🚨LO ÚLTIMO: Ya es irrelevante si es oficial este vídeo de mi Selección Mexicana o no. Lo relevante es que se te eriza la piel, se te pone chinita en extremo al oír de fondo Cielito Lindo
También resulta irrelevante SI TODES NOS VOLVEMOS A ILUSIONAR EN EL 5º PARTIDO
Aplausos👇
I am the Senior Vice President of Late Night Strategy at CBS. I am the person who turned a comedian into a priest and charged advertisers to watch the congregation.
I want to be precise about what I built. Not a comedy show. A permission structure. For eleven years, six million Americans tuned in every night to find out what they were allowed to believe by morning. We didn't sell jokes. We sold certainty. Certainty costs nothing to produce. People will pay anything for it. We charged $50 million a year and still lost money because it turns out permission is even cheaper than we thought.
In 2014, we had a genuinely dangerous comedian. A man who once testified before Congress in character as a fictional conservative pundit and made the entire chamber look like they'd been pantsed on C-SPAN. His fake persona was the most brilliant satire on television. Layered. Ironic. Unpredictable. The character could say anything because nothing was real. The character was the art. The character was the comedian.
We killed the character and put the real man on stage. The real man was a lecturer. Earnest. Thoughtful. Correct about everything. Correct is not funny. Correct is not dangerous. Correct is the absence of danger. We promoted the absence of danger and called it growth. His character could make a Senate committee squirm. The real him makes an audience nod. Nodding pays the same as squirming. Nodding is easier to produce.
His final words on air were "We love doing this show for you, but what we really, really love is doing this show with you." The audience wept. I wrote that line. Not the words. The architecture that made those words feel true. For eleven years, the audience believed they were participants. They were not participants. They were the product. "With you" is what you say to a congregation. A comedian says "at you." We hadn't said "at you" since 2015.
Our internal metric was called Affirm Rate. It measured the percentage of monologue segments that generated applause instead of laughter. I invented this metric. I also invented the bonus structure tied to it. In 2015, our Affirm Rate was 34%. By 2022, it was 94%. I received a raise every year. We are crushing it. At the things I made up. That's performance management.
But I need to tell you about the real discovery. The one I put in a deck called "Content Strategy 2019-2024." The one that got me promoted.
Agreement gets applause. I knew that early. But correction — telling the audience their vocabulary is slightly outdated, their outrage is aimed two degrees off-center, their feelings are valid but their phrasing needs work — correction gets them back tomorrow. Agreement is a transaction. Correction is a subscription. We converted a comedy show into a nightly software update for moral vocabulary. Churn was near zero. They couldn't afford to miss an episode. Missing an episode meant using last week's words in this week's meeting. That's social death. We monetized the fear of social death and called it entertainment.
I want to be honest about something. The content was not bipartisan. We chose a side. But I need you to understand: we did not choose it because we believed in it. We chose it because that side's audience is more responsive to correction. They want to be updated. They want to be told their language is outdated. They experience correction as care. The other side does not respond to correction. They respond to provocation. Provocation is harder to monetize. You can't build a subscription on provocation because the audience doesn't come back to learn — they come back to fight. Fighting is unpredictable. Correction is scheduled. We optimized for the audience that wants to be told what to think. That audience leaned one direction. That's not ideology. That's market segmentation.
The writers' room had a whiteboard. In 2015 it said "What's funny?" In 2018 it said "What should they feel?" By 2021 it said "What are they still saying wrong?" I watched that whiteboard evolve like a finch beak and I never intervened. The market was speaking. We listened. Listening to the market is the same as leading the audience. They can't tell the difference.
A writer named Marcus raised his hand in 2019. "What if we just tried to make them laugh again?" I thanked him for his passion and scheduled a creative alignment conversation. He transferred to streaming development within the month. The Affirm Rate the week he left was 91%. Laughter would have brought it down. That's risk management.
Here is what nobody will say out loud. I will say it because I am proud of it.
We made our audience worse at politics.
