of disciplined agitators can punch far above their weight. They know how to work the algorithm. They know how to bait their enemies into amplifying their message.

The shooting of Kirk put the Groypers under an unwelcome spotlight. Reports surfaced that the suspect used online symbols linked to the group.

That alone was enough to turn journalists’ heads. Fuentes quickly went on his livestream to deny responsibility. His line: “We’re being framed.”

The denials are expected. Movements that thrive on ambiguity always disown their outliers. The Proud Boys did it. QAnon did it. Each says the violence was the act of a “lone wolf.” Each insists the creed is peaceful.

Yet the language of these movements often drips with war metaphors, martyrdom, and a call to arms. When you preach about enemies of the nation, someone will eventually pick up a weapon.

What makes the Groypers more dangerous is their focus on the mainstream right. They are not trying to tear down the Republican Party from the outside. They are trying to colonize it from within. By ridiculing conservative leaders, they hope to drag the entire spectrum closer to their line. And they are doing it at a moment when American politics is already raw and divided.

That is why the attention matters. If the Groypers remain only an internet subculture, they will fade like so many before them. But if they continue to bait the spotlight, they could become something larger. The past decade has shown how quickly fringe ideas can leap from memes to Congress.

So what the fuck is Groyper? It’s a frog meme. It’s a hate cult. It’s the latest ulcer in America’s gut.