Megyn Kelly’s April 18 broadcast began with an announcement: “This is going to be the greatest show we’ve ever done.” That’s a curious way to introduce an hour-plus spectacle that was neither journalistic nor comedic, but more akin to a psychological exorcism—of Kelly’s own obsession with Meghan Markle.

What followed was not a lighthearted parody. It was an unrelenting character assassination cloaked in faux champagne, AI tiaras, and a narrative so personalized that the real subject seemed to be Kelly herself. For over an hour, Megyn and Daily Mail columnist Maureen Callahan enacted a series of staged skits mocking Meghan Markle’s tone, branding, friendships, and motherhood. The comedy? Thin. The vitriol? Palpable.

Let’s be clear: satire aims up. It confronts power, challenges institutions, and critiques hypocrisy from those who wield influence recklessly. Kelly’s parody was not satire—it was a targeted attempt to destroy the reputation of one woman whose existence, success, and marriage offend conservative sensibilities. The question is: why?

For someone who insists she’s not obsessed, Kelly seems uniquely fixated on Meghan. Entire segments were dedicated to mocking her voice, her packaging design, and her use of words like “intentionality.” Kelly and Callahan sneered at Markle’s lifestyle brand while advertising gold IRAs, Cozy Earth sheets, and dog sanctuaries on air. The irony is thick: mocking a woman for selling jam, while shilling luxury bamboo pajamas.

They mocked Markle for using AI filters and carefully composed branding—but the entire skit was edited, choreographed, and produced with the same artificial polish. And unlike Markle, whose brand centers on motherhood, wellness, and female entrepreneurship, Kelly’s performance centered on one thing: bullying.

And what was the actual critique? That Meghan is not “relatable” enough? That she talks too much about herself on a show about herself? The same could be said for nearly every podcast hosted by a white male tech founder, yet they’re rarely ridiculed with this kind of venom. What really drives Kelly and her ilk is that Meghan doesn’t apologize for taking up space. She’s a biracial woman who dared to leave an institution that routinely degraded her—and she lived to tell the tale.

Then came the cruelty. Kelly mocked Markle’s miscarriage, her fertility journey, her claims of suicidal ideation, and her parenting—all while donning a tiara and making popcorn. This wasn’t just satire; it was public harassment masquerading as parody. Meghan wasn’t in on the joke. She was the joke.

Let’s also expose the hypocrisy: Kelly accuses Markle of leveraging royal titles, yet uses every opportunity to name-drop, celebrity-chase, and flaunt access. She mocks Meghan’s podcast guests as “bootlickers,” then fawns over conservative elites and billionaires. She rails against identity politics, then centers entire segments on race—always as a cudgel, never as context.

And the most telling admission came late in the show, when Callahan said: “She has no self-awareness.” That line, spoken after 90 minutes of mocking another woman’s career, voice, and marriage, is nothing short of projection.

If Kelly truly wanted to produce meaningful critique, she would engage with Markle’s ideas—not her tone. If Callahan wanted to analyze celebrity culture, she could interrogate why American media needs Meghan to be the villain. But they don’t want a conversation. They want a takedown. Because Meghan is the one person they can’t control—and that makes her dangerous.

The real parody isn’t Meghan Markle. It’s the fact that Megyn Kelly, once a serious journalist, now spends hours playing pretend in a fake kitchen to reenact the imagined offenses of a woman who stopped caring about her approval.

The tiaras don’t mask it. The champagne doesn’t distract from it. The laugh tracks can’t cover it up. This wasn’t satire. It was desperation.