| ◼ The sun is setting upon late-night television. Stephen Colbert broke the news himself on the air, during a taping of The Late Show. CBS has decided not only to fire him as a talk show host; it has decided to retire The Late Show as a brand altogether. It is the sad epitaph to an era of television entertainment — other dominoes may fall in the next few years — and nostalgic liberal Boomers are predictably looking for someone to blame. The most obvious scapegoat is market economics. According to reliable media reports, Colbert was losing somewhere around $40 million per season, as production costs, salaries, union regulations, and the cost of doing business in New York continued to grow. Yet media progressives mounted a counterargument: Actually, it was because of political pressure from Trump. The truth is that The Late Show died because of the fracturing of media culture in an internet era — but that humorless undertakers like Colbert hastened it to its grave.
◼ To a certain generation (and perhaps every generation), no figure embodied the bombast, spectacle, and energy of professional wrestling better than Terry Bollea. Better known as Hulk Hogan, Bollea rose improbably to fame from a modest station. He adopted the “Hulk” moniker from the then-popular Incredible Hulk TV show. Bollea, with his muscular, 6-foot-7-inch frame, dwarfed Lou Ferrigno, its star. World Wrestling Federation (later World Wrestling Entertainment) owner Vince McMahon, impressed by Bollea, welcomed him into competition and completed his stage name by dubbing him “Hogan.” His star was already on the rise by the time he appeared, complete with blond locks and handlebar mustache, as the ostentatious wrestler “Thunderlips” in 1982’s Rocky III. “Hulkmania” began shortly thereafter, as Bollea almost singlehandedly brought professional wrestling into the mainstream. Subsequent decades were rougher. His steroid use became public, and a personal life whose unraveling the world would later witness began to catch up with him. A protracted divorce (one of two) and other personal drama brought him to the brink of suicide. A sex tape, recorded without his knowledge, made its way to Gawker. Bollea — backed by Peter Thiel, aggrieved at the publication for outing him as gay — sued the publication into oblivion. Amid all the chaos, and despite his life’s immense physical toll, Bollea remained a consummate entertainer to his last days. At the 2024 Republican National Convention, one of his last major public appearances, Bollea delivered the expected theatrics (ripping his shirt off) while making a surprisingly heartfelt endorsement of the reelection campaign of Donald Trump, his fellow WWE Hall of Famer. “I didn’t come here as Hulk Hogan,” he told an audience that had loved him as precisely that. “My name is Terry Bollea.” So it was. But he is sure to be remembered as the Hulkster. Dead at 71. R.I.P., brother.
◼ “I will get back onstage if it f***ing kills me,” Ozzy Osbourne said in 2022, and he made sure of it. The front man of Black Sabbath wasn’t its most talented member. That distinction belonged to the band’s chief composer, guitarist Tony Iommi, who revolutionized music with his genre-defining and magnificently dissonant riffs. But Ozzy was arguably the greatest talent scout in heavy metal history. He hired guitar wizard Randy Rhoads in 1979, Zakk Wylde in 1987, bassist Robert Trujillo (who later joined Metallica) in 1996. He had long suffered from mild motor dysfunction, and his speech was often slurred and incomprehensible. But once he was in front of an audience, something would click—his performances never failed to demonstrate his stage skill and charisma. A diagnosis of Parkinson’s disease, in 2019, likely came as confirmation rather than revelation. Dead at 76, two weeks after Black Sabbath’s farewell concert in the band’s hometown of Birmingham, England. R.I.P.
◼ Ed Feulner believed that people are policy. But he didn’t just believe it. He lived it. Born in Chicago in 1941, in college he entered a conservative movement still in its infancy. He went about growing it. He helped organize the Republican Study Committee and served as its executive chairman. He and other movement leaders created the Philadelphia Society in 1964 as an intellectual clearinghouse for their ranks. Feulner founded the Heritage Foundation, which launched in 1973. He became its president in 1977, serving in that role until 2013, and then again in 2017–18. Under his tenure, it became the premier conservative think tank in Washington. In 1980, he spearheaded the Mandate for Leadership, a practical policy framework for the incoming Ronald Reagan administration (which heeded it). Feulner also helped start the American Legislative Exchange Council and the State Policy Network, which remain essential incubators of conservative policy beyond the Beltway. Later in life, he served as chairman emeritus of the Victims of Communism Memorial Foundation and Museum. In addition to his movement activities, he wrote nine books, was a faithful Catholic (active in his parish and a Knight of Malta), and was a devoted husband to his wife, Linda, for four decades, as well as a beloved father and grandfather. He lived to see many of the great figures of our movement pass into history. A magnanimous man, he was unsparing in his praise of them. With Feulner’s own passing, it is now obvious that he was one of those greats. Ed Feulner believed that in Washington, there are no permanent victories and no permanent defeats. His life and legacy prove that this is true. His passing nonetheless remains a loss for the movement he did so much to build. R.I.P. |