Much as we did against the mullahs, America has won an unexpected triumph over the seemingly well-entrenched forces of government-funded broadcasting.

Last Sunday, Sesame Street’s troubled teen muppet Elmo took to Twitter/X to denounce Donald Trump in stunningly antisemitic terms as an Epstein-compromised puppet of the Israeli government. Yesterday Senate Republicans canceled federal funding for the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, which runs both PBS and NPR. Let it never be said that the Trump administration is afraid to retaliate instantly against its enemies. For those wiseacres who will now point out that Sesame Street is no longer technically under the CPB umbrella, I will point out that the Iranian regime is notorious for using the Houthis and Hamas as cutouts — I expect little better from the dark forces behind NPR’s All Things Considered.

Yes, readers: Much as we did against the mullahs, America has won an unexpected triumph over the seemingly well-entrenched forces of government-funded broadcasting, burrowed into the federal budget deeper than Fordow was into the Zagros Mountains. I join with Editor in Chief Rich Lowry in celebrating this victory — more than mere symbolism — simply because I never thought I’d live to see the day when my taxpayer dollars weren’t being taken for the purposes of insulting my intelligence with partisan claptrap. But I warn that this is only temporary — re-funding both the CPB and Planned Parenthood alike will be legislative priorities for the next Democratic Congress, whenever it should arrive.

The details of the “rescission bill” that just passed are arcane even by federal legislative standards: After the One Big Beautiful Bill Act passed and was signed into law, the Trump administration came back with a unusual request: Please take back about $9 billion of what you just budgeted to us for the year, because we wouldn’t be caught dead spending it. (Our house editorial explains the matter succinctly.)

What is even more unusual is that the Senate said yes and finally agreed to the unthinkable: defunding the CPB, which funds not only NPR but the countless local “public radio” affiliates which, in turn, take that money and fund NPR in the form of licensing fees for national-produced content. Yes, NPR’s constant branding as being mostly “listener-funded” is indeed a myth: The funding comes in large part from those affiliates, who get money from CPB, which gets money from the government — the proverbial “self-licking ice cream cone.” For a year, at least, that cycle has been broken.

All of this is perfectly legal, however unorthodox. In fact, this is the ideal outcome from a legalistic perspective. The last thing I want is Stephen Miller suddenly deciding the Impoundment Control Act doesn’t bind the president, and once again testing the outer limits of constitutional law like a surly cat nudging a tea set nearer to the edge of a countertop. It is furthermore appropriate from the perspective of conservative principle: The federal government has no business being in the political speech game in any event, because it will inevitably end up tilting in favor of one political side of the argument, and with the imprimatur and stability granted by federal government support no less. (I find it intellectually inexplicable that, at the last ditch, defenders of CPB funding have sought to turn it into a First Amendment issue, as if NPR has a constitutional right to permanent funding because it’s their preferred drive-time listening choice.)

But most of all, NPR and PBS have earned this. Political principle is one thing; the reality of politics as practiced is another matter entirely. I speak as a former NPR listener — “former” tells you everything here — when I say that this outcome, however long in coming, was inevitable for an organization that has so eagerly courted the contempt of its nonprogressive listeners. I used to listen to my local station (WBEZ) all the time; as condescending and desperately, hilariously progressive — in that “thirtysomething childless white woman” way — as it was, it was at least a tolerable place for national and global news and occasionally the source of great column ideas.

It isn’t anymore. Sitting through its national programming now is a tedious chore, like sitting in a stuffy room for a sermon from a sedated preacher, leavened only by the occasional moment when the announcer or a guest will casually insult my beliefs. Seemingly every story selected for the newscast is — again, to the point of stereotype — about the Three Ts: Trump, transgenderism, and third world climate change. Decades of speaking only to one side of the aisle, encasing themselves in an unbreakable ideological bubble (as well described by dissident former editor Uri Berliner, who left for the Free Press) has left them without a case to make to people who don’t share their politics. The decline — especially after Katherine Maher took over as CEO — into full-scale progressive axe-grinding has become so complete that it drove me away through oversaturation. And when someone as forgiving as me can’t even listen to NPR ironically, it has officially run out of friends on the right side of the spectrum.