You Can’t Joke About That”… or Can You? Kat Timpf, Cancel Culture, and the Art of Being Uncancellable.

In an age where political tribalism often drowns out nuance and empathy, comedian and Fox News personality Kat Timpf is doing something unexpected — she’s doubling down on truth, vulnerability, and even the occasional inappropriate joke.

Timpf, currently on a nationwide book and comedy tour while seven months pregnant, recently sat down with Mike Rowe for an unfiltered and disarmingly raw conversation about her new book You Can’t Joke About That. What unfolded wasn’t just press for a book — it was a cultural intervention.

A Laugh, a Tear, and a War Story

Despite her platform at Fox News, Timpf doesn’t fit any partisan mold. “I’m not a Republican,” she says. “I’m not a Democrat. I just say what I believe — and sometimes that means getting screamed at by everyone.”

That ideological independence has come at a cost. “Some theaters won’t book me,” she admits, “because I work at Fox.” And yet, she also regularly faces online vitriol from conservatives who label her a “secret liberal” when she strays from the party line. “If I were trying to grift, I’d just pretend to be super MAGA. Life would be so much easier,” she jokes, before quickly adding, “But I can’t do that. It’s not who I am.”

And that’s the soul of her book — an exploration of life lived between political labels, between ideologies, and most of all, between moments of breakdown and breakthrough.

From Gutfeld to the Gut-Wrenching

Far from a collection of stand-up quips, Timpf’s book is as personal as it is political. She opens up about a past abusive relationship, her struggles with depression, her complicated relationship with her now-deceased mother, and the time Accutane made her feel dangerously low. “I overshare at parties,” she quips, “but writing it down in a book — that was terrifying.”

She even includes excerpts from her old journals, capturing the moments she wanted to give up. “I was awake at night thinking, ‘Did I really include that?’ But I did. And maybe that’s what people need right now — someone showing their belly, like a wolf saying, ‘I’m vulnerable. Please don’t eat me.’”

Love, Liberty, and the Chowder-Colored Sweatpants

Her deeply personal chapter, “Half Veteran,” chronicles her unexpected romance with her now-husband, Cam — a West Point graduate, Army Ranger, and finance guy who won her over in a chowder-colored tracksuit with “Soup Girl” merch printed across it. “He bought the dip,” she jokes, describing how he started dating her before her rise in fame. “I wasn’t ‘Kat Timpf’ yet. I was just a broke waitress with a dream.”

Their relationship became the anchor she didn’t know she needed. “My career skyrocketed once I had the support to just be myself,” she reflects.

But she doesn’t sugarcoat their life together — especially the reality of living with a veteran still deeply affected by his time deployed abroad. “Cam predicted the airport disaster before it happened,” she says. “And it broke him. It broke a lot of them.”

Her chapter morphs into a reflection on how Americans interact with the military — quick to thank, slower to understand. “We love to say ‘support the troops,’ but what does that actually mean?” she asks. “Do we really support them, or do we just want to feel good about saying it?”

The Joke That Sparked Death Threats

Timpf’s career on Gutfeld! isn’t without controversy. A joke about country singer Jason Aldean — calling him “every dude who’s ever sat at a Buffalo Wild Wings bar” — unleashed a storm of hate. “People called me a traitor to small towns. Some wanted to ban me from Texas. The whole state.”

But she stood by the bit. “It was a good joke,” she says. “And I don’t regret telling it. If we can’t joke about music, what the hell can we joke about?”

Redefining the American Survival Guide

Timpf doesn’t claim to have all the answers, but she’s clear about one thing: the way out of America’s identity crisis is through honest conversation and shared humanity. “The biggest lie we’ve bought is that your political team defines your worth. It doesn’t.”

And that’s the heart of her book: a guide to reconnecting, even with people who voted differently, who worship differently, or who wear chowder-colored sweatpants to a podcast studio.

“If you want to be seen as human,” she says, “you have to be willing to show that you are human.”

And that, in today’s America, might just be the bravest punchline of all.