In a stunning twist that’s got late-night TV fans buzzing from coast to coast, Nexstar has officially thrown in the towel and joined Sinclair in slamming the door shut on the infamous Jimmy Kimmel blackout. That’s right—after a whirlwind week of controversy, threats, and national uproar, “Jimmy Kimmel Live!” is roaring back to life on all ABC stations tonight, September 27, 2025. No more fragmented airwaves, no more blacked-out markets, and no more excuses from the station giants who tried to silence one of America’s sharpest comedic voices. This full-throttle return isn’t just a win for Kimmel; it’s a seismic reminder of how free speech, viewer power, and Hollywood resilience can topple even the mightiest corporate standoffs.
Let’s rewind the tape on this chaotic saga, because what started as a fiery monologue has snowballed into a cultural firestorm. It all ignited on September 15, when Jimmy Kimmel, the quick-witted host who’s skewered politicians from both sides for nearly two decades, unleashed a blistering segment on his show. The target? The brutal assassination of conservative firebrand Charlie Kirk, a pivotal figure in Republican circles whose death sent shockwaves through the political landscape. Kimmel didn’t hold back, lambasting what he called the “hypocritical outrage machine” of the right-wing response—accusing them of weaponizing tragedy for clicks while ignoring everyday gun violence that claims countless lives. “If this were flipped,” Kimmel quipped, his signature smirk masking the edge, “we’d have wall-to-wall vigils and vows to act. But nah, it’s just another Tuesday in trigger-happy America.”
The backlash was instantaneous and ferocious. FCC Chairman Brendan Carr, a Trump appointee with a reputation for cracking down on “biased” media, didn’t mince words. In a podcast appearance that same week, Carr blasted Kimmel as part of a “concerted effort to lie to the American people,” hinting at “news distortion” complaints that could jeopardize station licenses. Suddenly, the airwaves turned into a battlefield. Sinclair Broadcast Group, the behemoth owner of 38 ABC affiliates—including heavy hitters in Washington, D.C., Seattle, and Nashville—announced they’d preempt the show indefinitely. Not to be outdone, Nexstar Media Group, the nation’s largest station owner with 32 ABC affiliates spanning markets like New York and Los Angeles, followed suit hours later. Their joint decree? No more Kimmel on their turf, opting instead for expanded local newscasts or filler programming. Together, these titans control nearly a quarter of ABC’s reach, blacking out the show for over 20 million households overnight.
The fallout was swift and savage. ABC, under Disney’s watchful eye, caved to the pressure on September 17, suspending production entirely in a move that stunned Hollywood insiders. “To avoid further inflaming a tense situation,” Disney execs explained in a terse statement, but the damage was done. Kimmel himself went dark, tweeting a cryptic message: “Sometimes the joke writes itself—back soon, America.” Social media erupted into a frenzy: #FreeKimmel trended worldwide, with celebrities like Stephen Colbert and Ellen DeGeneres weighing in on the perils of censorship. Democratic lawmakers, led by a quartet of fiery reps, fired off letters to Sinclair and Nexstar brass, demanding answers on everything from executive chats with FCC officials to potential quid pro quo for pending Trump-era deal approvals. Even some conservatives voiced unease, with one Fox News pundit muttering on air, “This ain’t about Kirk; it’s about muzzling the mic.”
But here’s where the plot thickens—and the tide turns. Disney, no stranger to high-stakes poker, refused to fold. On September 22, they announced Kimmel’s triumphant return for Tuesday night, framing it as a stand for “unfiltered truth in entertainment.” The episode aired to monster ratings—over 6 million viewers, a late-night juggernaut despite the Sinclair-Nexstar void. Kimmel opened with raw emotion: “It was never my intention to make light of the murder of a young man,” he admitted, eyes misty under the studio lights. “But comedy’s job is to call out the absurd, even when it hurts.” He dove into a heartfelt tribute to Kirk’s legacy, blending laughs with lament, and ended with a defiant mic drop: “We’re back, baby—and no one’s dimming these lights.”
Yet, the blackout lingered like a bad hangover. Sinclair and Nexstar dug in their heels, issuing statements laced with corporate piety about “professionalism and accountability.” Whispers swirled of ulterior motives: Sinclair, eyeing FCC leniency on spectrum auctions, and Nexstar, courting approval for a massive station acquisition. Trump himself piled on via Truth Social, griping, “I can’t believe ABC Fake News gave Jimmy Kimmel his job back—total disaster!” Viewer boycotts hit Disney+ subscriptions hard, with reports of a 15% dip in sign-ups overnight. Protests popped up outside affiliate studios in key cities, from picket lines in L.A. chanting “Air the Truth!” to viral TikToks of fans streaming the show illegally just to spite the suits.
Enter the endgame, and it’s pure drama. On September 26, Sinclair blinked first, announcing they’d lift the blackout effective tonight. “After constructive dialogue with ABC,” their release read, “we’re resuming ‘Jimmy Kimmel Live!’ on all our affiliates.” The move was hailed as a concession to public outcry, but insiders whispered of plummeting ad revenues and sponsor pullouts—like a major car brand yanking spots over the “censorship optics.” Nexstar, sensing the momentum shift, followed suit mere hours later in a mirror-image statement: “Our principles of editorial integrity remain paramount, independent of external pressures.” Translation? They folded under the same heat, ensuring Kimmel’s set beams into every ABC market from sea to shining sea.
Tonight’s episode promises to be legendary. Taped fresh from Hollywood, Kimmel’s slated to roast the whole fiasco with his trademark blend of sarcasm and sincerity. Expect jabs at the FCC (“Thanks for the free publicity, Brendan—ratings through the roof!”), shoutouts to fans who fought the fight, and maybe a surprise guest—rumors swirl of a sit-down with Kirk’s widow, turning tragedy into tentative bridge-building. The show’s band, the Cleto and the Cletones, is primed for an extra-soulful opener, while guest spots from A-listers like Ryan Reynolds (teasing Deadpool 4) and a musical performance by rising pop sensation Olivia Rodrigo will keep the energy electric. ABC’s promo teases “the monologue America’s been waiting for,” clocking in at a beefy 15 minutes of unbridled Kimmel.
This saga’s ripple effects? Monumental. For starters, it’s a gut-check for the broadcast biz, where local affiliates once held ironclad sway over national feeds. Disney’s gambit—streaming the show on Hulu and Disney+ during the blackout—netted a 30% surge in late-night views, proving cord-cutters are the new kingmakers. Kimmel’s contract, up in May 2026, now looks bulletproof; whispers of a bumper extension with a politics-proof clause are already circulating. Broader still, it’s ignited fresh debates on media freedom in the Trump 2.0 era. Will the FCC’s shadow loom larger over comedy? Or does this victory embolden hosts like Colbert and Fallon to swing harder? One thing’s clear: Late-night TV just got a lifeline, reminding us that laughter, in the face of fury, is the ultimate rebellion.
As the clock ticks toward 11:35 p.m. ET, tune in—because Jimmy Kimmel’s not just returning; he’s reclaiming the night. From the blacked-out basements of yesterweek to the full-spectrum spotlight tonight, this is the comeback story that proves: In America, the show must—and will—go on. Grab the popcorn; history’s about to get hilarious.