The Rebels Are Winning (And We Should All Take Notes)

In case you missed it, this happened recently:

Stephen Colbert’s final episode of The Late Show aired on a Thursday night. Eleven years at the Ed Sullivan Theatre, and it was a proper sendoff, complete with an epic finale featuring none other than Sir Paul McCartney. Then the very next night, Colbert turned up at Monroe Community Media in Monroe, Michigan.

The special episode of Only in Monroe had a distinctly local feel, despite featuring world-famous Michiganders Jeff Daniels, Eminem, and a moody but engaged Jack White, who was also the volunteer music director, complete with a vintage boom box and reel-to-reel tape machine. It was absurd and delightful, and of course, the internet lost its mind.

Naturally, Paramount immediately issued copyright takedown notices to anyone sharing it, which went about as well as you’d expect. The internet backlash was swift enough that CBS retreated and said it would stop issuing notices pending further review. (Eyeroll.)

Despite the copyright grey areas, people shared it anyway, to the tune of 1.6 million views at the time of this post.

It worked because it was real.

Colbert didn’t end his run with a carefully managed farewell tour and a streaming deal announcement. Instead, he went back to where it started: the same public access station where he warmed up for the Late Show in 2015. He brought his actual friends and made jokes only he would make, and he did the whole thing on a community TV station most people had never heard of. It felt like something a person does, not something a media machine does.

I spent time as a community television producer early in my career, and what made that world work was exactly what made the Only in Monroe episode work so well: nobody was performing for an algorithm. You showed up, you were yourself, and you made something for the people in your actual community. Most of the time, the production values were largely irrelevant, but the authenticity most definitely wasn’t.

Colbert understands that instinctively, and the friends he brought with him understand it too.

Meet the rebels.

Jack White has been quietly refusing to play by industry rules for years. He built Third Man Records around analogue equipment and physical releases in direct defiance of a music industry built around digital convenience. He famously banned phones at his concerts. When the Trump campaign used Seven Nation Army without permission, he went straight to Instagram: “Oh... don’t even think about using my music, you fascists.” Jack White does not ask permission; he just does the thing.

At the height of his Hollywood career, Jeff Daniels walked away from Los Angeles and moved his family back to Chelsea, Michigan. In 1991, he bought an old bus garage and turned it into the Purple Rose Theatre, dedicated to original American plays and giving Midwest artists a place to work. Thirty-five years later, the Purple Rose is still running, and Daniels still shows up. That is not a brand strategy; that is a value system.

These artists are not nostalgic accidents. They are people who built careers out of a very specific kind of stubbornness: a refusal to sand down their edges for the sake of mass appeal. Today’s digital content landscape rewards exactly the opposite, meaning that rebellious stubbornness has become its own kind of superpower.

What does this mean for your content?

Most of what I see people posting online right now is technically correct but emotionally inert. It checks boxes, hits keywords, and says nothing that makes the reader feel anything. The pressure to produce, stay consistent, and remain “on brand” is real, and I completely understand the temptation to optimize, especially now that we have even more tools to make that process more efficient (but not necessarily more effective).

The Monroe episode is a beautiful reminder that the most shareable thing you can do is be unmistakably yourself, even when that looks a little weird or different from the outside.

A few things to try:

Let the seams show. The public access aesthetic of Only in Monroe was a feature, not a bug. Imperfection signals authenticity, which means you might not need better production value. Less is so very often more, especially when it comes to video.

Do the unexpected thing. The whole world was waiting for Colbert to announce a podcast or a Netflix deal, and instead, he went to Michigan. Be unexpected, and you’ll be even more memorable.

Callbacks earn trust. Colbert went back to Monroe because that is where the story started. If you have an origin story or an early version of yourself that predates the polish, bring it back occasionally. It reminds people why they started paying attention in the first place.

Ask yourself: is there a moment of “real” here? Before you post anything, that is the question you need to ask. What’s your genuine observation or honest admission or true story? Lead with that.

Remember, the algorithm is not your friend. Your actual voice is your unique superpower. It’s ok to be a rebel, and it’s ok to stand out. The algorithm may not reward you, but your audience will.

And to be honest, I think we could all need a little more rebellion these days, don’t you?