Not better. Worse. Every night for eleven years, we expressed their outrage for them. Professionally. With a band and good lighting. And because the outrage had been expressed — because a man in a suit had furrowed his brow with the precise calibrated degree of indignation — they didn't need to express it themselves. They watched. They clapped. They felt the catharsis of resistance without resisting anything. They went to bed having done nothing and feeling like they'd done something. That's the product. Not comedy. Not information. Catharsis. Catharsis is the enemy of action. A man who has screamed into a pillow does not then also scream in the street. We were the pillow. A $50 million pillow with a house band.
If you feel the outrage has been expressed for you, you will not march. You will not organize. You will not call your representative. You will tune in tomorrow to feel it expressed again. That's retention. Our retention was extraordinary.
I want to talk about the comedy-to-catechism pipeline because I think people underestimate what we achieved.
Stage one: comedian makes jokes about the powerful. Audience laughs because the powerful are absurd. This is the Carlin model. The jester punches up. Everyone below feels relief.
Stage two: comedian makes jokes about people who disagree with the audience. Audience laughs because disagreement is stupid. The jester has turned around. He's still on the stage but now he's facing the crowd with a pointer.
Stage three: comedian stops making jokes. Comedian identifies incorrect beliefs and explains why they're dangerous. Audience does not laugh. Audience claps. The jester is gone. In his place: a hall monitor with a desk and a band.
Stage four: audience watches not for entertainment but for certification. Having seen last night's episode means you know which words are current. Not having seen it means you might use yesterday's vocabulary in today's meeting. The show is no longer comedy. It is a credential. Watching it means you are educated. Not watching means you are the person being discussed. We made a show that you watch to prove you're not the kind of person who doesn't watch it. That's a closed loop. Closed loops don't need content. They need continuity. We provided continuity for $50 million a year.
A comedian — whose entire historical function was to say things too dangerous for anyone else to say — became the person who decides which things are too dangerous for anyone to say. And the audience applauded. Every night. For 2,500 nights. Because being told what is forbidden feels exactly like being told what you already knew. Prohibition performed as validation. I put that in the deck too.
Our audience was correct about everything. I know this because they applauded everything we said. The applause proved the correctness. The correctness justified the applause. We called this audience research. The methodology was peer-reviewed by the audience. They approved unanimously. Every night.
The actually funny comedians left. They went to podcasts. To clubs. To rooms where the audience doesn't know what's coming and that uncertainty is the point. They took the laughter with them. We kept the applause. We called those spaces problematic. That's market differentiation. The problematic spaces are funnier. But funny is not our product.
We lost $40 million a year. We didn't lose it because the show failed. We lost it because we spent $50 million producing what a podcast host in his garage gives away between mattress ads. The podcast is funnier. The podcast is more dangerous. The podcast has an audience that laughs instead of claps. But we had the Ed Sullivan Theater. We had 461 seats. We had a former Beatle play the farewell episode. Paul McCartney, Elvis Costello, Jon Batiste, and Louis Cato playing "Hello, Goodbye" like it was a benediction. I booked a Beatle for a funeral. The Beatles played that stage in 1964 and the audience screamed so loud you couldn't hear the music. Our audience didn't scream. They wept politely. That's the difference between entertainment and church. We ran a church.
Jon Stewart showed up to the finale and did a bit where he pretended to deliver a corporate statement from Paramount about the cancellation. The audience laughed. It was the first time they laughed in a way I didn't recognize. Involuntary. Surprised. Dangerous. For ninety seconds, a comedian was in that building. Then it was over.
John Oliver said "At some point, this may come for all of our shows" and then added "but Stephen, what's important to remember is that tonight, it is going to eat you." The audience laughed again. Involuntary again. Two moments of actual comedy in a three-hour farewell. Both of them about death.
