Rosie O'Donnell returned to late-night television Monday with a monologue built almost entirely around President Trump, a performance that doubled as a reminder of why she left the country in the first place.
O'Donnell stepped behind the desk at "Jimmy Kimmel Live!" on Aug. 17 for her first night as guest host, filling in while Kimmel takes a two-month summer break. She spent the opening segment, roughly 15 minutes, Breitbart reported, cycling through references to the president without once saying his name, mixing personal grievances with political commentary and jokes about her self-imposed exile in Ireland.
It was less a comedy monologue than a campaign speech delivered to a studio audience already on her side. And it landed on a network that suspended Kimmel's own show just last year over a controversial monologue about Charlie Kirk.
The appearance was no accident. Kimmel himself set the tone when he announced O'Donnell's guest-hosting week, telling viewers he had arranged a "special treat" for the president. The Washington Examiner reported that Kimmel put it this way:
"As a special treat for our commander in chief, I asked one of his all-time favorites, Rosie O'Donnell, to be here to keep the hits coming."
Kimmel's show had already drawn controversy last September, when ABC suspended it for six days after a monologue alleging that Charlie Kirk's suspected assassin was part of the "MAGA gang." That episode raised questions about the show's editorial judgment, and now the host had hand-picked a guest host whose entire public identity revolves around opposing the sitting president.
O'Donnell opened with a nod to her long absence from the format. She hadn't hosted a television show since "The Rosie O'Donnell Show" ended in 2002.
"They said you can't come home again, but here I am!"
She followed immediately with the evening's thesis, as USA Today reported:
"And if you thought the president hated 'Jimmy Kimmel Live!' when it was hosted by Jimmy Kimmel, buckle up, people!"
O'Donnell told the audience she has been living in Ireland for two years, a move she attributed to Trump's 2025 election victory and Project 2025, the Heritage Foundation policy blueprint that became a progressive talking point during the campaign cycle.
"I've been living in Ireland for the past two years because of Mango Mussolini. I read that Project 2025 and said, 'Gotta get myself out of here.' And I decided to go to Ireland, a place where people are driven to drink regardless of who's running their country."
She then shared a story about her child, described as 11 years old, who, O'Donnell said, announced the family's departure to an entire sixth-grade class despite being told to keep it quiet. O'Donnell recounted the child's words:
"I'm very sorry I won't be able to graduate sixth grade with you. I'm being forced to move to another country because the president of the United States hates my mother. But in all fairness, I believe my mother hates him more."
O'Donnell referred to her child using "they/them" pronouns throughout the monologue. She described Ireland as her "refuge" and "salvation," though she added she would "be home soon." What "home" means, a permanent return or a temporary visit for the hosting gig, she did not clarify.
The monologue also included a passage designed to draw a parallel between the 1990s and today. O'Donnell noted that when she last sat behind a TV desk, "there was a war in the Middle East, climate change was ravaging our planet, we had a president who was embroiled in scandals." She paused, then added: "But today, everything is so chill." The audience laughed. The irony was not subtle.
The bad blood between Trump and O'Donnell stretches back to 2006, well before his first presidential campaign. The feud gained its widest audience during the 2015 Republican primary debate, when moderator Megyn Kelly asked Trump about derogatory comments he had made about women. His answer became one of the most memorable lines of that cycle.
"Only Rosie O'Donnell."
The exchange continued into Trump's presidency. In July 2025, Trump posted on Truth Social calling O'Donnell "a Threat to Humanity" and writing that he was "giving serious consideration to taking away her Citizenship." Two months later, in September 2025, he posted again, saying O'Donnell "is not a Great American and is, in my opinion, incapable of being so!"
No formal legal or administrative action to revoke O'Donnell's citizenship has been reported. The posts read as rhetorical jabs, part of the long-running public exchange between the two, rather than policy directives. O'Donnell, for her part, leaned into the dynamic on Monday night, addressing Trump directly: "Hi, I know you're watching!" She closed the monologue with one more shot: "Right now, he's in the White House crying because I haven't mentioned him."
O'Donnell's return from self-imposed exile has followed a familiar pattern. The grievances are the same ones she carried overseas. The target hasn't changed. The format has, barely.
O'Donnell is scheduled to host "Jimmy Kimmel Live!" for the entire week of Aug. 17. Fox News covered the booking on its "Big Weekend Show" panel back in June, when Kimmel's two-month break was first announced. Kimmel is set to return Sept. 8.
The decision to hand O'Donnell the microphone was ABC's to make. But it is worth noting that the network suspended Kimmel's own show less than a year ago over a monologue that crossed a line. Now it has given a week of airtime to a host whose FCC compliance was already a topic of discussion before she taped a single segment.
O'Donnell has also been making the rounds elsewhere in television. She recently appeared on "The View" for its Season 30 anniversary special, another stop on what amounts to a comeback tour built on the same material she has been working for a decade.
None of this is new ground. O'Donnell opposes Trump. Trump needles O'Donnell. Late-night television provides the stage. The audience that already agrees tunes in. The audience that doesn't changes the channel. And a major broadcast network treats the whole exercise as entertainment rather than what it plainly is: a 15-minute political monologue delivered without rebuttal, disguised as comedy.
When a comedian leaves the country over an election and then comes back to spend her hosting debut relitigating that same election, the word for it isn't comedy. It's an audition for relevance, and the network is happy to foot the bill.
