💥 BREAKING NEWS: Trump ERUPTS as Jimmy Kimmel and Jim Carrey unite on live TV to expose his Epstein panic, fake pardons, and collapsing poll numbers⚡NN

Donald Trump is spiraling, and two men he cannot silence—Jimmy Kimmel and Jim Carrey—are helping drive him over the edge.

After nearly a year of stalling, threatening, and twisting Republican arms to keep the Epstein files hidden, Trump suddenly flipped. In a late-night post, he wrote, “House Republicans should vote to release the Epstein files because we have nothing to hide.”

There’s no “we.” There’s just him. And he’s terrified.

At Mar-a-Lago, Trump is rage-posting like a man who knows the walls are closing in. He’s even rebranding his shrinking base, begging supporters to call themselves “Trumpans” now that “MAGA” is politically toxic. At the same time, he’s promising a pardon to Juan Orlando Hernández—the former Honduran president convicted in U.S. court as a major drug trafficker. Hundreds of tons of cocaine, cartel partnerships, life sentences in federal prison—and Trump calls him “treated harshly and unfairly.”

That’s who he’s choosing to save while he cuts off food assistance in a shutdown, threatens to void Biden’s executive orders over a made-up “autopen conspiracy,” and rants about prosecuting a former president for perjury… because a robot pen signed documents.

And the country is not buying it. A new Gallup poll shows Trump at 60% disapproval, just 36% approval—his worst Gallup numbers ever. Even some Republicans are done. When Trump used the R-word in a post attacking Minnesota Governor Tim Walz, an Indiana GOP state senator—whose daughter has Down syndrome—publicly broke with him and refused to back Trump’s gerrymander scheme. “Good luck, Donald,” was the message. Translation: I’m out.

So how did late-night comedy and an “ace Ventura” with a paintbrush become his worst nightmare?

Jim Carrey: The Rage Artist

While most celebrities fired off angry tweets in 2016, Jim Carrey did something else: he picked up a paintbrush and never put it down.

What started as personal healing turned into a four-year visual indictment of Trump’s presidency. Carrey posted more than a hundred savage political paintings: Trump as a shrieking monster, Trump worshiping himself, Trump devouring immigrant children, Trump as a grotesque cartoon of greed and cruelty. These weren’t subtle. They were designed to hit the nervous system.

He pitched one of his most disturbing pieces—a warped, screaming Trump—as a proposal for the official presidential portrait. He painted Sarah Huckabee Sanders as a twisted liar “whose only purpose in life is to lie for the wicked.” Her father, Mike Huckabee, exploded online, calling Carrey a “pathetic bully.” Carrey didn’t apologize. He just kept painting.

He told interviewers the cartoons weren’t a hobby—they were a duty. “I can’t just watch this nightmare unfold,” he said. And millions of people started sharing that nightmare back at Trump.

Jimmy Kimmel: The Joke That Won’t Leave Trump’s Head

Then there’s Jimmy Kimmel, living rent-free in Trump’s brain.

At the 2024 Oscars, while Trump doom-scrolled Truth Social, Kimmel pulled out his phone and read Trump’s hate-post about him live onstage… then sliced him with one line: “Thank you, President Trump. I’m surprised you’re still up—Isn’t it past your jail time?”

The internet melted. Trump lost it.

Ever since, Trump has demanded Kimmel be fired, calling him talentless with “terrible ratings,” pressuring networks, and even weaponizing his FCC chair to threaten ABC’s license over jokes—especially after Kimmel mocked Trump’s attempt to bury the Epstein files and his shutdown that cut off food assistance to kids, families, and seniors.

Kimmel responds the same way every time: by showing Trump’s posts on air, thanking him for “watching live,” and turning Trump’s obsession into punchlines. The more Trump attacks, the bigger Kimmel’s platform grows.

The Used Car Salesman President

When Jim Carrey sat down with Kimmel and later with Bill Maher, he distilled Trump into one image everyone understood: a sleazy used car salesman rolling back the odometer.

“He didn’t make America great again,” Carrey said. “He just turned back the odometer.”

It was brutal because it was relatable. Everyone’s met that guy. Everyone’s been lied to by that guy. And Carrey, in his weird pajamas and Nike protest sneakers, framed Trump as the cheapest version of power: a con man selling a lemon country.

But Carrey also did something else Trump never will: he separated Trump from his voters. He said he could “break bread with anybody who voted for Trump” as long as they “stop doing stupid shit.” It’s the opposite of Trump’s instinct, which is to divide, punish, and threaten—even joking about revoking people’s citizenship and openly interfering in elections abroad.

In the end, this is why Trump can’t beat them.

Carrey’s paintings and Kimmel’s monologues are doing what institutions have struggled to do: strip away the myth and make Trump look small, ridiculous, and dangerous all at once. Trump keeps trying to crush them—through backlash, censorship threats, insults, and smear campaigns. But comedy and art are immune to autopen orders and late-night tantrums.

You can’t sue a punchline out of existence. You can’t pardon your way out of a painting.

And for a man who needs worship like oxygen, being laughed at by millions—night after night—may be the one punishment he truly can’t stand.