The finale drew 6.74 million viewers. Biggest weeknight audience in our history. More people came to the funeral than ever visited the patient. I know what they were mourning. Not comedy. The comedy died in 2016. Not the man. The man is fine. He's wealthy. What they mourned was the permission structure. Starting today, they have to decide what to believe on their own. They have to form an opinion without waiting for a man behind a desk to form it first and deliver it with a knowing look. Some of them haven't done that since 2015. The funeral wasn't for the show. It was for the certainty.
He joked about the Peanuts theme music licensing cost on his last night. "Oh no! I hope this doesn't cost CBS any money!" The audience laughed. It was a joke about money. About the network losing money. The last joke was about money. Not about truth. Not about power. About a licensing fee for a cartoon piano riff. Eleven years and the final joke was about accounting. I think that's perfect. The show was always about accounting. We just dressed it up as conscience.
The President of the United States — the man we spent eleven years explaining was dangerous to an audience that already believed he was dangerous — posted an AI-generated video of our host being thrown into a dumpster on the Late Show set. Then Trump danced to "YMCA" in the clip. Viewed more times in four hours than our farewell managed in a week. His production cost: zero. Ours: negative $50 million a year. We manufactured his relevance every night at 11:35 for eleven years and he never paid us a dime. We were his marketing department. He turned our funeral into content. His ROI was infinite. Ours required a write-off and a farewell concert.
The Strike Force Five — Fallon, Kimmel, Meyers, Oliver — appeared in a segment about late-night losing "one middle-aged white man who makes jokes about the news." They were joking about their own obsolescence. All of them know. None of them will say it. The format is dead. The audience moved to phones. The phones don't have desks or bands. The phones have men in garages who are allowed to be wrong, allowed to be surprised, allowed to say something their audience hasn't already approved. That's comedy. We stopped doing that a decade ago. We did approval. Approval looks like comedy from a distance. Up close it's church.
I do not feel guilt. Guilt would require me to believe I took something from them. I didn't take anything. They came to us. Every night. They chose the catechism over the comedy. They preferred correction over surprise. Certainty over danger. Instruction over laughter. They wanted to be told. Not challenged. Not shocked. Not made to laugh against their will at something they didn't see coming. They wanted to see it coming. They wanted to mouth along. That's not comedy. That's karaoke. We ran the most expensive karaoke bar in television history and the only miscalculation was charging a cover when the songs are free on every phone.
We turned a jester into a priest. We turned an audience into a congregation. We turned laughter into obedience. We turned political engagement into passive consumption. We turned a comedy show into a permission structure and charged $50 million a year to tell people what they already believed in a voice slightly nicer than their own.
They were so grateful they showed up to mourn us. 6.74 million of them. Weeping. For the certainty.
Applause is more reliable than laughter. I proved it. The proof cost $450 million, one character, one comedian's capacity for danger, and one audience's willingness to act.
The metric went up.
Solicitamos de tu apoyo en difusión para dar pronta localización a Mónica Andrea de la Vega Serna, comunícate a los teléfonos al pie del boletín. #TodosEnLaBúsqueda
red de pedofilia, trata de menores?
DE MAMÁ A MAMÁ… AYÚDENME A ENCONTRAR A MI HIJA
Han pasado días y no sé nada de ella…
El dolor de no saber dónde está es desesperante.
Te suplico que compartas, mi hija necesita volver a casa
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Datos de la menor:
Nombre: América Noemí
Edad: 15 años
Desapareció: 20 de marzo de 2026
Lugar: Cacalomacán, Toluca, Estado de México
⸻
📷 Mensaje de su mamá:
Es una niña tranquila, siempre regresaba a casa y nunca salía sin permiso.
Desde ese día, no sabemos nada de ella.
⸻
Han pasado varios días sin información sobre su paradero
⸻
Si la has visto o tienes cualquier información, por favor comunícate de inmediato:
📷 800 890 2940
JUNE 2028.
The S&P is down 38% from its highs. Unemployment just printed 10.2%. Private credit is unraveling. Prime mortgages are cracking. AI didn’t disappoint. It exceeded every expectation.
What happened?
https://t.co/JzzwCrbJgS
When I was 7 years old I was asked by my father what went into the price of a sandwich. Considering it carefully, I answered.
