Stephen Colbert’s time at CBS is coming to an end, and honestly, it does not feel like the closing of a beloved television era, but rather the final scene of a very long political lecture that occasionally remembered to include a joke. After years of falling ratings, growing audience fatigue, and increasingly partisan commentary, “The Late Show With Stephen Colbert” is officially signing off this Thursday. It’s unlikely that anyone will miss him.

“I’m not being replaced. This is all just going away,” Colbert lamented.

CBS says the decision was financial, while Colbert and his allies hint at political motivations tied to corporate mergers and pressure from the Trump administration.

Either way, the result is the same: one of the biggest names in late-night television leaves behind a legacy that has been far more divisive than it has been entertaining.

What makes the downfall especially interesting is where Colbert started. Back during “The Colbert Report” days, he was at least slightly amusing and at least tried to attract a diverse audience. Even people who disagreed with him politically could appreciate the satire because it felt layered and at least semi-intelligent. He played a character — an exaggerated parody of cable-news arrogance — and it worked because it mocked the absurdity of politics itself. There was at least some creativity to it. There was restraint. Most importantly, the goal was actual comedy.

When he took over “The Late Show” from David Letterman in 2015, there was room for his career to thrive, and real possibilities in what he could become. He inherited one of the most iconic seats in television and had the opportunity to build something broad enough to appeal to millions of Americans across political lines — a formula that late-night hosts used to understand. Johnny Carson mastered it. Even Letterman, despite having his own opinions, had done a decent job of trying to appeal to more than just one political tribe. The priority was always entertainment first, politics second.

But Colbert went in the opposite direction.

Over time, the show transformed from a comedy program into what often felt like a nightly therapy session and programming agenda aimed solely at progressive viewers. Donald Trump was no longer a topic but a deeply unhealthy obsession. Entire monologues revolved around sneering contempt for conservatives, Republican voters, or really anyone outside elite urban leftist circles. The humor got meaner, more predictable, and frankly, quite lazy. Once the applause signs started doing more work than the punchlines, it was obvious the show had changed.

The irony is that Colbert built his reputation by mocking media groupthink and political hysteria. As Washington Post columnist Will Leitch put it, “The host who coined ‘truthiness’ never found his footing in the world it predicted.”

Instead of avoiding it, he became consumed by it. And audiences noticed.

Ratings dropped steadily as late-night television became increasingly niche. Some of that is certainly because traditional TV itself is struggling. Younger audiences moved online years ago. But that explanation only goes so far. Plenty of entertainers still manage to attract broad audiences because they understand a very basic truth: If you spend every night insulting half the country, eventually half the country stops listening — and eventually even some of your own side gets exhausted by the constant outrage cycle. People look to entertainers as a break from the nonstop political discourse and constant bickering. But when a show meant for comedy and entertainment turns into an extension of that same exhausting narrative — fueling more hostility instead of offering an escape from it — people eventually stop seeing any reason to tune in.

Colbert chose activism over entertainment. That was his decision. But activism comes with limitations and consequences. Once your audience becomes politically uniform, the comedy suffers because surprise disappears. Every joke becomes predictable. Every guest says the same things. Every monologue feels like it was written by the same exhausted social media manager who still thinks “orange man bad” is cutting-edge satire in 2026.

Even the final weeks of the show have reflected that bitterness. Colbert and Letterman staged a stunt, throwing CBS furniture off the roof of the Ed Sullivan Theater while mocking the network that employed them for decades. Letterman dropped profanity-filled tirades while the two acted like rebellious underdogs fighting “the system,” despite being multimillionaire celebrities backed by massive media corporations for most of their careers. It all came across less like rebellious comedy and more like wealthy television elites throwing a public tantrum because audiences stopped paying attention to them.

And that’s really the tragedy of it.

Comedy has the power to bring people together. Humor can cut through tension, expose hypocrisy on all sides, and remind people not to take politics so personally that they lose their humanity. Colbert could have done that. Instead, he spent years deepening division, rewarding contempt, treating millions of Americans like they were beneath him, and encouraging his viewers to do the same. That’s an unfortunate legacy for someone who once had enormous potential.

For people on the receiving end of that rhetoric — conservatives, moderates, ordinary Americans tired of being mocked for their values — the end of his show doesn’t feel sad. It feels overdue.