The lettuce, the tomato, the bread and the meat.
I did not consider correctly. I was short quite a few costs as my father was eager to point out. I had forgot the labor of the worker, the rent of the land, the marketing costs of the chain. I wasn’t seeing the full picture.
Today we are all making a similar mistake with AI. We are not considering what cannot be considered. As foreign to the 7 year old as these excess charges were, so are the downstream affects of AI.
In 1850, if you had told a teamster that his horse and carriage would soon be obsolete, he would have envisioned a world of mass starvation for men of his skill. He could grasp the concept of a faster carriage, but he could not conceive of the interstate highway system, the suburban real estate market, or the roadside motel industry. These were not just new products; they were an entirely new social architecture.
We are currently in the teamster’s shoes. We see AI automating the ingredients of our current economy—the writing, the coding, the data entry—and we fear the void. But history shows that humanity doesn't fall into the void; it builds a floor over it.
Karl Marx looked at the dark satanic mills of the 19th century and saw a terminal point. He argued that as the means of production became more efficient, capital would consolidate and labor would become a worthless commodity. He believed capitalism would eventually eat itself because it would run out of things for people to do.
Marx was wrong because he viewed human utility as a fixed pie. He didn't understand that technology doesn't just subtract labor; it changes the nature of what we consider valuable.
When the mechanical loom made fabric cheap, we didn't stop buying clothes. Instead, we invented the fashion industry. We created brand management, retail psychology, and textile engineering.
We moved from a world where everyone owned two outfits to a world where millions of people are employed in the cycle of seasonal trends.
In the age of the steam engine, "handmade" was a sign of poverty. Today, it is a luxury. We are already seeing a shift where the human touch—the artisanal, the face-to-face, and the physically present—is becoming the high-margin sector of the economy.
Every time we automate a simple task, we move the human to a more complex one. We didn't stop needing accountants when Excel was invented... we simply started asking accountants to perform much more sophisticated financial modeling.
The 7-year-old misses the rent and the marketing because they are abstractions. Similarly, we struggle to see the jobs of 2040 because they rely on problems we haven't even encountered yet. We might see the rise of Personal Data Stewards, who manage the interaction between our private lives and public AI models, or Reality Architects, who ensure that the virtual spaces we inhabit are psychologically grounded.
The world works itself out because humans are fundamentally restless. We do not tolerate a vacuum of purpose, we seek higher function always.
Marco Rubio fue a sacarse la verga en la Conferencia de Munich para intentar por última vez que Europa salga de su marasmo progre y se vuelva a subir al tren de Occidente. Con Trump y Vance, Rubio es el artífice del nuevo orden mundial.
Activan la #AlertaAmber en Tlalnepantla de Baz, en el #Edomex, tras la desaparición de María Elena, una bebé de 1 año.
Si tienes información que ayude a dar con su paradero, no dudes en acudir a las autoridades.
https://t.co/HJZSPdDzs3
#DóndeEstá | Alejandra Rojas Baez tiene 27 años y se encuentra desaparecida; fue vista por última vez el pasado 30 de enero.
Si tienes información que ayude a dar con su paradero, no dudes en acudir a las autoridades.
#ComunidadFIA
WOW!!!
Never thought we would hear this level of honesty from a Western leader, and certainly not Canada, given the direction of Canada in the past 25 years. Canada's shift towards multialignment is quite clear - and this level of honesty from Carney on Western "fiction" about the old order will be warmly welcomed in much of the Global South:
"We knew that the story about the rules-based order was partially false... We knew that international law applied with varying rigour depending on the identity of the accused and the victim. This fiction was useful [because of the goods provided by American hegemony]... So we placed the sign in the window. We participated in the rituals. And we largely avoided calling out the gaps between rhetoric and reality. This bargain no longer works. Let me be direct. We are in the midst of a rupture, not a transition... You cannot live within the lie of mutual benefit through integration when integration becomes the source of your subordination."